Chapter 148: How Mutants Reproduced (1)
When Kestrel blinked her eyes open, she realized she was cozily nestled in a dry corner, draped with Ren’s jacket.
During the brief time that she’d been unconscious, Ren appeared to have pulled off a string of accomplishments. He had navigated them deeper into the underground maze, skillfully dodging the array of monsters wandering just outside their den. Here, in this shadowy passageway, he had brought an old campfire back to life.
Right now, he sat by the comforting flames, his shirt removed, deeply engrossed in piecing together an intricate metallic gadget. The fire cast dancing lights on his face. With his gaze concentrated and eyelashes lowered, he seemed utterly lost in his task. Slender metal threads and an assortment of tiny parts were being meticulously put together by his agile fingers.
Next to him, he’d fashioned a makeshift iron stand over the fire. He’d taken a tubular metal item, filled it up with water, and now had it simmering above the fire.
A delightful, sweet scent wafted in the air.
"He really is a jack-of-all-trades," mused Kestrel. It appeared that no matter how dire the situation, Ren’s mind worked in precise, calculated steps, always formulating a holistic strategy. Whether it was creating makeshift tools for survival, defending his allies, or simply being a dependable partner in every imaginable way, he seemed to ace it all.
Beyond the reach of the firelight, at a cross-section in the passage, the still form of a huge mutant lay. Its face was eerily reminiscent of a human’s. But instead of eyes, it possessed unsettling, flesh-toned membranes.
Its bright red lips were parted, with trails of blood snaking from its mouth, winding past its sizeable ears, and soaking into the crevices of the stony floor. The creature’s head and face were bathed in the firelight, while its body remained cloaked in shadows, hinting it might’ve been lifeless for a while.
"I really hope we’re not having mutant for dinner," Kestrel remarked. She wriggled under the alpha suit, popping her head out slightly. The oversized suit was snug, radiating warmth, giving her a cocooned feeling.
Her stomach rumbled in hunger, but she couldn’t imaging eating a mutant. Deep down, she believed the mutants might have once been human, and the idea of eating one’s own kind was a notion humans inherently rejected.
Sensing her stirring, Ren carefully placed the gadget aside and swung his gaze towards her.
"We’re not having mutant; it’s a soup made from the oil tree root," Ren assured her. He fetched a shiny, cleaned-out tin can, ladled a creamy white brew into it for Kestrel, and then presented her with the remaining bark and minuscule roots left from his preparation.
"Sip it gently, and take your time."
The velvety liquid was thick, made from ground tree roots. Each sip tasted richly luscious, counterbalanced by a subtle undertone of bitterness — ideal for Kestrel who felt like she hadn’t eaten in an eternity.
With each mouthful, Kestrel felt the warmth envelop her, rejuvenating her spirits, as if pulling her back from the edge of oblivion.
She touched her forehead lightly, the throbbing had lessened, yet the memory of an overpowering force trying to claim her mind remained vivid. Flashes of a silent, intense duel in a grand, sprawling temple flooded back.
A chilling psychic presence had ruthlessly tried to infiltrate, erode, and dominate Kestrel’s psychic landscape.
The tussle felt eternal, but in the end, her innate consciousness triumphed, banishing the foreign entity.
"I must locate that temple and decipher its mysteries. It holds the essence of the Eyehole," Kestrel mused, cradling the warm soup. Her hands quivered faintly, but her deep-set eyes burned with renewed resolve.
Physical wounds couldn’t bend a formidable alpha, and neither could psychic scars break a beta like her.
Kestrel regained her stature as the undaunted, fierce beta she was.
Completing his task, Ren presented a rugged device made of metal to Kestrel, its insides revealed, with a petite display at its center.
The Polluted Zone was a time capsule, preserving relics from humanity’s golden age, a trove of awesome tech long forgotten.
Most seasoned explorers of the Polluted Zone boasted a unique skill — adapting and repurposing ancient weapons and tools, becoming masters of improvisation.
"Path tracker," Ren gestured to the display, highlighting a tiny illuminated triangle. "The terrain’s tricky here; this will help us mark our way."
"I believe we should investigate that temple," his eyes sought out Kestrel’s.
Their gazes intertwined, resonating.
Discover the temple — the idea resonated within them both.
Kestrel parted her lips, intending to voice her thoughts to Ren, but she felt words were redundant.
Months of battles had honed their psychic bond. Complex thoughts, which would be lengthy in speech, were grasped in mere moments on the psychic plane.
Somewhere deep within this shadowy underground, nested within the intricate maze, was a temple. It concealed the Eyehole’s ultimate secret.
Though the journey ahead was fraught with dangers and challenges, both were aligned in their intent and purpose.
Typically, Kestrel’s adventures into the Polluted Zone were solo endeavors. She’d steel herself and brave treacherous terrains alone.
She knew the stakes, bracing herself for potential one-way expeditions. She didn’t wish for another to walk alongside or, in other words, risk their life shielding hers.
But Ren wasn’t like the others — he felt just like Kestrel about finding out the truth and seeing what this world really was. He didn’t just join her for safety reasons or to make her happy. He truly wanted to explore the temple just as she did.
Kestrel looked over at Ren, who was sitting by the fire. The light made his amber eyes shine. They looked happy and kind, like he was ready to face anything with her, even if it was super dangerous.
When he smiled, it felt warm and sweet, like honey. Kestrel felt something in her heart change. It was as if the walls she built over the years were coming down. She felt like smiling back at him.
Even in a crazy world with scary monsters and sad moments, there were still good parts. There were always moments that made her brave and people who made life feel worth living.
Suddenly, a small sound came from the shadows. Ren quickly looked towards it. There was a tiny head, looking like it was made of different parts, poking out from a darker part of the place. The head was about the size of a baby’s, but it was a mutant. This mutant was fast but not very strong.
Ren recognized him. This creature had tried to hurt them earlier. Ren had defended them and thought he had split him into halves. But this little creature had a special skill. Even after getting hurt, it could heal itself.
He had a scar from where Ren had cut it, but he was still able to move, track, and had even followed them to this place.
