Mutants were ranked according to threat level. At the near top of the threat scale were the Disaster-class—entities powerful enough to destroy entire settlements, immune to most conventional weapons, and too intelligent to be considered mere beasts. Each one was a walking force of nature.
But above even them—even more powerful, territorial, and barely understood—were the Great-Disasters. The class that came second only in power to Calamity class mutants.
Unlike Disaster-class mutants, Great-Disasters didn't just exist in the ecosystem—they warped it. Species that would normally attack one another fell in line like extensions of the Great-Disaster's will.
This phenomenon wasn't random.
The high-class mutants, especially stronger Disaster-class and above, were sometimes capable of commanding weaker mutant species, but only under a specific condition: there had to be a substantial power gap between the commanding entity and those beneath it. The stronger the alpha, the more layers of subordinates it could control—like a grotesque hierarchy of instinctual obedience.
That's what troubled Vlad the most.
The four-armed, armored mutants from earlier weren't fodder. They were strong. Fast. Smart. And yet—they had worked in unison. Not chaotic frenzy. Not instinctual swarming. Deliberate coordination.
And the only thing that could influence those things had to be a high Disaster-class mutant or…
...A Great-Disaster.
It is well known that a Great disaster—One at least—lived in the vast Bentree forest. Maybe more.
That knowledge alone sat heavy on Vlad's shoulders, like a hand pressing down—not crushing, just there. Constant. Silent. The kind of fact you didn't forget, no matter how quiet the trees were or how still the wind seemed.
But now... after what they'd seen... Vlad couldn't stop the spiral from starting.
Are we thinking too much?
He slicked his hair back, trying to push the thoughts back into whatever dark drawer they'd crawled out of. The fire snapped softly in front of him. Outside the rain continued its intense fall.
Maybe.
But the things are lining up, no?
I mean, it's better to be safe than be sorry—no… dead.
The thought lingered, quiet and unwelcome, settling like a shadow at the back of his mind.
"Hey," Lana's voice cut through his daze like a blade.
Vlad blinked, his head snapping up slightly like he'd forgotten where he was.
"Huh?"
"I said—what're you thinking so hard about?" she asked, glancing at him sideways as she stood up, brushing her hands off on a leaf.
Vlad opened his mouth, hesitated, then shrugged a little too quickly.
"Just... uh. The usual. How to not die tomorrow."
It came out half as a joke, half as a warning. His voice didn't quite match his face.
Lana didn't press it. She just gave a soft exhale and nodded toward the carcass.
Without a word, she crossed over to it, her blade at hand, and stabbed it into the carcass with a clean, heavy motion. The blade sank deep with a wet sound.
She froze there for a second, one hand still on the hilt.
Then she turned—sharply.
"You."
Her voice was different now. Focused.
He looked up.
"...How did you carry this thing all the way here... with those injuries?"
Silence fell.
Even the rain seemed quieter for a moment.
Vlad stared back, the question hanging in the air, a strange incongruity amidst the drumming rain and the quiet.
"How I...what…"
Then it clicked. His brow frowned.
How did he carry the heavy carcass from the upper branch to here?
He was so injured that carrying the dead mutant would have put way too much strain on him. Yet he looked perfectly fine, not even his breath wavering.
His left arm was dislocated at the elbow and had holes from the bite of the terracodile. Then the impact to his chest, the initial blow from the swamp dweller, the air knocked from his lungs, the internal bruising that had left him coughing up dark, viscous blood. He could feel the residual ache now, a deep, bruised tenderness beneath his ribs. And there was the burning exhaustion in every muscle from the frantic climb.
Slowly, almost disbelievingly, Vlad lowered his gaze to his own body. He ran his right hand over his chest, tracing the tender spots, the areas where the mutant's claws had raked him. He tentatively moved his left arm, carefully rotating the dislocated forearm. A sharp sting shot through him, but it was distant, manageable. He clenched his fist, the movement still difficult, still painful, but miles away from the unbearable agony that had seized him only hours ago.
"I... I feel better," he murmured, his voice laced with disbelief. "The pain... it's almost gone. And the exhaustion... I don't feel it either."
Vlad had always possessed what some might call a superhuman physique. He could endure and accomplish feats that regular people wouldn't even dream of, and that included an accelerated recovery rate. But this... even for him, this was unbelievable.
Lana spun towards the dead mutant. And took out her sword then with a swift, almost feral motion, she brought the blade down in a savage slash. The keen edge tore through the creature's flesh, sending a spray of thick, red blood scattering across the bark and the damp leaves. She left the sword buried there for a moment, her hand still gripping the hilt.
Then she turned back to Vlad, her emerald eyes locking onto his, and said:
"...I don't feel as exhausted as I should either.
Vlad was silent. Not finding what to say.
She continued:
"You have a… I don't know how to say it, unique body."
The corner of his mouth curled up a little and his mood grew happy hearing her words.
Is she complimenting me?
We'll take it!
It's not every day you get a compliment from a girl like her!
Lana continued:
"I thought it was just you, but I'm recovering really fast as well."
They both looked at each other, the same question hanging in the air between them, unspoken but clear. This wasn't normal. This wasn't just adrenaline. Something else was happening.
But what?
Vlad pushed himself up and said:
"Whatever's happening, I'd say it's a good thing but anything I don't know about is something that can kill me."
Lana turned to the corpse of the vulturov.
"...True."
Vlad rubbed his right eye with his hand. He lowered his gaze and took a slow, deep breath, testing his lungs. No rasp, no rattling. Just the cool, clean and spicy air of the Bentree forest filled his lungs.