Scion of Humanity

Blake savored each bite of his father’s new cuisine at a table in the cookhouse. It not only granted him a temporary one point increase to his Physical Stamina, but tasted amazing as well. He swallowed the bite and shook his head.

“This is amazing, dad.”

Peter smiled, proud of his creation. “The key is in the spices and texture. You’re only allowed to deviate from the recipe so far before it no longer gives you attributes. But, if you give it a dash of seasoning, and flash fry it in a cast iron skillet, it gives the Mander meat a crunchy outer surface that locks the juices in.”

Blake nodded and sliced off another piece of Mander steak. “Well, this is way better than my last faction’s food. Theirs was fine, I guess, but they never tried to experiment for taste. All they cared about was the bare minimum to get the attribute boost.”

His father’s grin grew at the praise.

After he finished chewing the steak and swallowed, he asked, “I’m curious, how do you level as a cook?”

“I get a directive for each new recipe, but I only get the reward the first time I make it. I think it’s to incentivize trying new things, or something.”

“Honestly, it’s probably more about the ingredients than the recipe,” Blake interrupted.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, according to Metal, the Architect encourages everyone to go out and fight. For some reason, it doesn’t want us to grind the same scenario for materials over and over again. It wants us to explore new scenarios all the time. You probably have to cook a bunch of different meats to advance, am I right?”

When Blake was done speaking, he bit into the next slice of meat and groaned in pleasure at the taste.

“Yeah,” Peter nodded. “Although, I don’t have to do all of them. It lets me choose specific recipes that I want to specialize in. For example, I almost have enough mastery over the Mander steak recipe to progress. But, before I can, I have to purchase four other recipes and cook them at least once.”

Blake nodded and swallowed. “Can you choose whatever recipes you want?”

“Yeah,” Peter nodded. “Thank God, too. Can you even imagine having to eat goblins?” He grimaced in disgust.

Blake smirked. “Yeah, they don’t taste the best. The meat’s a bit stringy and gamey.”

His father’s eyes widened. “Are you serious? You’ve eaten goblins?”

Blake slipped another bite of Mander steak in his mouth and nodded.

“But they can talk!”

He swallowed his meat and chased it down with cold water. “So?”

“So you’re not supposed to eat people!” His father emphasized, clearly upset. “It’s cannibalism!”

Blake sighed. “It’s not cannibalism,” he corrected. “They’re another species entirely.”

“But…” Peter sputtered. “They can feel pain!”

Blake snorted and pointed at the last slice of Mander steak. “You don’t think that Mander felt pain when I killed it? What about chickens or cows? You don’t think they feel pain?”

“They aren’t intelligent, though,” the cook argued.

“The chickens aren’t, but that Mander sure as hell is. It can cast spells,” he reminded his father.

Peter frowned. “But… I thought…”

Blake shook his head. “Just because it can’t talk, doesn’t mean it isn’t smart or can’t feel pain.”

“Then how can you kill them? How can you kill intelligent beings?”

He scowled. “Because it’s either us or them. If I don’t, I’m essentially committing suicide by not growing strong enough to survive and protect my faction. It’s one of the reasons I hate the Architect so much.”

“You can’t protect everyone, Blake.”

“Oh, I know,” He agreed. “I wanted to recruit a ton of people and create like twenty teams before Invasion day, but the sheriff and his deputies ruined that. Now, I have to worry about someone running to the cops. If they find out about this town, it could ruin everything.”

The sound of engines in the distance suddenly grew louder, and Blake frowned.

“What’s that?” his father asked as his head swiveled to the glassless window.

Blake shrugged. “I don’t know, let’s find out.”

He quickly swallowed the last bite of Mander steak and rose to his feet. When he exited the cookhouse with his father, and stood beside the tall Greek pillars of the faction hall, he saw a line of at least fifteen cars and trucks enter their property.

The drivers soon began to park in the grassy field and exited their vehicles. Fingers were pointed at the newly constructed hall, as they conversed excitedly with themselves.

Blake swallowed his last bite of steak. “Uh, I thought mom said she was just interviewing a few people.”

“That was the plan,” his mother confirmed as she exited the two-story building. “Although, Kuruk did say a few more might come when word spread.

Blake gestured toward the crowd of at least fifty people. “That’s a lot more than just a few people.”

She nodded.

Peter scratched his head. “I’m not sure how I’m going to feed that many people.”

“You won’t have to yet,” he assured his father. He then turned to his mother. “We’re going to pay them, right?” After she nodded, he asked, “Do we have the money for that?”

“For now, yes. Jessica found someone willing to cash the check under a shell company. It should last us another month or so until the loan comes through.”

“She has a shell company?” he asked in disbelief.

“Evidently,” she shrugged.

Blake shook his head. He was glad he was able to recruit her.

I’m glad they know what they’re doing. I don’t even know what a shell company is.

Donna sighed. “Well, I suppose I should gather everyone up and explain what’s happening.”

His mother strode forward to a clearing and cupped her mouth with both hands. She shouted, “Can I have your attention, please!” After a brief moment, the murmurs of conversation cut off as the crowd shifted their attention to his mother. “Everyone, please gather close so I don’t have to yell.”

It took a few minutes for the crowd to fully assemble as everyone jostled for postion. When they amassed near enough that she no longer needed to shout, she asked, “Can I see a show of hands of people who are here looking for a job.”

All but one raised their hands. When Blake focused on that person, he realized it was Kuruk and whispered fiercely to get his attention. After Blake raised his voice, the man finally noticed him and walked over to the pillar he and his father stood near.

While his mother continued to orient the new potential hires, Blake asked, “Kuruk, who the hell are all these people?”

“Friends and family,” the young Apache answered simply.

Blake gestured toward the crowd and replied, “You’re either related to or friends with every one of those people,” he asked in disbelief.

“Some are friends of friends,” he then corrected himself.

“How can you be sure one of them won’t go to the cops when they find out Oliver and I are fugitives?”

“Don’t forget the police want to question your mother and I, too,” his father reminded him.

“They won’t rat,” Kuruk assured them confidently.

“You can’t know that,” Blake argued.

“Yes,” Kuruk rumbled. “I can.”

“Well, it’s too late to change anything now,” Peter said. “They’re already here, and they’re going to find out sooner or later about our situation. I suppose we’ll find out if you’re right, Kuruk.”

“I am,” he replied. “They already know.”

“WHAT!?” Blake shouted, and briefly interrupted his mother’s speech. He mouthed, ‘sorry’ to her and repeated his question in a quieter manner. “What do you mean they already know?”

“Two days ago, I told them that you and your family are wanted by the police. I also told them about the reward. I explained the entire situation and mentioned you need hard workers and are willing to pay.”

“I’m surprised we don’t already have the police down our throats,” Blake remarked.

Kuruk shook his head. “I lied about where the town is to test them. I had my sister watch the fake location and in two days, no police showed up.”

Peter smiled. “That was a great idea!”

Blake had to agree.

I suppose that’s one way to do it. Although, it doesn’t guarantee they’ll stay quiet. Someone might demand more pay to stay quiet. Maybe I should tell Mom to put Kuruk in charge of something.

He kept his concerns to himself. It was too late to change things, and he could only hope everything worked out for the best.

It’s gonna take over fifty mega-nano to invite them all. I better transfer another hundred over to the treasury after this is over.

With an internal sigh at the cost, Blake tuned in to listen to his mother.

“...farmers, cooks, stonemasons, and all kinds of other jobs. We also have more dangerous work for those willing to take risks. If you’re interested in working as a… security guard… then please talk to Blake. He’s the one in the leather armor,” she pointed to Blake.

All eyes suddenly focused on him. Some were obviously baffled by his attire, while others looked at him derisively, likely due to his age. Few people wanted to work for a teenager, which is what he appeared to be.

Although, it could be the burns on my face.

However, one by one, people began to trickle over until nine potential recruits stood near. His father begged off to return to the kitchen and left Blake alone with the small party. The group’s ages varied, yet all except one were men. The single female was young, and looked to be in her upper teens or lower twenties.

“Dahteste,” Kuruk scowled. “What are you doing here?”

The girl smirked. “I know what being a ‘security guard’ means,” she created air quotes with her fingers. “... and I want in.”

“It’s too dangerous,” he disagreed. “Go back to the other group.”

She suddenly looked furious. “Just because I’m your sister doesn’t mean I have to listen to you. I’m an adult and can do whatever I want.”

Kuruk shook his head and angrily stomped away.

Just what I need, family drama.

“Dangerous?” a thin man in his mid-twenties asked derisively. He looked Blake up and down with disdain. “Why’s a kid in charge of security?”

“Because I’m the one paying. If you can’t handle taking orders from a teenager, then you’re welcome to leave,” Blake gestured toward the row of parked vehicles, but winced when his shoulder twinged.

The man shook his head. “Oh, no. I’m good,” he assured Blake. “I assume, since this job will be ‘dangerous’, that it pays more. Am I right?”

“It’s got better benefits,” Blake replied evasively. “Trust me, you’ll be happy with them. That’s not the issue. I need to know that everyone here is willing to listen and follow orders to the tee. I’m going to invest a lot of time training you, and I’ll be handing out expensive equipment, too. I don’t want all that effort wasted when you die because you think you know better.”

The thin man snorted.

Blake frowned. “I thought you didn’t have a problem?”

“Oh, I don’t have a problem at all,” the man smirked.

“Then what’s with the asshole routine?”

Suddenly, the man’s smile disappeared and he stepped forward angrily. “Who are you calling an asshole?”

“You,” Blake said evenly and stood his ground. “Now either shut up and let me talk, or go back to the others and become a farmer. I don’t have time for this bullshit.”

Another in his lower thirties put a hand on the irate man’s shoulder and whispered, “Jerome, just listen to him. The tribe said they won’t hire you again. Who cares if he’s just a kid?”

Jerome shook off his friend’s hand. “I care. If this job actually IS dangerous, he could get us killed. Just look at his face! He probably did something stupid and almost got himself killed. I bet he’s never been in a fight in his life. He’s only in charge of security because his mommy’s rich.”

Blake glanced at the others and saw the doubt painted across their faces. Even Kuruk’s sister, Dahteste, looked concerned. If Blake wanted to form combat teams out of these volunteers, he needed to convince them that he was worth listening to,

I suppose a demonstration is in order.

“Actually, you’re wrong on pretty much every front. You don’t know a single thing about what’s going on here, because you think you know best. First of all, I don’t work for my mother, she works for me. Second, I’ve been in literally thousands of fights, and I’ve won all of them.”

Jerome snorted. “Bullshit. You’re what, seventeen? Eighteen?” He shook his head and jabbed a finger into Blake’s chest. “You’re still wet behind the ears. You look like you can barely even stand.”

“Alright,” Blake responded. “I was trying to be polite, but that obviously won’t work here.”

He grabbed the finger poking him in the chest and twisted it. Jerome screamed sharply as metacarpals snapped, and cradled his now broken hand. After a moment, Jerome looked up from his swelling fingers, shouted, “YOU BASTARD! I’LL KILL YOU!” and rushed forward to tackle him.

Blake gently checked him with an extended arm and winced when the angry man fell to the ground, unable to breathe.

Shit, that was still too hard.

After a few moments, when Jerome’s moans transitioned into deep breaths, Blake sighed in relief. He had not intended to kill the man, only humble him.

Blake looked at the others, who had slowly backed away from the altercation. “Don’t worry, he just had the wind knocked out of him, is all. He’ll be fine. Now, I have a long story to tell, so please, no interruptions until I’m done. It’s going to be hard to believe, but after I’m done, I’ll prove that everything I’ve told you is true.”