Imura sat on the cracked windowsill, staring at the system screen that hovered faintly before his eyes.
[Bond Progression: Saya → Fearful Dependency ↑]
The words pulsed softly, yet their weight was heavier than any level-up notification he'd seen so far.
He leaned back, resting his crowbar across his lap. So… it tracks relationships too. Not just my strength, but the way people tether themselves to me.
That was valuable. More valuable than EXP.
His lips curled into a thin smile.
Fearful dependency, huh? She clings to me because she's scared. If I push her further, if I control what she fears and what she clings to, then I own her completely.
On the other side of the room, Saya was curled up in the corner, her knees hugged tightly to her chest. Her eyes were red and swollen, but she didn't dare close them. Every time she shut her eyes, she saw that monster's face. Or worse, Imura's grin as he beat it to death.
She flinched when she felt his gaze.
"Eat."
Her head snapped up. Imura tossed something toward her—an unopened pack of chips he'd scavenged earlier. It landed at her feet.
For a moment she hesitated, as if it might be a trick. Then hunger gnawed at her, and she ripped the bag open, stuffing food into her mouth with trembling hands.
Imura watched her silently, then said, "Do you understand why you lived and they didn't?"
She froze mid-bite. "…Because… because you chose me?"
"Exactly." He leaned forward, his tone sharp. "The others were trash. Weak, desperate, useless. Saving them would've slowed me down. You're alive because you're useful—because I decided you weren't a waste of space."
Her lips quivered, crumbs spilling from her shaking fingers. "…I'll prove I'm useful. I'll… I'll do anything."
Imura smirked. Perfect.
The system pulsed again.
[Bond Development Detected: Conditional Submission]
Imura's eyes gleamed. He had been right. The system wasn't random. It was watching, measuring, rewarding.
So it's not just about leveling myself up. If I play with their emotions, their loyalty, I can mold them into exactly what I want.
The clones weren't his only weapons anymore. People could be turned into tools too.
And Saya… Saya would be the first.
Hours passed. The night deepened. The city outside howled with distant moans.
Imura deliberately dismissed his clones, leaving himself and Saya alone in the silent ruin. He wanted her to feel it—the vulnerability, the emptiness without his guardians standing watch.
She hugged her knees tighter, her eyes darting to every creak and shadow.
"Scared?" Imura asked, his voice casual.
"…Y-yes," she whispered.
"Good," he said, leaning back and closing his eyes. "Stay scared. Fear keeps you alive. Fear keeps you close to me. Remember that."
Her heart hammered painfully. But a part of her—the part clinging desperately to survival—believed him.
By dawn, Saya hadn't slept. When she finally looked at Imura, she saw him dozing lightly against the wall, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. His crowbar rested within arm's reach.
She studied his face—the sharp angles, the dark circles under his eyes, the faint smirk that never seemed to leave his lips.
He was terrifying. Brutal. Merciless.
But he had saved her when no one else had.
A strange warmth flickered in her chest, twisted and confusing.
Her lips parted, a whisper barely escaping. "…Don't leave me."
The system shimmered.
[Bond Progression: Saya → Dependent Attachment ↑]
Imura opened his eyes slowly, pretending he hadn't heard. But inside, his grin widened.
That's it. Keep walking the path I lay out for you. Fear me. Rely on me. Desire me.
In the end, all of you will belong to me.
The next day dawned gray and heavy. The city outside was a carcass—cars overturned, buildings split open, smoke still curling into the sky from fires that no one had put out.
Imura and Saya picked their way through the streets, staying low. The air was thick with the stench of rot, but it wasn't the smell that kept Saya trembling. It was the silence between each moan of the undead, the feeling that something worse was always waiting just around the corner.
Imura walked in front, three clones trailing like shadows. His eyes never stopped scanning.
"Keep close," he said without turning his head.
Saya hugged her bag to her chest. "O-okay."
She didn't ask questions. She didn't complain about the pace. She just followed. Exactly the way Imura wanted her to.
They reached the husk of a convenience store, its windows smashed, its sign half hanging.
Imura motioned his clones in first. They slipped inside, weapons raised. Moments later, he entered with Saya close behind.
The shelves were mostly stripped bare, but here and there lay scraps—cans, broken packets of noodles, bottles of water.
Saya rushed toward one, her eyes lighting up. "There's still—"
A sharp gesture from Imura froze her. He tilted his head.
Voices.
Low, hushed, but definitely human.
Imura grinned faintly. So we're not the only ones left after all.
The voices grew clearer as they moved deeper. Three men and a woman crouched behind a makeshift barricade of shelves, weapons in hand. Not professional—metal pipes, a baseball bat, one even clutched a kitchen knife—but they were survivors all the same.
Their eyes widened when they saw Imura and Saya.
"Shit, more people?" one muttered.
The woman straightened slightly. She had cropped black hair and a hard stare. "Stay back. We don't want trouble."
Imura tilted his head, amused. "Funny. Neither do I. But trouble has a way of finding me."
One of the men shifted nervously. His pipe clanged against the shelf.
Saya gripped Imura's sleeve, whispering, "M-Maybe we should go—"
"Quiet," Imura said softly. His eyes never left the four strangers.
The air was tense.
Then it happened.
A crash upstairs. A shrill, guttural shriek.
The ceiling above cracked. Dust rained down.
Mutants.
The survivors panicked instantly.
"Damn it, they followed us!" one of the men cursed, gripping his bat tighter.
Imura's smirk widened. So they were bait. And now they've led something right to me.
The ceiling gave way. A grotesque, four-limbed creature dropped into the store, its body twisted, its jaws split far too wide. Its screech rattled the shelves.
Chaos erupted.
The strangers screamed, swinging their makeshift weapons wildly. The mutant barreled into them, claws tearing through wood and flesh alike. Blood sprayed.
Saya shrieked, stumbling back. "Imura!"
Imura was calm. Almost serene. His clones moved instantly, forming a wall between him and the beast.
Perfect, he thought, watching the strangers struggle. This is exactly what I wanted.
As the battle raged, Imura measured everything—the mutant's speed, the survivors' desperation, Saya's growing terror.
This wasn't just a fight. It was a test.
A chance to see who could be shaped into tools.
And who was nothing but meat.