The mutant's shriek tore through the ruined convenience store, shaking cans and bottles off the shelves. Dust drifted from the ceiling as its massive claws ripped through the plaster.
The survivors screamed.
One man—skinny, wild-eyed, clutching a dented baseball bat—swung at the creature with a desperate yell. The bat cracked uselessly against the beast's thick hide, bouncing away with a hollow clang. Another, heavier-built, lunged forward with a kitchen knife, stabbing wildly at its chest. The blade barely sank an inch before the mutant backhanded him across the aisle, sending him crashing into the metal shelves with a wet thud.
Blood sprayed.
Saya screamed, stumbling back, her entire body trembling.
But Imura?
Imura didn't flinch.
"Clones. Engage."
Three identical figures flickered into existence around him, each gripping a crowbar. They surged forward in perfect synchronicity, slamming into the mutant's limbs and torso, forcing it back a step.
The monster roared, its voice a guttural, animal sound that reverberated through the ruined store. One of its claws swung wide—too wide. A clone intercepted, taking the hit and dissolving into sparks of light.
Imura smirked. Always disposable. That's the beauty of them.
"Keep pressure on its legs," he ordered, his voice sharp, commanding.
The survivors stared at him in shock.
The skinny man's bat clattered from his hands. His jaw worked soundlessly. "W-What the hell is that…?"
The woman stepped forward instead. She was hard to ignore.
Short-cropped black hair framed her pale, angular face, and even in the middle of terror her posture was defiant. She wore a torn button-up blouse that clung to her sweat-slick body, the buttons strained across her chest. Her jeans were ripped at the knees, stained with ash and dirt, but they hugged her hips tightly enough that Imura's eyes flicked over her curves without effort.
Her eyes—cold gray—were locked on him, sharp even as fear glimmered in them. "You're… controlling them."
Imura grinned, crowbar spinning lazily in his hand. "Clones. Extensions of me. And a lot more useful than dead weight."
The woman clenched her jaw, but her gaze lingered.
The mutant shrieked again, tearing the moment apart. It lunged, claws flashing.
Imura moved.
The clones darted low, crowbars hammering into its knees. At the same moment, Imura himself stepped in, swinging his crowbar upward into the beast's jaw with bone-snapping force. Black ichor splattered across the floor.
The creature stumbled but didn't fall. Its claw slammed down, shattering the tiles where Imura had been a second before. He rolled to the side, springing back to his feet with predatory grace.
His grin widened. "You're strong. Good. More experience for me."
The other survivors panicked, swinging wildly. The heavy man with the knife stabbed again and again, barely scratching the monster's hide. The third—a wiry, middle-aged man with thinning hair and a makeshift spear—jabbed uselessly at its flanks.
"Stay back!" Imura barked. "You're just in the way."
The mutant turned, jaws splitting wider, saliva dripping in thick ropes. It lunged at the knife-wielder, who froze in terror.
But Imura was faster.
His remaining clones leapt onto the creature's back, one grappling its thrashing arm while the other jammed a crowbar into its ribs. The monster shrieked, flailing.
Imura sprinted forward, crowbar raised high. With a savage cry, he leapt, bringing the weapon down into the creature's skull.
Crack!
Bone fractured.
The monster roared, trying to shake him off, but Imura's clones tightened their grips. Again he swung. And again. Black ichor splattered across his face, warm and foul.
One last strike shattered its skull completely. The mutant convulsed once, then collapsed, twitching.
The store fell into silence, broken only by Saya's ragged breathing and the survivors' choked gasps.
The system chimed.
[Mutant Defeated: +700 EXP][Level Up!][Imura – Level 7][Clone Limit Increased: 4 → 5]
Imura dropped from the corpse's back, landing lightly. His crowbar dripped with gore. He wiped his sleeve across his face, smearing blood and ichor into streaks.
Slowly, he turned toward the survivors.
They were trembling.
Not just from the mutant. From him.
The knife-wielder groaned from where he'd been thrown, clutching his side. The spear-man was pale, sweat dripping down his face. The skinny man stared at Imura like he was looking at something inhuman.
Only the woman met his gaze. Her chest rose and fell quickly, her blouse clinging tighter with sweat, but her eyes burned with something between suspicion and awe.
Imura tilted his head, amused. "You were dead the moment that thing came through the ceiling. The only reason you're breathing right now…" He tapped his crowbar against the floor. "…is me."
The skinny man swallowed hard. "Y-You… what are you?"
Imura smirked. "The one who decides if you live or die."
The woman stepped closer. Her jeans hugged her hips with every motion, the tear at her thigh revealing pale skin. Her blouse, half-buttoned, gave him glimpses of a lacy black bra beneath. She wasn't trying to be seductive—it was simply the reality of a desperate survivor—but Imura's gaze lingered all the same.
She noticed. Her lips pressed into a thin line.
"You could've run," she said flatly. "But you didn't. Why save us?"
Imura chuckled. "Save? Don't flatter yourself. I killed it because it gave me power. You just happened to survive in the process."
The spear-man's voice cracked. "Then what do you want from us?"
Imura's eyes gleamed. "That's the right question."
The system pulsed again.
[New Bond Candidates Detected][Bond Paths Available: Fear / Respect / Desire]
So they're all options. Tools waiting to be shaped.
Saya edged closer to him, clutching his sleeve. Her wide, fearful eyes stayed fixed on the blood dripping from his crowbar. "Imura… you didn't even hesitate."
"Why would I?" His voice was calm, even mocking. "Hesitation is weakness. Weakness gets you killed. Remember that."
Her lips trembled, but she nodded quickly. "I-I'll remember. I'll follow you. Always."
The system shimmered again.
[Bond Progression: Saya → Dependent Attachment ↑]
Imura smirked, letting his hand brush against her trembling fingers just long enough to make her flinch. Good. She's clinging tighter with every step.
He turned back to the others.
"Here's the deal. You're alive because I allowed it. Stick with me, and maybe I'll keep allowing it. Step out of line…" He rested the crowbar on his shoulder, eyes gleaming. "…and I'll let the next monster have you."
The survivors exchanged fearful glances.
The knife-wielder groaned. The skinny man looked ready to bolt. The spear-man stared at the floor.
And the woman?
She straightened her spine, forcing herself to meet his gaze again. Her gray eyes glinted with defiance, but underneath, he saw it—the same flicker of fear.
Perfect.
For the first time since awakening his power, Imura felt it.
Not just strength.
Control.