The garage carried a dense, familiar smell: grease, motor oil, and oxidized metal. The place felt frozen in time, with tools hanging from the walls and dismantled parts scattered across worn workbenches.
A pot-bellied man emerged from behind a disassembled Chevrolet, his hands smeared with grease, his faded T-shirt stained with yellowish sweat marks. Thick fingers held a wrench as if it were a natural extension of his body.
"This is Mike," Father Khatri introduced, gesturing casually.
"You the people from the trailer?" The mechanic wiped his palms on a rag that looked dirtier than the parts he worked on. His voice was rough, hoarse from years of cheap cigarettes.
The priest explained the situation calmly. Mike listened attentively, nodding as he scratched his belly absentmindedly.
"Huh. Never seen two vehicles arrive at the same time before. And this time there were three." He let out a low whistle. "Well, let's see. I'm no motorhome specialist, but if it's not some temperamental electrical issue, I can handle it."
"I'll leave you in Mike's care. When you get back, we'll talk more calmly," the priest said as he took his leave.
The mechanic led them to his pickup truck, an old Ford that screeched loudly when he opened the doors. Rust ate away at the edges, and the driver's seat sagged in the middle, molded by years of use.
Daniel climbed into the truck bed alongside Jim, who stared at him with that tense look of a father who felt control slipping through his fingers.
The truck pulled away. The engine roared louder than it should have, a metallic sound that promised future problems. The wind hit Daniel's face, carrying the fresh scent of pine and the dampness of the forest.
As they began to move away from town, Daniel felt something change. An invisible itch at the back of his neck, subtle at first, then steadily growing. As if unseen eyes were following him, fixed and persistent.
He turned his head left, then right, scanning the dense foliage.
Jim frowned from across the truck bed. "You okay?"
Daniel blinked, realizing how it must look. A paranoid man swiveling his head like an owl. "I'm fine." The reply came out too casual. "Thought I saw something. Nothing important."
Despite the act, he's just as scared as the rest of us, Jim thought.
Daniel forced his shoulders to relax, leaning against the metal side with a deliberately laid-back posture. But the sensation didn't fade.
He decided to activate the skill.
[Danger Wi-Fi – Activated]
The mental map expanded. White dots representing the people in the vehicle pulsed softly. Mike at the wheel, Jim beside him, Tabitha, Julie, and Ethan inside the cabin. Two tiny dots in the forest to the left, probably birds or small animals.
But the white dot moving above them, following the vehicle in a steady pattern, sent a chill down his spine.
It was flying.
At first, he assumed it was just an ordinary bird. He turned his head sharply toward the indicated direction, squinting against the glare of the sun. Blue sky. Sparse clouds. Nothing else.
But the white dot was still there. Following. Watching.
"Wonderful..." he muttered, his stomach tightening. If he couldn't see it, what the hell was it?
I only have one option. The analysis skill.
He hesitated. It was his last use of the day. He had planned to save it for the creatures at night, but if something was tracking them now, he needed answers.
He focused on the direction of the invisible dot and activated the skill, unsure if it would even work.
Information appeared floating in his vision, translucent bluish letters.
Name: Crow / Age: ?? / Life Level: 1
Strength: 5 – 9 / Endurance: 6 – 17 / Intelligence: 2 – 5 / Speed: 15 – 30
??
His blood ran cold.
A crow.
Must be one of the ones circling the fallen tree. The same ones with that mental scanning magic, reading surface memories of anyone who enters the town.
That explained how the creatures knew so much. They used crows as lookouts. Aerial spies no one ever noticed.
"It only beats me in speed," he analyzed coldly. "But it might have other kinds of magic, too. No idea what it's capable of."
The urge to pull out the Glock and fire at nothing was strong. But logic prevailed. Wasting ammo on an invisible target would be like tattooing the word idiot on his forehead.
You're watching me, you son of a bitch. Fine. For now, I'll pretend I'm just another lost tourist.
At least now he knew what was observing him. And the white dot on the map wasn't flashing red. Not hostile. Just... watching.
For now.
He pulled a joint from his inventory, slipped his hand into his pocket, pretending to take it from there. He grabbed the lighter. The metallic click echoed before the flame appeared.
The first drag went deep, warmth sliding down his throat. He held it for a second, then exhaled slowly. Smoke spiraled thinly into the air, carried off by the road wind. The sweet scent briefly masked the diesel smell of the truck. His muscles loosened, the tension in his neck easing. Not completely, but enough to breathe without his chest feeling tight.
Much better.
He glanced sideways and caught Jim watching him with that hard look of silent disapproval, the kind a father gives when he decides to pretend he isn't judging.
"Want one too?" Daniel asked, slipping a hand into his pocket.
"No, thanks." The reply was dry, sharp. Jim looked away, shoulders stiff.
Daniel shrugged and took another drag. His problem.
The truck slowed, creaking as it stopped near the motorhome. The smell of hot metal rose from the Ford's hood. Mike climbed out and let out a reverent whistle as he looked at the armored vehicle. "This is a work of art. Reinforced chassis, custom armor... This thing's a tank in disguise."
Daniel smirked, holding the joint halfway. "Custom-made. The previous owner was... eccentric."
"Eccentric and rich," Mike added, tapping lightly on the armored side. The sound echoed dense and hollow. "This metal ain't cheap."
"Got a joint you could spare me?" the mechanic asked hopefully. "Been a while since I smoked."
"Sure. Here." Daniel pulled another one out and handed it over.
The silence inside the truck cabin turned awkward for a moment.
Tabitha looked up immediately, her eyes narrowing in silent disapproval. Ethan watched with curiosity, while Julie turned her face away, unable to hide a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
"Appreciate it, man," Mike said, tucking it into his shirt pocket.
"Just don't smoke inside the vehicle," Daniel added after noticing Tabitha glaring daggers at him.
"I've got some weed in the motorhome. I'll give you some later. For now, let's head to the trailer. The problem there looks pretty serious, then we'll come back," he said, taking one last drag before grinding the joint out against the sole of his boot.
The mechanic nodded.
The pickup drove to the crash site. The trailer was still there, tilted slightly to one side, with visible impact marks along the rear panel. The wrecked black sedan remained nearby, exactly where it had been left. A silent reminder of how everything had begun.
Mike walked around the trailer in silence, lightly kicking a loose piece of metal and running a hand along the warped side.
"This thing's done," he said at last, without any drama. "Bent chassis, damaged axle. Even if it could move, it'd get someone killed on the road."
"I figured as much," Jim said, letting out a slow breath.
The Matthews family went to gather the rest of their belongings. Julie looked at Daniel before going inside. It wasn't a quick glance. She paused, held it for a second longer than necessary, as if silently saying, come back soon.
He nodded subtly before returning to the truck. The trip back was quick. When they stopped in front of the motorhome, Daniel took advantage of the moment while the mechanic climbed down.
"Can I spend fifty coins to fix everything, but leave a loose wire somewhere obvious for Mike to find?"
[Yes. 50 Silver Coins deducted. The loose wire will be 'forgotten' in a convenient location. Mike will be happy, you'll gain agility. Everyone wins, except your magical wallet.]
"Perfect." Daniel smiled. "As my dad used to say, money's meant to be spent."
While Mike checked the vehicle, Daniel stepped inside. Almost immediately, the sensation of being watched vanished, as if he were in the safest place in the world.
Retrieving the Glock from his inventory, Daniel felt the cold, heavy metal press against his palm. A quick trip to the shop and twenty silver coins later, he had an internal holster ready. After securing the weapon at his waist, the added weight felt comforting—a new layer of security, even if a Glock was useless against the creatures.
"Since I didn't screw up on the first night, even if Boyd doesn't like me much, he can't complain too hard. I've got a carry permit and a hunting license. All legal."
[Ah, yes, the classic 'armed law-abiding citizen.' Nothing can possibly go wrong with that flawless logic.]
"And if he asks for the gun?" Daniel continued, ignoring the sarcasm. "I won't give it up. Simple as that. What's he going to do? Arrest me?"
[Technically, he's the sheriff. Arresting people is kind of in the job description.]
"If this were China or Japan, it'd be a bigger problem." He shrugged. "But this is the United States. Second Amendment, baby. Even in a supernatural hellhole, constitutional rights still count."
[You really think the Constitution applies in a cursed town full of smiling monsters?]
"I don't know. But I'll find out if he tries to take my gun."
He glanced at the remaining coins. 670 had become 600.
"System, are there other ways to earn silver coins?"
[Regretting it now that you've seen your balance? What about that speech about money being meant to be spent?]
"I'm just asking. What's wrong with that?" he replied evasively. He'd never admit he'd blown fifty coins on impulse.
[At the moment, only through missions.]
"You said 'at the moment,' so there's a chance there'll be other ways in the future?"
Silence.
"System?"
Nothing.
Great. Now it was playing hard to get.
[New mission available]
Limited-time mission: Shock the people of the town.
Requirement: At least 60% of the town's residents must be shaken or surprised after witnessing or hearing about your actions.
Time limit: 04:59:59
Reward: 2 attribute points, 2 skill points, 200 silver coins.
"I thought you said I'd died. What kind of action even counts to complete this mission?" he thought, his eyes narrowing as he analyzed the floating text.
[Any kind of action. From shooting someone to taking your clothes off in front of everyone and doing the helicopter. The sky's the limit, champ.]
He held back a sigh. The System's sense of humor was just as broken as his own.
Daniel started thinking about ways to complete the mission. He didn't care what people thought of him, but he also didn't want to do something humiliating and suffer a social death on his second day. Taking his clothes off was out of the question.
From outside, Mike's voice echoed.
"Daniel! I've got good news!"
He set the thought aside for when they returned to town, grabbed the weed he had already separated, and stepped outside, descending the metal steps. Mike was already nearby, standing by the open hood. His gaze instinctively dropped to Daniel's waist.
The holster was under the shirt, but the outline of the gun was far too obvious.
Mike paused a second longer than necessary. His eyes returned to Daniel's face.
"Huh."
No question. No comment. Just a short, decisive nod. It was clear Mike had registered the information and decided not to poke the bear.
"The engine's perfect. Practically brand new. Well taken care of," he said, patting the metal with his grease-stained hand. "Just a loose wire. One minute, a screwdriver, done. It's running."
"Incredible, Mike!" Daniel forced relief into his voice. "Thank you so much. I thought it was something serious."
"No big deal." The mechanic wiped his hands on the rag for what felt like the thousandth time. "Now let's head back to the trailer."
"Perfect. Here's the weed I promised."
"Much appreciated." Mike grinned, pocketing the package.
He headed for the truck, his steps lighter than before.
Daniel stepped into the motorhome. Closed the door, the click echoing in the quiet. He sat in the driver's seat, feeling the leather against his back.
He turned the ignition.
The distinctive roar of a V8 exploded through the forest silence. The engine growled powerfully, the steering wheel vibrating lightly beneath his hands. The sound echoed between the trees like a warning.
A smile spread across his face, the kind that didn't reach the eyes but carried pure satisfaction.
"Finally, I can use my beauty."
He ran his hand slowly over the steering wheel, fingers savoring the familiar texture. The smell of the running engine, gasoline burning, heated metal. All mixed with the leather interior.
It was power. Mobility. Safety.
And most importantly, it was his.
He set the vehicle in motion, feeling the power respond instantly. "Kael knew I couldn't live without the sound of an engine. That's consideration."
The motorhome rolled down the road. The engine purred low and steady. He kept an easy pace, unhurried, enjoying the control. The steering was smooth, firm, stable.
And above, invisible but present, the crow continued to follow.
Daniel didn't look up. He didn't need to.
He knew it was there.
And for now, that was information enough.
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