The sea was so calm. Leon held the helm of the Parker 2520 with one hand relaxed over the warmth of the low sunspot, and the other resting on the console, his fingers light. The engine purred smoothly, a sound as comforting as a familiar breath.
Finally free. No sergeants, no reports, no weight of others' eyes upon him. Just the boat, the salty wind, and the ocean's blue.
He allowed a rare, genuine smile to touch his lips. He looked at the fishing rods lashed to the gunwale. Maybe he could do some fishing there, he thought, where the water deepened and the schools usually passed. He took a deep breath, feeling the clean air fill his lungs.
That's when he noticed the sun had vanished.
Leon raised his eyes to the sky, expecting to see only a passing cloud. Instead, what he found wasn't clouds.
Something immense covered everything, as if the sky itself had turned into a ceiling of jet, and the sea, once turbulent, went still.
The shadow fell over him like a damp, heavy cloak, swallowing the boat, the light, the engine's purr, and even his own thoughts. He tried to scream, but the darkness poured into his mouth, his eyes, his pores.
Leon opened his eyes abruptly, his heart hammering against his chest.
Pain brought him back.
The dream shattered. He awoke choking, his entire body locked in a spasm of pain. There was no place that didn't hurt. His head, his shoulder, his ribs, everything burned as if he'd been run over. The taste of blood filled his mouth before he could even understand what was happening.
Leon blinked several times; even so, he couldn't see clearly. The only thing he could make out was a faint, yellowish light coming from somewhere to his right, barely illuminating the shadows around him.
He was lying on something hard, cold, and uneven. He guessed it was the cabin floor.
There was a smell of burnt oil, stagnant saltwater, and... blood. His own blood.
How much time had passed?
The question echoed inside his skull. There was no answer, only the thick fog of pain and confusion.
When he tried to sit up, the world seemed to spin, and he felt a violent dizziness and nausea. He fell back, and the impact against the metal sent new cracks of pain through his body. He let out a rough groan.
After a while, he managed to prop himself up on his elbow.
He looked around the cabin. It was worse than he remembered. It wasn't just destruction from the impact. There was water. About five centimeters covering the slanted floor. The water was dark, oily, and stank of sewage and diesel.
The boat was sinking. Or was it? He looked out the broken window. They were inside a building. The water had consumed much of Monleciti.
Suddenly, amidst the confusion and pain, a name cut through the fog of his mind like lightning.
"Aylin."
She was still slumped in the same place. But now, Leon could see she was trembling. Even unconscious, her body shook violently. Fever.
He dragged himself over to her, and every movement was agony. Leon touched her forehead; it was burning hot.
"Shit, shit, shit."
Infection. Had to be. The broken arm, maybe a bone pierced the skin. Or some cut he hadn't seen, contaminated by the dirty water. In this situation, a fever could be fatal.
Leon looked around. He could immobilize her arm with other makeshift means, but he needed medicine. Antibiotics and analgesics.
And drinking water. Food. A safe place for her to recover.
He looked at Aylin. She wouldn't last long without medication.
Which meant he would have to go out.
Leon dragged himself to the window and looked outside.
The Valkyria II was indeed beached on the third floor of a commercial building. The bow had smashed through a glass wall, creating an irregular opening. The hull was precariously propped up on a mountain of debris crushed cars, concrete rubble, and twisted metal structures forming a grotesque ramp from the asphalt up to the hole in the wall.
Below, the avenue was flooded. The water reached the second floor of the buildings on either side. And in that water, he saw movement.
Infected.
Some floated, bloated and deformed by the water. Others wandered in the shallows, dragging themselves like crocodiles. And in the windows of the surrounding buildings, dozens of shadows moved.
Leon moved back from the window, his heart racing.
He took a deep breath, trying to formulate a plan.
First, he needed to stabilize Aylin. Do what he could with what was on the boat.
Then, he should explore the building they were in. Check for survivors, supplies, and see if there was a safe way out.
Finally, he had to find medicine. A pharmacy, a hospital, anything.
And then... well, he'd deal with the "then" when he got there.
Leon dragged himself to the first aid cabinet that had survived the impact. He opened it. Most of the bottles were broken, but some items were still intact. Gauze. Bandages. A bottle of alcohol. Some basic analgesic tablets.
It wasn't enough. Not even close.
But it was a start.
He went back to Aylin. With slow, deliberate movements, his hands trembling but his mind focused, he cleaned the cut on her forehead with alcohol, immobilized the fractured arm with a makeshift splint made of wooden slats and bandages, and gave her a pill with a little of the water he'd stored in his inventory. That was all he could do for now.
Then, he took a deep breath and opened the System interface.
It blinked before his eyes, the blue letters floating over the vessel's status:
[VESSEL STATUS]
Name: Valkyria II
Hull Integrity: 34%
Electrical Systems: OFFLINE
Main Engine: DAMAGED (Critical Repairs Required)
Fuel: 12%
Soul Energy: 17/20
[CRITICAL DAMAGES DETECTED]
Hull: Severe Structural Rupture (Bow and Portside)
Engine: Broken Driveshaft
Hydraulic Systems: Total Leakage
Navigation Electronics: Short Circuit
[MATERIALS REQUIRED FOR MINIMAL REPAIR]
Naval Steel (Sheet/Plate): 45 Units
(For patching the breach and structural welding of the hull)
Mechanical Components (Marine Grade): 18 Units
(Pumps, valves, engine and propulsion system seals)
Busbar and Wiring (Waterproof): 12 Units
(For critical ignition circuit, panel, and bilge pumps)
Sealing Composite (Epoxy/Polymer): 8 Units
(For hermetic sealing of hull and window repairs)
That's when a detail in the interface caught his attention.
Soul Energy: 17/20.
The number didn't make sense. He only had 4 before being swept away by the wave. During the desperate fight on the deck, against the infected Aylin killed, he hadn't collected anything consciously. Even if he had, they would have been isolated points. Not thirteen points all at once.
His gaze swept over the destroyed hull, the hole in the wall, and the flooded city outside. A cold, absurd suspicion began to form. The wave hadn't just hit them. It swept entire streets, buildings, and infected. The Valkyria II, in its brutal drift, had been like a tractor, an aquatic steamroller... And the System counted those deaths as if they were his.
How many infected did this steel bow crush while we were being dragged?
The question echoed, dark, in his mind. He hadn't seen or heard anything beyond the chaos.
Leon closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to push away the headache. It was too much information at once, a macabre influx in the midst of ruin.
He forced his mind to focus on what was important at that moment. The boat was practically destroyed. And even if he could get the materials, which would already be a desperate task, there remained the unsolvable problem: how the hell would he get a 20+ meter boat out of the third floor of a building?
"One step at a time," he repeated to himself. First, he needed enough materials to get the engine running and seal the hull. The rest... he'd figure out later.
He prepared himself and checked his weapons. The Glock was still in its holster, wet, but in good condition. He pulled the slide back slightly to check the chamber. The magazine was lighter, as it was missing the bullets used against the Variant in the boat's corridor, but there was still enough ammunition for an emergency.
He opened the dimensional inventory and materialized the crowbar.
[Steel Crowbar] [Durability: 48%] [Damage: Low (Blunt)]
The crowbar was visibly worn, with several dented parts and deep scratches; the curved tip was slightly bent. But it was still the best close-quarters weapon he had at the moment.
However, now, with his injuries, it seemed to weigh twice as much, and he felt weaker. His muscles were stiff and sore.
But he had no choice: he would have to go out anyway, because he didn't know what dangers that building held.
Leon looked at the irregular opening where the bridge windows used to be. Now, it provided direct access to the interior of the building's third floor.
He took a deep breath, gripping the tool with both hands to steady his wrists. Ignoring the sharp stab in his ribs, he swung a leg over the debris of the console and, with a grunt of effort, heaved himself heavily onto the dirty carpeted floor of the office.