The external monitor flickers again as the second video begins. You walk off to enchant the rest of the vehicles.This time, the atmosphere among the twenty-three soldiers is entirely different.

  No hostility.No posturing.Just raw, silent focus.

  Brad appears on screen beside the generator and the props.

  The moment the glow fshes during Enchant: Connection, several soldiers flinch.

  One corporal mutters under his breath:

  “ …He really just--linked a dead phone to a generator?”

  Another soldier elbows him sharply. They shut up and watch.

  When the dead phone’s screen flickers alive from mana alone, four soldiers audibly inhale.

  Sergeant Martinez--who had been the first to confront you earlier--leans forward.

  “That’s… that’s not electricity. That’s not a battery boot. That’s… something else.”

  Kovacs can’t stop himself; the Curse drags a truth out of him:

  “This is real. He wasn’t exaggerating anything in the briefing.”

  The troops look at him like he just announced God was real and sitting in the room.

  When Brad pulls the generator cord and it roars to life on the video, the soldiers instinctively brace at the expected sound--

  --only for it to go perfectly silent after Enchant: Silent Field.

  One of the privates, Torres, whispers:

  “Oh shit. Oh shit. That could change everything about zombie movement. Everything.”

  Drake, the grizzled Staff Sergeant, mutters:

  “Silent engines… self-repair… infinite fuel… this isn’t ‘help.’ This is civilization in a box.”

  As Brad expins Sustenance, sustaining anyone touching the generator or riding a linked vehicle--

  A young soldier in the back goes pale.

  “So we… we didn’t have to be rationing.”

  Another mutters:

  “Prometheus could have--holy shit--they could’ve used this to support entire camps…”

  Kovacs again, unable to lie:

  “Corporate didn’t want that. They wanted exclusive control.”

  When the fuel starts dripping--then streaming--into the barrel in the video…

  The reaction is immediate.

  Two soldiers actually step back like the monitor might explode.

  Martinez’s voice cracks with disbelief:

  “It's… making fuel too fast. That shouldn’t be physically possible.”

  Torres whispers:

  “So the tanker really is… limitless.”

  Drake lets out a long exhale that sounds like a man realizing his entire career just got rewritten.

  “We were hunting the most valuable ally on the pnet…”

  Then:

  “--because someone told us he was the threat.”

  Kovacs, jaw tight:

  “We were lied to. Completely.”

  Even Hollins--cold, calcuting Hollins--has finally lost the mask.His eyes stay fixed on the fuel streaming steadily into the barrel.

  “If this scales to a tanker… if it scales to a base… if it scales to a fleet…”

  He looks at you--really looks at you--for the first time.

  “Then the world doesn’t need Prometheus.”

  A long silence follows the video’s end.

  The soldiers stand there, the truth finally carved into them:

  This wasn’t a trick.This wasn’t bribery.This wasn’t propaganda.

  It was proof.

  Brad hadn’t threatened anyone.He’d shown them the blueprint to rebuild the world.

  Vaughn comes to sharply--breathing shifting from groggy to tactical in seconds. He registers the restraints, the fence post, the position of the sun.

  Then he sees you, crouched in front of him, staring silently.

  Then the twenty-three unrestrained soldiers standing behind you--his soldiers--watching him with a strange mixture of guilt, anger, and caution.

  His eyes harden instantly.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Vaughn snaps, voice sharp and commanding. “Untie me. Now. That’s an order.”

  You don’t move, you just continue staring at him. Bored, there's no surprise from what this tied up idiot is yelling, you could have pulled this exact scene out of a third rate movie script.

  Vaughn strains against the zip-ties, shoulders rolling as he projects authority the way career officers breathe.

  “Collins--this is unwful detainment of a Prometheus officer. You are going to release me and return all captured assets immediately. Do you have any idea--”

  He stops abruptly. Not because you spoke. But because you finally reach forward and touch his leg.

  A thin, pale green glow ripples down his nerves like frost finding every branch of a tree.

  Vaughn inhales sharply as the enchantment cmps into pce.

  A brief fre of pale green light snaps down his nerves like a cold wire tightening.

  Vaughn’s mouth shuts on pure instinct. His eyes widen a fraction as the Curse of Compelled Truth takes hold, feeding on his own mana supply and locking into pce with brutal finality.

  You say nothing. You simply wait.

  Ten seconds. His jaw locks. Thirty seconds. His pupils dite. A minute. His breath becomes ragged with the effort of trying to keep control.

  Vaughn’s throat works as he tries to control his breathing. His training tells him to stay silent. The enchantment tells him that silence is impossible.

  At st--forced, ragged, unwilling--the first words tear loose: “…the briefing packet I received was edited.”

  Several soldiers tense. Vaughn continues, his jaw trembling with effort: “I was shown a summary. No raw footage. No original context. The directive said you were consolidating strategic resources. That your ‘diplomatic cims’ were a misdirection. That dimensional travelers were hostile unknowns.”

  "That the Navy’s involvement was coerced." His eyes flick up to yours--fury and humiliation warring in the set of his jaw. “I was told the convergence event was an escation caused by you.”

  Kovacs steps forward, his own curse forcing truth into his voice like broken gss. “Sir… they didn’t just edit your briefing. They lied to every unit. Corporate beled us ‘acceptable attrition.’ They projected thirty to forty percent casualties for this operation.”

  Vaughn’s mask cracks. “Attrition?”His voice is barely audible. “For an acquisition mission?”

  Martinez steps beside Kovacs. She’s steady, but her hands are fists. “Sir… we pulled the encrypted archive from the MCC before we surrendered it. Prometheus corporate pnned to use Brad’s capture to lock down every remaining supply route. They weren’t trying to stabilize anything. They were positioning to control it.”

  Vaughn tries--instinctively--to cmp his mouth shut.The curse tears the truth free anyway: “…I advised deying deployment. Said we cked intel. They told me intel wasn’t the objective.” His voice cracks--not from weakness but from betrayal. “They said the only metric that mattered was acquisition.”

  Several of his soldiers flinch as if struck.

  You stand and gesture toward the mobile command center’s exterior screen.

  “Kovacs,” you say. “Py the original video.”

  The screen pulses to life.Webb and Reeves appear. The full, unedited broadcast rolls--every detail Vaughn never saw:

  The Portnd’s confirmed enchantments

  The global fuel stabilization pn

  International tanker deployment

  Navy-wide coordination

  The call for open communication with every surviving ship

  The humanitarian intent behind every step

  No coercion

  No monopoly

  No conquest

  Vaughn watches the entire thing in total silence, muscles tight as steel cables.

  When the video ends, he stares at the bnk screen as if trying to process a world he no longer recognizes.

  You speak through the Telepathy Web: “Everyone--load up. We’re moving out.”

  You turn back toward Vaughn. “The MCC, the tanker, the seven armed pickups--they stay here. They’re yours to use or abandon. That’s your call, not mine.”

  Vaughn forces his head up. The compulsion drags the next words from him: “You’re… leaving? Just like that?”

  “I don’t need hostages,” you say calmly. “And I don’t need soldiers. I need stability. If you help people, fine. If you leave, fine. I’m not chaining anyone to anything.”

  Behind you, dimensional travelers move with coordinated efficiency--hauling gear, checking straps, verifying connections across the Convoy Link.

  Martinez steps closer to Vaughn, voice low and steady. “Sir… corporate used us. All of us.”

  Vaughn closes his eyes. “…I know.”

  The engines start one by one--silent. And the enchanter's convoy begin rolling out.

  Silent.Steady.Leaving Vaughn and his twenty-three soldiers with a future to choose.

  You reach through the Telepathy Web, targeting the observation team at Crescent City.

  "Rika, Sinon, Nova, Hinata--if you see the FoB organizing or mobilizing, pull back before they start moving. They'll likely regroup with Vaughn at Orick. If that happens, they'll probably camp overnight and lock down that highway. Hopefully they'll show the real video to anyone trying to pass through."

  Rika's response comes back crisp and professional. "Understood. We're seeing survivor groups probing the perimeter, but no organized movement yet. FoB personnel are still disorganized."

  Nova adds, her voice ft but precise: "Bravo element should arrive within twenty minutes. Recommend we maintain observation until consolidation begins."

  "Approved," you reply. "Just don't get caught in their net."

  You pull the convoy into Trinidad Elementary School's fenced parking lot. The two massive ftbed trucks carrying the Apache helicopters settle into position with grinding brakes. C.C. hops out of the passenger seat, golden eyes scanning the helicopters with professional interest.

  "Riveria," you call out. "You're with C.C. Learn the Apache controls. Meet us in Eureka when you're done."

  Riveria inclines her head with elven grace. "Understood. I will master the basics before rejoining."

  C.C. smirks faintly. "Try not to crash my teaching aids, elf."

  The rest of the convoy reorganizes. Robin and Kurumi--who've been riding as passengers--move to supply vehicles for driving practice. You slide into SV1's driver seat, gesturing Albedo into the passenger side.

  The succubus settles beside you with inhuman smoothness, golden eyes watching your hands on the wheel with analytical intensity. "You wish me to learn vehicur operation."

  "Yeah. You're smart enough to manage governments--handling a truck will feel like pying with a big toy."

  Her lips curve slightly. "Fttery noted."

  The convoy rolls out: Yusuke leading in the police cruiser, followed by the Jeep where Rin patiently expins gear shifts to Yoruichi. Behind you, Maria guides Kurumi through acceleration control, Nami coaches Robin on steering, Erza demonstrates proper mirror usage to Shinobu, and Musashi drives alone with visible confidence.

  The three APCs follow--Violet, Kenshin, and Sango each handling the massive vehicles with varying degrees of comfort. Asia and Mikasa bring up the rear in the military transport trucks.

  You switch to broadcast mode on the Telepathy Web.

  "Alright everyone--we're heading to Eureka for supplies and boats. I need five specific vessels. First: a nding craft or car ferry--something barge with a ft metal front, big enough to drive a truck onto. The other four should be fast boats, usually sleek designs, often red. Bonus points if anyone spots a jet ski--looks like a saddle with handlebars on a tiny hull."

  Yusuke's mental voice comes back amused. "You want a jet ski? In the apocalypse?"

  "I'd love a dozen for Speed and maneuverability," you reply. "Plus they're fun. But for this trip, I'll settle with one and hopefully locations for more."

  Nami's voice carries professional interest. "I can identify optimal vessels. Fast boats typically have deep-V hulls and streamlined profiles."

  "Perfect. Keep your eyes open as we drive the coastal route."

  The convoy moves slowly--deliberately so, as half your drivers are still learning. Albedo watches your movements with unsettling focus, memorizing every shift, every turn of the wheel.

  "Clutch, then shift," you expin. "Feel the engine's rhythm."

  "Understood." Her hand moves to the gear shift experimentally. "This world's technology is… crude, but functional."

  The ocean glitters to your right as Highway 101 curves along the coast. Behind you, the convoy stretches--a mix of military and civilian vehicles, all enchanted, all silent except for the faint hum of tires on asphalt.

  Yoruichi's voice cuts through the Web, tinged with amusement: "So we're shopping for boats while seven armed groups hunt Brad. Bold strategy."

  "Seven that we know of, that don't know where we are. My st known location was Crescent city, now known to be fake. The Prometheus guys empty FoB or regrouping should slow down others until sunset in four hours, with the power grids down they shouldn't be searching for us at night." you reply. "And we need the boats before the LPD arrives. It's a rge mobile base--but we need our own mini fleet to make it work or it will be, inconvenient. The LARCs that are coming with it, are basically floating tractors. As a bonus, according to the map this area is warehouses and rge stores, so don't forget to communicate with the four watching crescent city, when we're finding new clothing for all you pretty dies."

  Nami: “Oh? We’re pretty, are we? Everyone hear that? Brad said it, not me.”

  Rin: “Focus on the road! And Brad--don’t distract my student with compliments! We're alive because I have two hands on this wheel!”

  Yoruichi: “You only need one hand to be pretty, Rin.”

  Rin: “THAT’S NOT-- not what I-- just drive!”

  Erza: “New clothes would be practical. Mine were damaged in combat. But… thank you for acknowledging our aesthetic appeal.”

  Nami: “Erza, he called us pretty, not ‘aesthetically optimized armor mannequins.’”

  Erza: “…Is there a difference?”

  Mikasa: “You don’t need to say things like that.” Beat. “…But it’s nice.”

  Sinon: “Great. I’ll add that to my recon notes: ‘Hostile factions converging, FoB colpsing, convoy morale boosted by fttery.’”

  Robin: “Brad does have good timing for morale management.”

  Musashi: “It’s called having taste.”

  Albedo: “At st, casual acknowledgement of our beauty. I shall select garments that reflect your preferences, my lord.”

  C.C.: “He said pretty, not ‘please dress like it’s a ball.’”

  Albedo: “He didn’t not say it.”

  Asia: “I-I don’t think I own anything pretty anymore…”

  Sango: “We’ll fix that.”

  Kurumi: “Ara~ Brad-kun, flirting with twenty women at once? Bold.”

  You: “I’m just stating a fact.”

  Kurumi: “Mmm. That’s what makes it work.”

  Riveria: “Should we not prioritize operational objectives over beauty assessments?”

  C.C.: “Elf, just take the compliment.”

  Riveria: “…Acknowledged.”

  Shinobu: “You know, Brad… pretty girls get motivated. Very motivated. We might find extra boats.”

  Nami: “See? Weaponized compliments.”

  Yusuke: “Do I get a compliment or do I have to steal one?”

  You: “You’re pretty on the inside.”

  Yusuke: “Man, screw you.”

  Mikasa: “He’s not wrong.”

  Hinata: “I think… it’s kind when you say it. That’s all.”

  The Web quiets for a moment.

  Just enough time for--

  Maria: “Kurumi, gentle on the accelerator--gentle--GENTLE--”

  Kurumi: “Oops. My foot slipped. Must be all this talk about beauty.”

  Maria: “We’re going to die, aren’t we?”

  You: “Okay. Everyone focus. Pretty or not, we need boats before the LPD gets here.”

  Yoruichi: “Too te. Compliment fired. Chaos achieved.”

  Nami: “Brad knows what he’s doing.”

  C.C.: “Mmm. Yes. Stir the hive, enjoy the buzz, and walk away.”

  And somewhere behind you, Musashi ughs so loudly it echoes across three vehicles.

  Albedo handles the supply vehicle with the same precise control she applies to everything else--calcuted, efficient, almost unsettlingly smooth for someone who learned thirty minutes ago. You navigate the coastal route, watching marinas slide past on your right while warehouse districts sprawl to your left.

  "Contact," Rika's voice cuts through the Telepathy Web. "Bravo element arrived at the FoB eleven minutes ago. They're securing the perimeter but no pursuit forming. Looks like consolidation, not mobilization."

  "Acknowledged," you reply. "Keep monitoring."

  Kurumi’s voice slides into the Telepathy Web, calm as always. “Three zombies coming from the south lot. Slow. Not coordinated.”

  You gnce up just in time to see the first one wander into the police cruiser’s path--arms limp, one shoe missing, brain clearly on vacation.

  Yusuke doesn’t hesitate. He accelerates by two miles an hour.

  There’s a wet, soggy crrkrk under the tires.

  “FIVE POINTS!” he shouts.

  “Yusuke!” several people scold at once.

  “What? Big target, clean hit, didn’t even swerve!”

  The second zombie staggers toward the Jeep.Yoruichi briefly checks her mirrors--…makes sure no one’s in the next ne--…and casually kicks the driver door open as she passes.

  The door catches the zombie square in the chest with a loud WHUD, sending it flipping end-over-end into a parked sedan.

  Yoruichi: “That counts as defensive driving, right?”

  Rin: “That counts as failing every earthly traffic w, but we’ll work on it.”

  The third zombie lurches into your ne.

  Without breaking, Albedo leans slightly out her window, reaches into her dimensional storage, and pulls out her polearm in one smooth movement. Without changing her expression--or interrupting her driving--she lets the car’s momentum carry the weapon’s arc.The bde slices down through the zombie’s skull like a guillotine. One clean strike.

  She slides the weapon back into storage and returns both hands to the wheel.

  Albedo: “This world’s pests ck durability.”

  Robin: “If you call that a pest, I’m afraid to ask what qualifies as a threat.”

  Nami: “At least they’re slower than Sea Kings. Imagine if these things swam.”

  You can’t help yourself: “They technically do. See the random bloodstains? When the outbreak hit--what, two weeks ago?--these streets had hundreds of thousands of people. Panic, bad choices, betrayals… ninety percent of humanity turned into a biomass stampede.They spread out until they find something alive, then swarm.These stragglers? Just the leftovers the military passed by.If we check near the main highways, there’s probably a pit or field of bodies where the army tried to bottleneck the surge.”

  A small silence follows.

  Maria: “…Okay. No more sea monsters, then.”

  Hinata: “I-I think I preferred not knowing that.”

  Yoruichi: “Brad, please don’t expin zombies like you’re narrating a documentary.”

  C.C.: “I found it soothing.”

  Musashi: “Of course you did.”

  “Sorry." You gesture ahead with a sigh. "Eyes up, everyone. Landing barges are still priority. Also: try not to traumatize the possible survivors.”

  Yoruichi: “Brad, this convoy is like a silent death parade, running over zombies, and committing vehicur war crimes. I doubt that's an option.”

  The convoy slows as you spot the first marina--and immediately your attention locks on two boxy vessels moored side-by-side. Landing barges, maybe thirty feet each, with ft fronts designed for beach deployment. Perfect for vehicle transport.

  "There," you announce through the Web. "Two nding barges, starboard side."

  Yusuke pulls the police cruiser to a stop. "Got 'em. Want me to check if they're operational?"

  "Yeah. Nami, Robin--you're with him. Assess condition and I'll start enchanting for fuel status."

  The next marina reveals two sleek Gaxy Professional RIBs--rigid inftable boats with powerful outboards and tactical bck hulls. The kind special forces use. On a nearby trailer sit two jet skis, still strapped down and covered in a thin yer of dust.

  "Jet skis located," Maria reports. "Trailer looks road-ready. Should we hook it up to one of the supply vehicles?"

  "Do it," you confirm with a smile.

  Further down, a pristine white speedboat gleams in the afternoon sun--some rich person's toy, probably forty feet of luxury fibergss with chrome accents and tinted windows.

  Albedo studies the marinas with analytical interest. "There are dozens of vessels here. Why haven't survivors taken them?"

  You gesture toward the surrounding area--empty streets, abandoned cars, the distant silhouette of mountains. "Same problem the Navy faces. Your food supply on the ocean is whatever you catch or bring with you. It's way more efficient to grab a truck or van and stay grounded where you can scavenge stores and houses."

  Erza's voice joins the conversation. "Practical, but limiting. These boats could provide escape routes if nd becomes untenable."

  "Temporary escape routes, which is likely why there were random abandoned boats across the shores and exactly why we're taking them," you reply. "The LPD gives us a mobile base, but we need smaller craft for reconnaissance, supply runs, and flexibility."

  Yoruichi hops out of the Jeep, stretching with feline grace. "So we're building a fleet within a fleet. I like it. Very pirate-y."

  Violet approaches the speedboat, examining its hull with professional thoroughness. She runs her fingers along the waterline, checking for damage, then moves to the engine compartment without a word.

  Kurumi peers down from the second APC's passenger window, red and gold eyes tracking movement in the warehouse district. "Brad... there are survivors watching us from the third building west. Four individuals, armed but not aggressive. They're confused."

  You gnce toward the warehouses. Sure enough, movement in a second-story window--silhouettes backlit by interior darkness.

  "Everyone stay alert but non-threatening. We're here for boats, not confrontation."

  SnafuSam