Eater Blade: Grinding in Apocalypse-Chapter 9: HIS SLAVE FOREVER.

The Runner returned, arms full of what could generously be called "remains."

"Wow. You actually stacked ’em."

The Runner gently set down the broken armor plates, a shredded boot, and some unrecognizable things.

He pushed himself up painfully, leaning heavily against the bus wall.

"Alright, let’s find a decent place to leave them. Somewhere the Eaters won’t find them. The nest’s still up there, and I can’t finish this on my own. I have to follow the guild’s rules. And I’m sure it’s swarming with Eaters guarding their queen."

The Runner nodded and carefully picked up Lex’s body again, cradling her. Johnquis grabbed what little he could, some pieces of broken armor and the scattered remnants of Randy and Mars shoving them together into a rough bundle.’

He staggered to his feet, his legs shaky as hell, and the Runner followed silently, carrying Lex.

Johnquis scanned the overturned bus and its surroundings. A narrow shaft of sunlight streamed through a broken side window near the bus’s rear. It looked sheltered but visible enough.

"Over here."

The Runner followed, stepping carefully. When they reached the spot, Johnquis dropped the remnants onto a flat patch of concrete.

"Good enough. It’s the least I can do for them. The Guild doesn’t care if we die, they just let our corpses rot."

The Runner crouched, setting Lex gently beside the pile.

Johnquis wiped a grimy hand over his face and groaned.

"You know, I really hoped this day wouldn’t end with me playing glorified corpse mover."

The Runner blinked, almost like it wanted to say something, but said nothing.

Johnquis gave it a tired half-smile.

"Thanks for the help. I need to find some loot bags around here. Hopefully there are still a few left, close by."

He started walking. The Runner followed.

He kept going. So did it.

He broke into a jog. The Runner jogged too.

"Don’t tell me you’re gonna follow me forever?"

The Runner gave a small nod.

"Oh god... what has my life turned into?"

He eyed the creature up and down.

"Uhm... if you’re gonna follow me around, I better give you something to wear to hide some of that scary body. Everyone will freak out if they see you like that. I mean, it’s better if no one sees you."

He grabbed a cape from the corpse and draped it over the Runner.

"I know you hate the sunlight. Slows your muscles down, right? This might help... a little."

He pointed at the Runner’s legs.

"And one more thing. Walk like me, two legs, not four."

Together, they set off to search for any loot bag they could find.

The world around them was a graveyard dressed in green. Ruined apartment blocks leaned at broken angles, half-devoured by trees sprouting through cracked foundations. The old street signs were so rusted they looked like rotten bone. Vines crawled over every wall, swallowing windows whole.

They moved in silence, staying low. Johnquis kept glancing back, making sure the Runner’s cloak held tight around its shoulders. The thing still tried to walk like him, upright, two feet though every muscle in its limbs twitched like it wanted to drop and crawl.

A distant metallic clang echoed from somewhere deeper in the ruins. Johnquis froze, hand on his Eater Stone. Nothing. Just a rusted sign falling. They kept moving.

After a while, Johnquis spoke, his voice almost too low for the wind to carry.

"You know... I’ve been alone ever since I became an Eater Blade. My sister rose through the ranks fast, faster than anyone. Everyone called her a prodigy. A legend, even."

He stepped over a sunken piece of road, careful not to make noise.

"But she left me behind. Said I was too weak. Said I’d just slow her down. And in this world? The strong rise. The weak... get left behind."

He kicked a loose rock off the curb. It bounced once, clattering down into an old drain. Dust rose around his boots.

"After that, no squad wanted me. No one. They’d see my profile and they’d turn their backs.

He paused, eyes flicking to the Runner skulking beside him.

"Now I’ve got an Eater stuck with me. My death, right here on two legs, following me. Maybe forever."

He let out a sharp, bitter laugh that died too fast.

"I didn’t think I’d make it out of that bus. Not alive. Thought I’d die with your claws in my gut. But now... my death walks beside me. Funny how that works, huh?"

The Runner tilted its head at him. No words, just a soft rasp of breath behind the mask.

"I don’t know what this chain really is. Or what it’ll cost me in the end. But maybe... just maybe..."

He flexed his fingers, the black stone in his palm faintly pulsing.

"Maybe I finally got something that makes me worth keeping alive."

He stopped walking, standing in the middle of an old street that was more weeds than concrete now. Ahead, a collapsed storefront, old pharmacy sign still visible, half-hanging. That’s where he’d search.

Johnquis turned to the Runner, keeping his voice a hush under the low wind.

"Stay sharp. This place looks dead, but you never know who’s sniffing around for the same scraps."

He tilted his chin toward the shadows under a rusted overpass up the street.

"Loot bags aren’t like ration drops, they don’t just appear for everyone. Sometimes they’re left behind from old operations. Sometimes a squad stashes them and never makes it back. Sometimes the Guild drops one right in a hot zone... and if they’re feeling generous, they’ll toss one somewhere safe.

He glanced at the pharmacy door, half-swallowed by ivy.

"Eater Blades like me... we’re trained to scavenge. But some get greedy. Some don’t wanna share. There are squads who just hoard the loot for themselves, so they can run more quests, rank up faster."

He tapped the black stone in his palm, faintly humming.

"Watch the rooftops. If you see a glint , a scope, a stone light, nudge me. I don’t want to cause a scene here. If there’s loot, we grab it and go. Alright?"

The Runner gave a small, guttural click, some mimicry of understanding then hunched down near the sidewalk edge, claws ready to dart back into the shadows if needed.

Johnquis took a breath. The air smelled of damp stone and old mold, layered with the faint copper tang of dried blood somewhere close. He eased forward, keeping his shoulders low, hand brushing the wall as he slipped toward the pharmacy door.

Inside, the air was thick. Shelves collapsed like dominoes. Water dripped somewhere in the back. A single rat skittered past a display case of shattered pills.

He signaled the Runner. It crept in behind him, moving strangely silent on two legs, cloak brushing the dust.

Johnquis whispered, "Keep your eyes open for movement. Boots, footprints... anything fresh."

Through a cracked window, he glimpsed the street, empty. But he knew better.

He mouthed to the Runner, "Two minutes. Find the bag, then we move."

The Runner moved ahead, sniffing the air, eyes flicking back and forth like a starving hound.

Johnquis worked the corners of the shelves, careful not to brush any hanging glass that might clatter to the floor. He muttered under his breath, half to himself, half to the Eater Stone

."Come on, come on... just a little more blood to keep us moving. Not enough and I’ll end up food for you too, huh..."

He froze, a faint click upstairs. An Eater? A weapon being readied? Or just an old pipe shifting?

He signaled the Runner with a quick flick of his fingers.

"Hide. Wait."

They both crouched in the shadows, breath low. Johnquis’ heart slammed in his chest, not from fear of Eaters... but from what he knew could be worse.

Another Eater Blade... desperate enough to kill for a single ration bag.

The ruined city pressed in around them — old stone, creeping vines, secrets buried under rot and greed. And somewhere in that silence... a loot bag waited.

If they didn’t find it first, someone else would.

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