"Ha..."
The sound of Adam’s tired breath humd with the wind blowing across his face, almost harmonizing with the hum of his bicycle tire that was rolling against the worn asphalt.
He pedaled steadily along the empty country road, and the horizon stretched before him—nothing but fields and hills under the afternoon sun. Finally, he wasn’t surrounded by the destruction and chaos of the Ga.
There were fewer than three weeks left before the next Ga, and although it wasn’t completely certain that he would be summoned again, as a veteran, the chance of him participating again was extrely high.
Eighty percent, according to the International Battle Arena Association.
Adam inhaled deeply, tasting the clean air that was untainted by the ashes of the dead. It was empty, yes. But its emptiness was completely different from the one he was used to.
There was no death here, only life persevering.
He had been running his entire life, and this was the first ti he ever truly appreciated the world around him. Of course, he was still on the run—but he was also carrying sothing else now, a purpose.
Adam clutched his chest, lightly gripping the small pouch beneath his shirt.
Grace, Samantha... I won’t stop until I fulfill my pro—
And before he could finish his thoughts, he saw his vision shift—and then a pain followed without any warning at all.
He felt it. A truck. The tal crushing against his body, and then the rubber pinning him down and grinding him against the pavent. The pain exploded through every nerve as his bones shattered and his flesh tore.
His bicycle also crumpled beneath and around him.
And when the truck was finally no longer above him, all that was left was Adam’s upper body. His waist, all the way to his toes, were mangled and twisted beyond recognition, almost rging with the bicycle.
And through his blurred vision, Adam saw the driver of the truck leap from the cab, his face contorted in horror.
"Oh shit, oh shit!" The man’s hands clutched at his head as he stared at Adam’s mangled body.
A second man erged from the passenger side, quickly grabbing the driver’s arm.
"Get back in! Now!" He yanked the stunned driver away, shoving him back toward the truck.
"But he’s—"
"I said, get in! Fuck! This is why I told you to keep your eyes on the road!"
"I just looked away for a few seconds!"
The truck’s engine roared, drowning the n’s words as they sped away, leaving Adam broken and bleeding on the asphalt.
"Khh..." Adam wheezed, and the silence of the countryside was shattered by the sound of his flesh and bones knitting back together. It was followed by a silent, frustrated scream as his body pushed away the parts of the bicycle that were embedded into his legs and waist.
When it was finally over, Adam sat up, covered in his own blood. His clothes were torn and stained, and his pants were ruined.
"Why...?" he groaned, frustration still very thick in his voice. He stared at his ruined bicycle, now nothing more than junk.
Fortunately for him, his backpack was relatively intact. He imdiately removed the bicycle from the road before another vehicle could pass by.
He changed into fresh clothes, wiping his body clean with the old ones as much as possible. And when he was sure he looked at least halfway decent, he reached for an extra phone from his backpack.
He opened the map, and a groan instantly escaped his lips when he saw how much he still had to walk to his destination.
Twenty miles to the town.
Adam looked at the empty road stretching before him, then back at his destroyed bicycle.
"Why?" He asked again before dragging his feet back onto the asphalt.
His boots, which were miraculously intact despite the accident, cushioned his steps against the hot road ahead. Adam adjusted the straps of his backpack, and the small pouch beneath his shirt pressed against his chest. He clutched it briefly, drawing strength from the mory it held before continuing on with his journey.
The sun soon crawled across the sky as Adam marched forward. Three hours stretched into an eternity of one foot in front of the other, the monotony really only broken by the occasional vehicle speeding past him.
By the ti the town’s buildings appeared on the horizon, sweat had already soaked through his fresh shirt, and his legs ached with a dull, persistent throb.
The town slowly materialized before him, humble, the small buildings huddled together. It did not even have walls to protect it from rogue monsters that might have co from Leaks.
The town was small enough that Adam could imdiately sense the weight of everyone’s curious stare, and he had only entered the main street. The eyes tracked him from the windows of tiny boutiques, and an attendant at the single-pump gas station paused to watch him pass.
Adam resisted the urge to pull his hood up. After all, years on the run had taught him that in small towns with a small population, trying to hide only drew more attention.
And as he’d expected, when the locals caught sight of his face, their interest instantly faded. He beca just another traveler passing through, not worth a second glance.
Of course, he still kept his head down by looking at his phone. He navigated through the town, and according to the website, the chapel he was trying to find was sowhere in the center of the town, near the square.
It wasn’t that hard to find—unfortunately, a sign was posted on its heavy wooden doors that inford patrons that it was closed until tomorrow morning’s mass.
Perhaps that was for the best, with evening approaching and his mind exhausted from the sudden trauma of being run over by a truck, he wasn’t in the right condition to do anything.
He stared at the chapel one more ti, looking at the large sign above it that said, ’The Chapel of the Administrators". Adam didn’t really know what he would find there, but it was a start.
He turned away from the chapel, spotting a flickering neon sign a few blocks down—it was a small motel that he had already passed by earlier.
Funnily enough, the very sa truck that had crushed him hours earlier was parked in the motel lot. The slightly dented front bumper still bore traces of his blood.
He quickly lowered his gaze to his phone when he entered the motel lobby, hiding his face just in case. He knew they shouldn’t have seen his face clearly during the accident, but it was better to be safe.
The lobby slled like cigarettes and cheap air freshener, but Adam didn’t pay it any mind as he went straight to the middle-aged woman behind the counter, who lazily looked up from her magazine as he approached.
"Need a room, sweetie?" The woman asked.
"Yes. Just for tonight."
The woman tapped on her ancient computer. "Fifty-five. Cash only. No deposits, but be sure not to break anything."
Adam nodded, not bothering to argue. Cash was all he had anyway—no digital trail that would lead to him. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a pouch.
But the mont he opened it, disaster struck. The bills that were supposed to be bound with rubber bands seed to have snapped during the impact of the crash.
His cash exploded from the pouch like confetti, scattering across the counter and fluttering to the floor.
"Why...?" Adam whispered again in frustration, scrambling to collect his bills. The cashier’s eyebrows shot up. In the corner, two n who were drinking coffee stared at all the cash flying everywhere.
Adam felt their stares burning into his back as he hurriedly stuffed all the cash back into the pouch. Unfortunately, a twenty had landed near one of the n’s boots. The man picked it up, examining it before handing it back to Adam without a word.
"Thank you," Adam said, slightly avoiding eye contact.
He counted out the room fee, but it turned out he didn’t need to at all as the cashier waved a handful of bills in front of him.
"Sixty dollars," the woman said, "Consider the five a deposit."
The woman didn’t allow Adam to say another word as she handed him a key attached to a plastic tag with the number 17 on it.
"Does... this co with a al?" Adam asked.
"No," she replied, thumb pointing toward the window, "Diner next door opens till midnight. You want food, you go there, sweetie."
Adam nodded, pocketing the key and heading out. He could feel the n’s eyes following him as he left, usually never good in his experience. But right now, however, all he wanted was a hot shower to wash away everything that had happened to him.
But since he was also hungry, he only spent an hour inside the shower before imdiately heading out to eat.
Adam entered the diner and was imdiately greeted by the warm, greasy scent of oil and coffee. There weren’t a lot of people eating—perhaps mostly travelers like him.
"Sit anywhere you like, honey. I’ll be there shortly," a server imdiately welcod him, her voice carrying across the room as she balanced plates on her arms.
Adam chose a booth near the entrance while scanning the people in the diner. The seat, covered in plastic, squeaked as he sat on it, but no one really cared. He looked at the nu, but he stopped when he recognized the voices of the n seated behind him.
It was the n who hit him earlier.
"S...shit. What do we do?" The driver’s voice trembled.
"Can you quiet down!? Just... act natural. No one would know."
"But..."
"Shut up. It might not even be him. How is he alive?!"
Adam sighed at their conversation and turned his attention to the nu. But before he could even read the first item, a group of n entered the diner and then abruptly sat down at his table—two of them imdiately familiar. They were the ones from the motel lobby who saw his cash flying everywhere.
One of them placed an arm over his shoulder, his breath reeking of the cheap coffee he had been drinking earlier.
"You got a lot of money. It won’t hurt for you to treat us, right?"
I knew it. Trouble.
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