Chapter 57: The Tyrant
The Makara meat cooked slowly over a low fire, and Eleanor turned her portion carefully with a stick, watching the flame she had ignited with her skill as many thoughts ran through her mind...
"These beasts are different," she said, breaking the quiet that had settled over their small camp. "Faster and much more powerful."
She said this in the tone of someone that was filling a report.
Since they landed, they had faced the full brunt of what a Golem beast could do, having to fight a Makara only minutes after they landed.
The Makara was bigger, faster and looked more like a shark covered in scales. The beast was so troublesome it nearly tore Bertram’s arm off before they got a clean hit.
"Nearly," Bertram said, flexing them arm with a grimace. "Heavy emphasis on nearly."
"Still. We can’t assume anything works the way it used to." Eleanor’s gaze swept the treeline as her senses were on high alert. "Everything about this Edgewalk feels wrong. Too many things have changed. We have stay careful. All of us."
"Careful" Bertram repeated, turning the word over in his mind. "You think the whole Edge changed, or just the beasts?"
"I don’t know yet." Eleanor pulled her meat from the fire before continuing. "But I don’t like not knowing.."
Iris nodded, chewing thoughtfully, before her eyes drifted toward the darkening sky above the fire. "I keep wondering where Lucas landed. Whether he’s with anyone, or—"
"He’ll be fine," Eleanor said, quicker than she meant to, the words carrying more certainty than she actually felt. "He’s survived worse odds than a scattered landing."
However, she didn’t say the rest of it... the cold, gnawing dread that had been sitting in her chest since the moment she’d hit the ground and realized neither Lucas nor Mark had landed anywhere near her.
She’d built an entire fortress once already convinced he might be dead somewhere out of reach. The thought of doing it again, even if it was temporarily, made something in her chest tighten every time it surfaced.
Losing one of the closest people to her is one thing. Losing him again with the only other person she could lean on was slowly becoming something even she had trouble handling...
"Callum’s with them too, probably," Bertram said quietly, staring into the fire as he openly hoped for Callu’s safety. "Or with someone. I just hope whoever he landed with knows what they’re doing. He may be steady in a fight, but he’s not built for chaos on his own."
"For some reason I feel like Callum is doing fine. Wherever he is" Iris said after a moment of silence and no one said anything again after that...
***
They left the place after they had their fill and walked for the rest of the day, and it was well into evening when a silhouette rose ahead of them through the trees...
Walls, towers, the unmistakable shape of another Faction’s territory carved into the forest.
"We should leave," Iris said, eyeing the structure with a suspicious look on her face. "I have a bad feeling about this..."
"I also have a feeling that what’s here in the dark is more terrifying than we’re actually ready for."
Eleanor said this while glancing at the fading sunlight. It’s rays dipping behind the horizon.
"One night" she said, "We ask, we rest and we leave in the morning."
Iris stared at her warily before succumbing as she followed her into the fortress gates...
The gate guards let them through after a brief, tense exchange, and what waited beyond the walls made Eleanor’s stomach turn the moment she got a proper look at it.
The Faction was fortified, walls thick and well-maintained, watchtowers manned and alert, but the people inside carried themselves wrong. Thin. Hollow-eyed. Moving in the way of people who were serving punishments for a crime they didn’t commit.
A woman near the gate lowered her gaze the instant Eleanor’s eyes passed over her, shoulders folding inward as she quickly averted her eyes.
"Something’s off here," Bertram muttered, low enough for only them to hear.
"Agreed," Eleanor said. "Stay sharp."
They were brought before the Faction’s leader in a hall lit by too many torches for the space, warm in a way that felt performative rather than welcoming.
The light threw long shadows across banners and he rose from a heavy wooden chair as they entered.
He was tall, red-haired with a very noticeable jawline
He carried the easy, confident posture of a man who’d never once doubted his own authority.
"Visitors," he said, voice carrying an easy, practiced charm. "Welcome. The name’s Ryker."
His eyes settled on Eleanor a beat longer than strictly necessary, something appraising in his expression that made her spine stiffen on instinct.
Eleanor was beautiful. To him one of the most beautiful people he had come across in his life.
Her auburn hair catching the evening light and eyes that held his gaze...
The black jumpsuit she wore hugged her in all the right places and the zipper on the jacket — zipped up just below the chest exposed a bust that was capable of pulling any man’s attention...
Silence hung in the air and something close to smirk subtly found its way on his face.
"Eleanor," she said, keeping her tone level and her eyes on his. "This is Iris, and Bertram."
"I see i see... And might I ask what brings you here? Not like I have any problems with a beautiful lady coming here, of course..."
"We’re just passing through, and looking for shelter for the night."
"Of course, of course." Ryker said, though his gaze never fully left her. "My Faction’s doors are always open to fellow survivors. Especially ones as striking as yourself."
"We appreciate the hospitality," Eleanor said, deliberately flat. She caught the second part, but deliberatly refused to dwell on it...
She studied the hall a moment longer, the scrawny survivors gathered at its edges and the particular tension hanging in the air.
"You didn’t make it through the Gateway last time," she said. "Or are you also returning Players?"
Ryker narrowed his eyes. Something next to a grin forming on his face. "Not quite accurate," he said, and he spoke the next part with a particular kind of pride that made Eleanor’s eyes slightly widen in surprise. "I chose not to cross. There’s a difference."
"Chose?"
"Out there," he gestured vaguely at some point that no one could see," the moment you cross that Gateway, you’re back to being one voice among thousands, fighting for scraps of relevance in a world that never wanted people like me holding real power.
Committees, councils, people questioning every decision because they think a vote gives them a chance to have an opinion."
He shook his head. "Too many leaders. Too much competition. But here..." he spread his arms, indicating the hall, the walls, the entire territory beyond them, "...here, I don’t have to share control with anyone. Here, what I say is simply what happens. No debate. No chance to think about it. Just order."
His gaze settled back on them. "You know why?"
"Because I own this place. I run this place. This is my territory and no one else has a say in this except me."
Eleanor kept her expression neutral, though something uncomfortable gripped at her at the casual, unbothered way he described it. "And your people agree with that logic?"
"My people," Ryker said, "understand that survival requires is not something you can achieve alone. Someone has to hold the reins, and I simply happen to be very good at it." He gestured toward the thin, survivors gathered at the hall’s edges. "Ask any of them. They’ll tell you how grateful they are for the stability I provide."
"And if they aren’t," his voice dipped low... "who gives a shit."
None of the survivors near the walls met Eleanor’s eyes when she glanced their way, and the silence that answered his invitation said considerably more than any of them dared to.
The silence that followed was heavy, and Eleanor felt Iris shift uncomfortable beside her and Bertram’s face twisting in a familiar, uncomfortable expression
"You should join us," Ryker said, tone shifting smoothly back into something warmer and more inviting. "A Faction like mine could use someone with your beauty and obvious presence. I could offer you considerably more comfort than whatever scraps you’ve been surviving on out there."
"I have my own Faction," Eleanor said. "We’re grateful for the shelter tonight, but we’ll be moving on in the morning."
Ryker’s smile faltered, though he did not let it show..
"A shame. If you’re a Faction leader, did you receive a Modifier, if I may ask?"
Eleanor hesitated, then narrowed her eyes as she nodded. "I did."
"So did I." His smile widened. "The Tyrant. Turns out my people see me in such a light."
He sighed then smiled again. "Fitting though, don’t you think? The system really knows a person more than they think."
He said it almost proudly.... He said it like a man reciting a title he’d earned through merit rather than fear.
The word landed heavy in the hall, and Eleanor understood exactly what kind of man they were about to spend the night with.
She thought briefly, of the woman near the gate who wouldn’t meet her eyes, of the uneasy silence of people who were meant to be lively inside the safety of a faction and every other hollow face they’d passed since walking through these walls.
"And yours?" Ryker asked, tilting his head slightly, curiosity flickering across his face now. "I’m curious what your people made of you."
"That’s not something I share with strangers," Eleanor said evenly.
"Fair enough." He didn’t push, instead he smile. The calculation in his eyes flashing fully now..
"We’ll take our leave in the morning," she said again, more firmly this time.
"Of course, of course." Ryker’s smile didn’t waver, then he spoke again. "Though I’d encourage you to reconsider something crucial. These new beasts roaming since the last Edgewalk are considerably more dangerous than what any of us faced before. Lost a dozen fighters just this week testing the perimeter. A few more days behind proper protector wouldn’t hurt anyone."
"We appreciate the concern," Eleanor said. "But I have people waiting on us."
"People waiting." Ryker repeated the phrase slowly, like he was looking for a possible weakness to exploit. "Out there, scattered, hoping you find them before something else does. Here, you’d have walls, guards, numbers on your side." He spread his hands before speaking again. "I’m simply offering an alternative to wandering an increasingly dangerous forest with two companions and a prayer."
"We’ll manage," Eleanor said.
"I’m sure you will." Something flickered behind his eyes but was gone before it could fully surface. "Most people believe that, right up until they don’t."
"Stay a few days," he said finally, tone still light, still pleasant, though the offer had reshaped itself into something that no longer sounded entirely like a suggestion. "Rest properly. Let my people show you what real safety looks like out here."
Then he shrugged, eyes cold and opening one palm towards them. "Or don’t. The choice, of course, it’s entirely yours."
He then opened his eyes and said with a smirk. "Just hope that you don’t regret it..."