Dave looked at his legs and slowly reached out to touch them. As his fingers made contact, he felt it—the sensation of touch. A feeling he had never experienced with those metallic limbs. A sensation he had longed for, without even realizing how deeply.
"I can... feel them," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
As he traced the shape of his own legs, memories surfaced—his parents' pained expressions staring back at him.
But this time, there was no pain in their eyes—only relief. Their lips moved, whispering words he couldn't quite hear… and then, something strange happened.
They began to fade.
Not from sight, but from memory.
Piece by piece, their faces, their voices, their names—everything—dissolved like mist under the morning sun. And yet, somehow, it felt… right.
Like they had finally found peace.
"This..." Dave froze, stunned by the shift.
"How?" He could feel—no, see—the memory dissolving, gently erased from the eidetic recall he once trusted as unshakable.
"Something is not right with this body," he murmured. His regeneration, his sudden strength, and now the vanishing of memories he was never supposed to lose—it all pointed to something unnatural.
But for now, he had to get out.
He placed his hand on the iron roof above and pushed. It barely resisted him. The weight, once impossible, now felt like nothing. His body had grown stronger—unnaturally fast, almost supernaturally.
Standing up on his legs, he began to walk, the massive metal slab perfectly balanced overhead. He didn't drop it, nor did he throw it. It stayed suspended above him, unmoving, as his hands moved forward in rhythm with his feet—walking not just with his legs, but with his arms too.
The floor was littered with overturned shelves and broken crates, scattered groceries and random items forming a chaotic mess. Judging by the layout and debris, this had once been a convenience store.
He stepped carefully as he moved forward… until a sudden sound made him freeze.
A faint voice called out from somewhere beneath the wreckage.
"Someone... please…"
It was muffled by the weight of fallen debris, but Dave heard it clearly. A voice—hoarse, weak—somewhere ahead. The wall behind the counter had remained upright, but several heavy shelves had crumpled before it, forming a cage of metal and dust.
Someone was trapped underneath.
He glanced up. The edge of the roof slab he was holding hovered just a few feet from where the light faded. Without wasting time, he shifted it forward, then slid it to the side, freeing his hands.
Dave turned his attention to the debris at the counter.
He gripped the metal legs of a toppled convenience store shelf—one that probably weighed at least thirty or forty kilograms—and lifted it easily. His new strength was unsettling, but useful. He tossed it aside with a metallic crash, then moved on to the next. And the next.
By the time he threw the third shelf away, the figure beneath the wreckage came into view.
It was a woman—crouched, trembling, her body curled inward in fear and despair. Her voice, soft and desperate, whispered again, "Please... someone help..."
"Hey," Dave said, stepping closer. "You're okay now."
She didn't look up immediately. Only when his shadow fell over her did she lift her head, startled. Her eyes met his—and she flinched again. Dave's face, streaked with dirt and grime, was almost unrecognizable. More ash than man.
"Who... who are you?" she asked, her voice shaky.
"You're safe now," Dave replied with a calm nod. "I'm going."
He turned, already making his way to the exit. He didn't have time to answer who he was or what he was. Forget her—he needed answers for himself. Where was he? What happened? Why did his body feel like it was rewriting itself? What the hell was going on?
But just as he reached the edge of the collapsed storefront, her voice rang out—louder this time.
"Wait! Don't leave me here!"
Dave stopped.
He glanced back over his shoulder. The woman had gotten to her feet, wobbling slightly.
"Well… come on then," he said as he look at her.
She nodded, scanning the ruined counter that blocked her way out. There was no clear path forward—only up. Gritting her teeth, she climbed over the dusty counter, her hands scraping against stone and broken glass. Her clothes were as torn and dirt-covered as his.
After climbing over to the other side, the woman rushed to Dave's side, her breathing uneven.
"Let's go," she said quickly, as if afraid he might disappear.
Dave gave a small nod.
Without a word, he turned toward what remained of the store's entrance. The glass doors were shattered, half-buried under rubble and fallen beams. He crouched down, using his hands to clear away shards of glass and chunks of broken concrete, each piece giving way like it weighed nothing in his grip.
Once there was enough space to pass, he stepped through.
The woman followed a moment later.
And then… she stopped.
Her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened, pupils dilating as they took in the ruined world beyond.
"Just… what happened here…?" she whispered.
Dave didn't reply. The sight before him was worse than he had imagined.
Smoke curled into the air ominously. The atmosphere had changed—there were no signs of rain, only thick black clouds overhead, like harbingers of the apocalypse. Houses and buildings lay broken, and the cars looked wrecked beyond recognition, as if some enormous weight had crushed them from above.
The wreckage stretched as far as the eye could see—collapsed buildings, shattered roads, scattered glass. Fires crackled in the distance, and the acrid stench of burning metal filled his nose.
And yet… there was movement.
People.
Survivors.
He saw them digging through rubble, pulling others out, shouting for help. There were no sirens. No ambulances. No official rescue teams in sight. Just civilians—doing what they could, on their own.
"Hey! Dave! Over here!"
A voice called out from his right.
He turned.
A boy—no older than twenty—waved at him. He stood with three others, all of them trying to lift a heavy slab of debris. Dave didn't recognize him. He was sure they'd never met before.
But the boy knew his name.
"I'll go over there," the woman Dave had rescued earlier said, pointing toward a group of women sitting off to the side, many of them injured or crying. Dave gave a nod, his eyes lingering on her for a moment before he jogged toward the boys.
As he reached the group, he saw what they were trying to do—a man, likely in his forties, was pinned beneath a chunk of broken wall. His face was pale, mouth clenched tight as he fought the pain.
"Come on, push harder!" barked an older, broad-shouldered man, probably in his late thirties or early forties. His body was lean and muscular—someone used to physical labor or maybe even training.
He pointed at Dave. " Get around the other side. Push up with us!"
Dave moved quickly, slipping into position opposite the others. The wall was heavy—denser than it looked. But they had to move it.
They had to save him.
"On three!" the man shouted.
"One… two… three!"
They heaved.
The four men pushed together. With Dave joining in, the heavy slab finally lifted enough.
"Kale! Get him out—now!" the muscular man barked.
Dave heard the name, memorized it, but didn't break focus. His arms trembled under the strain, breath sharp in his throat.
Kale dove in, grabbing the trapped man and pulling him free. One look was enough—alive, but his leg was gone.
"Put it back," the middle-aged man ordered without pause.
They obeyed.
"You two, take him to the camp," he said to the men beside Dave. They nodded and carried the injured man away without a word.
Then the man looked at Dave and smiled. "Glad you're okay, champ."
Dave stared at him.
Another stranger. Another person who knew him.
"I'm... glad to see you too," Dave replied, voice even.
But inside, the question burned hotter.
Who are these people—and why do they all know him?
"Haha, yeah. I'm glad for myself too," the middle-aged man chuckled, but his smile quickly faded. His expression turned grim. "Alright, enough talk. Kale, you and him—go search for survivors. If you find anyone, call for help immediately. We can't sit around waiting to be rescued."
Kale gave a sharp nod, then slapped Dave's shoulder. "Let's move. No time to waste."
Without a word, the men marched ahead. Dave followed. He didn't know them, but for now, he had no choice. All he could do was help… and quietly piece together what was going on—without drawing suspicion.
***
Throw some powerstones and comments if you like this chapter.