"Hahaha…"
Elric's low, mocking laugh echoed through the mist that swirled around the dorm courtyard like ghostly tendrils.
The sound made everyone flinch—a visceral reaction they couldn't control. There was something unsettling about that laugh, something that didn't match the situation at all. It wasn't the nervous laughter of a cornered animal or the desperate bravado of someone trying to hide their fear.
It was genuine amusement.
Even surrounded by eight people, even with his back pressed against the cold dorm wall—rough concrete that would offer no escape—he didn't look afraid. Not even slightly. His calm, almost amused smile made their self-righteousness look ridiculous, like children playing at being adults, pretending they understood how the world worked.
"You guys still pretending this is about helping each other?" Elric said, his voice steady and sharp, cutting through their posturing like a knife through butter. "That's cute."
Liam's jaw tightened, muscles bunching beneath his skin as his teeth ground together. The casual dismissal in Elric's tone made his blood boil—this was supposed to be his moment, his triumph, and somehow this nobody was making him look like a fool.
"You think this is funny, huh?" Liam's voice dropped lower, taking on a dangerous edge. "You also think you deserve power? Let me make this real clear—"
He stepped forward, his massive frame casting a long shadow across Elric's smaller form. In his hand, he held up the glowing black-and-white fruit, its otherworldly light pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat.
"—I was never planning to trade with you."
The admission came easily, almost proudly. Why should he feel ashamed? This was survival. This was natural selection. The strong took from the weak—that was the only law that mattered anymore.
The people behind him shifted, spreading out to surround Elric in a loose semicircle. They moved with the practiced coordination of predators, cutting off potential escape routes, boxing him in against the wall.
Their shadows stretched long in the dim afternoon light filtered through the toxic fog.
"You got a stash somewhere, don't you?" one of them sneered—a lanky swimmer named Derek who'd been one of Liam's most loyal followers even before the apocalypse. "You tell us where it is, or we'll beat it out of you."
"Yeah," another chimed in, this one shorter but built like a tank, a shot-putter named Marcus. "Don't think being a tech geek's gonna save you, man. The world's gone to hell—only the strong eat."
They were getting bolder now, feeding off each other's energy, convincing themselves that what they were doing was justified. Necessary. Right.
Liam cracked his neck, the sound echoing like breaking branches. "If we don't kill you now, trust me, my boys will flatten whatever little hideout you've got left."
The threat wasn't empty. They all knew it. In this new world, property rights meant nothing. Safety meant nothing. Only force mattered.
Their laughter mixed with the hiss of the fog, creating a chorus of cruelty that seemed to match the apocalyptic landscape perfectly.
The Unexpected Reaction
But Elric didn't look angry. He didn't look scared. He didn't even look particularly concerned.
He just grinned.
It wasn't a smile of fear or surrender—it was one of pure, undiluted contempt.
And that made Liam's stomach twist uneasily, a cold sensation spreading through his gut like ice water.
Why's he laughing? he thought, his confidence wavering for the first time. He's surrounded. He's done. There's no way out.
Then he noticed something strange. Something that made his breath catch in his throat.
The backpack.
It was… on Elric's shoulder again.
Wait—what?
Didn't Elric throw that bag down in front of them a minute ago? Hadn't Liam himself kicked it aside, watching it tumble across the concrete with a satisfying thud?
Liam blinked, confusion flooding his mind—and then froze completely, his body going rigid as if he'd been struck by lightning.
Because Elric was now holding something in his hand.
A fruit.
Black and white. Faintly glowing. Swirling patterns of darkness and light intertwining like marble.
Exactly like the one Liam was holding.
Exactly identical in every single detail.
The blood drained from Liam's face, leaving him pale and clammy despite the humid air.
He looked down at his own hand with growing horror, his fingers trembling slightly.
The fruit was gone.
In its place was… a rock. A smooth, gray, ordinary stone—the kind you might find in any parking lot or along any roadside. Completely mundane. Completely worthless.
"What the—?" He stared in disbelief, his voice cracking. "How…?"
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