Chapter 193: Kangaroo Valley
The shimmer of the space gate dissolved behind them like a dying star, the vibrant greens of Felicity’s sanctuary replaced by the harsh, ash-grey reality of the Great Western Highway. Victor stepped onto the bitumen first, his presence alone enough to make the air grow heavy. He looked revitalized, the deep hollows under his eyes smoothed out by Felicity’s relentless healing, but the sheer density of his Level 100 power still made the atmosphere hum with a restless, nuclear energy.
Beside him, Felicity smoothed down her white, flowy dress, the delicate fabric catching the mountain breeze. Her fox ears flicked, sensitive to the sudden shift in the wind, and her tail brushed against her ankles as she surveyed the heavy supply carts still hitched to the exhausted ocean-beastmen of Leaf Team. Without a word, she walked over to the massive wagons, placed a small, delicate hand on the wood, and tilted her head. With a soft chime of energy, the carts vanished, tucked neatly into the infinite storage of her space.
The Leaf Team members had braced for another gruelling climb, but when the weight suddenly vanished, they nearly collapsed in disbelief. They looked at Felicity, awe and something fierce blazing in their eyes. "There," she said, flashing a bright, cheeky smile. "No sense in you lot dragging those things up a mountain when I’ve got a literal pocket dimension. Happy to help!" She skipped back toward Victor, utterly unaware of the thunderstruck silence and pounding hearts she left behind. Every man in the Leaf Team thought the same wild, treacherous thing: "If she asks for the world, we’ll burn it down and give her the ashes."
She was getting smarter about her utility; efficiency was the only way they’d make it to Bowral before the next fight or zombie horde.
Victor didn’t wait. He scooped her up, his large hands locking securely under her thighs. "Hold on," he rumbled, his voice thick with something dangerous and unspoken. Without another word, he kicked off the ground, the air screaming as they rocketed upward. Felicity gasped, tucking her face into his neck to shield herself from the wind, her heart stuttering in fear and exhilaration as they soared high above the blackened canopy. Above them, Thane shrieked a greeting. From Felicity’s vantage, his massive wings caught the updrafts as he circled—a solitary, feathered sentinel carving shadows in the bruised purple sky.
Down the road, the march continued at a renewed pace. Without the carts, Leaf Team was practically gliding. As the sun began to dip behind the jagged peaks, the caravan rolled into the outskirts of Kangaroo Valley. It was a picturesque little town, or it had been eleven months ago. Now, the colonial-style buildings were draped in overgrown ivy, and the silence was only broken by the occasional rustle of a scorched leaf.
"Well," Marx chirped, looking around at the empty storefronts. "It’s a bit quiet. Where’s all the legendary hospitality?" Sarge grunted, his eyes scanning the windows. "Hospitality died about three weeks into the Fall, Marx. Keep your eyes open." Dako muttered from Leaf Team, "I was expecting at least one kangaroo. I mean, it’s in the name. Talk about false advertising." Ash let out a dry snort. "Giddy’s not here to show you around, mate. Don’t go looking for tourist guides in a graveyard."
At the centre of the line, Damien walked with a stiff, predatory tension. His onyx eyes were locked on the two figures soaring high above them. His jaw tightened, fists clenched at his sides. "She’s getting too efficient, Ivan," Damien hissed, his voice rough with frustration. "She hides the carts, she heals him... she’s spreading herself so thin there’s barely anything left for us."
Ivan paced beside him, his lion-like mane fluttering. "She’s using her head, Damien. You’re just sour because you can’t monitor her vitals from a thousand meters down." Damien snapped, "I’m sour because she’s the only thing keeping this pack from tearing each other apart, and she’s currently a mile high." Lucan, in his panther form, let out a vibrating chuff, while Exile slunk beside him, focused entirely on the sky.
Exile’s mind drifted, haunted by the exact, unforgettable weight of her in his arms and the way she had fit there, perfect, necessary, like something that had always belonged to him. The memory glowed inside him, painful and addictive.
To him, it is unbearable, knowing he has already had her once—because now every nerve remembers, aching, refusing to forget. Memory gnashes. He lives inside the single moment she looked at him, fearless and unguarded, so raw that the violence in him collapsed into stillness. He hunts that look forever, wild with hunger, desperate for the thing he now cannot live without.
The thought of her laughing with someone else makes something cold and precise coil inside him, something that does not shout or rage but simply calculates how to remove the problem.
He remembers the way she had clung without meaning to, the small unconscious movements, the way her fingers had tightened when she needed grounding, and it replays in his mind until it becomes unbearable, because that had not been given freely and yet it had still felt like trust.
As the caravan reached the centre of the town, passing a collapsed bridge, the air suddenly grew deathly cold. Dimitri stopped dead, his Silence Domain flaring, but it hit a wall. From the shadows of an old pub, a figure stepped out, dressed in tattered mountain gear with his face obscured by a gas mask. He held a device emitting a high-pitched pulse.
He didn’t look at the teams. He looked straight at the golden speck of Victor and Felicity. "Target confirmed," the man whispered. "The girl is in the air." Suddenly, buildings around the town square began to hum. Hidden under the ivy, massive iron pylons lit up with a sickly, violet light. High above, Victor felt the air thicken, gravity surging. He plummeted ten meters before he could compensate. His teeth ground tight as the force tried to rip Felicity from his arms. "Victor?" Felicity gasped, her fox ears pinned back from the crushing pressure. "Someone’s grounded us," Victor hissed, his eyes turning a lethal, glowing gold.
On the ground, the man in the mask looked at the gathered teams. "You’ve brought quite the prize into our valley," he said, his hand hovering over a detonator. "It’s a shame you won’t be leaving with her."