Chapter 37 – What He Build
Jack moved first.
There was no reason to wait, no value in letting the man talk himself into something that would change the outcome. The moment George finished speaking, the distance between them became the only thing that mattered.
Sanguine Surge activated.
The shift snapped into place, clean and immediate, the world tightening into something sharper as Jack crossed the space between them. He didn’t commit fully to the first strike. Not yet. The scythe cut forward in a controlled arc, testing range, testing reaction.
George moved.
Not fast in the way Jack had learned to measure speed.
Efficient.
The blade missed by inches.
Jack adjusted instantly.
So this is the one.
George stepped back just enough to avoid the strike, his expression barely shifting as he watched the movement in front of him. No hesitation. No fear. No wasted motion.
That was rare.
Most people broke before they ever reached this point. They hesitated, questioned, tried to talk, tried to justify themselves before acting.
This one didn’t.
Good.
That made things clearer.
George raised his hand slightly, letting the pressure in the room settle into place.
[Suppression Field Active]
There it was.
The subtle resistance, the invisible weight that pressed against movement, against thought, against will. It didn’t stop people. It didn’t need to.
It made them worse.
Slower.
Less certain.
That was enough.
“That’s what control feels like,” George said calmly.
Jack felt it.
Not as a direct attack, but as friction layered over everything he did. His movements didn’t stop, but they took more effort, more intent. It was like pushing through water instead of air.
Annoying.
Not dangerous.
He ignored the voice completely.
Instead, he focused on the effect.
It wasn’t overwhelming.
It scaled.
That meant—
Break the source.
Jack raised his hand.
Sanguine Grasp.
The tendrils snapped forward.
There it is.
George’s eyes narrowed slightly as the red strands formed and shot toward him. Not physical. Not entirely. Something in between.
He shifted his stance, letting the pull hit him instead of trying to avoid it completely.
The force dragged at him, not enough to control him, but enough to confirm what he needed.
Blood-based.
Aggressive.
Not refined.
“Interesting,” George murmured.
It worked.
Just not cleanly.
The pull connected, but George resisted it better than the others had. He wasn’t dragged fully out of position, but his balance shifted just enough to matter.
That was enough.
Jack stepped in with it, turning the partial pull into a full opening. The scythe cut low, precise, aimed to break structure rather than force damage.
George blocked.
Barely.
The impact redirected, not stopped.
Jack followed immediately.
No pause.
Strong.
Not just physically.
Decisive.
George felt the second strike coming before it landed, his body adjusting on instinct rather than thought. The weapon wasn’t wild. It wasn’t reckless.
It was controlled.
That made it dangerous.
But also predictable.
People like this always thought the same way.
Break the center.
End the structure.
They never understood.
George stepped back again, letting the pressure field thicken slightly around him.
“You think you’re fixing something,” he said, almost conversational.
Jack didn’t respond.
Didn’t even process the words.
Instead, he pushed forward harder.
Blood Draw engaged.
The next strike landed.
Clean.
George took it.
Not fully.
But enough.
[You have inflicted Bleed]
Good.
That mattered.
Jack pressed immediately, not letting the moment stretch.
Pain registered.
George acknowledged it without reacting to it.
Bleed effect.
Of course.
He looked down briefly, then back up.
Still calm.
Still in control.
“You saw them out there,” he said, voice steady. “What the world turned into.”
He stepped forward this time, not retreating.
“They would have died.”
The shift caught Jack slightly off-guard.
Not the words.
The movement.
George stepped in.
That was new.
Jack adjusted immediately, raising Blood Shield as the strike came in.
The impact hit harder than expected.
The barrier held—
But barely.
Energy dipped sharply.
Stronger than the others.
Good to know.
Jack stepped through the pressure instead of away from it.
The scythe cut across George’s side again.
There it is.
George felt the second hit land more cleanly this time, the bleed deepening slightly. Not enough to threaten him immediately, but enough to confirm the pattern.
Relentless.
That was the word.
The boy didn’t stop.
Didn’t reconsider.
Didn’t hesitate.
George smiled faintly.
“You think this is wrong,” he said.
Jack stepped in again.
No hesitation.
No answer.
The scythe moved faster this time.
More pressure.
More intent.
“And maybe it is.”
George blocked, redirected, stepped back just enough to avoid the worst of it.
“But it works.”
He gestured slightly with his free hand, toward the building behind him.
“They’re alive.”
His voice didn’t rise.
Didn’t need to.
“They eat. They sleep. They’re safe.”
Jack’s movement slowed for a fraction of a second.
Not from the words.
From something else.
A signal.
Behind.
He extended Blood Sense instinctively.
The cluster.
Closer now.
One signal—
Familiar.
His focus snapped.
There it is.
George saw it.
The shift.
The moment attention split.
Everyone had one.
Everyone.
“You’re looking for someone,” George said quietly.
Jack didn’t answer.
Didn’t need to.
He already knew.
They were here.
Alive.
That was enough.
“Good,” George said.
And for the first time—
His smile sharpened.
“Then let’s see what you’re willing to break to get them back.”
Jack’s grip tightened slightly on the scythe.
Not from hesitation.
From clarity.
The fight shifted.
No longer just about control.
No longer just about structure.
Now—
It was personal.
Sanguine Surge surged harder.
Blood Draw deepened.
Jack stepped forward.
This time—
He didn’t hold anything back.