Evolving Classes In The Apocalypse-Chapter 35: The Punishment of the Hypothetical

I didn’t give him a clear answer. There were several things to be skeptical about, of course, but none of them mattered as much as what Ysor herself wanted. I needed to speak with her myself, and I needed to study this settlement for anything suspicious before I committed to a single word.

I had plenty of questions I wished this Marcel would comply with answering. But I also didn’t want to ask them. Every question I posed gave him something to work with, a thread of intention he could pull on, and I wasn’t ready to offer that. Not until I’d had the conversation with Ysor.

While I was thinking about this, a loud bell suddenly began to ring. It was a slow, heavy sound, each beat drawn out and echoing off the stone walls of the valley. The reason became clear when I looked toward the source: it was only a salvaged half of a gigantic bell, mounted on one of the valley ridges, and about five people were shoving a log of wood toward it in practiced rhythm.

As the sound carried, people began to leave their posts. Most of what they did revolved around water and construction, and they each had different roles in these efforts from what I could tell. All of them simply set down their tools and walked deeper into the labyrinth of valleys.

I observed the whole scenery and couldn’t help but note that Marcel was lucky to have stumbled on a place like this. The natural formation of the valleys provided them with layers of shelter, walls they hadn’t needed to build, choke points they hadn’t needed to engineer. Against external threats, this terrain did half the defensive work on its own.

Of course, it had its disadvantages too. I could see that they were trying to construct a reservoir at the center of the settlement, routing it so that every home built of wood and dark clay would have access to water. But that project had clearly stalled. The channels were shallow and unfinished, and people were already filing past them toward the bell’s call without a second glance.

I turned to Marcel, and he answered before I even asked.

"It’s dinner time..."

It wasn’t until he mentioned it that I remembered I hadn’t eaten for a while now.

"Defineds have strong stomachs, but the Undefined are just like fragile humans. They have to eat every day, you know? So we have a cooking camp deeper into the valley, keeping the mess away from the homes here. Things like smoke and smell can sometimes attract the Undefined."

I nodded subtly.

He turned, still smiling, though it had faded to something faint.

"Besides, if you try Ayesha and the others’ cooking, you might not want to starve again. Your princess tried it and was mindblown."

I chuckled a little.

’Ysor would get mindblown by anything she can’t do.’

Cooking had never been her greatest forte, but my prowess in that regard proved more than enough for the both of us.

Marcel and I walked while he led me toward the depths of the valley. As we journeyed along the edge of the stone ridges, there were people walking below in the basin, and a few men who trudged across the tops of the valleys, leaping between gaps with practiced skill.

Ysoriel was walking ahead, below, with a woman and a child in her arms. She was talking to the woman with a vibrant smile on her face. It was nice watching her smile from a distance. Something about it also painfully twisted my stomach.

"I’m quite envious..."

I was about to send him a glare before he completed his statement, a wistful smile settling on his face.

"The trust she seems to have in you is commendable."

I pressed down the part of me that was about to be hostile and responded in a calmer manner.

"Do you not have someone who trusts you?"

Marcel smiled before he leaped over the edge of the rock we were currently walking on and quickly pointed to the left side of the rock he landed on.

"Be careful there, it’s a sinkhole."

Although the area was marked with a barricade, he still bothered to warn me before he continued to talk.

"People who trust me? I’m sure these people trust me... but it’s different. They have to trust me. If they had a real alternative, I wonder how many would stay. I don’t presume the same is true between you and your princess."

Axel scoffed but did not say anything.

"You’re making a distinction that doesn’t hold up the way you think it does."

Marcel looked at me with interest.

"Oh? How so?"

"You’re assuming trust born from desperation is lesser. That it doesn’t count because they didn’t have better options. But think about what actually happened. In their most vulnerable moment, when they had nothing and no one, they looked at you and decided you were worth following. That’s not a lesser form of trust. If anything, the stakes of that decision were higher than any they would have made in comfort."

Marcel was quiet for a moment, listening.

"People with options deliberate," I continued. "They weigh, they compare. But people with nothing? They’re betting everything on the one hand they’re dealt. If you care for them in any manner, that weight should mean something to you. More, perhaps, than if they had chosen you from a place of safety."

"And if better options appeared tomorrow?" Marcel asked, though it didn’t sound like a challenge. More like he’d asked himself this before.

"Then some of them would leave. Humans look out for themselves first. I won’t pretend otherwise." I shrugged. "But that’s a question about tomorrow, not about the choice they already made. Wondering whether someone would choose you again if the world were different... that’s just punishing yourself with a hypothetical."

Marcel smiled softly.

"That’s true... what’s the use wondering when we can just hold and treasure the gift of this moment and their decision, right?"

I shrugged, and we jumped down a series of stone steps that led us into the center of a wide ring. Many people were already inside, sitting in a rough circle. Some had children, some were much older. Ladies and men of different skin colors, all wearing soft linen clothes. The ladies covered their heads, and the men tied their hair back against the dust of the valley.

I found Ysoriel after receiving a plate of porridge. She was sitting with a black-haired lady with slightly tanned skin and golden eyes. The lady gave me an honorable smile and shifted her child to make space, enabling me to sit next to Ysor.

She studied me, particularly my eyes, and refused to say anything. Instead she just turned her head away and stuffed food into her mouth, scrunching her face like she was angry with the world.

I turned to look at her for a moment. She continued to angrily shove food into her mouth.

I sighed.

"Ysor, you’re going to choke if you keep shoving the spoon that far into your throat."

I held her hand the next moment and it trembled. Then I looked into her eyes.

"None of this is your fault, do you understand that?"

Ysor trembled and lowered her gaze.

"Y-You’re wrong... it’s my fault. It’s all mine."