Chapter 78 Lawless Road

The last three highwaymen hardly put up a fight. I phased them halfway into the rusted frame of the pickup, their screams cut short when the metal rejected them. Flesh and steel had no business sharing the same space. Their bodies slumped, broken, against the vehicle, and the desert fell quiet again.

The woman wasted no time rushing to her son. She fumbled with the knots binding him to the flimsy plastic chair, her trembling hands finally snapping the cords loose. The boy scrambled forward and wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face against her torn dress. She pulled him close, whispering, “It’s over, sweetie… it’s over,” though the quiver in her voice betrayed the lie.

I leaned against the pickup and watched. She had blonde hair, dirt-streaked and tangled, and her dress hung in tatters, as though it had been dragged through thorns. I guessed she was somewhere in her early twenties, though the strain in her eyes made her look older. The boy clinging to her couldn’t have been more than ten, pale-faced and silent except for the muffled sobs into her stomach.

“Mother and son?” I asked dryly. “The two of you don’t look very much alike.”

She blinked at me, startled, then stammered, “Y-yes… it’s… complicated…” Her voice cracked, but she didn’t look away. She held the boy tighter, as if shielding him from the sight of me.

I pushed myself off the truck and dusted my coat. “Fine,” I muttered. “Let’s cut through the small talk. Where’s the nearest civilization?”

She hesitated, chewing her lip before finally answering, “The City of Mesamalta. It’s… about five hundred miles east from here.”

Five hundred miles. My shoulders sagged as the weight of it settled in. Sand stretched in every direction, and the highway shimmered like a mirage under the noon sun. I exhaled, smoke from the desert dust filling my lungs instead of the cigarette I wished I still had.

I walked past the bodies and over to the bike, the desert crunching beneath my shoes. The thing was scuffed to hell, but serviceable. Its paint was flaked, the exhaust patched with cheap welding, yet it still had life in it. I checked the ignition and found the key locked tight.

Behind me, the woman’s voice wavered. “But there’s a… s-small town an hour from here…”

Her words cracked like brittle glass. Through my empathic threads, her fear rippled into me. It wasn’t just about me… she was terrified of everything: the corpses, the heat, the boy clutching her hand, and the stretch of desert that promised no mercy.

I turned slightly. “Why didn’t you start with that?”

She flinched, fumbling for an answer. “I… I was scared.” Then, after a pause, she added, “And it’s a town, not a city. I thought you’d be looking for a city.”

I rolled my shoulders, squinting at the horizon where the heat warped the air. “Is that so? I guess you’re right. I am looking for a city.”

Her son shifted closer into her side, peeking at me with wide, tear-swollen eyes. She stroked his hair, then forced herself to speak again, more steady this time. “How are you even going to get past the walls?”

“I have my ways.” I didn’t bother dressing it up with details. She wouldn’t understand, and even if she did, it wouldn’t make her sleep easier at night.

A silence stretched, broken only by the hiss of the desert wind. Finally, she swallowed and said, “If… if you could escort us there, I’d be willing to pay.”

I tilted my head, narrowing my eyes at her. “With what payment?”

Her trembling hand went to her ruined dress, pulling it down at the chest. She revealed more of her cleavage, her voice nearly breaking as she tried to steady it. “This.”

I scoffed, a sharp laugh without humor. “Really?” I muttered. “That’s your offer?”

The silence didn’t last. The boy broke free of his mother’s hold and stomped toward me, fists clenched, his little jaw set in defiance. His voice cracked with anger, but the conviction in his words rang louder than the desert wind.

“You are a bad man! Mama is asking you nicely!”

Beth froze, her entire body locking as if struck. Panic flared in her eyes, and she scrambled forward, pulling the boy into her arms. Her hand clamped over his mouth, muffling his protests. “I… I am sorry,” she whispered in a rush, trembling. “He didn’t mean to say that…”

I studied them in silence, letting the weight of her apology hang in the air. Fear bled from her, thick and choking, while the boy’s fury was raw and unrefined, the kind only children could summon without knowing the consequences.

Finally, I asked, my tone flat, “Do you know how to drive?”

She flinched again, then nodded quickly. “Y-yes.”

“Good.” I gestured past the bodies to the sedan parked crooked in the sand, doors still open from the scuffle. “Get to the sedan.”

Beth blinked, uncertain, as though waiting for a cruel twist. Then she tugged the boy along, stumbling toward the car. Over her shoulder, she spoke in a low, hesitant voice, as though trying to make this moment mean something.

“My name is Beth,” she said softly. “And… this is Tim.”

The boy glared at me with fire still burning behind his eyes, but said nothing. I just stood there, watching them climb into the sedan.

“Let’s go… an hour from here, is that correct?”

“Y-Yes,” stuttered Beth as she took on the wheel. “More or less…”

The road stretched endlessly, a ribbon of cracked asphalt swallowed by the desert. Beth’s knuckles clung tight to the steering wheel, her eyes flicking between the horizon and the rearview mirror, as though every shadow threatened another ambush. Tim leaned against the window, half-asleep, half-guarding his mother from me. His suspicion was still a knife at my back, even after miles of silence.

As for me, I kept pace with them, driving the bike beside their vehicle and sometimes ahead of them. The rest of the journey had been uneventful with the occasional bandit or two.

We were lucky not to encounter the real predators. The ones with actual capes, not just desperate men with secondhand rifles. In the lawless lands between the Council’s city-states, those kinds of groups ruled like petty gods.

Of course, they probably couldn’t compare to the heavy-hitters that the city-state villains had to offer, but I’d rather not test my luck.

Here’s the thing about the Council of City-States. They weren’t as perfect as they’d pretend to be. They had their small flaws too, from their rumored black-sites, privileged walled cities, and the sprawl of smaller townships that clung to their orbit like satellites. Frontier settlements dotted the wilderness in between, surviving on grit and the occasional mercy of passing traders. They were dangerous, fragile, and yet… they weren’t without value.

SRC-backed, with at least one town-sponsored cape to defend them, these townships carved out some semblance of stability. Weak compared to a city-state, but safer than roaming the lawless so aimlessly.

Basically, they were the smaller settlements between City-States.

I knew what a town was like, because I once lived in one. City-landers might scoff at the frontier, but the first city-states had been born from towns exactly like these, clawing their way into relevance until walls were raised and the Council recognized their existence.

By the time the sun tilted westward, the sight of one such settlement crept into view. They had low roofs, smoke rising from clay chimneys, and makeshift barricades marking the boundary of the town. Beth slowed the sedan, relief flooding her face. Tim pressed against the window, pointing with the unguarded excitement of a boy who had finally found safety again.

The mother and son walked out of the sedan.

“Aren’t you coming?” asked Beth.

I stayed on the stolen bike, one hand resting on the throttle, the other drumming against the worn handlebar. For a second, I thought about it… Maybe they had gas, maybe food. But I knew better. If anyone recognized my face, Beth and the boy would be implicated, and when the wrong cape started asking questions, it wouldn’t take much for them to suffer for it. I’d helped them this far already, so dragging them down now would just be cruelty.

Besides, I couldn’t afford it. Not now. I felt the weight of fatigue in my bones, the heavy drag in my lungs whenever I thought about pushing my powers again. Phasing across one city-state was bad enough; crossing two without rest or oxygen was a death wish. Markend was already too far behind me, and the distance clawed at me like a wound.

If I suffered a confrontation right now, I’d be disadvantaged, and I've experienced how bad that could turn out.

I guessed that I should just sneak in tonight and get what I needed. No need to be scrutinized by them.

Movement caught my eye. A man in a wide-brimmed hat strode from the far side of the road, badge gleaming against the sun. It was the town’s sheriff. My empathic senses tugged outward, and I felt them: dozens of minds, taut with tension, watching from behind the barricades. Militia, no doubt, hiding rifles under wooden beams, and hands slick with sweat. They were ready to kill if they sensed something wrong.

“Go,” I said. “Don’t keep them waiting.”

Tim tugged at Beth’s hand. “Mom, let’s go.”

Beth smiled faintly, the kind of smile born of relief and exhaustion, and turned back toward me. “Thank you, mister…?” She left it hanging in the air, asking for a name I had no intention of giving.

I didn’t answer.

The boy squinted at me, voice rising with childish certainty. “Thank you, Mr. Courier.”

Beth snapped around, horrified. “Tim! What are you doing? Apologize—”

“But he’s like the real deal, Mom. The Courier. A hero. You know, my favorite game—”

I broke before she could finish, laughter tearing out of me like a crack in the silence. “Hahahahahaha~!” The sound echoed in my chest until I wiped a tear from my face with the back of my hand. “Nice one, kid, but no… I am not a hero.”

Beth only looked more bewildered, and Tim more stubborn.

“Take care now,” I said, kicking the bike into life. The engine roared like a beast clawing back to life. I turned it around, the dust swallowing me as I left them behind. "Mr. Courier, huh?"