Bab 5: The wastelanders pt 2
The group of wastelanders led Troy through the desolate expanse, the weight of silence hanging between them. Occasionally, one of the masked figures glanced back at him, their expressions unreadable beneath their breathing filters and scarred armor. Troy walked with them in silence, his steps steady, his mind buzzing with the newfound ability to connect with their thoughts.
As they reached a flat area, the leader of the group motioned for them to stop. They gathered in a loose circle, clearly accustomed to the harsh surroundings. The leader, who had been quiet since they first met, turned to Troy, his dark eyes studying him through the visor of his mask.
"We should introduce ourselves," he said finally, his voice rough but not unfriendly. He tapped his staff on the ground, the sound hollow in the empty landscape. "I'm called Jorra. I lead this group."
He pointed to the stocky wastelander with the scrap metal shield. "This is Krag. Don't let his size fool you. He's stronger than most of us, and his intuition's saved our lives more than once."
Krag grunted, giving Troy a sharp look, but he seemed more curious than hostile.
The next figure was a woman, her face hidden beneath a helmet with a cracked visor. She had a long rifle slung across her back, her stance relaxed but alert. "Nima," she said in a clipped tone, not bothering with pleasantries. "I'm our scout. I've seen worse than you out here, but not by much."
Beside her stood a lanky man with a bandolier of knives strapped across his chest. His eyes darted nervously, constantly scanning the horizon. "Savo," he said, almost too quickly. "I'm good with blades. Real good. And traps. And, well, a lot of things."
The last member of the group was smaller than the rest, a younger woman with a scar running down one side of her face. She nodded at Troy but didn't speak immediately. "Ellis," she finally said. "I handle communications. Tech's not as good as it used to be, but I make do."
Troy stood there, feeling a strange sense of detachment from the interaction. He hadn't expected introductions—he hadn't expected any sort of camaraderie at all. His entire life had been defined by isolation, pain, and experiments. But here, in this wasteland of death and decay, these people were offering him something he had never known: acknowledgment. They saw him as someone, even if they didn't fully trust him yet.
When the introductions were done, Jorra motioned for Troy to sit with them. The group settled around a makeshift fire, the dim, sickly light barely enough to pierce the oppressive gloom of the Disposal Zone.
"So," Jorra said, his tone measured. "What are you doing out here? You're clearly not from the wastelands. You're... different. How did you survive the draining?"
Troy hesitated, unsure of how to explain. He had no clear memory of what exactly had happened. He had simply woken up—different. Stronger. His thoughts flowed effortlessly through his mind, no longer tangled in the chaos that had once defined him.
I don't know, he sent through the mental connection, the words forming more easily now. I was in the labs. They drained me until I died. Then... I woke up.
The group exchanged glances. Nima's expression darkened, and Krag muttered something under his breath, but Jorra leaned forward, intrigued.
"You woke up? After they disposed of you?"
Troy nodded. Yes. Something changed in me. I can't explain it, but I feel... different. Stronger. More in control. I don't remember much, but I know it has something to do with what I was before.
Jorra's gaze sharpened. "What you were before?"
Troy didn't answer immediately. He couldn't—he didn't fully understand it himself. The memories of his past life, the flashes of the ancient world, the temple, the gateway—they were still fragmented, just beyond his grasp. But one thing was becoming clear: he wasn't just another failed experiment. There was something deeper, something powerful inside him that had survived the countless revivals.
I don't know, he finally admitted. But I feel like I was meant for something more.
Jorra studied him for a long moment, then leaned back. "Interesting. Most people who go through the draining don't come back. You're not the first to survive, though."
You all went through the draining? Troy asked, his thoughts drifting out to the group, each of them now regarding him with a mixture of curiosity and caution.
Jorra shook his head. "Not exactly. We survived, but not from what you went through. The experiments we endured were... different." His voice trailed off, as if he didn't want to dwell too much on the specifics. He rubbed his scarred hand along the metal staff he carried, a faint clinking sound filling the silence.
Ellis nodded, her expression grim. "The labs do a lot more than just the mental energy draining. Body modifications, genetic splicing, cybernetic enhancements—they're constantly pushing the limits. Some of us were subjected to physical modifications. Some of us were put through mind-altering procedures, the kind that strip away who you are until you're barely human anymore."
Krag spoke up, his gruff voice low but steady. "My body's not natural anymore. They altered my muscle density and bone structure. Made me stronger than normal people. But it came at a cost. Constant pain, every day, like my bones are trying to crush themselves from the inside."
Nima, still distant, added, "They did something to my brain. Enhanced my senses—sight, sound, touch. I can see farther, hear things that are miles away. But it's... overwhelming sometimes. I have to block most of it out, or it drives me crazy."
Savo, always fidgeting, laughed nervously. "Yeah, and me? They messed with my nervous system. Supposed to make my reflexes faster. It worked, but now I can barely stay still for more than a few minutes. I'm always twitching, always moving."
Ellis, her scarred face illuminated by the flickering firelight, looked at Troy directly. "We survived because our bodies could adapt to what they did. The modifications were extreme, but survivable. People like us—they throw us into the wasteland when they're done with us, knowing we might last for a while. But what they did to you?" She shook her head. "The mental energy draining—that's different. No one survives that. No one but you."
Troy's mind raced. The draining was fatal—it always had been. But he had come back. He wasn't sure why, or how, but something inside him had brought him back from the brink of death. Something old, something powerful.
PERTIMBANGAN PENCIPTA 
solii
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