[Chapter 24: Guests]
With each new arrival, the tableau in the clearing shifted, growing more crowded and increasingly surreal. The quiet, natural sounds of the forest—the rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds—were now underscored by the rhythmic, low-frequency hum of Searanox’s invisible fleet.
The second arrival was a young Asian girl, seemingly plucked directly from a quiet study session or a university library. She appeared in a flicker of blue light, a thick textbook still clutched tightly in her trembling hands as if it were a shield. Her expression was one of sheer, uncomprehending shock, her eyes darting frantically between the mountain of food and the man sitting on the log. She had a petite, slender frame with delicate features, her long, straight black hair falling past her shoulders like a curtain of silk. She stood perfectly still, her knuckles white against the cover of the book, as the reality of her abduction began to settle in.
The third was a woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties. She possessed a striking, almost sculpted physique that was barely concealed by a professional, charcoal-grey business suit paired with a restrictive pencil skirt. Her long, fiery red hair was styled in a high, tight ponytail that accentuated the sharp lines of her face. She landed on the dirt in a practiced fighting stance, her eyes narrowing as she scanned for threats. However, the sight of the 1.65m tall, wolf-like woman standing nearby, coupled with the dozens of hovering drones, broke her resolve instantly. Her shoulders slumped, and her defensive posture dissolved into a guarded, fearful crouch.
The last guest arrived mid-sentence, her provocative club attire catching more than just Searanox’s eyes. She was wearing a skin-tight, fluorescent pink crop top that barely covered her ample chest and a black micro-miniskirt paired with fishnet stockings. Her heeled platform boots completed the look—an outfit clearly designed for a high-energy nightlife and a party that would not end in her own bed. Her platinum blonde hair was styled in loose, artificial waves that framed a heavily made-up face, with a few rebellious strands of pastel blue and purple dyed into the tips. Her initial confident swagger vanished, replaced by pure, unadulterated fear as the travel drone unceremoniously dropped her onto the grass before the group.
Four women, gathered from completely different walks of life, were now united by their shared helplessness. They huddled together instinctively, gazing at the impossible events unfolding before them: mountains of food being brought by floating cubes that disgorged far more cargo than their physical dimensions should have allowed; a monstrous, anthropomorphic wolf-woman who moved with the grace of a predator; and amidst it all, a man behaving as if it were just a normal Thursday afternoon.
"Looks like the party is all here now," Searanox remarked. His question was casual, delivered with the tone of a host at a dinner party, yet it carried an undercurrent of absolute, chilling authority. "Would you like to wait for a more comfortable arrangement? Or shall we get down to business?"
He gave them no chance to answer, his eyes sweeping over their terrified faces.
"I won't wait, so listen closely. My name is Searanox. This is Iris. In a few hours, your world—everything and everyone you have ever known—will be thrust into a new reality. A violent one. A world where the strong survive and the weak are merely prey for those with the will to take what they want."
He took a short, measured breath before continuing, his voice steady. "Count yourselves fortunate, for you were chosen specifically to be saved from that fate. If I am eventually proven wrong, I will return you to where you came from, and no harm will be done. But for now, you belong to the clearing."
The silence that followed was heavy and absolute. They stared at him, their expressions a desperate, volatile mix of terror and a dawning, horrifying hope. Searanox let the silence hang, letting the weight of the forest and the drones press down on them before he spoke again.
"Tell me," he said at last, leaning forward slightly. "What happens to a society when authority loses the power to enforce its rules? What happens when the police don't answer the phone and the lights go out for good?"
Finally, the one dressed for the club—Sarah—found her voice. It was shaky, high-pitched, and defiant, though her knees were visibly knocking together. "Chaos," she whispered. "People would... they would just do whatever they wanted. They’d take whatever they wanted from whoever was smaller than them."
"Precisely." Searanox nodded, a grim, jagged smile touching his lips. "And what do you believe will be the first commodities on the shopping list, if there were no rules to govern human behavior? If there were no consequences for the dark things men think about in the middle of the night?"
Vanessa, the one with the athlete's body beneath the business outfit, flinched as the implication hit her. "Power," she said, her voice a low rasp. "Control... control over others. Safety at the expense of someone else."
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"Good. Very good." Searanox slowly rose from his place on the log, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the dirt. "You see, my dears, that is precisely why you are here. You are not just being saved. You are being recruited. You can choose to stay here with Iris and me, where you will be safe. When the 'System' comes, you will have no power of your own to defend yourselves against what is lurking in the shadows. But if you accept—if you serve me—you will be my..." `Property` He thought before continuing his speech, "assets, my assets. I protect my own. I will grant you the power to survive the coming slaughter. In exchange, you will do as I say. Without question. Without hesitation."
He looked over his shoulder at the wolf-woman. "Iris, they will assist you in setting up the camp."
Searanox turned his back on them and began walking toward the modular house. The women watched him go, their gazes a cocktail of fear and awe. He stepped inside the container-like structure, leaving the door standing wide open behind him, effectively leaving them alone with Iris.
Iris turned to the women, who were still huddled together like a herd of deer in the headlights of a semi-truck.
"Come," she said. Her voice was calm, but it held the weight of a mountain. "Our new home will not furnish itself. The furniture needs to be sorted and placed according to the master's vision."
She gestured with one long, black-clawed hand toward the scattered chaos of leather chairs, tables, and rolled-up carpets that the cargo drones had dumped unceremoniously in the dirt.
The red-haired woman, Vanessa, straightened her charcoal blazer. A flicker of defiant, professional pride surfaced despite the bone-deep terror shaking her frame. She had likely spent her life being the one in charge of a boardroom, and the transition to manual labor under a monster was a bridge too far.
"We are not your slaves," she said, her voice trembling but audible in the quiet clearing. "You cannot just... you can't just take us and expect us to move furniture like pack mules."
Iris moved faster than any human eye could track.
One moment, the wolf-woman stood several steps away, relaxed and passive. The next, her clawed hand was resting lightly against Vanessa’s throat. The touch was almost gentle, but the needle-sharp points of the claws were unmistakable. Iris's silver eyes burned with a predatory intensity as a low, guttural growl vibrated through her chest, making the air itself seem to hum.
"I can," Iris purred, her lips drawing back just enough to reveal the rows of sharp, white teeth designed for rending flesh. "And I will. Do not confuse my patience for weakness."
Her claws pressed just enough to make her point unmistakable, a tiny bead of crimson appearing where the sharpest nail met Vanessa’s skin. "Searanox considers you an investment. I, however, consider you... expendable. Your life has value in this forest only while it remains useful to him. Now, you will begin the work. Or you will be the first piece of trash I dispose of this morning to keep the clearing clean."
She withdrew her hand with a sharp, mocking flick.
Vanessa stumbled backward, her hand flying to her throat. Her face was drained of all color, her boardroom defiance shattered into raw, trembling terror. The other three women watched in frozen, horrified silence as the lesson settled in with brutal, life-altering clarity.
They were no longer people with rights, careers, or futures. They were assets. They were property.
Slowly, and with great reluctance, they began to move. The student set her textbook down on a log as if she were placing a tombstone. Sarah, struggling in her platform boots, grabbed the end of a heavy wooden table. Tables and chairs were lifted and dragged across the dirt toward the silent, box-like structure that served as their new home. Their movements were clumsy and uncoordinated, driven by a fear of the wolf-woman rather than any desire to be helpful, but none of them dared to stop.
The clearing began to change. What had been a scene of absolute chaos and panic slowly reshaped itself into a crude, functioning campsite—a fragile outpost of order carved into the heart of the forest. Iris stood watch throughout the entire process, her posture relaxed but dominant, her ears swivelled to catch every whisper and every sob. Her silver eyes missed nothing.
Eventually, Searanox stepped back out of the house, watching the progress. He noticed Iris standing off to the side, simply observing.
"Iris, why are you just standing there?" he asked calmly, his voice carrying over the sound of a velvet sofa being dragged over the grass. "When you are finished with the furniture, you can begin storing the food in the sheds."
He gestured toward a row of pre-fabricated sheet metal sheds that the drones had lined up along the edge of the clearing.
The house itself was not particularly impressive from the inside. It was cramped, plain, and the walls were thin enough that insulation would eventually be an issue. But it was shelter. It was protection from the elements and whatever was coming with the mana infusion. He watched as the women carried a king-sized mattress inside, slowly furnishing the three small rooms one by one under Iris’s watchful gaze.
When the sun dipped lower, casting long, orange fingers through the trees, Searanox walked over to Iris. He ran his fingers lightly along the fur of her back, a gesture of both affection and ownership.
"I do not want you slacking off," he said quietly, his voice intended only for her ears. "And you will not treat them as slaves, Iris. We are building a community, not a labor camp. They need to believe that their best chance of survival is with us. Fear is a good start, but it won't keep them from stabbing us in our sleep once the System gives them a class."
Iris leaned into his touch, her tail giving a single, sharp wag. "They are sorted," she replied. "And they are afraid. That is enough for now."
Searanox looked at the four women. They were exhausted, their expensive clothes stained with dirt and sweat, their spirits broken. He looked at the mountain of food and the secure house. He was Level 15. He had resources. He had a base.
The countdown to the end of the world was reaching its final hours, and for the first time, Searanox felt like he was truly ready to welcome the darkness.