Apocalypse respawn

Rargnes entered the house where Sengrar had married, and the latter took him for a walk in the garden, where they spoke in their native language, though Rargnes now had an accent.

"I saw some Spanish."

"Here?"

"Where else?"

"And how did you know they were spanish?"

"They were speaking spanish or portuguese, I'm not sure. But it sounded more like Spanish."

Sengrar gave him a strange look.

"I don't remember which is which, but yeah, it was definitely Spanish."

"Okay, so you heard a Hispanic dialect?"

"Yeah, same thing."

Sengrar looked at him, rolled his eyes, and sighed.

"Yeah… well. It could just be a foreigner who was around during the selection or someone who speaks the language, but to be sure, I'll have someone look into it. That shouldn't bother you, right?"

Rargnes shook his head. "No, it was just to ensure they don't escape once the area is under control. If they've managed to cross several noble territories, they could be valuable allies if we ever need to flee."

There was a brief silence.

"Other than that, how's everything going?" asked Sengrar.

"What?"

"The marriage and all."

"I think they don't like my frail body much."

"Even I'm barely accepted," Sengrar said, despite his body being as massive as the people of this world. "Let's focus on what we can control."

"You seem pretty involved," Rargnes remarked as they passed by a purple plant that screamed in his ears as they approached. He repressed any reaction to avoid suspicion and tried to clear his thoughts.

"Me? No. I just want to see this apocalypse through."

"And how do you think it will end?" Rargnes asked, keeping his question deliberately vague.

"I think it's already won."

Rargnes tried to glean as much information as possible, taking his time, but his power didn't allow him to hear Sengrar's thoughts. He finally left, bidding him farewell.

As he walked through the streets, Rargnes thought, 'My power must be partially disabled against those stronger than me. I'll need to verify this with the masked woman, but for now, the goblin mage confirms it.'

Did this mean that the system's power, which had made him forget the selection, was similar? Would becoming stronger be enough? He doubted it. Even before the apocalypse, becoming too powerful was dangerous. Beyond a certain point, increasing wealth didn't enhance mobility or healthcare but only multiplied potential threats.

And the enemy's abilities remained extremely potent. It was too risky. They would have to wait longer—perhaps for a moment of weakness on the noble's part, maybe infiltrate close to him, poison him, threaten him in some way, anything.

'The odds are still too unbalanced. It's suicide.'

He would have liked to join the noble, but his power made the scenario impossible, like venturing alone in a world that only trusted interrelations. He couldn't run nor take refuge by becoming the noble's man. This situation would have to be disrupted on the first occasion.

Rargnes stopped near a man monitoring the street in a bar. He signaled to him, and they walked together through the streets. Rargnes stuck close to him during the journey as his guide pointed out every nook and cranny of the city they passed through.

They descended some poorly maintained stairs, blending into a crowd—the strike would likely occur in broad daylight. The man pointed out the enemy locations and potential allies, providing information on the different hideouts throughout the city where their enemies were most likely to take refuge.

He also indicated allied locations. He particularly emphasized the importance of sparing those who surrendered if the situation allowed: the energy value of a powerful person, whether sold or killed in the outside world, was not insignificant.

Rargnes observed. Most of the facades, either in poor condition or in excellent condition, depending on their location, were closed. The interiors of businesses emitted sounds that translated outside into simple manual noises, but inside, they were tedious and endless tasks that occupied the entire day.

In winter, people worked until dusk for a few hours. During summer, despite various meal breaks, most worked well over 12 hours in manual labor, gradually rendering their hands useless for other tasks.

With the unfairness of energy, magic, and their lack of weapons, their fate seemed sealed. 

'Respect is given to the strong to gnaw on it and avoid biting their owners.' said his voice. 'It's the interest paid for not misusing their powers like you pay more a good artisan. Once you become the noble...'

"They work with energy," the guide said, noticing Rargnes' curious gaze as he looked through the signs. "It's better not to look where people have to get close. There'll be enough with the enemies and the rewards; no need to attack civilians. We need them." he insisted on the last words to avoid future pillaging. 

Rargnes nodded.

As they walked, they witnessed a scene where a man drew a sword from who knows where and attacked another who defended himself. Rargnes watched the spectacle and learned the next day that the fight had started because one of the men had smoked manure near the other's horse.

At first, Rargnes found this exaggerated but then noted that it was his means of transportation, work, prestige, perhaps food at some point, and escape from bandits… In short, it was an animal that could have saved his life. Ultimately, the difference between someone getting angry over their car and their horse was relatively the same. Moreover, the horse deserved more attention and received more affection from its owner on the battlefields.

What initially seemed strange to him now felt natural. It must be the same for everything, just as one could get used to killing. Perhaps one day, his descendants wouldn't even question their abnormal physics and would be entirely like them.

Something about this thought pained him.