Playboy Cultivator in the Apocalypse

345 Guilt

Nestled in the heart of Malta was an awe-inspiring national park boasting a majestic landscape of rugged hills, meandering rivers, and expansive valleys. Scattered throughout this natural wonder were charming villages and historic towns that had emerged long ago amid the arid moors, verdant forests, and picturesque riverside meadows.

Known as Zeinth National Park, this fourteen-hundred-acre expanse was more than just a scenic retreat. Although lacking in large carnivores, its strategic location near two sprawling megacities, with a combined population of thirty million that had once engulfed Sheffield and Manchester before the war, made it an essential hub for the region's cultivators. Over two hundred of them were stationed in a large base at the park's center, primarily to supervise candidates as they honed their skills by hunting within the park's boundaries.

The base, a former hotel, now accommodated the sizeable group as they congregated in the moonlit cafeteria at nightfall, seeking ways to pass the time.

"Come on, Mars," urged a gaunt-faced man with black hair and a scruffy beard. "Tell us a story."

"I've already told you stories, Mason," Mars replied, reclining on the ground with his hands supporting his head as he gazed at the ceiling.

"Nah, not normal stories," Mason insisted. "I mean your freaky stories."

"That'd be breaking the rules, Mason," the crimson-haired teen sighed. "No matter how often I say it, it doesn't change the truth."

"It hasn't stopped you before," a brunette with a tightly wound bun scoffed. "Otherwise, everyone here wouldn't even be aware of the rules."

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room, accompanied by an undercurrent of anxiety and growing paranoia. The ground teams that were meant to report back had gone silent, and other cultivators had arrived, sharing stories of their missing comrades.

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As a result, the group craved answers — genuine answers.

"And Mars was wrong to do so then, Naomi," Roxy interjected, cutting through the tension. "However, unlike those instances, this is a matter of grave consequence. Don't confuse his past rule-breaking for sharing juvenile stories with the legality of employing Narrative in a dire military situation."

"Yes, it is a serious situation — that's why we need to know what we're up against," Naomi sassed. "I can't speak for everyone else, but after all this insanity, I'm not trusting anyone without evidence."

A chorus of agreement reverberated throughout the room, heightening everyone's alertness and anticipation of potential conflict.

"Do you know why he can't divulge information like this?" Roxy chuckled. "People who are paranoid about their crimes demand proof to see if there was evidence."

""Are you accusing us of being traitors!?" Mason snapped, his gaunt face twisted into a scowl. "Do you think that..." His voice trailed off as he noticed the room had gone silent, the collective paranoia intensifying.

"Understand now?" the brunette pixie smirked. "Let me clarify something. If someone with Mars' abilities were a traitor, he wouldn't return home. After all, he can't withhold information from superiors, so doing so would be suicidal. What about any of you? Can you provide proof that you're not traitors?"

An ominous sensation crept over everyone, tightening its grip on their hearts.

"I thought not," Roxy scoffed. "Mars can't share a story. It's not due to the presence of a traitor; it's because the rules exist to prevent traitors from acquiring information. So, drop it."

The room sank into a heavy silence, consumed by brooding thoughts, paranoia, and tension.

As hours slipped by, most turned to cultivation instead of sleep.

Mars was among them, seated in the lotus position, attempting to maintain his composure.

"Over the last two centuries, I've seen countless soldiers turn," Mason chuckled, approaching and sitting beside him. "They always have this particular quality. It's as if they're perpetually working not to slip up."

The crimson-haired teen tried to dismiss the man, but he was as relentless as a nagging sore, persistently irritating him each time his attention was drawn back.

"It's the guilt — that's the telltale sign," Mason grinned. "It's unmistakable because, whether they say something negative about their former or current team, they feel like they're betraying them.

Betraying both sides, unceasingly. Emotionally conflicted."

"Leave him be," Roxy warned from across the room. "Otherwise, I'll reprimand you and recommend demoted from Lieutenant. Don't forget that I'm the ranking superior here."

"Relax, Major Grace," the man chuckled. "I'm just trying to help the kid. After all, when his dad learns that he went missing and reappeared alone — without his entire squad - it's going to be a nightmare. It's better for him to repent."

"Don't bring up my dad," Mars growled.

"Oh, are you trying to appear tough, Mars?" Mason smirked. "Deny your father all you want, but ultimately, I'm right — he'll tear you apart. I wonder what he'll do when he discovers his son is a traitor?

He'll probably-"

BOOM!

Mason's taunting was cut short as an immense gravitational force slammed him into the ground, rousing everyone from their deep meditations. They looked up to see the man groaning under the intense pressure.

"Cease harming my subordinate immediately, Major Grace!" a blonde woman with fierce brown eyes ordered the pixie, her hand pressed to the ground.

"Or what, Captain Collins?" Roxy sneered. "You'll admit that you allowed your troops to repeatedly provoke First Lieutenant Vanity into divulging classified information, disregard your superior's orders, and then accuse us of treason?"

The blonde clenched her teeth, rapidly assessing her predicament and searching for a way out.

"Reprimand this man at once, or I'll see you stripped of your rank, Captain," the pixie threatened. "Don't think you have any recourse —

First Lieutenant Vanity has documented everything. Everyone who attempted to make him break the rules will be punished, and I'll ensure the harshest penalty."

Shock rippled through the room like an earthquake, shaking everyone to their core. Those implicated drew sharp breaths, harboring a dark urge to silence the duo to avert repercussions. The situation was tense, volatile, and explosive. One spark could set it off at any moment, pushing it to a breaking point.

"STOP, ROXY!" Mars shouted, slicing through the silence. "They only want to know what we're going to report. The evidence proves that we'll play a crucial role in bringing down Immortal Skye, and there's no escaping my memory. So just let it happen."

Roxy's eyes widened in horror as she stared at the resolute and serious teen, her heart pounding. "Don't let your father dictate your choices, Mars," she snapped.

"I'm not doing that!" he retorted, his anger boiling over.

"Yes, you are!" she yelled back. "You're breaking the rules because someone provoked you with your father!"

"No, I'm not!" Mars countered. "You're the one driving everyone mad with protocol when we could simply put everyone's minds at ease and ensure their safety with a bit of information. You're being unreasonable!"

"First Lieutenant! You will follow my orders whether you believe they're misguided or not!" Roxy barked, causing the teen to huff and turn away in frustration.

"Major Grace," Ruby interjected. "May I speak with you privately? We need to address this situation. In the meantime, everyone else, hold your tongues and cultivate."

The soldiers acknowledged her command and composed themselves while Roxy nodded and exited the building. As they walked, the brunette pixie discreetly adjusted her ring, feeling a warmth spread through her finger as a signal that it was active.