There were close to a hundred mutants in total. It baffled me how they had managed to survive the harsh elements and the predators that roamed the desert sands. Their existence was a precarious one, hidden within the nearby caves. I spent hours observing their way of life before taking action. They scraped by, feeding on sparse moss that clung to the rocks and drinking from small pools of irradiated water that collected in depressions at the tops of their caves. The water shimmered faintly, its unnatural glow telling me everything I needed to know about the kind of suffering they endured.
They weren't thriving. They were barely clinging to life. Their twisted, emaciated bodies bore the marks of their existence: tumors bulged beneath stretched skin; their limbs were gnarled, bent in ways that betrayed both pain and mutation. Their lifespans couldn't have been much longer than twenty years. Some of the slightly stronger individuals may have reached thirty, but only if starvation, sickness, or the monstrous predators lurking in the sands didn't get to them first.
I stood near the edge of their camp, my eyes scanning the scattered mutants as they moved cautiously through the caves and rocky outcroppings. Despite their condition, they were resourceful. Their ability to adapt to this environment – to endure such overwhelming adversity – stirred something in me. A younger mutant, no older than ten, stumbled over a loose rock, his thin frame barely able to hold him up as he bent to scrape moss from a nearby stone. His hollow cheeks and brittle limbs told me that food was scarce. His resilience told me that this could change.
I would make it change.
The first step was gaining their trust. I reached into my [Inventory], pulling forth one of the water canisters I had fabricated earlier. The clear, clean liquid shimmered in the harsh light as I raised it high, making sure the mutants watching from the shadows could see it. Their wide, sunken eyes locked onto the canister, their collective breathing shallow. One of the larger mutants, a man with jagged teeth and a grotesquely swollen arm, stepped out from behind a boulder, his movements slow and deliberate. His posture was defensive, his eyes wary as they flicked between the canister and me.
I crouched slowly, keeping my movements deliberate and calm, and placed the canister on the ground. With a gesture, I stepped back and pointed at the container. The mutant hesitated, his swollen arm twitching as his claw-like hand flexed open and closed. After what felt like an eternity, he moved forward, grabbing the canister and retreating a few steps. He unscrewed the lid with shaking fingers, sniffed the water, and then drank deeply. The sound of gulps filled the air, and as he drank, the others began to emerge.
They moved like shadows, hesitant but desperate. Thin, gnarled figures with faces stretched by hunger gathered around. When the first mutant finished, he raised the canister high, his expression a mixture of awe and disbelief. He turned back to the group and spoke in a language I didn't fully understand but could grasp well enough through the System's translations. "It's clean."
That was the beginning. I spent the next several hours giving out water and food, one fabricated item at a time. The tension in the air slowly dissipated as they realized I wasn't a threat. By the time I had built a small shelter near the cave entrances, they began to approach me more freely, though they still moved cautiously.
It wasn't long before they started treating me as something more than a benefactor. Whispers and murmurs spread through the group as they stared at the structures I created from nothing and the food and water I provided. Their eyes widened in reverence, and soon they began kneeling or bowing whenever I spoke or walked among them.
I tightened my jaw at the display. This wasn't right. It was heretical. And yet... it wasn't their fault – they knew nothing of the God Emperor or the Imperium. Their lives had been spent in darkness, isolated from any semblance of civilization. But the way they looked at me, as if I were a divine being, made my chest tighten. It wasn't right to accept their worship, but what choice did I have? To call them heretics when they knew no better would have been unjust, and this was Terra before the God Emperor's time. There were no laws of faith here, no doctrines I could enforce.
For now, I set the thought aside. I had work to do.
Once I gained their trust, I began the real task: curing them. One by one, I used [Flesh Shaping] to undo the horrors wrought upon their bodies by radiation, malnutrition, and disease. The first subject was the large mutant with the swollen arm. He sat cross-legged before me, his twisted limb resting heavily in his lap. His eyes were dark and wary, his expression tense. I reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder, and focused. My hands glowed faintly as I directed [Flesh Shaping] into his body.
Tumors shrank and dissolved beneath his skin. His arm, once grotesquely swollen, began to return to a more human shape. Muscles realigned, bone straightened, and scarred flesh smoothed. His breathing hitched as he watched the transformation, his wide eyes flicking between his arm and me. When I finished, I stepped back, letting him examine the results. He flexed his fingers slowly, his expression shifting from disbelief to something that resembled hope.
The process repeated with the others. Each mutant came forward hesitantly, their faces a mixture of fear and anticipation. Some flinched at my touch; others whispered prayers to gods I didn't know. As I worked, I watched their twisted forms straighten, their sunken eyes brighten, and their gaunt bodies regain strength. It wasn't perfect – I could only do so much with the resources I had – but it was a start.
By the time I reached the last mutant, my [Biomass Reserves] were dangerously low. I could feel the gnawing hunger of the [Antediluvian] Curse, a reminder of the cost of my power. I glanced at the desert beyond the caves, where I knew predators roamed beneath the sands. They would provide what I needed soon enough.
When the final mutant stood before me, now resembling the humanity they had once been, I straightened and looked out over the group. They were silent, their eyes fixed on me, expressions ranging from awe to gratitude. The first mutant, the large man with the restored arm, stepped forward and knelt, his head bowed low.
"Thank... you," he said, his voice low and rough. Speaking in such a manner was clearly an alien thing to him.
I nodded, glancing at the horizon. This was just the beginning. There was so much more to do. I couldn't save all of Terra, but I could start here. These people, these brothers and sisters of humanity, had a chance now. And I would ensure that chance wasn't wasted.
After the healing was done, I introduced myself to them as Perry. Not Perry the Guardsman – there was no Imperial Guard in this time – but Perry the Guardian. It wasn't the most creative name, but it felt fitting. A protector, a guide. Something simple they could hold onto.
They took to it immediately. No hesitation. They started calling me "the Guardian" as if it had always been my name. The way they said it carried weight, a kind of reverence that made my chest tighten. It was uncomfortable, but I didn't correct them. If it gave them hope, it was worth it.
The first night, I defended them from the creatures of the desert. Gigantic insects emerged from the sands, drawn by the activity and the scent of life. Chitinous bodies skittered over rocks, legs sharp as spears, mandibles clicking in the darkness. The former mutants huddled in their shelters, peering out from cracks and crevices as the monsters came. I might've given a few weapons from the thousands of them in the templates, which I could easily fabricate, but I honestly didn't trust them well-enough for that just yet – in the sense that I couldn't trust them not to hurt themselves.
I met the creatures head-on, stepping into the open with [Ruyi Jingu Bang] in hand. The staff extended with a thought, its weight familiar and steady. I crushed the first insect with a single swing, its exoskeleton cracking like glass. Another lunged, its legs stabbing down like spears. I sidestepped, swiping the staff through its midsection, splitting it clean in two.
The remaining creatures hesitated, their antennae twitching as they assessed me. I didn't give them a chance to regroup. Reaching out with [Flesh Shaping], I grabbed one of them mid-charge. Its body jerked to a halt as the ability took hold, its chitin peeling back and dissolving into raw biomass. The others retreated, skittering back into the darkness, but I didn't let them escape. With a burst of speed, I devoured each one, their massive forms shrinking into nothingness as I pulled them into my reserves.
By the time it was done, the desert was quiet again. I turned back to the shelters. The mutants were watching me, their faces pale and wide-eyed. Some of them knelt, murmuring words I didn't understand. Others simply stared, their expressions a mixture of awe and fear. I nodded once, acknowledging them, and stepped away. My reserves were close to full again, the curse momentarily sated.
It wasn't the last time I had to defend them. Each night brought more creatures – larger, fiercer. But after everything I'd faced before, these beasts were nothing. Each one fell before [Ruyi Jingu Bang] or dissolved into biomass before they could reach the camp. By the third night, the mutants no longer cowered. They watched instead, standing at the edges of the shelters as I fought, their gazes steady. Some even whispered words of encouragement, though their voices trembled.
I made sure to remind myself why I was doing this. It wasn't just about survival. It was about giving them a future, something beyond the constant struggle. But as I quickly discovered, building a thriving society was far more difficult than I'd imagined.
The problems started on the fifth day.
At first, it was small things. Disagreements over who would take which shelter, or who should have first access to water, despite the fact that there was more than enough for all of them. They came to me with their complaints, expecting me to mediate. I listened, nodding along, but I had no real answers to give. I wasn't a leader. I had no experience in governing people. My job had always been clear: follow orders, fight, survive.
But now they looked to me for guidance, and I had none to offer.
One of the younger former mutants – a boy with freshly healed skin and a spark of curiosity in his eyes – approached me as I sat near the edge of the camp. He hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Guardian... what do we do now?"
I blinked, caught off guard by the question. I looked at him, then at the others scattered around the camp. They were watching me again, their expressions expectant. It wasn't just the boy's question – it was everyone's. They wanted to know what came next, what they were supposed to do with this new life I'd given them.
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. My hands tightened into fists against my knees. What did they do now? I had no idea. I'd given them everything they needed to survive, but survival wasn't the same as living. They needed purpose, direction. Something to hold onto, something to build.
But I didn't know how to give them that.
I stood abruptly, the boy stepping back in surprise. My gaze swept over the camp, the shelters and the people.
"I'll figure it out," I said finally, more to myself than to them.
That night, as the camp settled into uneasy rest, I stood watch near the edge of the rocks, my mind racing. The mutants were safe for now, but that wouldn't last if they didn't learn how to work together. They needed more than just protection. They needed a community. Leaders. Rules.
I didn't have the answers yet, but I knew one thing: I couldn't do it alone. I would have to teach them to lead themselves, to take responsibility for one another. It wouldn't be easy, but it was the only way this could work.
The next morning, I gathered them together. Their faces were cautious but curious as they stood before me, the sun casting long shadows across the rocky ground. I took a deep breath, gripping [Ruyi Jingu Bang] tightly at my side.
"This is your home now," I told them, my voice steady. "But it's not enough to just survive. You have to build something here. A community. A future."
They watched me in silence, their expressions unreadable. I gestured to the shelters, the water purification unit, the food supplies I'd created. "I've given you what you need to start. The rest is up to you. Work together. Share. Protect each other."
A murmur ran through the group, low and uncertain. One of the older mutants stepped forward, his posture stiff. "How do we... start?"
I paused, my grip on the staff tightening.
"We'll start small," I said. "I'll aid and protect you. But first, you'll need to choose a leader from among you. Someone to help guide you. Someone you trust."
The older mutant exchanged glances with the others, their expressions a mixture of confusion and curiosity. It was clear they weren't sure what to make of the idea, but I could see the flicker of understanding beginning to take root.
This was only the first step. There was so much more to do, so much more to teach. But as I looked at the faces before me, I felt a spark of hope. They had a chance now - a real chance. And I would do everything in my power to help them take it.
They deliberated among themselves for an entire day. Once again, I protected them in the night. When dawn broke and morning came, they approached me as one, The oldest of them stepped forward. "We choose you, guardian, to lead us."
AN: Chapter 77 is out on (Pat)reon!