Reincarnated as an Apocalyptic Catalyst
Chapter 44: Orders and Instincts

Chapter 44: Orders and Instincts

The city had a way of making you forget what silence sounded like. Even in the dead of night, it breathed, whispers slipping through alleys, the shuffle of feet in the dark, the distant clatter of a drunken fight spilling out of a tavern. It never stopped, never let up.

Vance and I moved through the filth like we belonged there, which, in a way, we did. The backstreets belonged to the kind of people who had nothing left to lose, or worse, the ones who had already lost everything and just didn’t care anymore.

Vance had adjusted quickly, too quickly. His movements were perfectly smooth now, his eyes sharper. The way he walked, the way he kept pace with me, it was all instinct, and with every passing minute it became a habit, it became a skill. There was no fumbling, no hesitation, just effortless adaptation. It was impressive. It was also unsettling.

I kept my voice low as we turned down another deserted side street. "Tell me everything you know about Garrett’s operation."

Vance tapped his fingers against his thigh, thinking. "He runs most of his business out of an old tannery, near the docks. Looks abandoned from the outside, but inside? That’s where the real work gets done. Smuggling, debt collection, and moving products—human and otherwise. He keeps his best men close and cycles through disposable muscle to handle the dirty work."

I already had a rough idea of how the underbelly worked, but it helped to hear it from someone who had been inside. "And Garrett himself?"

Vance let out a short breath, something close to a laugh. "Garrett’s a bastard. I mean, that’s obvious. But lately? Lately, he’s different. Used to be he was just another scumbag trying to climb the ladder, but now... it’s like he knows something the rest of us don’t. Like he’s already top dog."

I didn’t say anything, I already knew why he behaved like this.

We moved in silence after that, navigating through the slums with ease. I had picked our route carefully, keeping to the paths less traveled, avoiding the main roads where city guards might take an interest in two hooded figures moving like predators through the dark.

By the time we reached the tannery, the stench of old chemicals and rotting leather clung thick in the air. The building loomed ahead, its windows dark, its doors shut tight. But I knew it wasn’t empty. This was where the slaver—my first parasite—had taken root.

And now it was time to see just how badly I had fucked up.

We perched in the shadows of a crumbling brick wall, just out of view from the tannery’s side entrance. The door was guarded by two men stationed outside, both armed, but relaxed. Comfortable. They weren’t expecting trouble.

Vance studied them for a moment before turning to me, his expression unreadable. "So, what’s the plan? We going in quiet, or making a scene?"

"Neither." I kept my voice even. "Not yet. We need to see what we’re dealing with first."

Vance didn’t argue. He just gave a short nod and settled against the wall, his gaze flicking between the guards and the upper floor of the tannery. "I can get inside," he murmured after a moment. "Used to run messages up to Garrett’s office. There’s a back way, through the old drainage tunnel. If we time it right, we could slip in without anyone noticing."

I considered it. It was a risk, but so was waiting out here with nothing to show for it. Then, before I could decide, the door creaked open.

A figure stepped out, flanked by two more guards. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Moving with the kind of confidence that came with knowing nothing could touch you. That was definitely Garrett.

Vance exhaled sharply. I glanced at him and found his brow furrowed. He was staring at Garrett, but not the way someone looks at an old boss.

"What?" I asked.

Vance didn’t look away. "He’s... different."

My stomach twisted again. "How?"

"I don’t know yet." His fingers twitched against his thigh. "But something’s wrong."

He was already starting to sense it. Maybe not consciously, not yet, but his parasite—the fragment of me that lived inside him—was recognizing its own kind.

Garrett and his men moved through the streets, and it was clear they weren’t in a hurry, but they weren’t wandering either. This was a route they had walked before, one that was intentional. I knew better than to assume it was random.

We followed at a distance, close enough to keep them in sight but far enough that the darkness swallowed us whole. Vance moved beside me like he’d been doing this for years, his steps quiet, his breath steady. I hadn’t given him instructions, but he didn’t need them. He instinctively understood how to blend in and move unseen. He was learning too quickly for my taste.

We trailed Garrett’s group through a series of narrow streets, cutting through alleys where the light from the main roads barely reached. The deeper we went, the quieter the city became. Fewer lanterns, fewer drunks, fewer people. This wasn’t a place you came to by accident.

Vance kept his eyes locked on Garrett. "This isn’t the same man," he muttered.

I had already noticed, but I wanted to hear him say it. "What’s different?"

Vance hesitated as he tried to put it into words. "It’s like he doesn’t even consider the idea that someone could take him down. The old Garrett was paranoid as hell. Always double-checking routes, making sure he wasn’t being followed. This Garrett? He walks like nothing can touch him."

I didn’t respond, just nodded.

He wasn’t wrong. That arrogance, that certainty, it only came from someone who was confident they could not be killed, y’know, like someone who could just, start over with a new body.

Garrett and his men reached an abandoned building on the outskirts of the district. The place was once a warehouse, probably for grain or textiles, but now it was just another forgotten husk.

I watched as Garrett knocked twice on the door, then once more after a short pause. The door cracked open, and a pair of eyes peered out before the door swung wide enough for them to slip inside.

The door shut behind them, leaving two guards posted outside. They stood with their backs to the wall, hands resting on their weapons, scanning the streets.

"Alright," I murmured, shifting back into the shadows. "We’ve seen enough. Let’s go." But Vance didn’t move.

His eyes stayed locked on the guards, his expression unreadable. "We could take them," he said. "Get inside. Find out what he’s doing."

I considered it. I didn’t plan to take it that far, but what would be the harm in it? This was all just busy work for me. A chance to gather some important intel, something to do while I waited for another mission. It would be important to know what my child was doing, and if I could use another one of my spawns to find out, that would be even more beneficial.

I shook my head. "Too soon. We need more information first." Trying to dissuade him, knowing it would only drive him forward.

Vance tensed, but then to my surprise, he nodded.

We waited for a while longer, watching the building, taking in every detail; how often the guards shifted, how the place was reinforced, where the weak points were. If we had to return, I wanted to know every angle. Then I made my decision.

"Test something for me," I said quietly.

Vance glanced at me. "What kind of test?"

I nodded toward the guards. "Get inside."

He grinned, the kind of grin I had worn too many times before. "Thought you’d never ask."

Vance moved fast, slipping through the shadows like he was born to them. Part of me was eager to learn if he had my same skills, or if he was distantly linked to the shadows. He circled wide, keeping to the blind spots I had already mapped out, the same path I would have taken. The guards weren’t expecting trouble, which made it almost too easy.

The first one didn’t even see him coming. Vance appeared behind him and had a knife to his throat in seconds, his other hand clamping over the man’s mouth before he could so much as grunt. A flick of the wrist, and the body sagged to the ground. Vance winced at the action which cost him a solid second, but he would be fine.

The second guard didn’t seem in a hurry as he turned just in time for Vance’s fist to crash into his jaw, sending him sprawling. Before he could recover, Vance was on him, his blade pressed against the man’s throat, pinning him to the ground.

Vance looked up at me, waiting.

I approached, stepping over the fresh corpse, and peered down at the struggling guard beneath Vance’s weight. He was young, barely sitting on the edge of his teens, eyes wild with bloodlust. The guard thrashed, but Vance didn’t let him go. He could easily kill him right now, but I wanted to see something first.

"Let him go, knock him out," I said, watching Vance closely.

He hesitated, but only for a fraction of a second. His grip tightened on the blade. His muscles tensed. He was ready to do it, to end this man’s life like it was nothing.

Good, he’s not disobeying, yet. "You heard me, knock him out, but leave him alive."

Vance acted swiftly, bringing the handle of his blade hard against the man’s temple before climbing off of the guard and rising to his feet. His brow furrowed as he turned to look at me. "What was that about?"

I kept my expression neutral. "You passed."

His fingers twitched on the hilt of the knife. He wasn’t convinced.

I walked closer to Vance, locking eyes with him. "You did exactly what I needed you to do. I needed to see if you could kill when I told you to. And more importantly, if you could stop when I told you to."

Vance exhaled through his nose, his grip on the knife relaxing. He pulled back, stepping away from the guard, who gasped for air and scrambled back against the wall.

Vance looked at me again, suspicion creeping into his eyes. "You wanted to see if I’d follow orders."

I nodded. "And you did."

I didn’t tell him that for a split second, I had seen something in him. He was a graceful killer, and he thrilled in the hunt, but something felt off when he took that first life, a part of me that existed before I was baptized in blood.

I had just proven something to myself. My children—these things I was creating—they weren’t entirely under Morgana’s control. They were still vulnerable. Still tied to my word, to my control. At least, for now.

I straightened, pulling my hood up. "Let’s go."

Vance shot one last glance at the guard before following.

We disappeared into the night, leaving behind the proof that I wasn’t the only monster walking these streets, and even so, there was some hope.

I contemplated how far I could push this, how hard I could push Garrett, but for now, keeping Vance on my side was the priority. If the other parasite didn’t know I had created Vance, this could only work to my advantage.