Eater Blade: Grinding in Apocalypse-Chapter 53: LIGHTS OFF, HANDS ON.

They stayed where they were for a while — perched on that broken ledge like two gutter kings looking out over a kingdom of rot and ruin. Dancer lurked a few beams away, eyes glinting whenever the moon broke through the cloud cover.

Savier leaned back on his elbows, still catching his breath, a smile tugging at his battered mouth. "Shit... feels good to do that again. You ever miss the old runs? The drills? Damn, Johnkiss... nothing like burning your lungs out, huh?"

Johnquis grunt, rolling his shoulders where the harness straps bit in. "Back then I thought it was hell. Now? I’d kill for another hour in that School gym. Just bruises and instant noodles waiting at the end. God... I miss those cup noodles."

"Ha! Yeah..."

Savier trailed off, tapping his fingertips on the rusted beam. Then he lit up like he’d remembered a filthy joke. "Oh — did I tell you? A new student after your batch. You’d like her. Real sexy piece of work. God, her boobs were huge — like a pair of full moons. A real goddess. You’d lose your damn mind."

His eyes gleamed in the moonlight. "Name’s Paula. Precious Paula."

Johnquis gave him the driest look he could muster. "Precious Paula? That her real name?"

Savier laugh. "Hell no! Paula’s her real name. I added ’Precious.’ She’s precious, okay? Had to stitch part of her patch onto my bomber so I got her with me at all times."

He tugged at his bomber jacket’s shoulder where a stitched lady clutched her boobs. "There she is, my precious Paula. It’s like a lover’s lock, but creepier."

"You’re a twisted bastard, Savier."

"Don’t pretend you’re surprised."

They sat there, the wind whistling through the bent rebar around them. Dancer shifted, climbing to the tip of a broken beam, watching the dark like she owned it.

Savier squinted at Johnquis, grin softening. "So... your sister. Jiana. She’s still not on your side, huh? I figured... I dunno. Thought she’d be up here beside you. Watching your back."

Johnquis’s eyes narrowed. His fingers flexed on his knees. "No. She left me behind. Said I was too weak. And she wasn’t wrong. You crawl too slow in this world, you get eaten. I just hope..."

His voice cracked. "I just hope revenge doesn’t eat her first."

Savier nodded, jaw twitching. "Yeah. She was strong. Real prodigy. And... fuck, don’t look at me like that — she was hot too. Intense. Scary. You know the type. Didn’t talk much, just... kill, kill, kill. Like her veins ran on blood and scoreboards."

Johnquis didn’t say anything for a moment. His eyes drifted across the sea of dead steel and half-drowned streets below.

"She didn’t have time to be anything else."

"Crazy, huh? You, sitting here like this, still stuck at the bottom rank when you should’ve just quit. And her — up there on her throne of bones, licking up all the praise. I swear, seeing your ugly face the day I crawled outta that coffin... that was the happiest I’ve been in this rotten life."

Johnquis gave him a sideways glance, a small smirk tugging at his mouth. "Happy? With my ugly face? You tried to kiss me once, drunk off your ass — thought I was Jiana."

Savier let out an embarrassed laugh, elbowing him hard. "Oh, fuck off! I was half-dead, half-drunk, and you two popped out the same damn womb! Same dead eyes, same funeral face — next time wear a sign: ’Not Your Sister, You Sick Bastard!’ Save me the trauma."

Johnquis laughed so hard his eyes went wet. "Whoo — that shit’s too much... You know, I never had the talent she did. No gift, no burst to push me up. Just these hands for climbing... and this chain. Then Dancer happened."

He glanced at the creature perched on the beam. "Jiana... she’s the only reason I’m still climbing. Just hope I can catch up to her someday. Thank god Dancer’s with me, maybe I’ve still got a shot."

Savier followed his gaze, grin fading into a tired, crooked smile. "Seeing you grow like this in three months — and you’re just Bronze, fuck. How the hell did you manage that? I really think you’ll crawl outta that hole fast."

He shifted closer, shoulder bumping his. "Next time your sister shows up... don’t let her eat you alive. That’s your damn job, yeah?"

"Yeah..."

The wind shifted. The cold night wrapped around them — the ruined city below, the faint glow of the moon overhead. For a moment, it was almost peaceful.

Savier cracked his knuckles, leaning back until he was practically sprawled in Johnquis’s lap.

"So. Tomorrow? Same shit, different corpse?"

"Tomorrow," Johnquis agreed, eyes closing. "We hunt. We climb."

"And maybe Precious Paula drops by to polish my hook—"

"Could you... please not lean so close? I can feel your dick in my ass, you horny beast."

Savier let out an exaggerated groan. "Why do you have to look like Jiana? Twins. God hates me."

Johnquis just snorted. "Get some sleep. Before I chain you to the roof."

They drifted off like that — two fools slumped against each other, worn out from their dumb race, the street brawl, the catching up, and this brutal world that wouldn’t stop trying to bury them.

Savier stayed sprawled against Johnquis for a while, breathing steady, eyes half-shut. Then he shifted, peeling off his battered bomber jacket. He held it up in the moonlight, tracing a finger along the stitched curves of Precious Paula — the crude patchwork of a woman.

His hand hovered at his belt, but he paused. A dark laugh rattled his chest. He squeezed the fabric instead, thumb pressing into the stitched breasts, the crude face, the threadbare hips.

When he glanced up, his eyes caught Dancer’s shape in the dark. Something about her, the wrongness of her posture, the curve of her spine, the way her skin glowed faintly in the moonlight — made his mouth go dry.

A line of drool slipped from his lip. His hand drifted to his belt. He licked his teeth, eyes locked on that monster silhouette.

"Fuck... just once. Just gotta get this out, or I’ll never sleep..."

He tugged himself free, breath hitching as he worked his fist. Dancer’s eyes flicked to him, unblinking and watching.

Savier moaned, pumping harder, the sick rhythm echoing off the ruin. He came with a grunt that snapped the silence.

He wiped his hand off on the hem of his jacket, wheezing a laugh.

"Sweet dreams, sweetheart..."

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