The man stirred while Aris was tightening the rough rope around his ankles.
One moment, he was little more than a breathing corpse, half-buried under collapsed concrete and dust, his black armor cracked and stained with dark blood. The next, his eyes flew open.
Golden.
Sharp.
Like sunlight forged into something dangerous.
His hand moved faster than any snake she'd ever seen in the Wasteland. One second, his arm was limp at his side; the next, calloused, strong fingers wrapped tight around her throat.
Any normal scavenger would have screamed.
Any fool would have begged.
Any soft‑hearted idiot would have frozen in terror.
Aris just pressed the blade of her knife firmer against his ribcage, cold and unyielding, the edge digging just enough to remind him she wasn't playing.
"Move again, and I'll carve a hole deep enough to quiet your temper," she said, her voice completely flat. No fear. No panic. Not even irritation. Just… boredom.
The man froze.
His golden gaze swept over her from head to toe, taking in her tattered, dust‑covered jacket, the faded fabric of her pants, the scrapes on her knuckles, the faint scar slicing through one eyebrow, and the way she stared back at him like he was nothing more than a particularly stubborn piece of scrap metal.
Most people in the Wasteland flinched from him.
Most bowed.
Most trembled.
Aris just looked bored.
"Who are you?" he growled, his voice low and rough, like stones grinding together.
"Someone deciding how much you're worth," Aris answered calmly, as if discussing the price of a rusted tool.
His fingers tightened slightly around her throat, not enough to cut off air, but enough to warn.
"Untie me."
"Or what?" She blinked slowly, genuinely unimpressed. "You'll kill me? Go ahead. We both die out here under the sun. But I don't think you're the type to throw away your life just for pride. You look like the kind of guy who values his own skin too much."
The golden eyes narrowed.
Good.
He was smart.
Smart merchandise sold for way more than the brain‑dead kind.
"Where am I?" he demanded, his tone sharp.
"The Wasteland," Aris said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You crashed. Bleed all over the place. Almost became free lunch for the crows."
For a long moment, he just stared at her, like he was trying to process what she was saying. Then his lips tightened, and he spoke again, his voice heavy with authority.
"Did you save me?"
Aris actually laughed.
It was a sharp, dry, humorless sound that cut through the still, hot air like a knife.
"Save you?" She repeated the word like it was the dumbest thing she'd ever heard. "Honey, I don't save people. I loot them. You're lucky I didn't just take your armor, your sword, your fancy little trinkets, and leave you here to rot. That's the usual protocol."
His expression darkened, pride and disbelief warring on his face.
"I am Kael —"
"I don't care who you are," she cut him off sharply, no patience for noble titles or dramatic introductions. "Names don't fill my stomach. Names don't purify dirty water. Names don't buy me a safe place to sleep. Your face, your strength, your armor — that's what has value here."
She leaned in a little, her tone cold and final, like she was teaching a child basic Wasteland rules.
"You are not a hero here.
You are not a warlord.
You are not some important lord who gets to order people around."
She paused, then delivered the line with complete, unapologetic sincerity.
"You are salvage."
Kael stared at her as if she'd just grown a second head.
In all his life, no one had ever spoken to him like this.
No one had ever looked at him and seen… goods.
Aris ignored his stunned silence and finished tying the rope securely around his wrists, making sure it was tight enough he couldn't slip free, but loose enough he could still walk. She wasn't trying to torture him. She was just doing business.
She stood up, slung her tattered backpack over one shoulder, brushed the dust off her pants, then nodded toward the hazy, distant line of dust clouds that marked the direction of the nearest market.
"Come on. We're going."
"Going where?" he asked, still stiff, still confused, still clearly trying to process that he was currently tied up by a random scavenger girl.
Aris smiled, sweet and innocent and completely menacing.
"The market."
He blinked.
"...Market?"
"Yep," she said cheerfully, as if she was talking about a casual trip to trade scraps. "I'm selling you to the highest bidder. I figure someone around there will pay good money for a fancy, strong, pretty‑faced warlord."
For the first time since he woke up, genuine, unfiltered shock flashed across his face.
Aris had to bite back a laugh.
The Wasteland didn't give many moments of entertainment.
This one?
She was definitely savoring it.
"Let's go," she said, tugging the rope lightly. "Don't make this difficult. I've got places to be and coins to earn."
Kael stared at her, golden eyes wide with disbelief.
Aris just started walking, already mentally calculating how much she could get for him.
Maybe five hundred coins?
Seven hundred?
If she was lucky, a full vial of clean water too.
Either way, this was turning out to be the best salvage run she'd had in months.