《Accidental Healer》 Chapter 1 - Just another day Class was over. Another mind-numbing lecture on things I¡¯d already forgotten. I needed out. Badly. The problem? Finding someone to come with me. Instagram was full of people who loved the outdoors. Unfortunately, none of them were my friends. Instead, I had friends who could spend twelve straight hours raiding dungeons in video games, but the thought of spending one night in an actual forest? Apparently, that was too much. After debating with myself all week, I finally decided¡ªscrew it, I¡¯ll go alone. Of course, the second I made that choice, my brain had to be a smartass about it. ¡°Okay, Layton,¡± I thought. ¡°On one hand, you¡¯ve never been camping alone. On the other hand¡­ how hard can it really be?¡± I wasn¡¯t an idiot. I knew enough to know I probably didn¡¯t know enough. But whatever. I¡¯d figure it out. As I walked toward the shuttle back to my dorm, my head was still spinning with hypotheticals. How bad would it be, really? Would I get lost? Run out of food? Be mauled by a mountain lion? How often does that even happen? ¡­Almost never. Probably The shuttle was empty. Of course it was. Who takes a night class on a Friday? Oh, right. Me. That¡¯s what I got for procrastinating on class registration. Maybe if I hadn¡¯t spent hours gaming with my friends, I would¡¯ve actually gotten decent class times. Not my words¡ªmy mom¡¯s. To be fair, she had a point. Instead of being out, I was in Business 1010, stuck in a two-hour Friday night death march. Meanwhile, my friends were gaming, partying, and making terrible life choices. Oh well. Back to the business of camping. I could handle a weekend alone. My only real concern? Getting eaten. But hey, how often does that even happen? ¡­Yeah. Still not looking it up. Anyway, it was settled. Tomorrow morning, I¡¯d pack up, hop in my car, and head north until I found a good spot¡ªsomewhere remote, surrounded by trees, and most importantly, with no other people. Just me, the wilderness, and a non-zero chance of getting murdered by nature. Perfect. - BZZZZ. BZZZZ. 6 AM. No. Snooze. I was going camping, not training for the Olympics. I finally rolled out of bed at 8 AM¡ªright as my phone buzzed again. Dad. Because of course. "Hey, Layton!" my dad said, his blood worked like a natural caffeine. "What? Did I wake you up?" "No, Dad," I said, deadpan. "I actually just got back from my morning hike. Great sunrise."The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. "Uh-huh," he said, not buying it for a second. "So, gaming until two again?" Ugh. It was too early for this interrogation. "Why is that always your go-to?" I sighed. "You do know video games aren¡¯t the only reason people sleep in on Saturdays, right?" "So you¡¯re telling me you weren¡¯t up until two playing?" I scoffed. Opened my mouth. Closed it. Damn it. Not that I was ashamed¡ªI totally had stayed up until two (maybe later). But it was the smugness in his voice that really got under my skin. "Now you listen here, sir," I said, shifting to full mock outrage. "I will not lie to you. I was up playing video games until two¡ªbut I will be damned if I let you act all high and mighty just because you went to bed first. Let''s not forget, old man, that you don¡¯t even have a choice anymore. I¡¯m pretty sure at your age, you fall asleep on the couch by eight, whether you want to or not. That¡¯s why pilots over fifty can¡¯t fly past five." My dad chuckled. Growing up, I learned that if I could make him laugh, I could get away with a lot. "Well," he said, still amused, "I just wanted to remind you about your promise to help me fix Charlotte''s sprinklers today." Oh, right. That. Charlotte was my parents'' next-door neighbor. Sweetest old woman in the world. And her sprinklers were absolute garbage. If I had a nickel for every time those damn sprinklers needed fixing, I could fill a sock with them and put the poor woman out of her misery. "Ah¡­ crap," I muttered. "Dad, I¡¯m really sorry. I totally forgot¡ªI just planned a camping trip this weekend." Silence. Just for a second. And just like that, the guilt hit like a truck. But instead of being mad, he just said, "You know, Layton, normally I¡¯d be disappointed. But if you¡¯re standing me up to get out in nature? I can live with that." Ow. Somehow, when parents don¡¯t get angry¡ªeven when they totally could¡ªit hurts so much worse. If I felt guilty before, now I was drowning in it. "Dad," I groaned, "why¡¯d you have to hit me with the healthy parenting tactic? You know that¡¯s my weakness!" "Haha! I learned that strategy from your mom. She¡¯s the real pro, and you know it." I laughed, shaking my head. "Well, I appreciate the pass. But yeah, I¡¯m heading out this weekend. Still not sure where. I figured I¡¯d just drive north until I find a good spot¡ªsomewhere with decent trees and no people." "You¡¯re quite the planner," he said dryly. Then, after a beat, he perked up. "You know, I think this could be good for you. It¡¯s better than being cooped up staring at a screen all day. Just be safe, and I¡¯ll see you next weekend. I¡¯m sure I can find another job we can do together!" "You know, Dad, manual labor is not the bait you think it is," I said. "And yet somehow," he replied, "it has such a high success rate." Damn it, he had me there. "You know I love you, Layton," he said. "Take care of yourself out there." "Love you too, Dad," I said, smiling. As I hung up, I sat back and exhaled. How did I get so lucky to have such great parents? - After that phone call, there was no point going back to bed. I stretched, yawned, and¡ªOW. Something stabbed my foot. Hard. I lurched back, cursing, and looked down. A mechanical pencil¡ªhalf-buried in my disaster of a floor. Right. Packing. Should¡¯ve done that last night. I grabbed my school bag, flipped it over, and dumped the contents onto my bed. Thud. A stack of overpriced textbooks hit the mattress. A few half-filled notebooks followed¡ªmostly doodles, zero actual notes. Good enough. I spotted my sweater hanging on the bedpost and hesitated. Mid-summer, but nights could get cold. I stuffed it in. Better safe than freezing. What else? That should pretty much cover it, right? Tent, sleeping bag, and pad? Already in the trunk. One less thing to think about. Food? Eh. Gas stations existed. My fridge was practically a wasteland anyway. Cool. Time to go. I grabbed my keys and headed for the door, slipping on my low-rise white Converse that had seen better days. I was halfway out when I froze. Wait. Shit. My lighter. Patted my pockets. Not there. I scrambled back, found it on my desk, and sighed. I would¡¯ve felt like an absolute idiot if I¡¯d forgotten that. And to think, I was a Boy Scout once. Chapter 2 - The Drive Although I¡¯d been camping plenty of times before, a minor¡ªokay, major¡ªproblem hit me the second I merged onto the highway: I had no idea where I was going. I knew I wanted trees, water, fresh air, and zero people. That was it. McCall, Idaho came to mind. I¡¯d been there before¡ªgood trees, good air, and not far. Maybe a little over two hours from my dorm. Good enough. Windows down. Music up. The road stretched ahead, nothing but endless asphalt and the occasional cow. For a while, it was just me and the hum of the tires. Excitement warred with the occasional nagging thought that I might be about to make some very poor survival decisions. Then, after two hours of singing way too dramatically to songs no one else could hear, I saw it. WELCOME TO McCALL.
Stocking Up Pulled into town. Immediately got distracted. Almost drove straight into the woods with zero food. Great survival instincts, Layton. No cooler. No plan. And at least one adult decision had to be made. I stared at the grocery store shelves, contemplating my options. What did I land on? Perfect.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Finding Camp After another hour of winding roads, I spotted a dirt turnoff that looked promising. I turned onto it, and immediately regretted it. My Toyota Corolla¡ªcertified highway princess¡ªbounced like a dying horse, groaning as if personally offended by the terrain. Yeah. This was as far as it was taking me. I pulled off to the side¡ªcareful not to get stuck¡ªand stepped out. The air was cool and crisp, thick with pine and damp earth. Hell yes. I grabbed my backpack¡ªnow stuffed with food instead of books¡ªslung a gallon of water over my shoulder, and carried the other in my hand. Less than a hundred feet in, I stepped into another world. A clearing, wide as a football field, bathed in golden light. The wind rippled through waist-high grass, turning it into a rolling green ocean. Somewhere beyond the trees, water rushed¡ªsoft, steady, alive. Across the field, the base of a mountain loomed, its shadow stretching like a sleeping giant. I grinned. I couldn¡¯t have picked a better spot if I tried. Time to set up camp. I walked back to my car, popped the trunk¡ªand froze. My tent was gone. Where¡ª? And then, like a sack of bricks to the face, it hit me. The golf clubs. I¡¯d taken everything out to make room for my stupid golf clubs. My tent. My sleeping bag. My sleeping pad. Every single thing I needed to not die in the woods. Oh. No. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Brain. Engage. Fix this. I rummaged through my trunk, shoving my idiot golf clubs aside, hoping for a miracle. Aha! A picnic blanket. My only line of defense against the freezing dirt. I am going to have the worst night of my life. I set down my water and backpack, trying to figure out how to salvage this. Maybe I could¡ªA noise. Sharp. Wrong. I froze. And just like that, the world stopped turning. One second, I was running. The next, I wasn¡¯t. I wasn¡¯t anything. Everything around me froze. Like reality had just ctrl-f4¡¯d it out of existence. I stood there, muscles locked in place, like the world had just stopped responding and needed a forced restart. Then, after what felt like an eternity¡ª Everything went black. Chapter 3 - The voice from the abyss "What the hell is going on?" "Hello, Layton." Huh? A mechanical female voice echoed from the darkness. "Uhhhh, hello creepy void voice. Am I dead?" I asked, trying to sound calm. (I was not calm.) If I had to guess, I probably suffered a spontaneous brain aneurysm or something. Instant death. Damn. Though¡­ now that I thought about it, I was probably going to freeze to death anyway. Okay, maybe not freeze, but I was definitely going to be really cold all night. Unless I just packed up and went home. ¡­Did I dodge a miserable camping trip by just straight-up dying? "No, Layton, you are not dead. Congratulations! Earth is the 1,500,453,485th planet to be inducted into the multiverse." The what now? My brain, still trying to process the "not dead" part, latched onto another key phrase. "Inducted into the multiverse?" "Query accepted. Your world is now experiencing induction, like many others before it. Hundreds of eons ago, an anomaly in deep space flickered to life..." The voice launched into a full sci-fi monologue. Apparently, some big space anomaly started leaking magic energy (mana) into planets, changing everything it touched. At some point, Earth got hit. Now we were in the club. Honestly? This sounded suspiciously like the intro to every RPG I had ever played. "Okay, cool. But, uh¡­ who exactly are you?" "Query accepted. I am a construct designed to assist with planetary induction." "So¡­ not the anomaly itself?" "No." Helpful. "Who made you?" "Query not accepted." "Okay, why not?" "Query not accepted." "Oh, come on¡ª" "Query not accepted." I groaned. This was getting nowhere. Fine. New question.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. "What exactly is changing on Earth?" "The pertinent information is as follows:" Earth just absorbed three other planets. The world is now four times bigger. ¡­What. There will be many deadly threats. Teamwork is recommended. (I was alone.) Most modern technology will cease to function. Cars? Dead. Phones? Dead. Planes? Uh¡­ please don¡¯t be midair right now. I swallowed. Hard. "Alright, alright. You mentioned something about class selection?" "Query Accepted." (I swear to if it says that one more time¡ª) "You will now choose a class based on your personality traits."
Class 1: Fighter A well-rounded melee combatant. Strong, reliable, adaptable. Great start. Exactly my playstyle. Let¡¯s see what¡¯s next.
Class 2: Jester¡ª Absolutely the hell not. "SKIP."
Class 3: Healer Supports allies with healing spells and buffs. Not strong in combat. "Sure, a healer sounds perfect. Alone. With no party to heal." I muttered sarcastically, barely paying attention. "You have selected Healer as your starting class." ¡­Wait. What? WHAT. NO, NO, NO. HOLD ON. I WAS BEING SARCASTIC. "Query accepted." "NO, NO, TAKE IT BACK!" "Unfortunately, all choices are final." "WHAT?! THAT¡¯S BULLSHIT!" I felt lightheaded. I had just accidentally locked myself into the squishiest support class in existence! This was the best thing that had ever happened to me¡ªreal-life RPG mechanics¡ªand I just screwed myself into the worst possible start. My parents warned me that my sarcasm would get me into trouble. I just never thought it would get me killed. ¡°It is time to choose your starting gear. Below are choices suitable for your class choice.¡± I scanned the options¡­Staff, spellbook, robes¡­ "There is nothing here that I want." I muttered. As soon as the words left my mouth I knew I messed up. ¡°You have chosen to skip gear selection. You will proceed without gear.¡± WHAT. "NO, I DIDN¡¯T! THAT¡¯S NOT WHAT I MEANT!" ¡°You will now be reintroduced to the world. Be prepared for anything. Good luck, Layton.¡± And just like that¡ªthe voice was gone. I was left alone. In total darkness. Still frozen, trapped in my own thoughts. I had one job. Pick a good class. Get some decent starting gear. And I screwed it up. At first, I wanted to rage against the machine. Curse the system for making me a joke. But deep down¡­ This was my fault. I did this to myself. No use dwelling on it now. The darkness vanished¡ª And I fell flat on my face. I climbed to my feet, brushing dirt off my pants. Dang. Where was my car? I turned, orienting myself with the clearing at my back, and started walking toward where I was sure I had parked. Ninety feet later, I stopped. No car. Even worse? No road. That¡­ wasn¡¯t right. There should definitely be a road. There had been a road. But now? Just endless forest. The only thing that looked exactly the same was the clearing itself. If this was part of the ¡°world expansion¡± that creepy voice mentioned, why did everything else change, but this spot stayed the same? Was that weird? Or was I just overthinking it? ¡­What the hell do I know? Chapter 4 - Pulling Up the System Speaking of things I don¡¯t know¡ªDidn¡¯t I just get a healer class? I wasn¡¯t excited about it, but I was definitely curious. The problem? I had no idea how to check. I frowned, then did the first thing that popped into my head¡ª I reached out, clapped my hands together, and made a dramatic swiping motion, like I was summoning a hologram in a sci-fi movie. Nothing. Okay, maybe I needed pure focus. I closed my eyes really, really hard, willing a status screen to appear. Still nothing. I squeezed my eyes even tighter. Started seeing stars. Maybe that¡¯s a good sign¡­? Nope. Just me, giving myself a migraine. Sighing, I finally opened my eyes¡ª BAM. A glowing status screen hovered in front of me.
Status Screen

Layton

HUMAN - Rank F Humans are well-rounded, known for adaptability. Receives +5 free points per level. CLASS: Healer (Lvl 1)
STATS HP: 20/20 The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.MP: 20/20 Core Stats:
ABILITIES: None SPELLS: Weak Heal ¨C Heal self or target for minor HP. (Scales with Wisdom & Intelligence) Weak Regeneration ¨C Heal minor HP every 20 seconds for 5 minutes. (Scales with Wisdom)
BONUS OBJECTIVES: Life¡¯s Gambit (Risk = Reward) "Some carefully prepare before facing overwhelming odds. Others¡ªlike you¡ªlaugh in the face of danger, betting on themselves regardless of the risk."
TITLES: Forerunner ¨C Be the first to set foot on the new world. Man or a Mouse ¨C Be the only newly inducted to forgo a full tutorial while also removing the system failsafes.
Looking over the screen, I could almost cry. This was everything I wanted. Maybe even better. But then I reread the bonus objective. And the title. "Life¡¯s Gambit" ¨C Risk equals reward. "Man or a Mouse" ¨C For idiots who skip tutorials and remove their safety nets. ¡­This system thought I was an absolute dumbass. And honestly? It was probably right. Chapter 5 - Overpowered titles, yeah right I couldn¡¯t stop staring at my titles. Forerunner was straight-up broken¡ªa permanent 5% XP boost? In any game I¡¯ve ever played, you had to pay for that. But Man or a Mouse? That one gave me mixed feelings. I was the only person out of billions to skip the tutorial? How?! There had to be someone else as excited as I was to just get started. Then I reread the description¡ª "And remove the system mouthpiece failsafe." Oh. That was probably the unique part. Other people must¡¯ve skipped the tutorial, but I was the only idiot to skip it so thoroughly that the system removed its built-in safety net. And I only got the title if I survived the first trial? How is that fair?! Was this thing trying to teach me a lesson? Alright. Enough freaking out about the titles. I started thinking through my stats. I had 1 point in everything. Was that normal? If so, did that mean the difference between the weakest and strongest humans wasn¡¯t even worth a stat point? More importantly¡ªhow do stats actually affect me? If I increase Strength, does my bench max go up 15 pounds? If I increase Intelligence, does my brain process information faster? I had so many questions. And then, as I was deep in thought¡ª Snap. My head shot up. Twigs don¡¯t snap themselves. I froze, scanning the treeline. Nothing. But my gut told me something was off. Slowly, I started backing toward the clearing. I glanced over my shoulder. The clearing was ten steps away. But my gut told me not to turn around. I kept moving. And then¡ªa flicker of movement on the forest floor. A tail. And just like that, I saw it. Crouched 30 feet away, low to the ground, stalking forward. A mountain lion. And it did not look friendly. DAMN IT. I knew the odds of being eaten by a mountain lion weren¡¯t zero. I KNEW IT.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Okay. Stay calm. I ran through everything I knew about mountain lion encounters. ¡­It didn¡¯t take long. I knew nothing. I kept backing away, pretending I hadn¡¯t seen it. I mean, come on¡ªof course I saw you, dumbass. You¡¯re right there. And then¡ªit pounced. I didn¡¯t even think. I turned and ran like hell. No plan. Just sprint to the clearing. As I ran, my brain screamed, WHY DOES IT HAVE TO EAT ME BEFORE I EVEN LEVEL UP?! Then something shifted inside me. I was pissed. Why was I running? As if I could outrun this thing. I burst into the clearing and spun around, knees bent, arms out. The best defensive stance I could think of. It slammed into me full force. I went flying. As I tumbled backward, I had a single, crystal-clear thought: It¡¯s smaller than I expected. Probably 100 pounds, max. So what? Still big enough to kill me. I hit the ground hard, the lion¡¯s claws digging into my thighs. Its front paws scrabbled for grip, trying to pull itself up to my throat. Slow motion. Its teeth snapped inches from my face. Its hind claws ripped into my legs. I shoved its head back as hard as I could¡ª And then I fell. But the world around me¡­ shifted. It felt like falling through fabric, like stepping into a haunted house tunnel. And then¡ª
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: You have entered your tutorial trial. Wave 1 of 5 has begun.
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! One second, I was fighting a mountain lion. The next, I was in a level 5 wave dungeon. At level one. With no gear. SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Completing dungeons without preparation is highly discouraged. NO SHIT. A problem for later. For now? I was still falling¡ªwith a mountain lion clinging to my chest. Instinct took over. I yanked it in closer, using my momentum to throw it over my shoulder. It hit the ground hard. I scrambled to my feet¡ªready for the next attack. But¡­ The lion didn¡¯t get up. Blood pooled beneath it. And then I remembered. Wave 1 of 5 had begun. I should probably put my healing spells to the test. I had two: Weak Heal and Weak Regeneration. Since I was actively bleeding, Weak Heal seemed like the better choice. The moment I thought about casting it¡ªI just knew how. Weird. Honestly, it was like peeing¡ªyou don¡¯t really think about it, you just let it happen. (Gross analogy, but accurate.) I released the spell. Warm energy flushed through me, and I watched in awe as my wounds stitched themselves back together. My MP dropped. I pulled up my status screen. Okay. 10 MP for 5 HP? Not great. Since I still wasn¡¯t fully healed, I cast Regeneration instead¡ªcheaper, longer-lasting. Alright. No more heals left. Got it. Chapter 6 - The first wave The whole process took maybe 15 seconds. When I looked back up, the field was moving. Something¡ªor a lot of somethings¡ªwere coming through the grass. I couldn¡¯t see them. They were too short. First thought? Snakes. I hate snakes, please don¡¯t be snakes. But no¡ªthe movement was wrong. The grass rippled and bent like something darting on two legs. Okay. Not one big monster. Many small ones. ¡­Rats? Would I rather be eaten by a giant snake or swarmed by rats? ¡­Neither. Not happening. I set my stance and waited. There was no warning. The first creature exploded from the grass, full sprint, straight at me. And let me tell you¡ªa rat would¡¯ve been preferable. The best way to describe it? Gremlin. Not the cute kind¡ªthe "fed after midnight" kind. Two feet tall. Thin, scaly, and a mouth full of WAY too many teeth. I barely had time to process it before¡ª It launched itself at my stomach. I didn¡¯t even think. I sidestepped. The little bastard flung past me, claws outstretched. Instead of letting it go, I swung both hands down and spiked it into the dirt like a volleyball. CRACK. It twitched. Something was very broken. It flailed helplessly, trying to get up. No hesitation. I stomped. SQUELCH.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: You have killed LVL 1 Chaos Spawn. EXP Gained.
I immediately threw up. Holy shit. That was horrible. But I had no time to dwell on it¡ª Because five more burst out of the grass. Same strategy. Same kamikaze jump. Five of them, all at once. And behind them? At least 30 more. ¡­Oh, fantastic. I punched the first one mid-air. Its body collapsed inward like an accordion. I gagged again. SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: You have killed LVL 1 Chaos Spawn. Okay. That''s two down. Four more slammed into me.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Two rebounded off¡ªbut two did not. One latched onto my ass. The other? My love handle. SON OF A BITCH! I screamed, reaching back to grab the one chewing on my ass. It did not want to let go. I finally yanked it off¡ªand made a critical mistake. I held it up to get a good look at it. It smiled. A chunk of my flesh fell from its mouth. The pain was white heat. "You are one disgusting little freak.¡± I joked. I told myself if I was still joking it would be ok. Even though these monsters had almost no HP, there were too many. I didn¡¯t have time to be graceful. Instead, I went full animal-in-a-trap mode. With one Chaos Spawn dangling upside down in my hands and another frothing at the mouth, latched onto my hip, I did the only thing I could think of. I extended my arms¡ª And started swinging like a lunatic. Like a kid playing airplane at the park. Except instead of a kid, I was using a Chaos Spawn as a club.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: You have killed Chaos Spawn (Level 1). You have killed Chaos Spawn (Level 1). You have killed Chaos Spawn (Level 1). The system kept dinging, rattling off kill confirmations. Ding. Congratulations! Healer class has leveled up. Alright! Unfortunately, my spinning wheel of death strategy had one fatal flaw¡ª Too many dead bodies piling up at my feet. I kept tripping over the corpses of my own victims. And if I lost my footing? It was over. These things would swarm me, drag me down, and I¡¯d be ripped apart. I had to keep moving. I tossed the limp, ruined Chaos Spawn into the nearest group of enemies, knocking a few of them over. That¡¯s when I saw it. A tight mass of at least 30 of them right in front of me. I didn¡¯t have a weapon. I didn¡¯t have a plan. But I had legs. I took off at a sprint, charging straight into the horde. And then? I high-stepped. Pumping my knees like a football drill, smashing every Chaos Spawn that got in my way. Not every hit was a kill, but I saw constant EXP notifications. I was 15 kills in when it happened. My legs slowed. I was out of steam. One Chaos Spawn latched onto my calf. Another onto my thigh. Then another. And another. By the time the fifth one sank its teeth into me, I couldn¡¯t run anymore. They swarmed me. I was covered in them. I shook, flailed, kicked¡ªnothing worked. My HP was plummeting. I pulled up my status screen. Shit. I stumbled. My vision blurred. I was DYING. Then¡ªI fell flat on my face. CRUNCH.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: You have killed (4) Chaos Spawn (Level 1). Ding! Healer class has reached Level 3.
Wait. I leveled up. That means¡­ I have free points! No hesitation. I dumped 5 into Constitution, the rest into Intelligence. I cast Weak Heal. Then again. HP jumped to 18. Clarity returned. Only six left. I could do this. With only four more of the spawn still clinging to me, I forced myself to stand. Each one was latched onto my thighs or calves, their claws digging in, their tiny mouths biting down. I gritted my teeth and fought through the pain, ripping them off one by one. It was gruesome, brutal, and horribly painful. By the end, I was drenched in blood¡ªsome of it mine, some of it theirs. I was on the edge of passing out. But I got it done. Chapter 7 - Wave 1 complete BOOOONNGGG. A deep, ringing gong shook the clearing. Wave 1 Complete. I collapsed onto my knees. Holy shit. I actually survived.
The Loot & Rewards Next wave will commence in 2 hours. All participants will receive rewards based on contribution. Contribution calculated. Reward ¨C HP & MP fully restored for next wave. Reward ¨C Crude Wooden Club. New Ability Unlocked: LOOT.
ALRIGHHHTT! I got a reward! And I gotta say, I¡¯m a big fan of two of them. Having my health and mana fully restored? Huge. The second reward? Also huge. If I was right about what it did¡­ I opened my status screen and scrolled to my new ability.
New Ability Unlocked: LOOT By touching fallen enemies, they will be transformed into usable parts depending on the creature. Possible chance of finding a random item upon looting. Upgradable.
Oh mama. What a gift. Who doesn¡¯t love to loot? My face split into a stupid grin. I wonder what Chaos Spawn will give me? Probably nothing too great, but still¡ª I couldn¡¯t wait to find out. Great. A wooden club. Exactly what every warrior dreams of wielding. I sigh as the notification blinks in my status screen. Would you like to receive quest reward: Crude Wooden Club? I confirm. Pop. The club drops at my feet. I pick it up. Light, rough, primitive¡ªlike something a caveman would use. Whatever. It¡¯ll do. Now that I¡¯m healed and armed, I turn to loot¡ªthen freeze. Something¡¯s off. Did I ever get a kill notification for that mountain lion? Nope. - Uneasy, I retrace my steps. The body is still there, right where I left it. But something is wrong. It moves. Just barely. A shallow rise and fall of its ribs. It¡¯s still alive. My grip tightens around the club. That doesn¡¯t make sense. It had been bleeding out for fifteen minutes. How? More importantly, why didn¡¯t the chaos spawn finish it off? They focused everything on me. Did they see me as the bigger threat? Can those little monsters even think like that? Questions for later. Right now, I have a problem. I step closer, fingers clenching around the club. One hit. That¡¯s all it would take. Its sides rise and fall in ragged gasps. Blood mats its fur. It doesn¡¯t move. Doesn¡¯t fight. Just dies slowly. When it was chasing me, it looked so¡­ powerful. Now? I should finish it. It would be the smart thing to do. So I raise the club. And then, I make a mistake. I look into its eyes. It doesn¡¯t snarl. Doesn¡¯t bare its fangs. Just stares. Wide eyes. Trembling breath. And fear. My stomach twists. I have to look away. Demon spawn are one thing. They¡¯re monsters. Mindless. Probably. But this? This is different. There¡¯s intelligence behind those eyes. It fought to survive, same as me. And I¡­ I can¡¯t do it. I make my decision. It¡¯s a stupid one. I almost died once. Now I¡¯m about to heal the thing that nearly got me killed. Brilliant. First, I need to see what¡¯s actually killing it. I step around its body, but it¡¯s lying on top of something, concealing the wound. Whatever it is, it¡¯s the reason it¡¯s still bleeding. There¡¯s only one option. I have to move it. The cat is too weak to fight, but I hesitate. What if shifting it opens the wound and it bleeds out? What if I try to save it and just end up killing it? No choice. Before I move it, I cast Weak Regeneration. If I¡¯m doing this, I¡¯m not letting it die on me.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. With a grunt, I shove both arms under the cat¡¯s limp body and lift. It hisses weakly but doesn¡¯t fight. Beneath it, buried in blood and dirt, is the jagged base of a flagpole. Yeah. That would do it. What are the odds? Now comes the risky part. I take a breath. ¡°Alright, you. Listen up.¡± I brandish my new club. ¡°I really don¡¯t want to use this, but let¡¯s be clear¡ªI will. Hopefully, you grasp the situation you¡¯ve put us in.¡± The cat just stares at me, unblinking. I sigh. Screw it. I cast Weak Heal. My grip tightens around the club as I watch for a reaction. Between this and Weak Regeneration, the cat should have at least 7 HP by now¡ªassuming it was down to 1 in the first place. No way to check its stats. No way to tell if I need to heal it again. I wait. It¡¯s ears twitch. His breathing steadies. But he stays put. For the first time, the big cat doesn¡¯t seem so dangerous. Maybe it¡¯s the way he¡¯s sprawled out, too weak to move. Maybe it¡¯s just that he isn¡¯t trying to maul me anymore. Either way, I keep my distance. "Alright, big guy. I could probably get you back to full health, but let¡¯s be real¡ªI don¡¯t trust you at full health. So, I¡¯ll leave you like this for now. Hope you understand." Nothing. Just more staring. I smirk. "You know, you really are a walking disaster. First, you nearly get me killed, then you make me risk my neck healing you. Guess that makes you a big, furry ball of mischief." The cat doesn¡¯t react. "Mischief it is, then." I back away slowly, keeping him in my peripheral vision. Regen will do its job¡ªeventually. In the meantime, I have spoils of war to collect. I move to the first Chaos Spawn I stomped. Its back is bent at a sickening angle, eyes bulging, tongue lolling. My own vomit coats its corpse. It takes everything in me not to hurl again. I steel myself. The system says I just have to touch it to loot it. I close my eyes, take a breath, and gingerly press two fingers to the least disgusting part. Pop. The body vanishes in a cloud of smoke, replaced by a small pile of items. I frown. I have no idea what I¡¯m looking at. I grab a small vial filled with thick, bright yellow liquid. My stomach churns. Maybe I¡¯ll get a pop-up menu? Some kind of explanation? Nothing. Annoyed, I open my status screen. Crushed Chaos Spawn Eyes ¨C Used for alchemy (Effects: ????) Delightful. As if their buggy little eyeballs weren¡¯t gross enough, now they¡¯ve been smashed into paste. I grimace and set it aside, moving on. Chaos Spawn Tooth ¨C Used for alchemy (Effects: ????) Minor Chaos Shard Fragment ¨C (Collect 10 fragments to complete a Minor Chaos Shard) Chaos Spawn Meat ¨C Safe for human consumption, though not generally considered appetizing. I rub my temples. Okay. Mixed bag. Loot is loot, but most of this is just¡­ gross. The Shard Fragment stands out, though. The description is vague, and that bothers me. I need more information. I proceed to loot 15 more creatures. Same routine. Same results. Teeth. Eyes. Meat. Every. Single. Time. The fragments, at least, are rarer¡ªI¡¯ve collected 9 so far. Just one more, and I can finally combine them. Hopefully, that¡¯ll tell me what they¡¯re actually for. The 17th corpse gives me nothing new. Just another pile of disgusting parts. But when I loot the 18th? Something different. On top of the pile, half-buried in the dirt, is a crude-looking dagger. I pick it up. It¡¯s rough, unbalanced, and barely a weapon. Crude Serpent Dagger No damage bonus. No hidden perks. Just a basic, worthless knife. Still, it¡¯s something. I toss it aside and move on. Number 19 is the jackpot. My 10th fragment. Finally! I¡¯ve been stacking my loot in neat little piles, and now I place the last shard with the others. The moment it touches the stack, they begin to glow. The light builds, bright enough that I have to look away. Then¡ª Ching. A soft, wind-chime-like sound. I pull up my status screen. You have successfully combined 10 Minor Chaos Shard Fragments into 1 Minor Chaos Shard. Minor Chaos Shard ¨C This shard can be combined with items to produce unknown effects. AWESOME! But also¡ªSCREW YOU, SYSTEM. No prompt. No confirmation. Just "Hope you don¡¯t screw yourself over, buddy!" I¡¯m seeing a pattern here. No safety nets. No ¡°Are you sure?¡± pop-ups. It never even asked if I wanted to enter the dungeon in the first place. No more sarcasm. No more screwing around. I need to be careful. ¡­ ¡­ But not right now. Right now, I want to see what happens when I combine this thing with an item. - The obvious choice is my club. It¡¯s a system reward, and if anything counts, it¡¯s that. Plus, if this shard can boost damage, I need that badly. Decision made, I place the club on the ground and kneel beside it. The shard feels oddly warm in my palm. I try setting it next to the club. Nothing. I pick it up and press it against the club, holding it there. Five seconds pass. Nothing. I stare at the shard. Then at the club. Then back at the shard. Oh, come on. I¡¯m missing something. Think, idiot. Video game logic. Is this skill-based? Do I need to be an enchanter or something? I¡¯m not ready to give up yet. There¡¯s one more thing I can try. Earlier, when I cast my spells, I could feel mana surging from my chest, down my arms, and out through my hands. Even now, if I focus, I can still feel it¡ªa slow, faint current in my core. What if the shard needs mana to activate? I shift into a cross-legged position and focus. First, I try to disrupt the flow¡ªjust to see if I can. It takes a minute. A struggle. But then¡ªa shift. It¡¯s subtle, but it¡¯s there. I let out a slow breath. I¡¯m trying too hard. When I cast spells, mana just flows. I don¡¯t force it¡ªI just let go. So I do. I relax. Let the mana move. It flows down my arm, into the shard¡ªigniting it. A circuit forms. Power loops between me and the shard, swirling in a steady cycle. This is it. This is the key. I press the charged shard to my club. [System Alert] Upgrade Successful: Crude Wooden Club ¡ú Spiked Crude Wooden Club. New Effect: Increased chance to cause Bleeding. I did it! ¡­but I was expecting more. I pick it up. It looks almost the same. Just¡­ uglier. Now, four jagged, two-inch-wide blades pierce through the wood. It¡¯s like one of those bats with nails in it¡ªexcept shorter, heavier, and designed to ruin someone¡¯s day. Not flashy, but damage is damage. I¡¯ll take it. Chapter 8 - One hour later One Hour Later. 34 Chaos Spawn down. My loot piles? Huge. I scan the last pile: Crude Serpent Dagger, cast iron pot, wooden flute, broken ceramic plate. ¡­What the hell am I supposed to do with this? Hopefully, stronger monsters drop better loot. For now, it is what it is. I still have 30 minutes before Wave 2. Two things to handle:
  1. Use the second Minor Chaos Shard.
  2. Have a long-overdue heart-to-heart with Mischief.
Priorities first. I grab the Crude Serpent Dagger and the Chaos Shard and repeat the process. Channel mana. Infuse the shard. Press it to the dagger. Pop. Zzzt. Pain. Sharp, brutal, electric pain. ¡°MOTHER OF¡ª¡± I yell and drop the knife. My hand burns like I just grabbed a live wire. What the hell just happened?! I shake out my fingers, glaring at the dagger. Did it just electrocute me?! Heart pounding, I pull up my status screen.

Crude Serpent Dagger of Shocking

This dagger doesn¡¯t discriminate¡ªit will shock any creature it contacts, including the wielder. ¡­ What. WHAT?! What kind of absolute trash-tier upgrade is this?! I glare at the dagger like it personally insulted my ancestors. This isn¡¯t an upgrade¡ªthis is sabotage! Is that even allowed?! I think back to the Chaos Shard''s description. What did it say again? "Can be combined with items to produce unknown effects."If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡­Right. UNKNOWN effects. Nowhere did it promise "good" effects. No safety net. No guarantees. No "Are you sure?" pop-ups. Just raw chaos. And¡ªstupidly enough¡ªthat actually sounds kind of fun. I let out a sigh and drop the dagger back into the loot pile. Not touching that again. With the shard spent and my ¡°upgraded¡± dagger in time-out, that leaves one last issue before Wave 2. Mischief. I turn toward where I left the oversized menace¡ªonly to freeze. Mischief is no longer sprawled out, weak and dying. He¡¯s sitting. Alert. Healthy. Watching me. My grip tightens around the club. How? How is he already back to full strength? I replay the last hour. I cast Weak Heal. Then Weak Regen. That¡¯s at least 17 HP recovered, maybe more since I boosted Intelligence. That means Mischief has been at fighting strength for at least twenty minutes. And he didn¡¯t move. I narrow my eyes. Mischief tilts his head slightly, watching me. Sizing me up. I exhale slowly, but it¡¯s forced¡ªlike my body is trying to steady itself before my brain catches up. What the hell is going on here? No reaction. ¡°Didn¡¯t you try to eat me earlier?¡± I press. ¡°You¡­ not hungry anymore?¡± Still nothing. I cross my arms. Fine. Let¡¯s see if this thing really understands anything. "You saw what happened last time. Another wave is coming." My voice is steady, but my pulse isn¡¯t. "We fight, or we die." Silence. Then Mischief stands. I go still. He walks toward me. My muscles coil, every instinct screaming at me to raise my weapon. But something¡ªinstinct?¡ªtells me to hold my ground. Mischief closes the gap, brushing against my hand. A deliberate nudge. I blink. Then, as if I don¡¯t exist, he pads to the loot pile, sniffing through the mess. He pauses at the meat. Looks back at me. Waiting. Is he asking for permission? I hesitate. Then shrug. ¡°Go ahead. I¡¯m not exactly dying to eat gray, stinky monster meat.¡± Mischief doesn¡¯t wait. He leans down and tears into the Chaos Spawn flesh. I don¡¯t have time to dwell on this. A system notification flashes. 1 Minute Until Wave 2. Prepare Yourself. My stomach drops. Mischief jumps slightly. His ears flick toward me. His tail twitches. Did he just get the system notification? I narrow my eyes. "Did you see that?" Mischief flicks his tail. Looks at me. Doesn¡¯t confirm or deny it. If he did see it¡­ what language did he get it in? Does the system adjust for him? Does he even think in words? This is all so weird. I shake my head. No time for this. "I''m moving to the flattened grass to fight¡ªif you understand me, don¡¯t get too close." I swing my club in a wide arc to illustrate my point. Mischief watches. Fine. That¡¯ll have to do. It''s an uneasy alliance. At least, I know I¡¯m uneasy about it. But what choice do I have? The wave is coming. I jog back to the clearing. The once-tall grass has been trampled, leaving me with a rough 20-foot oval to work with. It¡¯ll do. Chapter 9 - Wave 2 10¡­ 9¡­ 8¡­ I check my stats one last time. My MP has regenerated 10 points since healing Mischief. That means mana recharges naturally. Good to know. 3¡­ 2¡­ 1¡­ I exhale. Here we go. Wave 2 of 5 has started. - This time, I don¡¯t flinch. I just wait. And then¡ªthey come. From the far side of the clearing, just like last time. The trampled field gives me a better view this time, and¡ª Shit. It''s not 50 Chaos Spawn. Not 100. It¡¯s way more. My stomach knots. I was hoping the waves would double in size each time. This isn¡¯t double. This is easily quadruple. "Looks like we¡¯ve got our work cut out for us," I mutter. I glance back toward the meat pile. Mischief isn¡¯t there. I turn in a full circle, scanning the area. "Hey¡ªwhat the hell?!" I snap. "I thought we were working together! Did you seriously run away?!" Nothing. No movement. No flash of fur. Just the incoming horde of Chaos Spawn. I curse under my breath. Whatever. Screw it. I tighten my grip on the club. If I have to do this alone, so be it. The first wave nearly killed me because I let them come to me. Not this time. This time, I go to them. The first couple of Chaos Spawn cross the 20-foot mark. I charge. I grip the club with both hands and swing it like a baseball bat. The first Chaos Spawn barely has time to react before¡ª CRACK. The hit explodes against its skull. A spray of black ichor splatters across the grass as its head whips sideways at an inhuman angle. The body doesn¡¯t just drop¡ªit flips twice before crashing into the dirt. Dead. I puke again. But try to keep moving. I¡¯m glad no one is watching this. Puking and running don¡¯t mix. The second one lunges for me. I twist mid-swing and bring the club back around. THWACK. The spiked wood buries itself in its ribs with a wet crunch. The body is impaled on the club, the momentum not enough to detach it. I dry heave. Don¡¯t think. Keep swinging. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. Two down. The others keep coming. I grit my teeth. I swing my club in a wide arc. It doesn¡¯t stop. Bone, cartilage, flesh¡ªit all crumples under the impact. Five Chaos Spawn are smashed aside in a single swing. Their bodies collapse in a grotesque heap, limbs twitching. You have killed Level 3 Chaos Spawn. You have killed Level 3 Chaos Spawn. You have killed Level 4 Chaos Spawn. You have gained extra XP for killing a monster above your level. Three dead, two more crumpling. I yank the club back and take another horizontal swipe. Less forceful. Not as clean. Still¡ª You have killed Level 3 Chaos Spawn. You have killed Level 2 Chaos Spawn. My breathing is sharp, controlled. This club is a gift. Wide swings let me clear groups, and these freaks are paper-thin when it comes to durability. They keep coming. I keep swinging. You have killed Level 3. You have killed Level 4. You have killed Level 4. You have killed Level 3. You have killed Level 2. You have killed Level 5. Congratulations. You have reached Level 4 Healer. Something is different. The first wave? All Level 1s. This one? They range from 2 to 5. At first, I don¡¯t notice much of a difference between them. Level 5s die just as easily as Level 2s¡ªmaybe they¡¯re slightly tougher, but not enough to matter. Then I spot something. One of the Chaos Spawn¡ª**Level 5, from the notification¡ª**is gripping a weapon. To its tiny, twisted hands, it¡¯s a short sword. To me? It looks like a dagger. I cave in its ribcage with a single swing. Bones crunch, ichor sprays¡ªbut the sight of that weapon makes me wonder. They¡¯re getting stronger. They¡¯re getting weapons. Why are their bodies as flimsy as ever? I should be struggling. But I¡¯m not. Why? I should be winded. My arms should feel like dead weight from swinging a blunt-force weapon for this long. Instead? I feel trained. Conditioned. Like I¡¯ve been doing this for months. My endurance isn¡¯t just better. It¡¯s unnatural. And that isn¡¯t all. My arms and legs feel powerful. The stats are clearly having an impact as I level. Why does it feel like the Chaos spawn are barely improving? - I glance up, expecting a swarm. With their numbers, even at my growing speed and power they should be able to overwhelm me. Instead, the Chaos Spawn come in small, disorganized clusters. Why aren¡¯t they mobbing me? They should be overwhelming me. Then I see it. A blur of orange fur. Mischief is darting through their ranks, carving through them like a ghost of claws and teeth. His movements are too fast. His strikes are too precise. Every swipe of his claws doesn¡¯t just wound¡ªIt obliterates. A Chaos Spawn leaps¡ªhe catches it midair. His teeth crunch down on its throat. One second, it¡¯s alive. The next, its head is hanging on by a thread. The other Chaos Spawn notice. They try to turn on him, swarm him. They can¡¯t. He¡¯s too fast. Too lethal. He¡¯s a living weapon. Instead, they abandon strategy and rush toward me. A desperate charge. A suicide run. And without overwhelming numbers? They¡¯re nothing. I cut them down. Congratulations. You have reached Level 5 Healer. You may select a new skill. You have reached Level 6 Healer. The last Chaos Spawn falls. I stagger back, chest heaving. The club feels heavier now. Even with my weirdly boosted endurance, twenty straight minutes of combat adds up. Still¡­ I should be worse off than this. I fought over a hundred monsters and I¡¯m still standing. How? A Chaos Spawn with 5 Strength isn¡¯t the same as me with 5 Strength. Meaning¡­ I¡¯m built different. I let that settle, exhaling slowly. Chapter 10 - Wave 2 complete BONGGG. Wave 2 of 5 complete. Participants will receive rewards based on contribution. Contribution calculated. Rewards ¨C Small Storage Chest of Dimensional Holding. One Minor Mana Potion. POP. A wooden chest and a small vial materialize in front of me. I kneel down, inspecting them. Small Dimensional Holding Chest ¨C A storage unit that utilizes dimensional magic. Can hold 100 stackable items. Mana Potion ¨C Restores 10 MP. A bag would¡¯ve been better than a chest, but I¡¯ll take what I can get. The potion, though? That¡¯s going to matter. - Three more levels. 15 stat points. I split them evenly: +5 Strength +5 Agility +5 Constitution Then my three +5 bonuses¡ªone to Wisdom, two to Intelligence. The difference is immediate. The first time I hefted my club, it felt heavier than a wooden bat. Now? It¡¯s barely more than a stick.
New Skill Selection A grid of 20 skills appears¡ªall Healer-based. No brainer. I need defense. Skill Acquired: Weak Barrier. Uses mana to create a protective shield around a target. Breaks upon reaching damage threshold or after 30 minutes. Scales with Intelligence. I close the screen. Mischief is lounging five feet away, licking his paws. Like he didn¡¯t just help me kill an army. My gaze lingers. I remember those claws carving through flesh. He seems docile now. I don¡¯t let myself believe it. - ¡°Barrier.¡± A soft pulse of mana flows through me. **Shunk¡ª**a translucent film of energy wraps around my body. It¡¯s faint¡ªalmost invisible¡ªbut I feel it. A light pressure, like standing inside a bubble. I want to test it. But how? It¡¯s literally covering my body. I can feel it following my movements. I scratch my chin¡­ Is it possible to¡­ detach myself? I focus on the shield covering my body. It¡¯s there, a slight pulse. The shield, it¡¯s made of MY mana. I take a step back WILLING my shield to stay. It does. If this was a video game, what just happened would never be possible. This world might resemble a game, but the rules are different. I need to start acting like it. Let¡¯s break it. I tighten my grip, swing the club¡ª CRACK. The barrier shatters instantly. A dull force ripples through my arms. No damage indicator. Just gone. -10 MP. At first glance? Not impressive. Mischief wouldn¡¯t have any trouble with it. But against Chaos Spawn? It might be enough. For now. I check the timer. 40 minutes left. I should train more. Test something else. Instead, I pull out some Chaos Spawn meat and hold it toward Mischief. ¡°Hungry?¡± He sniffs. Turns away. I let out a breath. "Can¡¯t blame you. That stuff looks disgusting." But my mind isn¡¯t on the meat. The next wave is coming. Stronger than before. I sit down. Then lie back in the grass. I close my eyes and let the weight settle in my bones. I don¡¯t sleep. I don¡¯t even rest. I just breathe. - Wave 3 unfolds much like Wave 2¡ªtoo easily. Mischief rushes in, disrupting the swarm, and I swing my club through the chaos. Before we start, I cast Barrier on both of us, 10 MP each. It holds for the entire fight. Which makes sense. Because they never come close to breaking it.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. My club smashes through creatures like they¡¯re made of paper. The impact sends them hurtling back in sprays of dark fluid, their bodies crumpling on impact. Early in the wave I feel the pangs of disgust. No puke this time. I Don¡¯t think I have anything left. As the wave wears on though I slowly feel myself becoming numb. Disgust? Regret? The feelings were still there, but they were distant. With each swing of my club my feelings floated away. Hours ago, I staggered away from my first kill, my stomach turning inside out. Now, I don¡¯t even blink. The gong chimes.
Wave 3 Complete Wave 3 of 5 complete. Participants will receive rewards based on contribution. Contribution calculated. Rewards ¨C Full MP restore, Crude Leather Vest, Minor Mana Potion. POP. I glance at the items. Underwhelming. Some of the Chaos Spawn were level 11, but they still went down easier than Wave 2. Why? I check my status. I distribute them automatically¡ªConstitution, Strength, Agility, Intelligence. The process is more satisfying than the combat itself. The tension in my chest tightens. I should be focused on the fight. On survival. But instead, I feel¡­ excited. The growth is intoxicating. And I don¡¯t know if that¡¯s justified or unsettling. I exhale, shaking off the thought. Then I spot Mischief¡ªlounging peacefully, like the last wave never happened. If it wasn¡¯t for this cat I wouldn¡¯t have made it out of wave 2. The situation seemed strange. Mischief at the end of the day, was still an animal. Was it able to understand that I had saved its life? Or that it had returned the favor and saved mine by helping in the second waves?
Wave 4 The next wave arrives. Armed Chaos Spawn. Swords. Axes. Even a few bows. I tighten my grip on the club. A small voice in my head whispers that I should be taking this more seriously. It¡¯s still life or death. But the stronger I get, the more that voice fades. The battle is endless. They flood the clearing in an unbroken tide. Bodies pile around my feet, the gore soaking through my boots, but I barely notice anymore. Mischief moves like a blur¡ªbounding, tearing, killing. His claws slice through bodies like a guillotine. A single swipe carves through a dozen Chaos Spawn. For a moment, they still stand¡ªuntil the top halves slide off the bottoms. I don¡¯t even react. Just keep swinging. Hit. Move. Hit. Move. Minutes blur into hours. I only notice the fight is ending when the clearing stops moving.
Wave 4 Complete Auto-looting enabled. MP restored. Stage 1 of the Wave Trial complete. I blink. The battlefield is... empty. No bodies. No weapons. No armor. Just flattened grass and churned earth. Over seven thousand creatures just disappeared. I slip my hand into my storage and confirm the insane truth. I let out a soft whistle. Was it really so many? I stare at the loot, but my thoughts are elsewhere. I know why I keep killing them. They¡¯re trying to kill me. They¡¯re Chaos Spawn¡ªmonsters. But¡­ it was my hand, raising a weapon, over and over. And for the first time, I wonder¡ªif it wasn¡¯t this easy, would I still be doing it? Would I still feel this detached if every fight felt like life and death? I shake my head. It doesn¡¯t matter. Why am I even asking this question? If I didn¡¯t kill them I would fail the wave challenge. That meant death. Maybe this was the point of the waves? If I was in this challenge with a team it would hardly even be a challenge. Was this tutorial just a way to acclimate me to killing? If that was true. What kind of world was waiting for me once it was over? I open my status screen. There¡¯s still more to do.
LAYTON HUMAN - Rank F Humans are well-rounded, known for adaptability. Receives +5 free points to distribute per level. CLASS - Healer (Level 11) Healer class stat growth per level: each core stat +1; gain +5 to either Wisdom or Intelligence per level, and +2 to the other. STATS Abilities: Bonus Objectives: Titles:
¡°Follow the Leader¡± and ¡°A Path Paved in Blood.¡± Two new titles. Together, they dump a whopping +7 to every stat¡ªforty-two points in total. I should feel excited. I DO feel excited. That¡¯s a ridiculous boost. But my eyes linger on one title. I¡¯m not exactly proud to bear something that literally reads "I¡¯ve killed so much the System recognizes it." I tell myself it¡¯s fine. It was the blood of Chaos Spawn. One literally tore another hole in my ass. It had healed, but I didn¡¯t forget. I don¡¯t have to feel bad. I know for sure if I didn¡¯t kill them they would kill me. Right? Then again, before this tutorial, so would Mischief¡­. With a sigh, I distribute my points, balancing Strength, Agility, and Constitution, then dumping my level bonuses into Wisdom. The fatigue in my body starts fading immediately. I check the system timer: Two hours until Stage 2. For now, I need a break. The field is empty, but the image of thousands of dead Chaos Spawn still lingers in my head. I did have to kill them. Chapter 11 - The nod I let out a shaky breath and glance at the flattened, bloodstained grass. I should process this. The numbers. The sheer scale of it. But if I start, I might not stop. So instead, I turn to humor. It always worked before. ¡°Well, Mischief, I¡¯m basically dead on my feet,¡± I mumble, forcing a smirk. ¡°I need a nap before the next stage. You¡¯re not going to eat me in my sleep, right?¡± Mischief¡¯s ears flick sharply. For a second, I swear he looks¡­ offended. Like he actually understood what I just said. I blink. Mischief blinks twice. Then, slowly, he rests his head back down. I might be imagining it, but his gaze softens. Like he¡¯s reassuring me. I lean back against a broken tree stump, my body sinking into the dirt. My eyelids feel like lead. ¡°Wake me up before it starts, yeah?¡± Who am I kidding? I should just stay awake. Eh, there is always a big DING anyway. It¡¯ll be fine. Just before I drift off, something shifts at the edge of my vision. Mischief¡¯s head lifts slightly. A slow, deliberate nod. I don¡¯t know if that¡¯s real. I don¡¯t know if I imagined it. Everything is too heavy. I feel it pressing down, my eyelids sinking with it. My thoughts blur, slipping between waking and sleep. Maybe I¡¯ll wake back up in my college dorm? Is that what I want...? No. I want this new world. - A gentle nudging on my arm tugs me out of blissful darkness. I stubbornly cling to sleep, but the prodding continues¡ªmore insistent each time. Then, without warning, something yanks my leather jacket. ¡°Hey!¡± I yelp, jolting upright. ¡°What the hell¡ª?!¡± The first thing I see is Mischief¡¯s wide, whiskered face, practically filling my entire vision.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. If a giant cat could smirk, he¡¯s definitely doing it. My heart slams against my ribs. ¡°Gah!¡± I scramble back, hand over my heart. My pulse is racing. Mischief lets out a weird snorting noise¡ªalmost like laughter. It¡¯s unsettling. And kind of endearing. But that¡¯s not the only change. He¡¯s bigger. A lot bigger. His shoulders are broader, his tail thicker, his frame more defined. At least twenty or thirty extra pounds of pure muscle. I rub my temples, trying to process it. ¡°Uh¡­ good morning. You¡¯ve changed.¡± I run a hand over my face. Then my arms. Do I feel stronger? Oh yeah. Bigger? ¡­No I got a massive boost from titles and stats. But Mischief? He¡¯s evolving in a completely different way. Honestly, it¡¯s kind of bullshit. Mischief bobs his head, then glances toward the open field. Taking the hint, I check the interface ticking away in my vision. Taking the hint? From a mountain lion? Am I really sure I am awake? 1 Minute Until Wave 5 (Stage 2). I exhale. ¡°So you know it¡¯s almost time,¡± I say, eyeing him. ¡°And can you understand me?¡± Mischief nods. My pulse spikes. Who the hell taught him the meaning of a nod? Part of me suspected it. But seeing him confirm it¡ªeven in such a simple way¡ªsends my thoughts racing. He¡¯s not just a fighting machine. He¡¯s aware. Changing. In some ways, more than I am. I should be even more shocked by this revelation, a cat that understands words? I really am incredibly shocked. But with everything else that''s happened? It seems par for the course. ¡°How¡ªwhen?¡± This was so interesting to me. ¡°Was this a system reward or some function of the intelligence stat?¡± Mischief tilts his head but doesn¡¯t respond. ¡°Got it,¡± I murmur. ¡°You can understand me, but you can¡¯t talk back. Or don¡¯t know how.¡± Another nod. At least he figured that part out. I try to smile, but there¡¯s an edge to it now. My jokes aren¡¯t cutting through the unease. ¡°You know, I have so many more questions.¡± I shake my head, still dusting myself off. This is a lot to wake up to. Not that I¡¯m complaining¡ªa way to communicate with Mischief, even if it¡¯s just one-way, is a massive upgrade. ¡°I¡¯d love to dig into what all this means,¡± I say, rolling my shoulders, ¡°but first, we need to survive this wave. Sound good?¡± Mischief indicates his understanding. I swing my club a few times, warming up. Then, just for fun, I test my leg strength¡ªa casual warm-up jump. Bad idea. I barely push off the ground¡ªand suddenly, I¡¯m ten feet in the air. My brain barely registers the movement before I start plummeting. I twist mid-air, but I¡¯m off balance. I crash flat on my back with a solid oof. Mischief lets out another snort. I bounce back up instantly. The fall didn¡¯t hurt, not even a little¡ªbut my pride is another story. I dust myself off, pretending nothing happened. ¡°If we survive this, I¡¯m erasing that from history.¡± Mischief just stares, unimpressed. Chapter 12 - Stage 2 Wave 5 My stats are getting out of hand. Two hours of sleep, and I feel like I¡¯ve had a full eight. My club feels like a toy in my hands. And my agility? I haven¡¯t even pushed it yet. I feel invincible. Let¡¯s hope this wave gives me a reason to. Stage 2 ¨C Wave 5 Boss Variant Has Begun. At the far end of the clearing, something shimmers. For the first time, I actually see how the monsters spawn. A ripple in the air. A distortion, bending reality like heat on pavement. Then, it steps through. And it¡¯s huge. That invincible feeling? Fading. Fast¡­ A hundred yards away, a towering creature lumbers from the tree line. It looks like someone twisted a moose into a four-legged gremlin. Rough, scaly hide plates its chest. Matted fur clumps along its massive shoulders. Its tree-trunk club drags along the ground, the low grinding rumbling in my bones. My stomach twists. This is a huge shift from the first waves. Every step it takes sends a tremor through the clearing. I glance at Mischief. He¡¯s locked in on this new challenge. I try and follow his lead. It isn¡¯t easy. His tail flicks. I take it as a sign that he¡¯s nervous also. It¡¯s probably not true but it still helps. A little. I exhale, steeling myself. ¡°Barrier.¡± A soft pulse of mana. The translucent shield wraps around us both. It should make me feel safer. It doesn¡¯t. Then, the creature stops. Before, charging in felt easy. Natural. Now? My grip is clammy. My club feels heavier than it should. Even from this distance, its size is staggering. Nearly nine feet tall. Unlike the smaller Chaos Spawn, it doesn¡¯t charge. Instead, it opens its mouth. And speaks? Not words. No sounds I recognize. Instead, a rapid, high-pitched stream of gibberish. Like someone fast-forwarded a nightmare and cranked the volume. Then, it raises one knotted finger. And points directly at me. My blood runs cold. This thing isn¡¯t brainless like the small gremlins. Mischief stiffens. His ears pin back. He takes a slow step closer, his body half-crouched. I swear his fur bristles. ¡°¡­Mischief?¡± I whisper. ¡°Any clue what it¡¯s saying?¡± A single nod. ¡°Friendly?¡± I ask, hoping. Maybe begging. His tail lashes once. Hard. Then he shakes his head. My dad had a saying. ¡°If you have something to do, but you''re scared. Do it scared.¡± I guess this ones for you Dad. - The Battle Begins I tighten my grip on my club. Considering the best plan of attack. It¡¯s big and looks strong. Weakness? Rotation speed. ¡°Since you can understand me, are you willing to work together on this?¡± He already looks ready to spring into action. My question gives him pause. Good enough. ¡°I doubt that attacking head on would end well for us. But I think we are faster. If we surround it from front and back we can play the long game. Whittle it down. What do you think?¡± His tail swings, muscles tense. Uhh.. so yes? ¡°Great. I¡¯m thinking you can circle around and harass it from the rear while I do my best to cause trouble from the front. Agree?¡± Mischief lowers ready to attack. How has this cat gone from natural basic instincts to grasping complex battle tactics? Fine, maybe not that complex, but still. There¡¯s no time to question how a cat got this intelligent. We move, putting our plan into effect. I cast barrier for us both. Why isn¡¯t it attacking? The gremlins swarmed me. This one¡­. its like its waiting for me to move first.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Mischief takes a wide berth while I close in. The monster eyes Mischief but then snaps back to me as I approach. Up close, it¡¯s even worse¡ªthe reek of rotting leaves and wet fur makes my eyes sting. It doesn¡¯t flinch. Doesn¡¯t react. It¡¯s still waiting. I¡¯m close now, is it just going to let me smack it? Then, finally. It moves. Too fast. Shit. I throw myself sideways, barely registering the movement before¡ª BOOM. The club crashes down, shattering the earth. The momentum of my dive carries me to my feet and I readjust, trying to create distance before another attack. I stare. If I¡¯d been even a second slower¡­. My pulse begins to pick up. I tighten my grip. My palms are slick with sweat as the creature growls in frustration, its bulk twisting to follow me. It¡¯s already recovered from its massive swing. A shaky exhale escapes my lips. No time to freeze up now. From the corner of my eye, I spot Mischief, crouched low, tail lashing with anticipation. ¡°Come on.¡± I mutter, gritting my teeth. Fear coils in my gut, but I force it down. If I want to survive, I need to keep moving. Just like we planned, the centaur-brute stays zeroed in on me, giving Mischief an opening. He takes it. A smooth leap, and Mischief¡¯s powerful jaws clamp onto the monster¡¯s back right leg. His teeth sink deep. The centaur screeches, thrashing wildly¡ªthen its leg lashes out. The attack is too fast. A blur of motion. A sickening crack. Mischief yelps¡ªsharp, pained, too loud. Then he¡¯s airborne. My heart lurches as he flies twenty-five feet through the air before crashing down. The glowing outline of my Weak Barrier flickers¡ªthen fails. The kick overwhelmed my spell. Gashes rip across Mischief¡¯s hindquarters. If Barrier hadn¡¯t been there? That blow might¡¯ve killed him outright. I react on instinct, weaving spells faster than I can think. Weak Heal. Weak Heal. Regen. Another Barrier. By the time Mischief hits the ground, he¡¯s already glowing faintly with healing magic. His body twists midair¡ªbarely controlling the fall. He slams down, staggers, then bolts away. Blood staining his fur is a stark reminder of what I had already learned: One misstep, and he¡¯s dead The centaurs focus shifts to Mischief. Its hind legs are injured, but still mobile. I can change that. With the centaur no longer paying attention to me, I rush forward, club raised, targeting the weakened leg. My Herculean Swing connects. THWACK. A shuddering impact shoots up my arms, like slamming a bat into solid concrete. The centaur''s leg buckles. It staggers¡ªstruggling to stay upright. A sharp snap echoes through the clearing. Something just broke. Its back legs are useless, now supported only with the front. A surge of pride floods me. I¡¯m strong. Strong enough to break¡ª The club rises overhead. Not mine. I glance up, realizing my mistake. I¡¯m too close. Still, no way it can hit me at this angle¡ªExcept, it doesn¡¯t aim at me. It slams the club into the ground. The world erupts. A shockwave blasts outward, sending me flying. For a split second, Weak Barrier holds¡ªthen shatters. Rock shrapnel slices through the air, tearing into my exposed skin. My leather jacket absorbs most of the damage, but sharp stones slam into my arms and legs. I barely have time to shield my head. Then I hit the ground, tumbling end over end. By the time I finally stop, I¡¯m in a broken heap, thirty feet from where I started. Pain lances through me. Status Check: Not Good Dizzy and half-panicked, I force my status screen open. HP: 21/53 (Negative Effects: Disoriented, Bleeding) MP: 24/69 A chill grips my chest. Twenty-one HP? Another hit like that and I¡¯m done. My arms shake, but I force myself to focus. I have enough MP for two Weak Heals. For the first time since my stats soared, I cast them on myself. The rush blindsides me. Warmth floods my body. Pain vanishes instantly. I blink, stunned, as my HP spikes straight back to full. No MP left. No do-overs. If I get hit again¡ªI''m dead. Exhaling sharply, I process the rollercoaster of pain and relief. Seconds ago, my lungs felt crushed. Now? Energy hums through me. But my MP is down to four. No more Barrier. If I get hit again, there won¡¯t be a second miracle. I stagger to my feet, muscles screaming in protest. The centaur heaves, its ruined legs twitching uselessly, forcing it onto its forelimbs in a lopsided, desperate crawl. It huffs shallow breaths, half-pinned by its own injuries. The centaur is failing. Bleeding. Dying. And yet, I can¡¯t shake the feeling that if it had led with that shockwave¡ªI¡¯d already be dead. I spot Mischief. Each swipe of his paw carves deep, jagged wounds, spectral claws trailing behind like afterimages. Blood spatters thick across the dirt, pooling fast. The centaur swings sluggishly to block, but Mischief is faster. Claws rip through flesh before its weapon even comes close. For a split second, I almost pity it¡ªthen I remember the crater it nearly buried me in. I sprint forward. Vault. My boots slam into its back¡ªlegs coiled like a spring. The club howls through the air¡ªthen I hammer it down, splitting bone with a sickening, meaty crunch. CRACK. Bone splinters beneath the impact. So does my club. The centaur collapses. Momentum yanks¡ªthen the ground vanishes beneath me.
The Level-Up Hits Mid-Fall You have killed Level 15 Chaos Spawn Champion. You have leveled up! The words register a heartbeat before I slam headfirst into the dirt. My ears ring. Stars explode in my vision. But through the haze, I grin. Leveled up. Means I¡¯m still alive to celebrate. I haul myself up from the dirt, grimacing at how often this is happening. ¡°New rule: Feet stay on the ground.¡± I mutter, brushing off my battered leather jacket. Chapter 13 - A choice that changes everything You have completed Wave 5, Stage 2 Boss Variant. Rewards: - Stone of Choice, spirit weapon. At first, I expect a system window¡ªthe usual crisp, artificial glow. Instead, the words crawl into my vision, jagged and raw, like they¡¯ve been carved straight into my skull with a dull knife.
A Personal Message Layton, Many have found great rewards by charging headfirst into the unknown. Sometimes, though, wisdom lies in temperance. Which will you choose? Set a Wrong Right or Venture into the Unknown - An interested observer
I blink. What the hell? The message lingers in my vision, pulsing slightly. A choice? "Set a Wrong Right"¡­ My gut twists. A wrong? Which wrong? The tutorial? The busted failsafe? Something I don¡¯t even remember? My hands clench. What if this was a reset button? What if I could undo it¡ªerase Healer for good? The thought sinks its claws into me, whispering all the things I want to hear. A reset. A clean slate. My fingers twitch. Just say the words¡ª No. I rip free before it swallows me whole. That path is done. Over. This world feels like a game, but there are no save points. No retries. It felt wrong. Choices were final. Mistakes were permanent. I would make my class work. "Venture into the Unknown"¡­ This isn¡¯t just my choice¡ªit¡¯s who I am. I set my jaw. ¡°I choose Venture into the Unknown.¡± The system flashes, updating. Another letter materializes.
I had a suspicion this would be your choice. Your willingness to walk into the unknown, to light the way for others, is praiseworthy. You have been awarded a second class: Fighter. Had you chosen ¡°Set a Wrong Right,¡± the system¡¯s failsafe would have been restored. Some things were meant to stay broken. Good luck, Layton. I will be watching.
I stare at the words. My lungs lock up. This isn¡¯t just a skill boost¡ªit¡¯s a game-changer. Did the system just¡­speak to me? No. Doesn¡¯t matter. For a heartbeat, I don¡¯t even breathe. My mind races. A second class. A second path. No way. No freaking way. I have a second class. I HAVE A SECOND CLASS! SUCK IT, tutorial! Who''s the accidental Healer now?! I throw my fists in the air, half-laughing, half-shouting. This is unreal. A second class?! That¡¯s the kind of reward I¡¯ve only dreamed about. Two classes. Finally, I¡¯m not just stuck playing nurse. I pull up my status screen.
The Fighter Class Unlocked Fighter (Level 1) Abilities: A system prompt blinks: Unique circumstances detected. Calibrating¡­ Calibration complete. Your classes will now level simultaneously until the level cap is reached. To compensate for additional class stats, more EXP will be required per level.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. I exhale, staring at the screen. This is insane. My mind races with visions of unstoppable stat growth and new skill synergies. I¡¯m grinning like an idiot when the words echo back: "I will be watching." A chill licks up my spine. Watching¡­? Who¡¯s watching? A shadow of unease flickers at the edge of my thoughts, but excitement crushes it down. ¡°So many possibilities¡­¡± Then, my vision pulses¡ªanother system message. I had almost forgotten. Another reward. I crack my knuckles, grinning. Let¡¯s see what else this world has for me. I navigate to the Rewards tab. Unique Weapon Selection: You have been awarded a Spirit Weapon, a mana construct that grows with its bonded owner. Growth paths will be determined by the owner¡¯s characteristics. Should your Spirit Weapon be destroyed, it will reconstruct over time by absorbing ambient mana. The higher the weapon¡¯s level, the longer the reconstruction.
A list appears: Mace, Longsword, Shortsword, Longbow, Quarterstaff, Crossbow, Claymore, Morning Star¡­ The answer is obvious the moment I see it. No hesitation. ¡°I choose the longsword.¡± The system confirms. You have chosen a longsword. All Spirit Weapons begin at Level 1 but will gradually absorb ambient mana to match the level of the bonded owner. Anticipation crackles through my veins, white-hot and restless. This is real. This is mine. A second class and a Spirit Weapon? I feel unstoppable. Almost. I¡¯ve thought that before¡ªright before nearly dying. No more getting ahead of myself. Then¡ªthe air warps, bending around something unseen. The void stirs. A shape takes form¡ªfloating, humming with unseen energy. A sword. Not just any sword. It feels like it belongs to me¡ªlike it always has. An extension of who I am. The moment I wrap my hand around the hilt, something clicks. Like I just reached out¡­ and found something that was reaching back. The longsword rests in a sleek, black scabbard, capped with a polished metal tip. I sling the scabbard over my back, then draw the blade. Light dances along the blade¡¯s edge, sharp as a whisper¡ªdeadly as a promise. I give it a few practice swings. The air hums, like a tuning fork. Adrenaline surges. The grip molds to my palm, perfectly balanced¡ªlike an extension of my own body. This power is real. Now it¡¯s small. A flicker. But it will grow. I can¡¯t wait to test it. To carve my name into this world. The dungeon closes. The trial is over. And now? I¡¯m free. But before I can move, a system prompt snaps into view¡ª
Congratulations on completing your trial dungeon! You have unlocked new objectives.
Stake Your Claim: You have started down the path of claiming a region in your name. Claiming a region unlocks new region capabilities and functions. Complete objectives to claim your region. Objective: Clear the 3 dungeons in your region.
I read it twice. Territory. Actual, system-recognized land¡ªmine to control. The thought thrums in my chest, sharp and heady. But then, the other thought forces its way in. Where are my parents? The first tutorial nearly broke me. I can still hear the wet crunch of bone, the way my club bit deep, the fight-or-die weight of every swing. The thought of my parents facing that same hell knots my stomach. Dad can protect Mom. He¡¯s resourceful. Tough. I shift my weight, scuffing the dirt with my boot. A hollow feeling gnaws at my ribs. But how bad has it gotten outside this trial? I barely had any time to explore before Mischief. From where I¡¯m standing the forest is quiet and peaceful. Wind dances through the trees, sweeping across the tall grass in the clearing. It¡¯s now back to its old pristine nature after the trial closed. No. That¡¯s not right. This place never changed. The trial wasn¡¯t here¡ªit was somewhere else, a different layer of reality. And now, I was back where I started, like nothing had ever happened. The silence is unnatural. Too perfect. Like the world is pretending nothing ever happened. I guess I had assumed it would be more chaotic and violent once I left the chaos spawn waves behind. Wasn¡¯t that the point of the trial? Maybe? Maybe not. I had made my own assumptions on limited knowledge. Charging ahead blind¡ªis that bravery, or just the quickest way to die? Even if I tried¡ªhow would I find Boise? No landmarks. No direction. Just endless wilderness. No car. No map. No way to even know if they¡¯re out there. I peer into the clear blue sky above. I shake my head. Or would it be smarter to get stronger first, then go searching with a real plan? I should look for them first. Right? But what if I can¡¯t? What if I find nothing but ruins? What if I¡¯m too weak? The thoughts coil tight in my chest. Excuses, or just the truth? Was I worried? Definitely. Lonely? No question. But part of me wanted this too. Not just survival. Not just escape. A claim. A foundation. A foothold in something bigger than me. I could already see it. A sprawling magical city. The buildings and homes would creep up the mountain side nestled safely behind towering walls. Defended by warriors in gleaming plate, banners snapping in the wind. The image burned in my mind, perfect and impossible. I chuckled¡ªright now, my ¡®kingdom¡¯ was a patch of dirt and a cat who might be plotting my murder. If Dad saw me now, he¡¯d lose his mind. Two classes. A magic sword. And me, talking like I¡¯m about to build a kingdom from dirt. He¡¯d probably be geeking out with me right now. I start pacing, forcing myself back to reality. Time for hard facts. One day. Twelve levels. Power growing in leaps and bounds. If this is what a single day brought me, what could a week do? A month? A year? I clench my fists, exhaling slow. This world won¡¯t wait for me. I need more answers first. Time to move. First step¡ªreview my gains. I swipe open my status screen and allocate my points: I exhale. New class. New weapon. New world. And I¡¯m just getting started. Chapter 14 - Stats are stacking up LAYTON HUMAN - Rank F Humans are well-rounded and adaptable. Receives +5 free points per level. CLASS STATS ABILITIES SPELLS OBJECTIVES
  1. Clear the 3 dungeons in your region.
TITLES
My numbers are really stacking up. I¡¯ve noticed MP regeneration has skyrocketed¡ªfull recharge in about 90 minutes. And Weak Heal? During the centaur fight, it nearly maxed me out in two casts. At Level 1? It barely gave me 5 HP. The difference is staggering. And physical power? That¡¯s where it really shows. I barely need sleep. My body feels explosive. Every muscle is primed, coiled¡ª I throw up my best Olympian flex. Muscles tight. Coiled. Shredded? Absolutely. Built like a demigod? Not quite. I drop the pose, shoulders slumping. Huh. Why wasn¡¯t I growing like Mischief clearly was? Did that bother me? No, not really. It¡¯s what¡¯s on the inside that counts. A grin tugs at my lips. One day in, and I¡¯m already a monster. The levels alone are great for boosting my stats. But the titles? That¡¯s the real game changer. The energy pounding in my veins demands motion. I glance up at the longsword strapped to my back. A little test run. Just a few swings. Feel the weight, the power. My fingers twitch with anticipation. I roll my shoulders, stepping forward. With both hands I reach up and wrap my fingers around the grip of the blade. It feels warm. My imagination plays a scene in my mind. Striking a pose. The setting sun at my back, casting a long, heroic shadow. A single fluid motion¡ªsword held high, then dropping into a practiced stance. Perfect. I picture the scene¡ªflawless, effortless, legendary. The kind of moment that belongs in a cinematic masterpiece. WHACK. The pommel clocks me in the skull. Graceful. Real graceful. ¡°Ow.¡± Rubbing my head, I silently curse every movie that made that look easy. I try again. This time I¡¯m more deliberate. The sword still catches at the end but with some effort and shuffling it comes free. Oh yeah. My spirit weapon sings as I twirl through the crisp mountain air. I drop into a two handed stance and start twisting and swinging, my imaginary foes falling before me like wheat. Gurgle. The unstoppable warrior moment faceplants. Gurgle. I freeze. Then frown. Then rub my stomach. A thought hits me, sudden and brutal. It¡¯s been a day and a half since I last ate. Not a damn thing. My stomach growls again¡ªloud enough to send wildlife running. Right. Food. Probably should fix that before I start thinking about conquering another dungeon. I scan the clearing. After a quick search, I spot my backpack tucked under a pine tree. One water jug survived. The other? A shredded corpse of plastic. I plop down against a sturdy trunk and yank out an energy bar, savoring the bland-but-filling taste.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Mischief saunters over, stretching luxuriously before settling a few feet away. His golden eyes blink at me with cool disinterest. Typical cat behavior. Just on a thousand-times-bigger scale. I shoot him a sideways glance. ¡°Well,¡± I say, crumbs falling from my mouth, ¡°we¡¯ve been through a lot in a short time.¡± Mischief watches me. Silent. Unreadable. ¡°If you hadn¡¯t jumped in, I¡¯d be dead. No question.¡± A slow tail flick¡ªthe feline equivalent of "Yeah, whatever." I shake my head, smiling. ¡°I¡¯m glad you didn¡¯t eat me.¡± He blinks. ¡°And I owe you. So¡­ thanks.¡± A slow ear flick. ¡°I mean, now that we¡¯re out of the dungeon, you¡¯re free to go if you want,¡± I add, half-expecting him to just walk off into the wild. But he doesn¡¯t. Instead, he stretches out, flicking his tail again. No intention of leaving. A small wave of relief settles in my chest. I still don¡¯t fully understand why he¡¯s sticking around, but I¡¯m not about to complain. ¡°Anyway,¡± I say, standing and brushing off my pants, ¡°I can¡¯t live on protein bars forever.¡± His ears twitch. ¡°"You¡¯re a hunter, right?" Dumb question. He already hunted me once. Mischief tilts his head slightly. ¡°How about scrounging up a rabbit or something? You hunt, I loot, we both eat.¡± For a second, he just stares. Then, without warning, he turns and vanishes into the trees. I stare. Dumbfounded. Had I pushed too far? Been too casual? Cats probably hated being told what to do. Did I just scare off the only friend I had in the world? I pinch the bridge of my nose. When was I going to learn to just shut my stupid mouth? -

The Loss of Mischief Stings.

I try to tell myself it¡¯s not a big deal. That I barely knew him. That he might¡¯ve killed me in my sleep. But we fought together. Side by side. Trusted each other, however briefly. And now? Gone. Hands shoved deep in my pockets, I walk¡ªokay, mope¡ªthrough the clearing, kicking at stray pebbles like a sulking teenager. My brilliant coping strategy? Gathering firewood. Productive and distracting. It doesn¡¯t take long before I spot the perfect mark¡ªa dead pine tree, fifteen feet tall, five inches thick. Perfect. Firewood acquired. A grin tugs at my lips as I unsheathe my spirit longsword, the motion still awkward, but improving. The polished steel gleams, and for a moment, everything else fades. Time for a test. I swing. The blade carves through the trunk like wet paper. Perfect execution. My momentum? Not so much. My body spins. My boot catches a rock. I crash straight onto my ass. The tree teeters. Wobbles. And, with a leisurely sense of inevitability, flops directly onto my head. I groan, staring at the sky. ¡°Really?¡± At least Mischief isn¡¯t here to witness this one. Dragging the tree back to camp is effortless. A reminder of just how much stronger I¡¯ve become. Within minutes, I¡¯ve got a fire going. Good thing I remembered my lighter¨C or else this trip could¡¯ve been crazy¡­ Watching the flames twist and curl, my mind drifts¡ªcircling back to things I don¡¯t want to think about. Sitting still isn¡¯t an option. Shelter¡¯s next. I busy myself cutting and dragging logs back to the fire. Once I¡¯ve gathered enough, I start piecing it together. I step back, hands on hips, admiring my work. My Frankenstein shelter stands¡ªa blight against the beauty of the woods. It¡¯s not a shelter. It¡¯s a wall. I shrug¡ªworst case, I¡¯ve got the picnic blanket. The sun dips toward the horizon. A rustle. My head snaps up. I reach instinctively to my weapon. My eyes dart in the direction of the noise. Mischief emerges from the treeline, his massive form shifting through shadow. I don¡¯t move. Barely breathe. My grip stays firm on my weapon. For what feels an eternity neither of us move. Slowly. I lower my hand. If Mischief was going to attack it would be an ambush. Not walking directly into camp in plain sight. Our eyes meet. He dips his head. Lifts a paw. And taps at empty air. A flash of eerie light. Then¡ª THUD. The earth trembles. A thousand-pound moose materializes out of thin air¡ªan ungodly heap of fur, antlers, and sheer bulk¡ªslamming into the dirt like a wrecking ball. I stumble back, jaw unhinged. ¡°Wha¡ªHOW?!¡± My brain barely catches up. Dimensional storage. Mischief fixes me with a smug, half-lidded stare. Tail flick. He knew exactly how hard that would blow my mind. ¡°You have a dimensional storage!?¡± Mischief blinks. Slow. Deliberate. A masterclass in condescension. Smug bastard. ¡°That¡¯s¡ª¡± I exhale. ¡°That¡¯s pretty awesome.¡± Mischief noses the moose. Proud as can be. I step forward, shaking my head. ¡°This is one hell of a rabbit.¡± Mischief¡¯s ears flick in amusement. I reach down to loot the moose. The carcass dissolves into neat piles of meat, antlers, and bones. Even with our boosted Strength, hauling everything back to the fire takes effort. Mischief eyes my sad-looking lean-to. I swear I see mild amusement in his gaze. I ignore it. Instead, I watch as he flops down near the flames, tearing into raw meat. Relief washes over me, sharper than expected. I didn¡¯t realize how much I wanted him to stay¡ªuntil now. ¡°Feel free to store the rest,¡± I say, shrugging. ¡°My storage chest is fine, but your dimensional thing is way cooler.¡± Mischief taps the remaining cuts. They vanish. I groan. ¡°Man, that¡¯s not fair.¡± Still¡ªI grin. ¡°So¡­ are you planning to stick around? I think we make a pretty decent team.¡± Mischief¡¯s ear flicks. That¡¯s¡­ probably a yes. ¡°My non-verbal communication needs a bit of work. Is that a yes?¡± Mischief eyes my small fire and then lies down a small ways off. I take that as a more solid ¡°yes¡±. The relief is immediate. Sure, I can probably manage dungeons alone¡­ But having Mischief along? That¡¯s a big comfort. I place a beat-up pan over the fire and drop in a thick slab of moose meat. The sizzle and crackle is music to my ears. Just a day and a half ago, I was practically helpless. Now? I¡¯m stronger than I¡¯ve ever been, by a LOT. Sitting beside a fire. Cooking dinner. Talking to a mountain lion that hours ago tried to kill me. Flames crackle. Meat sizzles. Mischief stretches, eyes glinting in the firelight. A new world. A new life. And somehow, for the first time since this all began¡ª I breathe. Chapter 15 - A sudden wake up call Chaos spawn pile onto my body, their claws raking deep, tiny fangs tearing flesh in an endless, writhing mass. The weight crushes my ribs, suffocating me. Screams rip from my throat. Mom, Dad¡ªplease! But no one comes. The bodies shift, dragging me down. Claws hook into my arms, tiny jaws clamp onto my legs. I thrash, kick, but it¡¯s useless. The swarm is endless. A tide of snapping jaws, of slithering limbs. It¡¯s in my ears, my throat¡ªwet, smothering. I try to scream, but something scuttles into my mouth¡ªtiny, needle-sharp legs scraping against my tongue. My fingers claw at the air¡ªsearching, desperate¡ª And then there¡¯s nothing. No ground. No bodies. I plummet¡ªfalling, falling¡ª I wake with a gasp¡ªno, a choke. My pulse hammers against my ribs¡ªtoo fast, too hard. My chest heaves like I¡¯ve been drowning. I twist, thrashing, dirt grinding beneath my fingers. My hands claw at nothing, still feeling phantom limbs dragging me down. But they¡¯re not. Sweat sticks my shirt to my skin. My fingers tremble as I rake them through my hair. Breathe. In. Out. I¡¯m not falling. Not buried alive. Not being torn apart. The nightmare doesn¡¯t fully leave me at first. The echoes linger in my pulse, in the cold sweat on my skin. But then, the world seeps back in¡ªthe fire¡¯s dying embers, the quiet hush of the night, the steady rise and fall of Mischief¡¯s breath. I glance at the sky¡ªstill dark but cloudless, stars twinkle in the night. The time? Maybe two, three in the morning. Mischief is curled near the ashes, his massive form rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. The rhythmic motion is almost hypnotic. I don¡¯t wake him. But I can¡¯t sleep. Restless energy whirrs through limbs, too much to ignore. I slip away from camp, heading south across the clearing¡ªpast the place where my trial dungeon stood just hours ago. The night is quiet. The air, crisp. But beneath it all, there¡¯s a hush. A sound. A low, distant rush of flowing water. I follow it. Minutes later, I find it¡ªa wide, shallow stream cutting through the landscape. Moonlight glints off the surface, turning it into a river of silver. The incline is steep, the water spilling effortlessly downhill. I step forward, converse sinking into the soft earth before I wade in up to my shins. The cold punches through me. Sharp, clean, electric. The sensation drives away the lingering residue of my night terrors. And I feel it. A shift. Not just awake¡ªalive. The hairs on my arms stand on end. My muscles hum with something just beneath the surface, something I can¡¯t quite grasp. My body is changing. Not just stronger. Different. Something I can¡¯t define. Something more. I take a step back onto the bank. I want to test my legs¨C taking a few slow strides that don¡¯t satisfy my urge to move. I need more. I take the first step. The second. The third barely exists. The world explodes into motion. The trees warp¡ªno, I warp. The ground blurs beneath me, my limbs moving faster than my brain can keep up. My stomach lurches, my balance tilting wildly. I reel, but my feet won¡¯t stop. I¡¯m not just running. I¡¯m barely touching the ground. Branches from the pine trees stretch out to slap my body. I hardly notice. The ground Pat pat pat shift¡ª A rock gives beneath my foot. My momentum yanks me forward, the world tilting sideways¡ª My arms snap out, grasping, my stomach lurching¡ªAnd then I stop. Not on the ground. Not tumbling. I¡¯m just¡­ standing. I laugh. My body wants to keep going. My mind wants to stop. The two don¡¯t agree. I listen to my body and push forward. This isn¡¯t running. This is flight. Flight from my fears¨Cthe nagging anxiety. This is freedom. The stream narrows. The ground steepens. I push harder, faster¡ªbounding over rocks, weaving through the dark like a spectre.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Then¡ªsuddenly¡ªthe trees break. I skid to a stop, chest rising and falling. My pulse thuds against my ribs, the air crisp and biting in my lungs. And before me¡ªA lake. Almost unnaturally round, yet untouched enough to feel real. Its glasslike surface captures the sky, the stars caught beneath the water like scattered diamonds. The moon ripples¡ªdistorted by the slightest breath of wind, warping and shifting as if alive. On the far side, a modest waterfall spills from a rocky ledge¡ªabout forty feet high. The whole place is hauntingly beautiful¡ªlike stepping into someone else¡¯s dream. I feel a twinge of jealousy. The scene is a stark contrast to my own night terror. I circle the lake and make my way toward the waterfall. The view from the top beckons to me its whispers promising a scenic view. Adrenaline is still coursing through me, I feel like I can just jump the 40 feet. But I don¡¯t jump. I climb. The rock face is rough, my fingers pressing into cracks and ledges. The stone is cold, damp beneath my hands. My muscles barely burn as I ascend¡ªa reminder of how my stats affect my body. When I haul myself over the top, I turn¡ªAnd the breath leaves my chest. Moonlight spills over an endless valley, washing silver across a vast sea of trees. The canopies shift with the wind, moving like waves against the towering, snow-capped peaks. The mountains loom in the distance¡ªthey push high into the heavens. Not just mountains. Monuments. Even with my growing stats, this view slams me back to reality. I¡¯m a speck. A tiny dot in an endless universe. The lake is so clear, I can see the rocky bottom where the surface lies still. Beyond that¡ªnothing familiar. The world stretches far beyond the lake¡ªfar beyond anything I¡¯ve ever known. The tutorial said our world had fused with others. But standing here, all I saw was Earth. No alien skies. No twisted landscapes. Just trees, mountains, and a cold wind biting my skin. But somewhere out there¡ªsomeone else was looking at this same sky, wondering the same thing. If the tutorial was right, humans weren¡¯t alone anymore. After a long moment, I finally look down at myself. My pants are torn. Caked in Chaos Spawn gore. My shirt? Barely holding together. Right. Time for a bath. I peel down to my briefs, roll my clothes and spirit weapon into my leather jacket, and¡ª Toss the bundle over the waterfall. Then, with a deep breath¡ªI dive after it. For a heartbeat, I¡¯m weightless. Then¡ªimpact. I slice into the water, the cold slamming into my skin. Its shockingly cold¡ªbut instead of numbing, it¡¯s energizing. I plunge deep. My lungs don¡¯t burn like they used to. I kick along the lake floor, pushing further, testing myself. By the time I surface, I¡¯m barely out of breath. Another rush of exhilaration. Still shivering slightly¡ªmore from excitement than cold¡ªI retrieve my bundle from the shore. I rinse the grime from my pants, debating whether to keep the shirt or just put it out of its misery. Then I stand and freeze. A lone wolf steps from the treeline. Then another. Then ten more. I¡¯m outnumbered ten to one. Lips curl, white teeth flashing in the moonlight. They see me as an easy meal. And to be fair¡ªI¡¯m barefoot, half-naked, alone by a moonlit lake. To them, I¡¯m just another meal. Soft and exposed. Easy. They¡¯ve always been the hunters. But tonight? They¡¯ll learn otherwise. This isn¡¯t fear. Not anymore. A day ago, I would¡¯ve run. Now? I exhale, roll my shoulders, and cast Weak Barrier. The first wolf steps onto the beach of the lake, yellow eyes catching the moonlight. For a second, my mind flashes back¡ªto the dungeon, to Mischief. But this isn¡¯t the same. There¡¯s no cunning in their eyes. No intelligence. Just hunger. A faint pulse of mana wraps around me. Was this the point of the tutorial? A crash course to prepare me for the reality of this new world? ¡°Any chance you¡¯ll leave me be?¡± They circle tighter. My words falling on deaf ears. I guess they aren¡¯t as smart as Mischief? There is no understanding in these eyes. Just primal animal instinct. Two wolves lunge. I don¡¯t move. Thud. They rebound like they hit steel, yelping as they crash into the dirt. One rolls three times before scrambling upright, shaking its head like it can¡¯t believe what just happened. The pack hesitates. Their ears twitch. Their tails stiffen. They don¡¯t understand. They¡¯re used to being at the top. The hunters. The ones no one fights back against. But now? They¡¯ve hit something that doesn¡¯t break. Another one bolts forward, and this time I react. Not much¡ªjust a flick of my wrist. It¡¯s a mistake. My hand connects, and the wolf rockets backward, twisting midair before slamming into a tree with a dull thump. I wince. That was too much. Before it can whimper, I flick a Weak Heal its way. The spell washes over its battered body, and its breath evens out. From my left a flash of grey. My hands move on their own, catching its throat midair. It flails. Kicks. But I don¡¯t feel anything. Not pressure. Not weight. Just the shape of it. For a moment, I see Mischief in the dungeon, wide-eyed, gasping beneath my club. I let go. The wolf drops and scrambles away. A few seconds pass. The pack shifts. Their tails lower ears flatten. They know I don¡¯t need to fight them. I never did. They whine. Then, one by one, they turn and slink back into the trees. The fight¡ªif I can even call it that¡ªnever felt dangerous. I barely broke a sweat. I watch the treeline. Something about this fight didn¡¯t sit right with me. What if they¡¯d leveled up the way I have? The thought jabs at me. Those wolves were low-level¡ªmaybe one, maybe two. But they felt nothing like Mischief. Or the Chaos Centaur. I rake a hand through my damp hair, shivering slightly. I¡¯ve got bigger things to worry about. Dungeons to clear. Territory to claim. Parents to find. But first¡ªclothes. I spot my ragged pants nearby. Yeah¡­Next time I face down a pack of predators, I¡¯d rather not be half-naked. I sigh, letting the barrier fade. ¡°Better luck with your next meal, guys.¡± Chapter 16 - Into the dungeon When I got back, Mischief was wide awake, calmly licking his paws like nothing had changed. The fire was gone¡ªjust smoldering embers fading in the predawn air. He didn¡¯t even glance up as I stepped into the clearing. ¡°Do all your animal friends try to eat me, or am I just special?¡± I asked, shaking my head as the memory of the wolves replayed in my mind. Mischief paused mid-lick, ears twitching. Then he tilted his head, cat-like confusion in its purest form. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s nothing,¡± I said, waving a hand dismissively. ¡°Just a pack of wolves thought they¡¯d try their luck this morning. I, uh¡­ educated them.¡± Mischief blinked, unimpressed. I huffed, but the fight still nagged at me. Not one of those wolves had leveled up. That didn¡¯t sit right. Mischief was proof that animals could grow stronger. If he could evolve, why couldn¡¯t they? Was it just bad luck? A fluke? Or was something else at play? I frowned, the question sticking like a splinter in my thoughts. Something felt off, but I didn¡¯t have the pieces to figure out why. I sighed and pushed the thought aside¡ªfor now. ¡°Anyway¡­ you want to clear a dungeon with me?¡± Mischief stretched, back arching, claws sinking into the dirt. Lazy, but only on the surface. Beneath his sleek fur, muscle tensed¡ªready, waiting, always on edge. Then, without hesitation, he dipped his head in a slow nod. A grin tugged at my lips. ¡°Awesome. Let¡¯s get to it.¡± We set off¡ªand almost immediately, a problem smacked me in the face. I had no clue where these new dungeons were. My status screen was helpful enough to list objectives¡ªbut a map? Apparently, that was too much to ask for. "You wouldn¡¯t happen to know where a dungeon is, would you?" I asked, only half-kidding. Mischief nodded, then bolted away¡ªa blur of sleek fur and raw speed, vanishing between the trees like a feline cannonball. ¡°Hey¡ª! Damn it!¡± I sprinted after him, every muscle in my legs screaming to keep up. Mischief was absurdly fast. A blur of sleek muscle and effortless power. At least forty miles per hour¡ªmaybe more. Keeping up felt impossible. I pumped my legs, Agility stats working overtime just to keep his tail in sight. Branches whipped past. Roots and uneven terrain blurred beneath my feet. I was tearing through the forest at speeds that shouldn¡¯t be possible. After a few minutes of pure speed, heart hammering in my chest, Mischief finally slowed. I caught up, chest heaving, my pulse thrumming with exhilaration. He stood at the base of a mountain ridge, tail flicking as he peered into a massive cave entrance. The jagged opening stretched twenty feet wide, like the mountain itself had been split open. A chill crept over me. ¡°How the hell did you even find this place?¡± Mischief didn¡¯t answer. Instead, He just shrugged. Like, yeah, I get around. I stared at him. ¡°You¡¯re messing with me, aren¡¯t you?¡± No response. Typical. I pulled up my status screen, half-expecting a ridiculous challenge. [You have found a dungeon entrance.] Recommended party level: 8. I blinked. Then grinned. "That¡¯s it?" I said, nodding at Mischief. ¡°We¡¯re both above that. No problem.¡± Without another word, we stepped inside.

[You have entered a cave dungeon. Fight your way to the Boss variant to complete the dungeon.]

Bonus Objective: Defeat all enemies before killing the Boss. Reward: Uncommon.

¡°Seems straightforward,¡± I remark as we pass the threshold. ¡°We¡¯ll probably want that Uncommon reward. I¡¯m guessing it¡¯s worth the extra effort.¡± Beyond the entrance, the cave slopes downward, air thick with damp earth and the faint, metallic scent of something deeper inside. Large yellow mushrooms cling to the ceiling, their bioluminescence casting the rock in an eerie, uneven glow. The flickering light makes the shadows move¡ªlike something¡¯s breathing just out of sight. Seven smaller tunnels branch off from the cavern, plus one larger tunnel at the center. From somewhere deep within, I hear a chorus of metallic clinks echoing through the dark. I shoot Mischief a sideways glance. ¡°Bet that big tunnel leads straight to the Boss. But the bonus objective says we should clear out the smaller tunnels first. You in?¡± Mischief flicks his ears toward the nearest side passage, and I take that as a yes. ¡°Great.¡± I scrape an X into the dirt by the entrance, just to keep track of where we¡¯ve been. Before long, the passage opens into a smaller cavern. That¡¯s where we spot our first monster: a hunched, dark-green figure, about five feet tall, chipping away at the rock wall with a rusty pickaxe. Its bony limbs are wrapped in minimal leather scraps. A goblin miner, apparently so focused on its labor that it doesn¡¯t notice my approach.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°HELLO!¡± I shout, mostly to see if it talks. The goblin practically jumps out of its skin. Pickaxe clattering, eyes bugging¡ªif it could die from a heart attack, it might have. Then it screeches, raises its rusted weapon, and swings for me. Caught off guard, I haven¡¯t even drawn my sword. Instinctively, I drive a punch straight into its face, feeling bone crunch beneath my fist. The goblin collapses instantly. I don¡¯t so much as flinch at the kill. Which almost feels worse than puking. [You have killed Level 8 Goblin Miner.] I blink. Goblin¡­ Miner? Not just a goblin. A goblin with a job. Chaos Spawn never had anything like that. They were just instinct, hunger, mindless destruction. This? This was different. Monsters didn¡¯t get skill classes. I did. Humans did. But them? Why? I barely have time to ponder when I hear more scuffling down the tunnel. Sword in hand now, I cast Weak Barrier around Mischief and myself, and we break into a run. We burst into a new chamber, three times the size of the first. Several ramps wind along the cavern walls, where more goblins scramble. Some appear to be hammering at veins of ore. Others brandish crude weapons¡ªhatchets, short swords, axes. A few archers skulk on higher ledges, while robed figures scribble symbols or chant in low voices. Definitely more organized than chaos spawn. Four goblins rush us at the entrance. Mischief pounces first. The goblin barely raises its shield before he slams it to the ground. A crunch, a flash of teeth¡ªand its throat is gone. A goblin with a hatchet tries to flank Mischief. It¡¯s so focused on swinging at my friend that it never sees me coming. My sword carves through leather and flesh. A wet gasp escapes the goblin¡¯s lips as it stumbles back, its axe slipping from slack fingers. It shudders once¡ªthen crumples, dead before it hits the ground. You have killed Goblin Fighter (Level 8). They really do have classes. I notice the kill notification¡ª¡°Fighter,¡± just like mine. But the thought is cut short as more goblins flood in¡ªBlacksmith, Archer, Wizard, each with their own half-baked attempt at strategy. Mischief and I tear through them. Lightning spells crackle off our barriers. Arrows bounce away harmlessly. Occasionally, an unlucky goblin catches a friendly fireball or arrow in the heat of battle. These monsters might have the classes but they are not seasoned fighters. I get a momentary twinge of guilt for mowing down so many humanoid creatures¡ªthey¡¯re forging weapons, mining ore. Is that normal monster behavior? It really doesn¡¯t matter because each one attacks us on sight, pure aggression in their eyes. Yeah. Definitely a murdery vibe By the time the chamber is clear, my status logs say I¡¯ve killed around thirty goblins in total. Mischief easily outscored me with a chaotic flurry of claws and teeth. My barrier skill held up the entire fight without the goblins scoring a single hit. I kick over a goblin¡¯s pack¡ªiron ore spills out. Another had a crude steel sword, still warm from a forge. I loot a few corpses. No meat. No ears. Just small pouches filled with¡­ Coins? I frown, flipping one over. Bronze. Not a system drop. I pull up my status for a closer look. That¡¯s new. I use my status to get a better look. [Universal Bronze Coins - Universally recognized currency of the Multiverse. Bronze is the lowest denominator.] I just found actual, spendable money in a dungeon. What the hell does that mean?

Tunnel-Clearing Montage

The next five side tunnels follow a similar pattern: a winding path, then a cavern packed with goblins of varying classes. We keep track by carving marks near each tunnel mouth. Mischief and I spread out¡ªthough staying in line of sight¡ªso neither of us gets overwhelmed. Plenty of archers on upper ledges, more miners and blacksmiths, half a dozen wizards, but mostly standard grunts. At one point though I see one ¡°Goblin Rogue¡± vanish momentarily. I get spooked for half a second¡ªuntil Mischief sniffs him out and ends that dream. I can¡¯t be sure but I think we take no damage throughout, especially with me re-upping Weak Barrier each time I see any cracks. Between kills, I note my level rising¡ªenough to feed more points into Agility so I¡¯m not trailing behind Mischief too badly. Bonus Objective Complete: Defeat the faction leader to claim your reward. I stretch, shaking out my arms. Not even sore. Seventy-something goblins, a handful of new levels, and a partner who¡¯s borderline unstoppable. Not bad. ¡°Looks like that¡¯s all the side tunnels,¡± I say, tossing yet another bag of coins his way to place in storage ¡°Round one goes to you, Mischief. You definitely racked up more kills in the early runs, but I¡¯m catching up.¡± He snorts¡ªat least, it sounds like a snort¡ªand pads over, tail swishing in satisfaction. ¡°Guess we just have one big tunnel left,¡± I add, nodding toward the central passage. ¡°Should be the faction leader.¡± The title seems a bit odd. In games typically the final challenge is a boss. Why call it a faction leader? Either way, my heart thumps with excitement. Between your claws and my barrier, what could go wrong? Then again, I recall that wizard¡¯s short-lived barrier and wonder if the boss might have a stronger version. Shaking off a flicker of nerves, I rub a sore spot on my shoulder and glance at the dimly lit passage beyond. ¡°Ready to see what this dungeon¡¯s big bad has in store for us?¡± Mischief dips his head, and together, we turn our attention to the final challenge lurking down the main tunnel. I pause at the threshold of the main tunnel, peering into the dim corridor where the faint glow of mushrooms outlines jagged rocks and deep shadows. My heart thuds a little faster. This should be the right tunnel¡ªlikely stronger than any goblin we¡¯ve faced so far. The Chaos Champion fight claws at the edges of my mind. Panic rises¡ªfamiliar, unwanted. I grit my teeth, trying to push it down, but the thoughts creep in anyway. The what if¡¯s. What if it was just me in the trial? I wouldn¡¯t have even made it to the Chaos champion. But if I had? I would have died facing it alone. Sure, facing chaos spawn, normal wolves and whatever these goblins were was a breeze. But against something real? I had to face this. I had to because I didn¡¯t want to. Mischief made me feel safe. Alone? That¡¯s when the demons came. ¡°So, I don¡¯t want to sound selfish,¡± I say quietly, turning to Mischief, ¡°but if you¡¯re okay with it, I¡¯d like to try soloing this boss. You know, see exactly where I stand in a real one-on-one.¡± Mischief tilts his head, then shrugs in the feline equivalent of Sure, do what you want. For a second time, I swear I can almost hear his thoughts: Try not to die. A faint grin tugs at my lips. ¡°That¡¯s always the plan,¡± I mutter under my breath, gripping the hilt of my longsword. In spite of all my fear and reservations there is still an itch. One that is begging for a true challenge. I¡¯ve grown a lot in a short time, but I need to know how far I can push these new skills without leaning on Mischief¡¯s brute strength. Stepping forward, I feel an odd mix of excitement and nerves. The cavern air is cool, tinged with the metallic scent of ore and a whiff of something more primal. I glance back at my companion, who settles on his haunches, tail swishing in lazy arcs, clearly ready to intervene if things go south. ¡°Alright,¡± I whisper, a thrill of adrenaline sparking through my veins. ¡°Let¡¯s see what this Goblin can do.¡± I step forward, alone. My footsteps echo against damp stone. Mischief watches, still as a statue. Chapter 17 - Mischief and the Goblin Leader Mischief lay curled beneath tangled roots, ribs pressing sharp against his skin. Hunger gnawed at his insides¡ªa dull, familiar ache. His mother was gone. Food was scarce. His limbs, weaker by the day. When the sky darkened and the forest went silent, he thought, at last, he had starved to death. His animal mind struggled to grasp what was happening¡ªuntil a mysterious voice spoke in words he somehow understood, promising that the world would be different now. If he survived and grew, the voice said, he would one day comprehend more completely. Yet as the darkness lifted, Mischief felt a deep, unfamiliar energy coursing through his frail body. The forest around him looked different¡ªcolors sharper, scents more vivid, as if everything had been quietly remade. An unexplained hunger drove him to keep moving, guided by a faint echo of that voice urging him to survive. At fourteen months old, Mischief¡¯s mother had left him to fend for himself. So, when he caught sight of a strange, two-legged creature in the woods, curiosity mingled with hunger. He had never seen an animal like this¡ªslow, clumsy, covered in odd, patchy fur. Intrigued, he followed it silently, until foolishly he stepped on a branch by accident, drawing the creature¡¯s attention. For a moment, Mischief froze, unsure if it had seen him. But when their eyes locked, he knew he¡¯d been discovered. He charged. The thing was lumbering but managed to stumble out of reach. Mischief¡¯s predator instincts took over¡ªas the creature exposed its back¡ªand he leapt for the kill. At the last instant, it spun around and planted itself, catching Mischief¡¯s face in its hands. His teeth snapped uselessly at empty air, inches from a killing bite. Then, with surprising strength, the creature hurled him away. He landed hard, pain lancing through his body. A broken branch or sharp rock protruded from his ribs, and Mischief lay in a daze, limbs unresponsive. Nearby, the strange creature bled freely. Mischief had hurt it¡ªbadly. A sad consolation. But then... the scent of blood thinned. The wounds were closing. No licking, no cleaning. Just... sealing. As if the injury had never been there at all. How? Through half-lidded eyes, Mischief watched. The two-legged creature thrashed, tearing at the smaller monsters with wild, desperate strength. Chaos Spawn clung to him, biting, clawing, but he didn¡¯t fall. Not for long. He would drop beneath the writhing mass, then moments later, stand again¡ªwounds vanishing as fast as they appeared. It was too much for Mischief to understand. Then the creature approached him, holding a big stick. In that instant, dread coiled through Mischief¡¯s gut like a serpent. He could barely lift his head, and the sight of the raised weapon made his fur bristle in terror. Weak and pinned by agony, he shut his eyes, bracing for the final blow. Would this be the end? Mischief tensed, bracing for the final blow. But it never came. Instead, the creature made strange noises, then knelt beside him. A firm but careful grip, a sharp tug¡ªpain flared, then faded as warmth spread through his ribs. The wound sealed itself¡ªno blood, no ache, only confusion. Mischief lay still, dazed, as the creature rummaged through the fallen monsters. They vanished in pieces. Then it returned, making more strange noises. A new scent caught his attention¡ªraw meat, piled high in an unearthly heap. It smelled foul but his hunger made it appealing. He would have to walk past this strange creature to get closer to the scent. His instincts told him to run. But there was no threat¡ªjust something strange. Something new. His muscles stayed taut, ready to flee at the first sign of danger. Yet, as he passed, he hesitated. Then, on impulse, he nudged the creature¡¯s hand. A gesture of trust. The meat was unnaturally sweet and barely edible but hunger made it satisfying. Moments later, he caught wind of fresh prey nearby. Leaving the strange creature babbling behind him. More little monsters appeared. Mischief pounced into a frenzy of killing, showing this odd newcomer how to dispatch smaller beasts. In time, the trial dungeon rewarded Mischief with a title called Interpreter, granting him the power to understand spoken language. The two-legged animal revealed himself as a human named Layton. Mischief listened as the human seemed surprised that Mischief was now comprehending his words. Mischief was also surprised. Layton didn¡¯t have long to speak before a towering monster called a Chaos Spawn Champion¡ªa foe that threatened them both arrived. Laytong had given brief instructions that Mischief understood words that indicated an effective hunting strategy. Mischief worked with Layton to bring down the large monster. Hunting together, bleeding together to achieve a great kill. The fight left something in him. A warmth he couldn¡¯t name¡ªfleeting, like water slipping through his paws. With each kill, something shifted. The world was no longer just fangs and hunger. It had rhythms. Meaning. A shape he could almost understand. The runt was gone. Now, he was faster, stronger, more than he had ever been before. The system had given him proof. A name. Titles. Titles Earned: The voice¡¯s promise echoed in his mind: If he survived, if he grew, he would understand. And so far? Every step proved that promise true. - When I asked Mischief if I could fight the dungeon leader alone, I half-expected him to get annoyed. But if he was, he didn¡¯t show it. He just walked by my side as we reached the final chamber. The room was smaller than the previous caverns and strangely empty, aside from a stone table, a single chair, and a squat, armored goblin hunched over a meal. The thing was mid-bite, tearing into a chunk of greasy, unidentifiable meat. Fat and blood dribbled from its lips as it blinked at me in surprise. It barked something in its garbled language, eyes narrowing¡ªbut I was already moving. I closed the distance in a blur, aiming to end the fight before it started. My foot slammed into the edge of the stone table, flipping it hard enough to crack the ground as it landed. I¡¯d hoped to catch the goblin off guard¡ªmaybe pin it beneath the table, but the thing was faster than expected. It scrambled backward, yanking a weapon into its grip: a nasty-looking flail with three spiked balls and a handle made of bleached bone. Rusty iron armor covered its body, giving it the appearance of a medieval knight who had been left out to rot. The goblin¡¯s beady eyes locked onto mine. We sized each other up. Unlike the Chaos Spawn Champion, this goblin wasn¡¯t a hulking brute. It was barely taller than the average goblin¡ªmaybe five and a half feet¡ªbut its presence was different. There was no reckless charge, no mindless screaming. It rolled its shoulders, adjusted its stance, and began swinging its flail in slow, deliberate arcs. This thing knew how to fight. I circled right, looking for an opening.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. The goblin didn¡¯t wait. It lunged forward and swung¡ªa vicious, unpredictable arc. I raised my spirit sword to block. Bad idea. The chains wrapped around my blade instantly, and before I could even think to react, the goblin ripped it from my hands and flung it across the room with a rattling clang. Shit. The goblin didn¡¯t let up. It whirled its flail in a relentless, rotating pattern, advancing on me like a walking blender. I backpedaled fast, barely keeping ahead of the spiked balls smashing into the stone floor. This wasn¡¯t just some random monster swinging wildly. It was forcing me into a pattern. And if I didn¡¯t break it, I¡¯d eventually run out of room. I considered trying to tank a hit with Weak Barrier, but there was no guarantee it would hold. And even if it did, I¡¯d still be fighting unarmed. Instead, I kept moving¡ªusing my superior speed to kite the goblin, keeping its attention locked on me while I subtly maneuvered closer to my sword. It didn¡¯t realize its mistake until I lunged, rolled, and grabbed my weapon. It was an awkward maneuver¨Cunpracticed¨Cbut it worked. And I had my sword again. Now it was my turn. I fell back, out of reach, gripping my sword tighter. The goblin, still twirling its flail in a protective pattern, grunted and took a step forward. The chains spun in wild, looping arcs, forming a barrier of steel spikes. Annoying. I needed more reach. That¡¯s when I remembered my Fighter ability¡ªPiercing shot. I had yet to use an ability from my fighter class. I focused my energy, extended my sword¡ªand a shimmering, ethereal blade exploded forward, stabbing straight through the goblin¡¯s armor. It froze. Dark, thick blood spilled from the hole. I fired three more shots, each one punching deeper, until the flail¡¯s spinning slowed¡­ then stopped. Using piercing shot had a noticeable effect on my endurance. Good to know. Spells mana. Skills endurance The goblin choked, staggered, then collapsed onto its face. You have killed Level 14 Goblin Boss. Level Up. Healer Level 15 ¨C Choose a new skill. Congratulations! Dungeon cleared. Rewards Calculated. Rewards based on contribution. Calculating contribution... Calculation complete. Rewards: Bonus Objective Completed: Hidden Objective - Perfect Run (completed dungeon without losing any HP while also completing all bonus objectives) I stare at the notification for a moment. I blink. "Wait¡­ that was a hidden objective?" I read it again. Then again. One hit and I wouldn¡¯t have even known. How many more of these are out there? Plus I had taken PLENTY of hits on my barrier. Apparently those didn¡¯t count. I won¡¯t get answers until the next dungeon, so I set those thoughts aside and focus on the rewards. The bag of holding is first. I grab a loose coin, tap the bag¡ªPoof. Gone. I blink. ¡°Okay, that¡¯s¡­ stupidly convenient.¡± I toss a few more things in, experimenting. No weight increase. No need to physically load it up. My inventory just absorbs them. "Alright, yeah. I love this thing." Next, I inspect the 15 Universal Bronze Coins. Universal coins are the standard currency in the Universe. Bronze is the lowest unit. So¡­ Earth money is officially useless now. I stare at the tiny pile. My entire net worth is now 15 bronze. I¡¯m officially broke on a planetary scale. ¡°Great. That¡¯s just fantastic,¡± I mutter, half-amused and half-annoyed. Then comes the blacksmithing set. At first glance, it has everything one would expect¡ªa set of hammers, tongs, and even a basic forge kit. I tap my fingers on my leg, wondering, ¡°¡­What the hell am I supposed to do with this?¡± I have zero experience with blacksmithing. Maybe I can sell it later or trade it with someone who actually knows how to use it? Thankfully, I can store the entire set in the bag of holding¡ªeach piece taking up one slot¡ªbut for now, I¡¯ll just let Mischief carry the bulk of the loot. Finally, the hidden reward. The notification explains that an Iron deposit has been upgraded to a Mineral deposit (uncommon). At first, I¡¯m confused¡ªis this a physical item I carry? Some kind of blueprint? After re-reading the description, it clicks: the dungeon itself altered an existing iron deposit. I rub the back of my head in disbelief. ¡°So dungeons can actually¡­ change the world?¡± I muse. That¡¯s a big deal. If this affects local resources, it might influence the territory I can claim later. I make a mental note to investigate further once I¡¯m less busy. With the rewards sorted, it¡¯s time to focus on progress. I allocate my newly earned skill points¡ª+5 to Agility, plus bonus points to Agility and Intelligence. Reaching level 15 granted me another spell slot, and after scanning my options, I decide on Weak Healing Wave. For now, it¡¯s just Mischief and me¡ªbut I know it might soon be more than that. Just as I finish adjusting, I notice my stats look a bit higher than expected. I check my titles¡ªand sure enough, there¡¯s a new one: Dungeon Savant ¨C Be the first human to have a perfect dungeon run on a newly inducted planet. (+3 to all stats, +3% to all stats.) I smirk. So the system really rewards being first, huh? If that¡¯s the case, I need to start thinking bigger. I¡¯ve already cleared a dungeon; maybe I can claim a territory next. I set my sights on that goal as my next priority. Finally, I walk over and loot the Goblin Boss. It drops the usual coins, but also a crude bone necklace, its flail, and a set of battered armor. I quickly decide the armor is useless and leave it behind, but I keep the flail¡ªlearning it¡¯s called the three-balled flail. It¡¯s one step above crude, much like my leather jacket. The last item is a small chest, identical to the one I received in the trial dungeon¡ªbut this one is full of iron ore. I try to stash it away, but it won¡¯t budge, so I lug it under my arm. With the dungeon complete and all the items gathered, Mischief and I leave the tunnel and head home. - Mischief and I sat around the fire. The tutorial was over. One dungeon cleared. In just over two days, I had two classes, a mountain of stat points, and had already eclipsed Level 10. Not bad. Except¡ªI¡¯d also nearly died at least three times. A sobering thought. And yet¡­ why did it still feel too easy? I frowned, staring into the flames. It sounded insane to even think it. I¡¯d been thrown into a completely new reality, faced monsters, nearly got torn apart, and survived by the skin of my teeth. So why was I still standing? By all logic¡ªby all probability¡ªI should be dead. I glanced at Mischief. He flicked an ear, watching the fire. ¡°What did you think of that last dungeon?¡± He cocked his head slightly. I exhaled. ¡°Didn¡¯t it seem¡­ too easy?¡± Mischief blinked, tail curling. ¡°A dungeon packed full of goblins,¡± I continued. ¡°We cut through them like butter. It felt like¡­ I don¡¯t know. A warm-up.¡± I shook my head, then poked the dying fire with a stick. ¡°Even the leader. I was faster. I was stronger. I was even a higher level. And you? Don¡¯t even get me started. The fight would¡¯ve been over in seconds.¡± The big cat studied me for a long moment. Then, finally¡ªhe shrugged. That almost made me feel worse. And what was the deal with the classes? Why would monsters have that? I raked a hand through my hair. ¡°I just expected the new world to be more¡­ dangerous.¡± The words felt wrong even as I said them. I had nearly died multiple times. But that was just it. Nearly. Not once had I truly been in a position where there was no way out. No fights had been unwinnable. That was too convenient. I shook my head. ¡°And another thing¡ªhave you seen any monsters outside of the dungeons?¡± Mischief hesitated. Then, slowly, he shook his head. I frowned. That was¡­ weird. But was it actually weird? I mean, I¡¯d been thrown into dungeon runs back to back. Maybe I just hadn¡¯t spent enough time outside of them to see the bigger picture. Maybe the world worked this way. Maybe I was overthinking it. I exhaled, stretching my legs toward the fire, trying to let the warmth settle my nerves. It was probably nothing. But the more I thought about it¡­ the more I wasn¡¯t so sure. Chapter 18 - What is with this guy? Finding the next dungeon was no picnic. I had spent days searching. No signs, no clues. Just trees, dirt, and a growing sense that I was wasting my time. Then, just as I was about to give up¡ªmy status screen flickered. I stopped. Focused. There, between a cluster of trees, something shimmered. I blinked. Once. Twice. If not for my status screen, I would have walked right past. It was hard not to feel annoyed with the lack of a map. It seemed like an obvious feature in most games. So far? No such luck. So stupid. ¡°Go clear three dungeons¡­good luck finding them. Cue evil laugh.¡± The dungeon¡¯s recommended level was 10, but with my stats stacked well past Level 15, I felt like I was punching at Level 25. The enemies inside? Dire apes. Massive, mutated, twisted reflections of something almost human. And that was the weird part. They weren¡¯t just mindless beasts. They had roles. Some worked wood. Some gathered supplies. Others stood guard. It wasn¡¯t just combatants. It was a society. And that unsettled me more than any monster had so far. The faction leader was a dire ape wizard¡ªa hulking brute wreathed in crackling magic. He raised a claw, arcane power surging¡ª ¡ªand then Mischief tore out his throat. The fight lasted two seconds. Maybe three. I only gained one level. sigh. If I¡¯d remembered to cast barrier, the entire run would¡¯ve been flawless. Instead, I took a single hit. A stray lightning bolt. One hit point lost. That was nothing. But it still left a bitter taste in my mouth. No perfect run. I pulled up my status screen. [Dungeon Completed.] [Objectives: 2 of 3 Cleared.] [Rewards: 15 Universal Bronze Coins.] [Bonus: Seed Assortment Acquired.] ¡­Seeds? I blinked. "Seriously? This whole run and I get¡­ plants? - The last dungeon left me feeling gross. Just like the goblins, the dire apes attacked on sight. No hesitation, Just mindless hostility. Worse, I was pretty sure the dungeon wouldn¡¯t close until I completed the objective. [Objective: Kill Everything.] That seemed to be the theme. Kill, move forward, repeat. So I killed. They were just dungeon monsters. It wasn¡¯t supposed to matter. Like usual, my thoughts drifted as Mischief and I made the trek back. Then, out of nowhere, he stopped. I barely caught myself before I ran into him. My pulse picked up. ¡°What is it?¡± Mischief lifted his head, nose twitching. He inhaled, slow and deep. I tensed, waiting. Then¡ªwithout hesitation¡ªhe nudged me. I frowned. ¡°What?¡± He nudged me again. Stronger this time. His eyes locked onto mine. I exhaled slowly, my pulse picking up. ¡°You smell something?¡± I muttered. Mischief¡¯s nod was sharp. Certain. I stared at him. A scent. He had nudged ME twice. What did that mean? ¡°Are you catching the scent of another person?¡± A nod. I swallowed, my mind racing with possibilities. Was this good? Or was this bad? A human meant potential help, information, maybe even an ally. But it also meant potential danger. What if they were hostile? What if they weren¡¯t human anymore? I ran a hand through my hair. ¡°Alright, big guy,¡± I muttered. ¡°If it¡¯s a human, they probably won¡¯t react well to you showing up first. Let me check it out.¡± Actually I better be sure.. ¡°Humans are complicated. Please don¡¯t eat them without letting me know.¡± Mischief huffed. I wasn¡¯t sure if that meant approval or protest. I took a slow breath. Stepped forward. The trees thickened. The light dimmed. Friend or threat? I was about to find out. - I arrived back at camp. Nothing looked out of place. The fire was low, flickering in the pre-dawn air. My storage chest sat undisturbed. Even the makeshift lean-to I¡¯d half-heartedly thrown together remained untouched. But my Sense stat wasn¡¯t fooled. There was someone here. I didn¡¯t look in their direction. Not yet. Instead, I went about my usual routine. I updated my map, marking the lands we¡¯d scouted. I transferred loot from my bag to my storage chest, pausing here and there to make it look like I wasn¡¯t aware of anything unusual. Then¡ªonly when everything was settled¡ªI turned toward the presence I¡¯d felt. I didn¡¯t draw my weapon. Didn¡¯t posture. Just tilted my head slightly. ¡°Okay, I know you¡¯re out there.¡± My voice was casual, friendly. ¡°I¡¯m not looking for trouble. If you¡¯d like to talk, let¡¯s talk.¡± I waited. Fifteen seconds passed. Then¡ªa rustle in the grass. A middle-aged man¨Cwearing camo pants and a mostly unbuttoned flannel shirt exposing tufts of chest hair¨Crose from the tall brush about twenty-five feet away. He stood slowly, carefully, hands raised in a surrendering gesture. He was armed with a bow and quiver on his back and a large knife at his hip. The man had clearly seen I was human. Why hadn¡¯t he immediately announced himself? Why stay hidden in the grass? So far he wasn¡¯t hostile. A nice contrast to the dungeons. ¡°Hi there, friend!¡± I called, keeping my tone light. ¡°I¡¯m Layton. Gotta say, it¡¯s great to see another person out here.¡± The man smiled. ¡°Good to meet you, Layton.¡± His hands stayed raised. ¡°You can put those down,¡± I reassured him. ¡°I don¡¯t bite.¡± He chuckled, lowering his arms. ¡°Habit, I suppose. I wasn¡¯t expecting to see anyone out here besides my group. And you can never be too careful.¡± ¡°The name is Richard. Glad to meet you.¡± Richard seemed friendly enough. But something deep inside me wouldn¡¯t let me fully relax. I wasn¡¯t sure why. Not yet. ¡°You mentioned a group?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯ve been scouting for around a week, and you¡¯re the first person I¡¯ve seen.¡±Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. Richard smiled. ¡°I¡¯m not surprised. Our group is a bit far off. I take it you¡¯re familiar with territories by now?¡± I nodded, keeping my response neutral. ¡°Somewhat.¡± Better to see what he was willing to tell me. ¡°That¡¯s good,¡± Richard continued. ¡°Have you traveled much outside your starting territory?¡± I shook my head. ¡°Not really. Just far enough to get a rough idea of the borders.¡± ¡°Well, that explains it then.¡± Richard scratched at his chin. ¡°You¡¯d have to cross an entire unoccupied territory before you reached us.¡± I blinked. That was¡­ far. One full unclaimed territory? That was a long way to travel. I kept my tone casual. ¡°Huh. Pretty far from home. What brought you all the way out here?¡± Richard shrugged. ¡°Have you stumbled across any dungeons yet?¡± I narrowed my eyes slightly. Avoiding the question? I let it slide¡ªfor now. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve seen a couple.¡± Richard grinned. ¡°Good, so you know how you need to clear them.¡± He spoke with pride. ¡°We had that objective too¡ªtook down all three of ours.¡± He leaned back slightly, shoulders loose, confidence high. ¡°It wasn¡¯t easy,¡± he added. ¡°But we got it done. Now we¡¯re working on the second bit.¡± Something in my gut tightened. ¡°The second bit?¡± Richard¡¯s grin didn¡¯t waver. ¡°Yeah, but I wouldn¡¯t worry about that. You¡¯ve still got your dungeons to clear first.¡± Okay. That was twice now. First, he dodged my question about why he was here. Now, he was sidestepping the topic of his group¡¯s next objective. I folded my arms. ¡°If your people have another objective, what are you doing two whole territories away?¡± Richard smiled, lips twitching slightly. I almost missed it. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry about that. We¡¯ve got things handled.¡± He said it smoothly. I stayed silent, letting the pause stretch. Richard kept smiling. Then, finally¡ªhe tilted his head slightly. ¡°You know, when the world was inducted, I chose a Hunter class.¡± I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Oh really?¡± ¡°Mhm.¡± Richard¡¯s gaze flicked toward the treeline. ¡°What about you?¡± I answered without thinking. ¡°Healer.¡± Richard laughed. ¡°Boy, you¡¯re in it now.¡± He shook his head. ¡°We¡¯ve got a healer in our group. Not much of a fighter, but she¡¯s saved our asses more than once.¡± Then, Richard¡¯s eyes flicked to the ground. His expression changed. ¡°Speaking of hunting¡­¡± He knelt slightly, dragging a finger along the dirt. ¡°I stumbled onto some of the biggest mountain lion tracks I¡¯ve ever seen. Right on the edge of this territory. Followed them all around. And funny thing¡­¡± His gaze lifted to me. ¡°¡­they lead right here.¡± I didn¡¯t move. Didn¡¯t blink. Richard stood, dusting off his hands. ¡°So I start thinking.¡± He paced slightly, slow and deliberate. ¡°Some unlucky fellow sets up camp.¡± His voice was light. Conversational. ¡°A big, mean cat comes along. Poor bastard gets eaten. The cat takes over his camp.¡± He stopped. ¡°Well. That was my theory.¡± His smile widened. ¡°So I wait. Hiding right here in the grass. Figured I¡¯d see the big cat come home. Instead? I find you. You don¡¯t look much like a cat.¡± I meet his gaze. ¡°I see,¡± I said. ¡°Well, I hate to disappoint you, but that particular cat is off-limits. He¡¯s my friend.¡± Richard kept smiling. But something shifted. A shadow fell over his demeanor. ¡°That cat is your friend?¡± He asked skeptically. ¡°Yes. That¡¯s right. I know you¡¯ve come a long way¡­¡± my voice trails off. His fingers drifted toward the bow on his shoulder. ¡°You seem like an OK guy but you¡¯ve got to get it straight. Because I¡¯m not leaving without my trophy.¡± He moved. I try and stay composed. Not immediately reacting to Richard drawing his bow. Still with a thought I cover myself with a barrier spell. I¡¯m not crazy. Exhaling slowly and I keep my stance relaxed. ¡°Richard, let¡¯s settle it down ok? We just met. why don¡¯t we talk some more?¡± My voice was even. ¡°I¡¯ll even try and look past the fact that you just drew your weapon on me.¡± His grip didn¡¯t loosen. What the hell is wrong with this guy? I gestured toward the fire. ¡°Can we sit down? I¡¯ve got some moose meat here. We cook up a meal, you can find something else to hunt, and we both walk away happy.¡± Richard laughed. Then¡ªhe pulled an arrow from his quiver. ¡°I have a better idea.¡± His voice was calm. Matter-of-fact. ¡°You realize¡ªI¡¯m going to get what I want¡ªand you don¡¯t tell me what I can and can¡¯t hunt. ¡®Matter of fact, why don¡¯t you help me out. If this cat is your friend like you say. Why don¡¯t you help me find him?¡± At this point, you might say I was starting to lose my good nature with Richard. I sighed, shaking my head. ¡°Oh, Richard, you poor stupid man.¡± He narrowed his eyes. I tilted my chin slightly, smiling. ¡°If you¡¯re so keen on killing my friend, maybe we should at least include him in the conversation.¡± As if on cue¨Ca low¨Cmenacing growl rumbled through the clearing. Fifteen feet to Richard¡¯s right, a mass of muscle and fur rose from the tall grass. Richard froze. Mischief stood, back arched, teeth bared. His eyes glowed faintly in the dim firelight, locked onto Richard with the intensity of a predator preparing to lunge. Well, damn. When the hell did he get there? I could¡¯ve sworn he was still in the trees. Richard reacted fast. His bow snapped up¡ªarrow already loosed. A faint ethereal glow trailed the shot¡ªa skill. A piercing attack. I raised a hand. The arrow slammed into an invisible wall. Barrier held. Richard didn¡¯t stop. He fell back, firing three more rapid shots. I cast Barrier before each impact, reinforcing it every time. Mischief? Didn¡¯t move. Didn¡¯t flinch. He just watched. Teeth bared. Snarling softly. What was he waiting for? Was this because of what I told him earlier? Humans are complicated. Don¡¯t eat them unless I say so? ¡°Alright, that¡¯s enough.¡± My voice cut through the chaos. ¡°Richard, can we talk? Please?¡± Richard stopped firing. But he didn¡¯t lower his bow. I lifted my hands slightly. ¡°Look, no harm, no foul. Put the weapon down, and we figure out how to move forward.¡± Richard¡¯s fingers twitched on the bowstring. He exhaled sharply, glancing toward the treeline. I saw it then¡ªthe crack in his composure. The calculation shifting to something sharper. Desperation. Then¡ªhis hand snapped to his belt, yanking out a knife. And he charged. SERIOUSLY! What the hell was wrong with this guy? I thought for the second time. He thinks killing me stops Barrier. That¡¯s what this was. He realized I was the one casting the spell. So instead of shooting, he was going for the source. The reasoning didn¡¯t add up though. He could get through the barrier on Mischief, why would he think he¡¯d have better luck on me? Desperation. But why? Mischief didn¡¯t move. He just watched. I wasn¡¯t concerned. The way Richard lunged¡ªwild, reckless¡ªit was clumsy. Disorganized. I didn¡¯t even move. The knife plunged forward right at my chest, it came within inches before my barrier sent his attack bouncing off wild. I reached out, grabbed the wrist he was holding the knife in. I squeezed. Bone cracked. The knife clattered to the ground. Richard screamed. His wide eyes locked onto mine. Staring in pure shock. ¡°You said you were a healer!¡± He stumbled backward, scrambling away from me. I sighed. ¡°I am a healer.¡± He clutched his broken wrist to his chest, panting. For a second, he just stared. Then¡ªhe moved again. What is with this idiot? He popped a potion, using his teeth to rip out the stopper. Choked it down. A second later¡ªhis wrist snapped back into place. He barely even paused before summoning another knife¡ªand charging again. At this point? I¡¯d had enough. I trusted my Barrier to take the hit. Then¡ªI threw a single punch. My fist slammed into Richard¡¯s gut. His entire body lifted off the ground. The second he landed¡ªhe collapsed. His knees buckled. He doubled over¡ªand vomited blood. I stared at him. Then at Mischief. Then back at him. ¡°Richard, I don¡¯t get what¡¯s happening here.¡± He coughed weakly, spitting blood onto the dirt. I exhaled. ¡°I haven¡¯t even attacked you. The only time I moved was to stop you from attacking me. And yet¡ªyou keep charging like a caged animal.¡± Richard coughed again. His breaths were ragged. Shaky. I sighed. ¡°Here.¡± I lifted a hand. ¡°Let me help.¡± Casting weak heal a soft pulse of light washes over him. Richard stiffens. His eyes¡ªwide. Disbelieving. I tilted my head. ¡°¡­What?¡± He stayed hunched over. Like he didn¡¯t believe the pain in his insides could actually be gone. Slowly, carefully¡ªhe stood. His fingers pressed lightly into his ribs¡ªlike he was double-checking that his organs were still in place. Finally, he looked at me. ¡°¡­What the hell was that?¡± I shrugged. ¡°A gesture of goodwill.¡± Richard¡¯s expression twisted. ¡°Yeah, yeah, I get that. But you just healed 30 HP. Maybe more.¡± He ran a hand through his hair. ¡°Our healer can only manage 9. What level are you?¡± I wasn¡¯t in the mood for his questions. ¡°How about we figure out where we go from here before we start talking levels?¡± Richard barely heard me. His mind was somewhere else. ¡°Must be pretty high with healing like that¡­¡± he murmured. Then¡ªhe muttered something strange. ¡°¡­Damn. That¡¯s a lot of XP. I would probably level up twice.¡± I frowned. Something about the way he said that felt wrong. I stepped forward slightly. ¡°What do you mean by that?¡± Richard barely heard me. His mind was somewhere else. His fingers twitched at his sides, his breath coming fast in gasps. His pupils were wide, unfocused. And that¡¯s when I knew¡ªthis could only end one way. Chapter 19 - Richard Richard had been at a campground, gearing up for a weekend hunting trip, when the induction hit. Originally, he''d planned for a quiet, solitary excursion¡ªhis girlfriend¡¯s alternative plans had already annoyed him¡ªbut nothing could have prepared him for this. The sky had split open. The Voice had spoken. And suddenly, Richard wasn¡¯t just a weekend hunter anymore. He was something more. The induction scared Richard, at least at first. Then¡ªexcitement. Because when the Voice laid out its cryptic instructions¡ªwhen the list of classes appeared, shimmering before his eyes¡ªone option stood out to him like a spotlight. Hunter. A class built for tracking, killing. Hunting had always been a thrill for Richard. He ate what he killed but that¡¯s not why he did it. It excited him. He relished the feeling of superiority. The moment his fingers brushed the selection, he felt a surge of power. Like the world itself had just opened up to him. This was it. This was what he was meant for. One by one people were released from their tutorial with the voice. Many of the campers gathered together to discuss the bizarre event. The air was thick with anxiety and awe. Richard counted forty people¡ªmostly young to middle-aged, mostly fit. But only seven of them had chosen combat-oriented classes. The rest? Crafting. Support. Some kind of blacksmithing class. Maybe these classes would eventually be helpful. But that wasn¡¯t Richard. It was clear there would be fighting in this new world. Richard would never let someone else do it for him. The group huddled together, whispering about what to do next. Richard immediately noticed the seven other campers with weapons. ¡°Look, I¡¯m not saying we need to go full commando,¡± Richard scoffed. ¡°But if the world really has changed, then rules have too.¡± A few people nodded. That felt good. Jared folded his arms, one of the non-combatants. ¡°And what does that mean, exactly?¡± ¡°It means we do what we have to,¡± Richard said. ¡°And maybe we stop wasting time debating it.¡± "Richard, I¡¯m not denying that what happened was real,¡± His tone was cautious, scanning the group like they might shatter if he said the wrong thing. ¡°But maybe we should gather more information before we charge headlong into this trial?" Richard¡¯s eyes flashed. ¡°What¡¯s the point, Jared?" he snapped. "The Voice already gave us the details. I¡¯m not sitting around waiting for something to happen. If you want to waste time¨Csuit yourself¡ªI¡¯m leaving in an hour.¡± The Voice had been clear. The trial dungeon was already here. Everyone had five days to join a party or attempt it solo. After that? The trial would start automatically, like it or not. And there would be no help. It also warned that the difficulty wouldn¡¯t scale¡ªwhether you went in alone or with a group, the challenge remained the same. Numbers were an advantage. Which is why Jared, Matt, and a few others were desperate to keep people together. "We have five whole days," someone argued. "Can¡¯t we take just a little time to get our bearings? We don¡¯t know what¡¯s waiting for us in there!" Jared, still rubbing his temples like he had a migraine, turned to Matt¡ªone of the few who actually seemed capable. Matt crossed his arms, his expression level. ¡°I think we should face the trial together,¡± he said simply. ¡°We¡¯re not all built for combat, and there¡¯s strength in numbers. I¡¯m not willing to risk going in alone.¡±This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. ¡°I¡¯ve had enough waiting around,¡± Richard muttered, mostly to himself. But Janette, his girlfriend, heard him. She placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Babe¡­ maybe we could just take a little longer?" Richard was getting impatient. He wanted to know what they were going to face. Why wait? ¡°How many times do I have to say it?¡± he huffed exasperated. ¡°I¡¯m not here for some campfire sing-along. Am I the only who cares what''s happening. Why does everyone want to wait around?¡± A murmur rippled through the group. People exchanged uneasy glances. Matt ran his hands through his hair, though he stayed quiet. By the end of the day, the majority agreed to enter the trial together. Even Richard, despite his lone wolf mentality, saw the advantage in numbers. When the trial began, chaos erupted immediately. Waves of Chaos Spawn¡ªtwisted, jagged creatures¡ªdescended on them in droves. Some panicked. Some fought. Richard moved with purpose¡ªloosing arrows, drawing his knife when enemies got too close. Matt held the front line, a shield and short sword braced against the onslaught. It was brutal. But with time, the group learned how to work together. They set up barricades. Archers took safer positions. The trial stretched on. The fourth wave was massive chaos spawn swarmed. Richard deftly picked them off one by one. He was a machine. As the wave ended people cheered. Richard started to step forward, expecting the wave of praise. But no one looked his way. The cheers weren¡¯t for him. They were for Matt. Why were they only cheering for Matt? II killed just as many. Probably more. But no one cared. They only saw Matt. Something inside Richard burned. Part of him wanted to join in the celebration. But why should he have to go to them? Richard wiped blood from his knife, stepping over a body¡ªonly to pause. He frowned. An arrow stuck out from a Chaos Spawn. His arrow. But when he glanced at the pile it was in¡­ His stomach twisted. That was Matt¡¯s pile. "What the hell?" he said, stalking over. "Matt¡ªwhy is my arrow in your pile?" Matt blinked. ¡°I wasn¡¯t keeping score," he said, confused. "I figured we were all in this together.¡± Richard scoffed. "Together?" he repeated, shaking his head. "Look around. While some of you hid, a few of us actually did the work. I¡¯m not sharing my kills." Matt¡¯s jaw tightened, he exhaled before he spoke. "Fine," Matt said, his voice calm¡ªbut a muscle in his jaw twitched. "I¡¯ll be more careful." But Richard saw the twitch. So¡­Matt thought I was being petty? He smirked. Perfect little Matt was getting pissed? Good. Let him stew in it. - Once the trial ended, the group reassembled, weary but victorious. "Everyone okay?" Matt asked, scanning the group. His eyes flicked past Richard. No pause. No acknowledgment. Like he wasn¡¯t even there. ¡°Mostly,¡± Jared said. ¡°A few cuts, but nothing major.¡± One of the younger fighters, Alex, grinned. ¡°I was behind that big rock, when that freaky centaur sent Matt flying.¡± Matt chuckled, rubbing his shoulder. ¡°My shield took most the hit.¡± ¡°Oh really? The shield was just soaking up damage as you cartwheeled across the dirt?¡± It was Elise the lone healer in their group. ¡°Is that why I had to use all my mana to get you back on your feet?¡± Matt scratched the back of his head as people laughed. It was the kind of laughter that only comes after surviving something brutal. The kind that made you feel like a team. Richard just leaned against a tree, watching. He should¡¯ve been standing there with them. He¡¯d fought just as hard. Hell¡ªhis shot had finally brought the monster down. But no one was looking his way. No one had cheered for him. Just Matt. Always Matt. Richard¡¯s fingers dug into the bark. He could still feel the weight of his bowstring on his fingers. He could still see the kill shot. So why wasn¡¯t anyone else seeing it? His fingers dug into the bark. After a few minutes, Matt¡¯s eyes flicked toward his status screen. His expression shifted. ¡°Did anyone else¡­ get a notification about clearing three dungeons to claim a territory?¡± Heads turned. People checked their own screens. Nothing. Richard looked to his own screen. His eyes narrowed. Matt explained the objective, outlining what the system had chosen to reveal to him and only him. ¡°Look, I get wanting to play it safe," Richard scoffed, stretching out casually. "But this whole ¡®wait and see¡¯ approach? That¡¯s how people get left behind. Fighting means leveling. Leveling means power. And power means surviving. But hey¡ªmaybe talking about home will keep us safe.¡± Matt didn¡¯t rise to the bait. He never did. Instead, he folded his arms and met Richard¡¯s glare evenly. ¡°We¡¯re not saying we won¡¯t clear the dungeons,¡± he said, voice steady. ¡°But we need to understand our surroundings first. Owning a territory might give us answers about this inducted world¡ªand maybe even help us reconnect with our families.¡± ¡°And maybe,¡± Jared added, ¡°we build a safe haven. At least get some walls up so we can defend ourselves. I¡¯d like to put my woodworking skills to some real use.¡± Richard snorted. ¡°Oh, please. You¡¯re just scared. It¡¯s time to fight for once.¡± Matt¡¯s composure finally broke. ¡°Richard! That¡¯s enough.¡± His voice cut through the discussion like a blade. ¡°Everyone¡¯s doing their best. If you¡¯re not going to contribute, then maybe you should sit this one out.¡± The words hung between them, heavy and unyielding. For a moment, Richard¡¯s cocky smirk faltered¡ªjust slightly. His jaw working, and his fingers curled against his knee. Then, after a long pause, he forced out a bitter, ¡°Fine.¡± his response clipped. His smile returned, but this one was thin, forced, barely concealing the sting of pride underneath. Chapter 20 - The Fall The next few days blurred together. The seven fighters pushed themselves hard, clearing the remaining dungeons with brutal efficiency. Their teamwork was still rough, full of frayed edges, but it was improving. The dungeons themselves no longer felt like death sentences¡ªbut that didn¡¯t make them easy. They had expected answers about their families. About how to navigate this world, survive, thrive. But as each dungeon fell, all they found were more monsters, more loot, more levels¡ªand no answers. No one said it aloud. But the silence spoke volumes. Then, on the morning after their third dungeon run, a new objective flashed across Matt¡¯s screen. Of course the system showed Matt. Why not? A raid is coming. Three enemy factions from other worlds will attempt to seize your territory. Time until attack: 7 days. Matt exhaled sharply, his stomach knotting. Jared, who had been securing a wooden barricade, saw the look on his face and asked, ¡°What is it?¡± Matt read the objective aloud. Silence. It stretched, heavy, pressing down on them. Someone swallowed audibly. A slow, creeping weight settled over the camp. Jared exhaled, rubbing his temples. He looked around at the camp, the half-finished barricades, the people still catching their breath from the last dungeon. ¡°Seven days.¡± He forced the words out, like he was convincing himself. ¡°That¡¯s a long time to prepare.¡± Matt nodded, his mind shifting into full strategy mode. ¡°Agreed. We are going to need walls. It¡¯s good you¡¯ve already started on shelter. It can double as a place to bunker during the attack.¡± There was no time for panic. One week. They had one week to prepare. The camp was a beehive of motion for the next seven days. Everyone helped, even the fighters. By day seven they had built a respectable barricade of cut logs with a large cabin for shelter that all 40 campers shared. It was the best they could manage. It was also fitted with three towers for Richard and the other to archers to fire from safety. Richard complained the entire time. ¡°We should be leveling, not stacking logs like goddamn lumberjacks. You wanna play settler? Fine. Just don¡¯t come crying when XP matters more than a fence.¡± Matt had about had enough. ¡°Richard. We all agreed levels aren¡¯t guaranteed. Defenses are. If you are so worried about it then go.¡± Matt and Richard had butted heads several times just like this. Richard complained, Matt ignored. On and on it went. Several times, Richard had packed his things, walked to the edge of camp, looked at the trees¡­ and stopped. Why? He had no damn idea. He told himself he didn¡¯t need them. But if that was true, then why was he still here? Time marched on. The barricades stood. The towers were ready. The camp held its breath. In seven days, the enemy would come. - Exactly seven days later to the second the raid came. Just outside the camp, the air rippled and twisted, like heat rising off sun-scorched pavement. Then¡ªthey stepped through. Fifty or more bipedal lizard-warriors emerged from the portal, clad in ill-fitting leather armor. Their weapons were crude¡ªjagged clubs, rusted pitchforks, and makeshift spears¡ªbut their numbers alone made them a serious threat.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. At their head, a larger lizard, draped in dyed animal hides, barked guttural orders. Its yellow eyes gleamed, scanning the camp. The air thickened with tension. In the tower, Richard swallowed hard. His palms were damp against his bowstring. They didn¡¯t look particularly strong. Richard didn¡¯t want to wait. He loosed the first arrow. The leading lizard shrieked and crumpled. For a second, the enemy forces froze, stunned. Then¡ªthey charged. ¡°Here they come!¡± Matt bellowed. Arrows zipped from the towers, striking deep into the raiders. The wooden barricades slowed their advance, forcing them to funnel through the narrow entrance¡ªexactly where Matt stood with Alex and one other. Shield up. Sword ready. The first lizard crashed into him, club swinging. Matt braced. The impact rattled his bones. A second attacker lunged. He twisted¡ªcaught the strike on his shield¡ªcountered with a brutal thrust to the gut. The lizard choked, eyes wide, before collapsing onto the dirt. More of them piled in, their guttural shrieks filling the night air. In the tower, Richard gritted his teeth. He nocked another arrow. Survive. Level up. Take what¡¯s yours. He pulled the string taut¡ªand fired. The lizard spasmed and dropped. More surged forward, scrambling over their fallen kin. From the tower, Richard was rhythmic. Arrow, draw, fire, repeat. He tracked one of the pitchfork-wielding raiders, exhaled, and let the shot fly. A sharp whistle through the air¡ªthen a wet thud as the arrow buried itself deep into the creature¡¯s throat. Dead before it hit the ground. Below, Matt fought like a storm. His shield absorbed another heavy blow¡ªtoo heavy. The enemy was using a skill. The impact sent him stumbling, his boots dragging in the dirt, but he recovered fast, adjusting his grip. He roared and lunged, his sword carving a path through another lizard¡¯s ribs. ¡°Elise!¡± he barked. He was hurt. Not bad, but enough. A surge of warmth coursed through him as Elise¡¯s magic took hold, his wounds knitting shut even as he moved to intercept the next attacker. ¡°Try and take out the pitchforks!¡± Matt shouted up to the towers. ¡°They¡¯ve got more range!¡± Richard gritted his teeth. Just another order from Matt. But even as resentment flared, his hands moved on instinct. His next arrow tore through the gut of another pitchfork-wielding raider. Fast. Efficient. Deadly. More deadly than Matt. But do they notice? The battle pressed on, but the tide had shifted. Their archers cut the enemy numbers down. Matt¡ªstill in the thick of it¡ªheld the line. His movements were relentless, shield catching blows, sword striking true. Jared and Elise pulled the wounded back, leaving only Matt and the towers. And that¡¯s when Richard saw it. The way the others watched Matt. How their eyes followed him¡ªnot Richard. Not the one who had landed more kills than anyone. Not the one whose arrows had done the most work. Just Matt. Matt the leader. Matt the hero. Matt the one everyone admired. Even the damn system chose MATT. Richard¡¯s fingers twitched against the bowstring. Matt was tired. His stance lagging just enough to be noticed. He could let it happen. Just wait. Maybe he would slip up? He would already be dead if it wasn¡¯t for me. Then¡ªan idea. One so dark it sent a shiver up his spine¡­. "Could he really do it? A single mistake. Easily explained. That¡¯s all it would take to create a world where Matt wasn¡¯t in the way. A world where they finally saw Richard for what he was. A leader. A survivor. A hunter. Richard hesitated. Then, he inhaled and drew his bow again. His next shot would be devastating. He lined it up with the last raider still fighting Matt¡ªhis arrowhead gleaming in the firelight. A shot aimed at the enemy. But destined for something else. Matt blocked a strike, his sword driving into the raider¡¯s chest. He took a step forward, boots scraping the bloodied dirt¡ª Richard loosed the arrow. It jumped off the string like a missile, easily piercing the raider¡¯s back¨C punching straight through. Matt¡¯s body jerked as if yanked by an invisible string. His breath hitched¡ªsharp and ragged. The pain came a second later, burning through his stomach. He staggered. Blood seeped between his fingers. "What¡­?¡± The raiders didn¡¯t have bows. His gaze snapped upward. The tower. Richard. Their eyes locked. Matt¡¯s was filled with confusion. Why? Richard widened his eyes, his expression practiced¡ªfeigned shock. Slowly, he lowered his bow, like he was just now realizing what happened. Matt¡¯s shield slipped. His knees faltered. The final raider, still barely alive, saw the opening. It raised its club. And smashed it into Matt¡¯s skull. Chapter 21 - Goodbye Richard Blood sprayed across the dirt. The fight was basically over. From the tower, Richard exhaled. Not relief. Not exactly. The rush of battle still pounded in his veins. His fingers trembled, his heartbeat thundered. The others were frozen, staring at Matt¡¯s body. Typical. Even dead. They still looked to Matt. With eerie calm, Richard notched another arrow¡ªand put it through the final raider¡¯s eye. A notification blinked across his vision. You have completed the first of three raids on your territory. You have killed Charton Fighter (Level 9). You have killed Human Fighter (Level 14). Level up. Level up. Level up. Richard stared at the words. He had just leveled up three times. Matt was dead. This should feel like a victory. The levels felt amazing. So why did his stomach churn? The silence held. Richard lowered his bow. The weight of it pressed down. Richard''s mind reeled. Had he just made a terrible mistake? Richard steeled himself. It didn''t matter now. The objectives that had belonged to Matt now belonged to him. Finally. The stat surge from the levels was overwhelming. More than he¡¯d ever gotten from a kill. The rush was intoxicating, shivers running up his spine. Then¡ª¡°Matt!¡± Alex¡¯s voice cracked as he stumbled toward the body. The shout drew Richard out of his thoughts. Elise was already running, hands glowing. Jared just stood there, mouth slightly open, unable to process what just happened. The rest of the group stood frozen at the entrance, silent, unmoving. Their faces blank. Processing. Then Jared moved. As if waking from a trance, he rushed to Matt¡¯s body and dropped to his knees. His hands trembled as he reached out. His breath uneven. His face twisted. Not in rage. In something worse. Grief. That broke the spell. The others followed, stumbling forward in a daze. Richard swallowed hard and quickly climbed down from the tower. NO. He had been caught away in the levels and notifications and neglected an essential part of his plan. He HAD to loot the body. Destroy the evidence. They would be skeptical. That¡¯s fine. He could just say it was for the best. No one should see Matt this way. He needed to get to Matt¡¯s body first. He didn¡¯t. By the time he reached them, Jared had already pulled off his shirt and covered the remains of Matt¡¯s skull. Damn it. Ok you''re still fine. Just make yourself look useful. Play the part. Elise was kneeling next to Matt, soft sobs shaking her body as she tried to use magic to heal Matt¡¯s broken skull. It was no use. People circled around. Many looking away¨Ccovering their faces. Richard pulse was beating in his ears. Stay calm¨CIt¡¯s fine. So you weren¡¯t able to loot Matt. You can still salvage this. He began quickly rehearsing his excuses in his mind. Time was running out. Jared kneeled over the body. His shock was beginning to fade, clarity returning. He had moved on from just grieving. He was inspecting. Richard¡¯s stomach clenched. The arrow. Jareds hand closed around the shaft. It¡¯s ok. Stay calm. Richard began to sweat. He moved to step forward, but Jared was already rising. His face was pale. His grip tight. And in his hands¡ªan arrow. ¡°Richard¡­¡± Jared¡¯s voice was controlled. ¡°¡­Can you explain this to me?¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. Richard forced himself to breathe. He looked at the arrow, and coughed, clearing his throat. ¡°Ugh, yeah well it looks like an arrow. What''s with the look?¡± Jared¡¯s fingers curled around the shaft. His knuckles went white. ¡°I found this in Matt¡¯s stomach.¡± Richard played at confusion. ¡°What do you mean? That¡¯s impossible.¡± Jared didn¡¯t blink. Didn¡¯t move. Just held the arrow between them. ¡°I thought it was so strange¡­.¡± He let the words hang. ¡°Why he didn¡¯t even react when that raider¡¯s club hit him,¡± he said quietly. Then looking back at Richard. ¡°It¡¯s because he was already dead¡­ wasn¡¯t he?¡± The air thickened. Matt¡¯s widow staggered forward. Her eyes flicked to Jared. To the arrow. To Richard. She shook her head. ¡°No.¡± Her voice was small. Fragile. Like saying it out loud might make it true. Jared didn¡¯t answer. He didn¡¯t need to. And then¡ªher knees buckled. The sob tore from her throat, raw and broken. Richard stiffened. This is getting out of control. Jared turned back to him. No anger. No shouting. Just quiet devastation. ¡°¡­Why?¡± His voice cracked. ¡°Why did you do this?¡± Richard took a slow step back. ¡°Come on now,¡± he said lightly, ¡°what are you even accusing me of?¡± Jared exhaled through his nose. Like a man trying not to break. Shaking his head. ¡°What were you thinking?¡± To the side, Alex¡¯s breathing hitched. Realization dawning. Tears streaked his dirt-covered face. With shaking hands he picked up his axe. ¡°You killed Matt?¡± His voice was barely a whisper. A plea. Richard¡¯s heart was in his throat. He was struggling to breath.The entire camp was watching now. Expressions shifting. Hardening. He was losing them. Fast. Richard laughed. It was too forced. ¡°You¡¯re joking, right?¡± His voice edged on hysteria. ¡°This is what you¡¯re all going with? That I killed Matt?¡± Silence. His laugh faded. Richard saw the writing on the wall. ¡°You¡¯d all be dead without me.¡± His voice dropped, bitter. ¡°Not like any of you noticed.¡± Still¡ªno one spoke. Richard inhaled sharply. ¡°I don¡¯t have to explain myself to any of you.¡± Alex moved. Jared caught his arm. His gaze bearing into Richard. ¡°Richard. You are no longer welcome here.¡± The words landed like stone. ¡°Leave. Now.¡± Richard clenched his jaw. Every muscle in his body screamed to fight back. But when he scanned the camp, no one stepped forward for him. Not one. ¡°You are all going to die without me. You know that right?¡± No one so much as breathed. A slow, bitter smirk curled his lips. Fine. He spat at Jared¡¯s feet. One last act of defiance. Then he turned¡ªAnd vanished into the trees. - The End of Richard I barely have time to turn before Richard attacks in a frenzy. Steel flashes in the firelight¡ªtwo daggers, aimed straight for my throat. CLANG. They slam against my Barrier. Sparks fly. His momentum shudders to a stop, his blades skidding harmlessly off the invisible shield. Richard stumbles back, panting. His eyes are wide, wild, mouth frothing. Through his fevered sweat¡­ are those tears? I sigh. What a waste. ¡°You would¡¯ve killed me just for my experience points?¡± Without looking, I glance toward Mischief. ¡°Okay. This one you can have.¡± Richard barely has time to process my words before Mischief moves. A blur of fur and muscle. A snarl, deep and guttural. Then¡ªimpact. He thrashes, daggers flashing, slashing wildly at the beast tearing into him. Claws rip through fabric, through flesh. His legs drag across the dirt, his heels digging trenches as Mischief hauls him into the dark. I force myself to watch him go. Desperate. But then in a brief moment ¨Cbarely visible the terror¨C a glimmer of acceptance. He stops thrashing. A breath shudders from his lips. Then, his fingers loosen their grip on the blades. He closes his eyes. Then¡ªCRUNCH. Silence. The fire crackles. The night air settles. A man just died, and I was the one who let it happen. I exhale, rubbing the bridge of my nose. Then I grab a fistful of my hair and pull. Anger boils beneath my skin. Not at myself, or even at my choice. At Richard. I had given him so many chances. I had tried¡ªover and over¡ªto let him walk away. But he wouldn¡¯t stop. He never stopped. And in the end? He would¡¯ve sacrificed me just to fuel his own growth. I exhale hard, shaking my head. I want to believe it was his fault. That I had no choice. But deep down? I knew better. The cold truth settles in. I made a choice. It wasn''t because of him. No matter how bad I wanted it be. Richard was no threat. I could have stopped him without killing him. That was obvious. But I still let Mischief take him. The realization doesn¡¯t make me flinch. Instead, the weight in my chest lightens¡ªjust a little. My father¡¯s voice echoes in my mind. "Did you do what you thought was right?" I hear it clearly. The same question he had asked me a hundred times growing up. And this time? I let out a slow, uneven breath. I think it was right. And in the same situation? I¡¯d do it again. I glance at the treeline. Mischief isn¡¯t back yet. I don¡¯t think he will be for a while. Fine by me. I wanted to be alone. Chapter 22 - Dungeon 3 For the next three days, I keep my mind occupied. Richard¡¯s death lingers at the edges of my thoughts, no matter how much I try to shove it away. Each morning, it¡¯s there. Each night, it waits. But as the days pass, the weight of it dulls¡ªfading bit by bit like an old wound. Mischief and I dedicate nearly every waking hour to scouring the mountains for the final dungeon. The terrain is breathtaking, a vast expanse of jagged peaks and sun-dappled valleys, but the search itself is tedious. More than once, I catch myself scanning the horizon. It¡¯s been over a week since the induction and I have yet to see a single monster outside a dungeon. Eventually it¡¯s me that finds it. Annoyingly, it was right under my nose the whole time. Back at the mountain lake where I fought the wolf pack nearly a week ago. The realization is almost comical. Three days of monotonous travel, climbing cliffs, searching caves¡ªand the dungeon was right here? The place I¡¯d already been? I sigh. Figures. Still, I can¡¯t be mad. I needed the time. The distance. I rush back to camp, grab Mischief, and we return within the hour. The location of the entrance is directly behind the small waterfall. The only way inside is through the waterfall itself. I step forward, letting the cold rush of water crash over me as I push through. Stepping through the entrance, I expect the usual damp caverns and glowing mushrooms. Instead¡ªbright gleaming light. The walls are lined with softly glowing gems, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat. The light dances across the cavern floor, refracting off crystals embedded deep within the rock. Beautiful. Then, the notification appears. [You have entered the third and final dungeon. Defeat the lone faction leader to clear the dungeon.] Unlike the other two dungeons, there¡¯s no objective to clear out other monsters before fighting the faction leader. The systems lack of consistency doesn¡¯t sit right with me¡ªthen we reach the main cavern. Standing dead center, and unfortunately, proudly illuminated by the glowing crystals¡ª A fifteen-foot troll. Naked. Except for a rusty helmet. And very, very male. Oh. And he¡¯s carrying what, to him, is a shortsword¡ªbut to anyone else, would be a damn claymore. I glance at Mischief. Mischief shrugs, tail flicking in mild amusement. Once the troll spots us it doesn¡¯t wait. Mischief springs into action before I do, taking a flanking position. Leaving me to fight the troll¡ªand the other thing swinging in the breeze¡ªhead-on. I ignore the urge to face palm at my unfortunate pun and get moving. Despite its girth¨CHEIGHT¨CI mean despite its height. The troll moves faster than expected. It chooses to open by using one of its skills¨Csending an ethereal blade shooting from its claymore screaming towards me. The sheer force behind the swing whistles through the air, carving deep into the cavern floor.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. I sidestep, barely avoiding the strike. No point testing my Barrier against that. Mischief darts in. Claws rake deep into the troll¡¯s legs, slicing through skin, muscle and ligaments¡ªbut the beast doesn¡¯t fall. Instead, it bellows and swings wildly at Mischief who dodges effortlessly. I¡¯m about to celebrate the crippling blow and move in¨Cbut then¡ªthe gaping wounds begin visibly closing. Instant regeneration? Is it a passive trait or a spell? I guess it doesn¡¯t really matter if the results are the same. Outside of the troll¡¯s initial attack, it¡¯s obvious Mischief and I are in another league speed-wise. In spite of it launching attack after attack so long as we keep moving the troll poses little threat. With the troll''s attention on Mischief, I close in, slashing deep into the troll¡¯s back¡ªcutting through muscle, and bone. The attack severs the troll''s spine. Its legs give out and it heaves forward. I already know that won¡¯t be enough. It¡¯s healing too fast. The brute slams onto the floor sending dust flying. I don¡¯t wait for it to heal. I swing my sword in a clean arc¡ª The head separates. Silence. This whole fight felt so¡­anticlimactic. Everything so far did. It all reminded me of early fighting in a game that was simply meant to teach you the game mechanics and not pose a threat. I exhale slowly. Then, the notification appears. [System Notification] You have killed [Level 15 Troll]. Level up. [Dungeon Completion] Final Dungeon Cleared. Contribution Calculated¡­ Rewards Earned: ¨C 15 Universal Bronze Coins ¨C [Fundamentals of Sword Combat] (Skill Book) [Hidden Objective Complete!] Crystal Shard Dungeon has been upgraded from [Common] ¡ú [Uncommon] This is the second dungeon where the resources it held upgraded on a perfect run. I think back to the dire apes. If we would¡¯ve cleared a perfect run did that mean the wood in the forest would be higher grade? Meaning what? Better crafting material? That sucked. Did that mean I missed out on potential value in my territory? Hopefully there would be more ways of upgrading resources moving forward. With a dejected shrug I open up my status and examine the skill book I earned. Same as usual without warning or would you like to¨Cthe moment I see the book, something shifts in my mind. Stances. Footwork. Angles of attack. The knowledge doesn¡¯t feel learned¡ªit feels remembered. I breathe out slowly. I¡¯m not a master. But I understand. [You have read and comprehended book: Fundamentals of Sword Combat.] I¡¯ll still need drills, training, experience. But I just leveled up my brain. Before I can fully process it, another system prompt appears. [You have completed the first stage of owning your first territory. Stage 2 has commenced. Stage 2: Your territory will now be tested by raids. Defeating three raids from competing factions will solidify your claim. First raid will begin in seven days. Rewards will be granted upon completion of Stage 2.] I stare at the notification. So this is what Richard was referring to. Three raids. Survive them, and the land is yours. But fail? Lose it all. Richard had this exact same objective. He had a team, a fortified camp, a stronghold with a real chance of winning. So why the hell did he run? Strange. Also, was I the only one getting this objective? ¡°Hey, Mischief, are you getting any objectives about raids attacking the territory?¡± He shakes his head. ¡°Well, that¡¯s what it says.¡± I sigh. ¡°I guess we just go back to camp and wait for the fight to come to us?¡± Convenient. No more scouring the entire mountain trying to find the elusive dungeons. Seven days. That¡¯s an eternity. What the hell am I supposed to do for a week? Build walls? Train? Sit on my ass? I exhale through my nose. There¡¯s gotta be something useful I can do until then. Mischief doesn¡¯t respond. Instead, he nudges the troll¡¯s corpse. Right. Loot it. I glance at the body, remembering something from earlier in the week. I¡¯d forgotten to loot the Chaos Spawn Champion. Ever since I told Mischief, he¡¯s made it his personal mission to remind me. I sigh, crouching down and looting the body. The troll drops a meager 5 bronze coins and its dented helmet. Mischief takes everything and we leave the cave. Chapter 23 - Jared, meet Layton Back at camp, the waiting begins. There¡¯s nothing to do but kill time until the raid. I plan to do more scouting to see if I can find any monsters lurking around. I wasn¡¯t convinced every threat was confined to dungeons just yet. For now, I start practicing the new sword forms in the clearing while Mischief lounges in the sun. Even with all the knowledge burned into my mind, my sword forms are clumsy and awkward. But the slow, deliberate movements are grounding, and before I know it, time melts away. It¡¯s not until I see Mischief flick his ears and stand that I finally stop. Pulled from my forms, I roll my shoulders and take a look around. Has it been seven days already? That would be nice. But no, the raid isn¡¯t starting¡ªit¡¯s something else. In the trees across the clearing, a group of six people moves cautiously through my territory. All but one are armed. One, who looks no older than seventeen, has a large two-handed axe strapped to his back. My instincts tighten. The memory of my last ¡®guest¡¯ has been on a loop in my head for three days. "Mischief, I don¡¯t think they¡¯ve seen you. Let¡¯s hope this goes better than last time. For now, stay out of sight. Ok?" Mischief slinks off, vanishing like a shadow. His ability to disappear is terrifying. The group continues across the clearing, and I walk out to meet them. The unarmed man raises his hands, signaling no harm. We close the distance, stopping at a comfortable range to speak. My heart is pounding but I try to stay calm. I force a smile, ignoring the sweat on my palms. "Hello, travelers. What brings you to my humble camp?" The second it¡¯s out, I cringe. Hello, travelers? Really? The older man, probably in his forties, waves back. ¡°Hi there, my name is Jared. We ran into some trouble on the way here.¡± He nods toward the campground. ¡°Saw smoke and figured it was worth checking out.¡± I force myself to breathe evenly."Trouble?" My eyes flick over them, scanning for injuries. "What kind?" Jared exhales, rubbing his neck. His shoulders sag. "It¡¯s a bit of a story. I¡¯m happy to share, of course, but maybe we wait for the rest of your party? Save me telling it twice." Wait. Had they seen Mischief? "When we entered your territory, I got a notification¡ªthis land is already claimed, and stage two has started. We''ve already faced a raid. If your group hasn¡¯t yet, we¡¯d be happy to share what we know." I let out a breath, so they hadn¡¯t seen him yet. ¡°Well, I appreciate that, but I¡¯m not really too worried about it. As for my party, it¡¯s just me and my friend, but he¡¯s out right now.¡± "Just you and your friend?" Jared frowns, eyes narrowing. "How did you clear all the dungeons?¡± I shrug. ¡°Finding them was a pain, but they weren¡¯t so bad. We even nailed a couple of perfect scores. Should¡¯ve gotten all three, but I kind of bungled the last one. How about you guys?¡± Jared¡¯s frown deepens. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but you¡¯re saying that you cleared all three dungeons and the trial dungeon with just you and your friend?¡± I nod. ¡°Yeah, but like I said, it took a while to find them.¡± Jared hesitates. ¡°And¡­ a perfect score?¡± ¡°If you clear a dungeon without taking damage, you get an extra reward. We managed two out of three. Should¡¯ve been all three, but I forgot to cast Barrier.¡± Jared¡¯s lips part, like he wants to say something, but he doesn¡¯t. Instead, his eyes flick to his group. What is he feeling? Unease, suspicion, awe? I can¡¯t tell. I hope it¡¯s awe. ¡°What did you say your name was?¡± ¡°Oh right, sorry. My name is Layton.¡± Jared nods, though his expression remains unreadable. ¡°We have a member of our party who mentioned being able to choose a barrier spell. Her name is Elise¡ªshe¡¯s a healer. Would I be right to assume that¡¯s your class as well?¡± ¡°That I am,¡± I say unashamed. Jared exhales slowly, rubbing his jaw. His gaze flickers over me, then back to his group. ¡°Would you mind if we talked in private for a moment?¡± I raise an eyebrow. Then just shrug. ¡°Yeah of course.¡± Instead of standing hands in my pocket, I walk back to my fire. With my enhanced senses, I could probably listen in if I wanted to. I decide against it. Privacy is important. After a few minutes of discussion, Jared approaches me again, and I stand. ¡°Layton, would you briefly allow me to explain how we came to be in our predicament?¡± Jared asks. I just nod, and he explains how his group was formed, how they cleared their dungeons, and how they were led by a strong and capable fighter¡ªMatt¡ªwho was later murdered by my old friend Richard. ¡°What you see out there¡ªthat¡¯s all we have left. The rest are craftsmen. We had no choice but to abandon our territory.¡± He exhales, shaking his head. ¡°The raids aren¡¯t a joke. We barely made it through¡ªonly because of Matt.¡± His voice tightens. ¡°Even Richard was a capable fighter, and we still lost everything. We¡¯re running low on food. Nowhere to go.¡± Jared meets my gaze. ¡°Your friend seems strong. He must be if you handled your dungeons with just the two of you. If we work together, we might have a shot. What do you say?¡± I nod, absorbing his story. If anything, it just reassures me that letting Richard die was the right choice. But if I¡¯m honest¡­ I hadn¡¯t known just how bad he was. That¡¯s the part that lingers¡ªthe fact that I made a call before I had all the answers. And yet? I still don¡¯t regret it. Maybe that¡¯s something I should think about. Just¡­ not right now. I exhale. ¡°Jared, I appreciate you telling me all this. And I¡¯m sorry for what your people have gone through.¡± I pause before adding, ¡°First thing you should know¡ªRichard won¡¯t be a problem anymore.¡± Jared frowns. ¡°My friend took care of him. Four days ago, Richard tried to kill him. Then he came after me. It was self-defense.¡± I don¡¯t look away. ¡°I have no regrets.¡± A beat of silence. ¡°Matt seemed like an impressive man. I¡¯m sorry.¡± Jared exhales sharply, running a hand over his face. ¡°Richard¡¯s dead.¡± It¡¯s not a question. More like he¡¯s confirming it for himself. His gaze drops, jaw tightening. I can¡¯t tell if he¡¯s relieved or just exhausted. Probably both. I let the truth sync in. While Jared is processing I look to his people. They seem competent. Capable, even. But this is my fight. If they hadn¡¯t arrived it would¡¯ve been just Mischief and myself. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. I shake my head. ¡°As far as the raid? Thank you, but no. I¡¯d like to handle that on my own.¡± Jared is at a loss for words. ¡°Layton, I¡¯m certain if we combine strength, we have a great shot, especially with two healers! We have nowhere else to go¡ªI promise we won¡¯t be a burden.¡± ¡°Wait, hold on. You don¡¯t have to leave,¡± I say, waving a hand. ¡°It¡¯s just that I want to try my hand at the raid with my friend first.¡± Jared shakes his head. ¡°Layton, you don¡¯t understand what you are dealing with. Even with Matt, Richard and seven days to build up defenses we barely pulled through.¡± I shrug. ¡°I get why you¡¯re worried. But I think it will be ok.¡± Jared opens his mouth like he wants to argue but stops himself. He exhales sharply, clearly frustrated. I wave a hand. ¡°Look, if you¡¯re going to stay, you should probably meet my friend first.¡± Jared still looks tense. I get it¡ªI¡¯m not exactly rolling out the red carpet here. He crosses his arms, thinking it over. ¡°I suppose that would help put my mind at ease.¡± I smirk. Yeah, I doubt that. ¡°Just don¡¯t freak out, and know that he understands what you say but can¡¯t speak back. Do I have your word that you¡¯ll stay calm?¡± Jared looks confused. ¡°Is he dangerous?¡± ¡°Oh yeah, definitely. But he won¡¯t hurt you. You have my word.¡± Jared takes a deep breath, then nods. ¡°Okay, Mischief, you heard the man, but don¡¯t be creepy or anything. These people seem better than that last dick.¡± Mischief stalks out of the trees. He¡¯s a true unit now, pushing 300 lbs. Jared stumbles backward, tripping over a rock and landing on his ass. ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry¡ªhe isn¡¯t going to hurt you. Right, Mischief?¡± Mischief shrugs and gives a slow nod of his massive head. ¡°Your friend is a giant cougar?!¡± Jared stammers. ¡°His name is Mischief, and I can honestly say I would have died without his help.¡± I pat his back. ¡°I trust Mischief with my life. If you can get on board with that and are okay with us fighting the raid, then you¡¯re welcome to stay.¡± Jared hesitates, looking back at his group. After a moment, he nods. ¡°I¡¯ll need to talk with my team before I can give you an answer. Is that okay?¡± ¡°Of course.¡± Jared jogs back to his people. I glance at Mischief. ¡°What do you think? Do you trust this group?¡± Mischief gives a lazy shrug. ¡°Yeah, I like Jared a whole lot more than Richard. Still, no one can hold a candle to you, big guy.¡± I pat Mischief¡¯s head, and he snorts before walking off to lie down. Nearly an hour later, Jared returns. ¡°We¡¯re grateful you¡¯re willing to let us stay, and we¡¯d like to accept your offer. Under one condition: we want to prepare a contingency plan in case you can¡¯t repel the raid. We¡¯d like to be ready with defenses.¡± ¡°That¡¯s fair enough,¡± I say, reaching out my hand. Jared clasps my hand. It¡¯s a firm grip, steady. But I can still see it¡ªdoubt. He doesn¡¯t fully trust me. And honestly? I¡¯d be worried if he did.

-

Jared walked back to his group, mind racing. Was this the right choice? There was no doubt in his mind¡ªLayton had only survived this long because of that monster. That mountain lion, that unnatural beast, could wipe out his entire group alone if it wanted. How Layton had managed to tame it, Jared had no idea. Maybe it had something to do with his healing? If they survived this raid, he¡¯d press for more answers. But the beast wasn¡¯t what confused him the most. Layton was. He was utterly unremarkable¡ªjust a guy in a torn leather jacket, battered pants, and a casual attitude that didn¡¯t match the reality of this world. Maybe six feet tall, athletic but not exactly intimidating. And yet¡­ Layton shouldn¡¯t be alive. Not without a team. Not with a healer¡¯s class. He should have died in the first raid, like so many others. And yet here he was¡ªunscathed, unbothered, acting like this world hadn¡¯t chewed up and spit out everyone else. Jared had seen survivors before. They were hardened, haunted. But Layton? He was casual. And that was what scared him the most. For the thousandth time Jared wished Matt was still alive. ¡°What did he say?¡± Alex asked as Jared got within earshot. ¡°He agreed to our conditions. That means we have work to do.¡± Jared¡¯s voice was firm. ¡°I want three towers and a safety bunker built. If things go south, we need a fallback plan. We can¡¯t afford any more losses.¡± He turned to Alex. ¡°Gather the others. We¡¯ve got just over six days to prepare.¡± ¡°Deja Vu.¡± Alex huffed. But the group snapped into motion. Elise glanced at the clearing, voice hesitant. ¡°They¡¯re seriously going to do this? Just the two of them?¡± She shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t get it. Are they crazy?¡± Jared exhaled. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he admitted. ¡°The boy¡¯s a healer like you. That doesn¡¯t inspire much confidence.¡± His gaze drifted back to the clearing where Layton casually practiced his sword forms while the lion lounged in the sun. Jared clenched his jaw. ¡°But that thing? That mountain lion? It¡¯s a monster. I have no doubt it could kill all of us if it wanted.¡± Elise swallowed hard. Jared shook his head, turning back to the fortifications. ¡°Either way, we¡¯ll be ready.¡± - For six days, Jared, and his people work non-stop. Felling trees. Erecting spike fences. Building a crude palisade. Everything to prepare for the raid. They had done this all before. And while they all worked? Layton did nothing but train. Mischief barely acknowledged their efforts. Jared gritted his teeth, watching Layton move through his sword drills like the world wasn¡¯t about to collapse around him. Was he really this naive? His survival instincts screamed at him to confront Layton¡ªto demand he take this seriously. On more than one occasion nearly did. He had to keep reminding himself it wasn¡¯t his place. They would learn the hard way. If things went south they would intervene. The day of the raid arrived. The fortifications weren¡¯t perfect, but Jared was proud of them. They¡¯d done everything they could. Unlike his new allies. Then, the air shimmered. Jared¡¯s stomach dropped. ¡°It¡¯s here, get into your positions!¡± His archers climbed the towers, eyes locked on the clearing. Then, it came. A rift in space, crackling with energy. Bigger than the one that had hit his own camp. Much bigger. And then¡ªthey poured out. Jared¡¯s breath hitched. A hundred of them. Towering, green-skinned brutes, built like living siege weapons. Weapons of bone and rusted steel. Savage. Primitive. Brutal. Compared to the unassuming young man these monsters were giants. Jareds nails dug into the wood on the tower he watched from. ¡°If they go down, we move in. We can¡¯t afford to lose this land.¡± Jareds annoyance boiled as he looked down at the child and his cat. He will run, he knows better than to face these odds. But then¡ªLayton stepped towards the monsters¡­and waved? Layton was shouting something. Jared couldn¡¯t make the words out from his tower. Layton was waving his arms in some kind of mocking gestures. Jared blinked. ¡°What the hell is he¡ª?¡± The biggest of the raiders stepped forward, roaring in response. Layton glanced at Mischief. The massive feline shook its head. And then¡ªLayton¡¯s shoulders dropped. The grin faded. His fingers tightened around the sword. Jared felt the air shift. The hairs on his neck stood. Layton vanished. One second, he was standing still. The next¡ªthe world exploded. A shockwave ripped through the battlefield, dust and debris spiraling outward. The first rank of raiders never even got the chance to react. Layton¡¯s sword cut through the orcs in a single, devastating arc¡ªFifteen bodies collapsed, bisected. Jared froze. Breath catching. What the hell was he watching? Layton was a blur swiping cleaving, moving through the orcs like a storm. The battle should¡¯ve started¡ªinstead, it was already over. Layton and Mischief carved through the horde like reapers. A flurry of motion. A dance of slaughter. Layton moved too fast. Each swing precision and brutality. The orcs never even had a chance. One of the ranged raiders fired an arrow¡ªa perfect shot. Jared flinched. Layton wasn¡¯t even looking¡ªIt didn¡¯t hit. Didn¡¯t deflect. It just stopped. He gripped the edge of his tower. This isn¡¯t possible. His own people fought tooth and nail for survival. Even Matt had struggled. Matt. Matt, who they¡¯d believed was their best hope. Matt, who they¡¯d thought no one could replace. But this wasn¡¯t hope. This was certainty. Layton wasn¡¯t a healer. He wasn¡¯t just strong. He was something else entirely. He was a damn monster. Jared¡¯s hands trembled as he watched Layton rip through the final orc, standing untouched amid the carnage. The unassuming boy was gone. It was in this moment, where the world stood still, he knew. Jared was staring at a giant. Wherever Layton went¡ªJared would follow. Chapter 24 - Jared meet Layton part 2 Layton swung his sword, taking the head off the last raider. [Congratulations! You have defeated the first of three raids. The next raid will commence in one week.] [Level up! Layton has allocated his +5 bonus points to Agility. Bonus stats assigned to Agility and Intelligence.] [Hidden Objective Complete: No one in your party took any damage. Reward ¨C 500 universal bronze coins.] ¡°Well, what did you think of that?¡± Layton turned and asked Mischief once the fight was over. ¡°Personally, I felt like that was easier than the final dungeon. I don¡¯t even think I needed my barrier. What about you?¡± Mischief just gives another shrug. Layton starts looting the corpses, but pauses as Jared approaches, followed by the teenager with the large axe. Alex is the first to speak. ¡°That was the coolest thing I have ever seen in my entire life!¡± He barely takes a breath between words before Jared rests a hand on his shoulder and pulls him back. Jared exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face. His expression is unreadable¡ªshock, disbelief, maybe something else. ¡°Alex, do you realize what just happened?¡± His voice is quiet. Alex blinks. ¡°Uh, yeah. Layton just wiped out a hundred of those things in like a minute! That was insane!¡± ¡°No,¡± Jared says, his tone hardening. He gestures to the massacre around them. ¡°Layton, you told me you were a healer.¡± He levels a stare at me. ¡°I¡ªjust¡ªwhat the hell was that?¡± He kicks the bloody body of one of the massive orcs ¡°This is NOT the work of a healer. Not even close.¡± Jared¡¯s obvious anger floors me. My mouth starts working but I¡¯m at a loss of words. Thankfully Alex comes to my rescue. ¡°Whoa, Jared hold on. Take it easy.¡± Jared turns to Alex eyes burning. ¡°Take it easy? Seriously? Alex don¡¯t you get it?¡± He waves a hand at me. ¡°Layton, without any help from his monster of a friend could kill you and me and every single one of us without breaking a sweat. And he¡¯s already lied about what his chosen class is!¡± The words hit me like a hammer. I step forward ¡°I am not lying to you, my class is healer!¡± Jared moves to stand in front of Alex placing his arm in front of him. ¡°Layton, I need some answers. How are you so strong? What am I supposed to think?¡± ¡°Jared maybe we¨C¡± Jared cuts Alex off ¡°No. Here is everything we know about you. One¡± He holds up a finger. ¡°You¡¯ve told me that you killed Richard. You claim it was self defense, knowing Richard maybe that¡¯s true maybe it¡¯s not. But clearly you are ok killing more than just monsters.¡± He raises another finger. ¡°¡°Two. You¡¯re more dangerous than anyone I¡¯ve ever seen.¡± The third finger raises. ¡°Finally and maybe most importantly. We know you are willing to lie to get what you want.¡± And there it is. I raise my hand ready to give Jared a piece of my mind. But stop. I ball my fist and turn with a soft grunt. ¡°Jared, what exactly is it that you think I want? It¡¯s not like I asked for any of you to come here. I was just minding my own business before you all showed up.¡± Is this Richard all over again? First, it was him. Now it¡¯s Jared. Is everyone just going to see me as a threat? A challenge? A problem to solve? I thought this was going to be like my games. Fight, level up, get stronger. It started that way. But every time I meet someone new, they make it complicated. I exhale sharply. What the hell do they want from me? But then I really look at Jared. He¡¯s standing between Alex and myself offering his body as a shield. It almost makes me laugh. Alex is a good three inches taller built like a wall and carrying a menacing battle axe. Yet it''s Jared, unarmed and no combat stats who¡¯s trying to protect Alex¨C from ME¨Ceven after what he just saw. I start to consider Jared for the first time. I¡¯m a stranger that he just met. A stranger who already admitted to taking part in the killing of another member of his group. To add insult to injury he expected a healer class from me and I look like anything but that. So he thinks I¡¯m lying and dangerous. Even after all that, he still faced me and told me his concerns right to my face. I unclench my fists and exhale. ¡°Fine. You want proof?¡± Jared tenses. Alex grips his axe. Moving deliberately, I draw my sword¡ªnot fast, not aggressive. Jared still stiffens.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. I press the blade against my wrist and drag it across my skin. A sharp sting. Blood wells up. I extend my arm, making sure they both see the wound. Then, without a word, I cast Weak Heal. Alex shifts uncomfortably. ¡°Jared, come on. He just healed himself. That¡¯s gotta count for something, right?¡± Jared lets out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. His eyes flick between me, the bodies, and my arm. He doesn¡¯t speak right away. He exhales again, slower this time. When he finally meets my eyes, there¡¯s still uncertainty there. But it¡¯s not fear anymore. ¡°So you really are a healer, huh?¡± ¡°Before everything started, I was just a college kid trying to get by. I spent more time in video games than the classroom. When everything changed I was here. Alone. I barely had time to process everything before Mischief here.¡± I point to the massive murder cat. ¡°Was already trying to eat me.¡± Mischief cocks his head and blinks innocently. Jared opens his mouth about to speak but I barrel forward. ¡°I get it. Man I really get it. Part of me wishes I had just gone and helped my dad fix sprinklers instead of being out here alone.¡± I shake my head. ¡°That¡¯s not how it happened though. It¡¯s just been the two of us from the start. I think I lost perspective¡­ I guess what I am trying to say is¡­I don¡¯t know.¡± I sigh in frustration. ¡°This isn¡¯t coming out how I want. I¡¯m not trying to scare you guys.¡± Jared doesn¡¯t move, not at first, but then his posture softens. ¡°I worked construction, building houses. Just me and my two brothers.¡± For the first time it feels like he is actually seeing ME. Just the 19 year old kid in converse. I look up and chuckle a little. ¡°Oh yeah? My dad made me frame houses in high school in the summer. It sucked.¡± Jareds defensive posture finally cracks, and he lets a grin slip. ¡°That¡¯s where it starts. You''re lucky the world ended or you¡¯d be a contractor in no time. Seeing it with my own eyes... a healer?¡± He says for the second time. I can visibly see the tension melting. ¡°Well¡­ there is a bit more to it but I¡¯m definitely a healer.¡± ¡°I believe you now. It¡¯s just¡­ you exhibit characteristics very different from Elise, the healer in our group. She hasn¡¯t actually fought, she just stands back as a support.¡± I tilt my head. ¡°Wait¡­ if she doesn¡¯t fight¡­ how is she gaining levels?¡± Jared looks surprised. ¡°She just uses her support magic. How did you think non-combat classes progressed?¡± I hesitate not wanting to sound foolish. ¡°Well to be fair I didn¡¯t even know they existed until I met you. I¡¯ve had to fight for everything since it¡¯s just been Mischief and me. I never considered myself a ¡®non-combat¡¯ class.¡± I pause. ¡°How does a non-combat class work, exactly?¡± ¡°Why don¡¯t I explain while we loot? Alex has the looting ability. You can trust him not to pocket anything.¡± Jared glances at Alex, who nods enthusiastically. I shrug. ¡°Sounds good. I¡¯d love to understand more about how non-combat classes work.¡± As we walk and loot, Mischief uses his dimensional storage to pack away the items. Jared continues explaining. ¡°The first thing you should know is that non-combat classes still have stats, but they aren¡¯t as pronounced as combat classes. Meaning, if you and I both have the same Strength stat, yours would be much stronger than mine¡ªmaybe as much as four times more effective. So even if we leveled at the same rate, you¡¯d rapidly outpace me in physical capability.¡± ¡°That seems unfair.¡± Especially since this new world seems so hell bent on throwing people into fights. ¡°We thought the same at first. Until we realized that our stats influence our crafts instead. My profession is woodworking. When I craft something, like a bow, my stats and skills directly impact its quality. If you think of the bow like a living thing, my Strength might improve its draw weight and durability. The higher my stats, the better the final product. I suspect that even if you built the same bow, your stats wouldn¡¯t contribute in the same way.¡± The info makes my head spin. ¡°So you¡¯re saying my stats make me a better healer and fighter, and yours make you better at your craft?¡± Jared scratches his head. ¡°That¡¯s the simple way to put it, yeah. It¡¯s a bit more involved, but the takeaway is that combat and non-combat roles need each other to survive. Just like any community, everyone plays a part. Which brings me to why I really wanted to talk to you.¡± I stop looting. ¡°Okay, what is it?¡± ¡°My outburst earlier. The raid, what you did¡­I didn¡¯t know how to react.¡± Jared stares at his feet. ¡°It¡¯s water under the bridge. We are all just trying to figure things out together.¡± I wait for Jared to look up then I meet his gaze. ¡°I don''t want to live in a world where people are constantly on guard and worried for their lives. And I really don¡¯t want to be the reason they feel that way.¡± Jared meets my stare and then looks back at his feet as if mulling something over. ¡°You¡¯ve been holding something back this whole time, Jared. Just say it.¡± Jared finally speaks, still looking at his feet. ¡°After how I acted¡­you''re just a kid. Layton, Matt and I had ideas of building something special.¡± he raised his eyes looking toward his makeshift defenses. Towards his little group. ¡°You know¨Cbefore Richard¨Cdid what he did. We wanted to create a safe haven. I thought that dream died when he did. Maybe it¡¯s not though?¡± ¡°Go on.¡± ¡°Most of our group are crafting classes or builders. We aren¡¯t fighters like you. I know I came on a bit strong. I¡¯m sorry. What if we stayed? Work together?¡± He shuffles uncomfortably as if he¡¯s embarrassed to even ask. ¡°I already told you that you can stay. I haven¡¯t changed my mind about that.¡± The bodies are nearly all looted. Jared casts his gaze over the sweeping grass of the clearing letting his fingers brush against the blades. ¡°Here''s the meat of it¨CLayton¨Cyour power scares me. So I can¡¯t help but feel selfish for asking this. But with your strength protecting us, I think we can build something special here.¡± I¡¯m reminded of my first day out of the trial. Looking up at the mountain imagining a thriving city. It¡¯s what I want also but his words are sobering. ¡°Thank you for being honest. I am not dangerous, and I think your vision aligns pretty well with my point of view. What exactly did you have in mind?¡± Jared fixes me with a sideways glance. ¡°For starters, we can build you an actual shelter,¡± ¡°But I already have a shelter. And it¡¯s pretty good.¡± Gesturing toward my camp. Jared laughs¡ªthen stops when he realizes I¡¯m being serious. ¡°Wait¡­ you¡¯re not joking?¡± ¡°What? It¡¯s got a roof and everything.¡± ¡°Right¡­ uh, why don¡¯t I put something together, and then you can decide if you still feel that way?¡± Jared offers. ¡°If you think you can do better, be my guest.¡± Jared barely contains another chuckle as he nods. ¡°Deal.¡± Chapter 25 - Vancouver? Later, Mischief and I sort through the loot from the raid. Since the trial not a single monster has dropped a shard of any kind. Instead, we collected their crude weapons, armor, and a surprising number of dimensional bags filled with bronze coins and worthless trinkets. It¡¯s hard not to be a little annoyed with all the dimensional bags. Why did I get one as a reward in the first dungeon if every single monster that raided our territory had one? Couldn¡¯t I have gotten something more exciting? I toss another dimensional bag into the growing pile and pick up another to inspect its contents. More of the same. A few bronze coins, some strange looking food that looks like bread but is bright orange. Nothing interesting. I¡¯m about to toss it when I notice the last item. I click on the item in my status screen. A small, oval locket¡ªworn iron, rough to the touch¡ªpops into my hand. The locket hangs on a worn twine band. At first glance, it looks ordinary.. I turn the locket over and inspect the back. There is a small clasp on the back that I touch lightly and the locket pops open. Huh? Inside the locket, words are etched into the iron, curling letters I don¡¯t recognize. On the other side, a small worn piece of leather with a picture stitched into it. The picture is identical to the green orc monsters I just fought, only the orc in this picture looks younger. My fist closes around the locket. Why would the orc have this? This entire time I have been treating every creature I encounter as NPC constructs that the system was throwing at me. If that was true¨Cwhat was this locket? ??I stare at the stitched image. It¡¯s too detailed to be random. Too¡­ personal. The threads aren¡¯t perfect¡ªwhoever made this, they weren¡¯t just following some system template. This was made with care. My mind wants to shove it aside, but the thought lingers. If they were just constructs¡ªif they were just enemies¡ªthen why would one of them carry this? I shake my head and stuff it into my pocket. Then pull out some deer meat out of my inventory and start cooking it over the fire. The fire crackles, pulling me from my thoughts. Footsteps crunch in the dirt¡ªAlex, the kid with the massive axe, is heading my way. He walks up to the fire, looking nervous, his eyes flicking toward something behind me. I glance back and see he¡¯s watching Mischief, who is lazily licking his paws. ¡°Oh, you don¡¯t have to worry about Mischief. He¡¯s harmless¡± Mischief huffs and flicks his tale. Alex hesitates, still watching him warily. ¡°Didn¡¯t you tell Jared that he tried to kill you when you first met?¡± I laugh at the memory. ¡°Yep. Nearly gave me a concussion. Hence the name Mischief. But it was just a misunderstanding.¡± Alex doesn¡¯t look fully convinced, but he finally inches closer. ¡°Alright then¡­¡± ¡°He¡¯s a good friend now, and I promise you¡¯re totally safe.¡± Finally, I see some of the tension ease from Alex¡¯s shoulders. ¡°What¡¯s up? You can take a seat.¡± I pat the ground next to me. After one last brief shifty glance at Mischief he takes my offer and sits next to me by the fire. ¡°Dude. Layton. That fight today? It was like something out of an anime¡ªyou were insane. So fast. It was hard to keep up with all your movements.¡± He hesitates. ¡°Do you mind if I ask your AG stat?¡± He¡¯s forgotten all about Mischief now, too busy geeking out. I smirk. ¡°Uhh, sure. Last I checked, my Agility was 95. It¡¯ll probably hit 100 soon¡ªIntelligence too, now that I think about it.¡± Alex¡¯s jaw practically hits the ground. ¡°95?! In two stats?! That¡¯s crazy! I¡¯ve literally put every single point into Strength, and I¡¯m only at 81!¡± ¡°That¡¯s still really high,¡± I point out. ¡°You should be proud. You¡¯re actually stronger than me. My Strength is only at 70, though I¡¯ve been focusing on it more lately.¡± Alex looks ready to faint. ¡°You¡¯re telling me you have over 90 in both Intelligence and Agility, but you still have 70 Strength?¡± He stares at me, wide-eyed. ¡°What level are you?¡± ¡°I just hit 18 in the last fight,¡± I say. ¡°I got lucky early on and picked up some nice titles that help balance my stats.¡± Alex watches me, then suddenly blurts, ¡°Wait¡ªhow tall were you before the induction?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± I blink. ¡°Uh¡­ six feet? Maybe six-one on a good day. Why?¡± He tilts his head. ¡°You haven¡¯t grown at all.¡± ¡°Why would I?¡± ¡°Because I have. I used to be 5¡¯8¡±, and now? I¡¯m taller than you. The more Strength I¡¯ve gained, the bigger I¡¯ve gotten. But you haven¡¯t changed at all?¡± Now that he mentions it, it does seem inconsistent. Mischief has definitely grown. But honestly? I don¡¯t really care. If anything, being unassuming adds to my charm. Still, it was weird. ¡°Weird,¡± I admit. ¡°But I¡¯m not too worried about it. Someone out there will figure it out eventually.¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°Totally,¡± Alex agrees, though he still looks thoughtful. After a moment, he shifts gears. ¡°Anyway, I was wondering¡­ do you think I could help with the next raid? I¡¯ll stay out of your way¡ªI just really want to level up and get stronger. Elise already agreed to heal me if things get serious. What do you think? You¡¯re probably barely getting any experience from them anymore anyway, and you¡¯ve already proven you can take them with just the two of you.¡± I listen to Alex¡¯s logic. It¡¯s hard to argue. He¡¯s right¡ªI really haven¡¯t been getting much XP from the fights lately. And would it be so bad to have more capable fighters in the group? I nod. ¡°Yeah, that makes sense. Honestly, you''re right I really haven¡¯t been getting much experience points lately.¡± Then an idea clicks into place. ¡°Actually, do you think the other fighters in your group would want in too? With two healers keeping the team safe, it should be pretty low risk. And if things go south, Mischief and I can step in.¡± Alex¡¯s eyes widen with excitement. ¡°I know they¡¯d be up for it! I¡¯ll go tell them!¡± He takes off at a sprint toward the others. As he runs off I dig my hand back into my pocket and rub my fingers over the locket. Still so much we don¡¯t know. For now though? We just need to focus on defending against the raids. - The time between raids feels like an eternity. Jared¡¯s group spends each day clearing and stacking trees. Alex is the designated tree chopper. With his strength and oversized axe, he makes easy work of the trees¡ªand he loves it. If you get too close, he¡¯ll start going off about how insane his stats are, how he downed a tree in one swing. ¡®Just call me Alex the Ax Man,¡¯ he says at least twice a day. ¡®Because I love Ax. Not sure what that means but it suits him. By nightfall, most of the group gives me space. There¡¯s still a bit of unease¡ªnot hostility, just people feeling out their place. Well at least most give me space. Alex is another story. He¡¯s younger than I am but we get along pretty well. But it¡¯s become a bit of a ritual¡ªhim joining Mischief and me by the fire each night. We just relax and talk about life before the induction. Alex is basically an open book. He has a casual way of talking about everything that makes him easy to like. One night, we¡¯re kicking back, relaxing. He asks about college, and I, in all my wisdom, bestow upon him my most valuable lessons¡ªmostly about college women. Naturally, I embellish my victories. As we talk, laughter drifts from the other campfires¡ªmuffled voices, the sound of someone telling a story. I glance over at Alex. Now that I think about it¡­ I¡¯ve never really seen him with that group. Maybe in passing, but he mostly works all day and hangs out with me at night. ¡°Hey, Alex¡ªhow come you never spend time with the others? Don¡¯t you have someone you came here with?¡± Alex rolls onto his elbow and looks up at me. ¡°Yeah¡­ I haven¡¯t really talked about it. Everyone else was already together at the campground, so I just sort of played along.¡± Alex confesses, then leans back against the dirt and rocks by the fire. ¡°Wait¡ªyou weren¡¯t at the campground during the induction? Like, at all?¡± I stare at him, stunned. What does that even mean? I always figured the induction just picked you up, told you some stuff, gave you a class, and dropped you back down. But if Alex¡¯s experience was different¡­ My change in demeanor makes him pause a bit. ¡°Uh, no¡­ not even close. I was in my dad¡¯s basement playing Apex Legends. Next thing I know¡ªPOOF. Tutorial starts, and suddenly I¡¯m in a random campground with a bunch of strangers.¡± My mouth falls open. I have to physically shake myself back to reality before I respond. ¡°How have you gone this long without telling someone about this?¡± I raise my hands exasperated. ¡°Where was your dad¡¯s house? Before the induction, I mean.¡± To his credit Alex seems genuinely confused by my outburst. ¡°I mean, everyone kept talking about the campground, so I just sorta figured that¡¯s where they started. No one mentioned anywhere else, so I just didn¡¯t bring it up.¡± I pinch the bridge of my nose. ¡°And your dads house?¡± ¡°Why do you care about that prick?¡± He asks defensively. I exhale sharply. The system was supposed to be picking people up from the same place. It was supposed to be consistent. But Alex? He wasn¡¯t even close to the others. That meant¡ª My stomach tightens. How many others aren¡¯t where they¡¯re supposed to be? ¡°Alex where is your dads house?¡± Alex frowns. ¡°Dude, why are you freaking out?¡± I stare at him. He shifts uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°My dad¡¯s house?¡± He exhales. ¡°It¡¯s in Vancouver, man. Geez.¡± He forces a chuckle, but it feels off. ¡°I don¡¯t see what the big deal is. Not like I care.¡± He shrugs. ¡°If anything, I¡¯m glad to be out here¡ªaway from that asshole.¡± The information hits me like a truck. I had based the rules of the system on my own experience so far. But this was new information. My whole understanding of the system just cracked. I laugh at my own thoughts. What did I really understand anyway? ¡°Alright Alex get up, come on.¡± I stand and offer him my hand. He eyes my hand suspiciously. ¡°No¡­¡± ¡°No?¡± ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re acting weird man I don¡¯t wanna.¡± I shake my hand in his face. ¡°Just come on man. I want to check something out. You''re not in trouble or anything.¡± He stares at my hand a bit more before letting me pull him to his feet. ¡°I still don¡¯t understand what the big deal is.¡± He huffs. I grab Alex¡¯s arm and haul him toward the group. A few heads turn. Jared looks up from where he¡¯s sitting, mid-conversation, frowning as I wave him over. Alex pulls his arm free, scowling, glancing around, suddenly aware that people are watching. ¡°Dude, seriously, what¡¯s the big deal?¡± Ignoring Alex¡¯s complaints, I turn to Jared instead. ¡°Hey Jared. Sorry to barge in on you.¡± I glance at the group I interrupted, they are speaking in whispers not hiding their attempt at covert glances our way. ¡°It¡¯s not a problem.¡± He eyes Alex. ¡°Is there something I can help you with?¡± I scratch my head not really sure how to broach the topic so in very Layton like fashion I just dive in. ¡°Did you know Alex was from Vancouver?¡± He blinks and shifts his weight like he misheard before responding. ¡°I mean, I didn¡¯t really ask where everyone came from, but¡ªwhy?¡± I shake my head. ¡°No, Jared. You don¡¯t get it.¡± I glance at Alex, then back at him. ¡°Alex wasn¡¯t at the campground when this started. He was in Vancouver. And after the tutorial, he got dropped with you guys.¡± I let that sink in. Jared stares at Alex. Then at me. Then at Alex again. I can tell he is processing so I keep going. ¡°Alex didn¡¯t bring it up because he just assumed everyone else was from the campground. As far as you know, was everyone else from your group ALREADY at the campground pre-induction?¡± He still doesn¡¯t answer right away looking back at his group. ¡°Layton¡­ that is a great question.¡± He runs his hands through his hair. Then without another word he walks back to the group, who at this point is already all watching our conversation. ¡°Hey Everyone. Can I get your attention real quick?¡± a hush falls over the group as all eyes move to Jared. ¡°By a show of hands, is there anyone here that was not actually in the campground when the induction happened?¡± To my left Alex¡¯s hand shoots up. Alright then¨CI guess he has made his peace with it now. The Group shares glances nobody moves. Then¨Cslowly a hand raises, it¡¯s the healer Elise. Seconds later another, it''s one of the archers, Nick I think. Jared looks over the group no more hands raise. ¡°Well. That is interesting.¡± Chapter 26 - A minute later Jared, Alex, Nick, Elise and Myself are all gathered around my little fire with Mischief dozing in the background. We all kind of just wait for someone to start the conversation. Finally Jared speaks. Jared finally breaks the silence. ¡°Okay. This is¡­ strange.¡± He glances at Elise, then Nick. ¡°This isn¡¯t just random. There¡¯s gotta be a reason.¡± Alex shrugs. ¡°Man, I don¡¯t see the issue. So we weren¡¯t dropped in the same spot¡ªbig deal.¡± He kicks at the dirt. ¡°Honestly? Sounds like a win. My dad sucked.¡± ¡°Yeah, Alex. We get it. Your dad¡¯s an asshole.¡± I lean forward, lowering my voice. ¡°But that¡¯s not the point.¡± The fire crackles. Nobody speaks. I let the silence drag, then finally say, ¡°The point is¡ªwhy?¡± "Why is my dad an asshole? I blame the alcohol and the fact he can''t get a girl." ¡°No Alex." I say, palming my face, holding back a smirk. "Why were you three moved when nobody else was?¡± Nick raises his hand before speaking. ¡°Uhh¡­well, I mean if it helps, both my parents are also terrible.¡± ¡°So, dysfunctional parents are the common thread, huh? That¡¯d be a weird sorting system.¡± I add. ¡°Huh¡­ That¡¯s a weird pattern. Would the system even track something like that?¡± Jared rubs his forehead thoughtfully. Elise shifts where she¡¯s sitting, frowning slightly. ¡°Well that wouldn¡¯t explain why I¡¯m here though.¡± ¡°I guess you got along with your parents then Elise?¡± Jared asked thoughtfully. Her mouth worked a little as if she had to work the words out. ¡°No, that¡¯s not it¡­ I mean, I never really had parents.¡± She glances at the flames, her voice quieter now. ¡°I¡¯m an orphan. My parents died when I was really young. I don''t even remember them. I was in a foster home when it happened.¡± The group sits with that for a moment. Jared exhales through his nose. ¡°Damn¡­ I didn¡¯t know.¡± She gives a half-smile and shrugs. ¡°Yeah, well¡­ the ¡®bad parent¡¯ theory was pretty flimsy anyway.¡± I lean forward, resting my chin on my fists. ¡°Why were you three moved when nobody else was?¡± I glance between them, searching their faces. Elise looked a little older than Alex¡ªprobably still in her teens. Pale skin and long brown hair tied back in a ponytail. She wore baggy cargo pants and a hoodie, but it didn¡¯t hide her slim frame. Her green eyes flicked to the fire, thoughtful and distant. Nick is probably my age and shaves his red hair in a buzz cut. He¡¯s a bit past lean, like a teenager that just hit his growth spurt. ¡°It¡¯s probably just random. I mean, what if there is a reason anyway? What does that change?¡± ¡°Well for starters Alex, we don¡¯t know how long we will be disconnected from the rest of the world.¡± Jared scratches his chin. ¡°If we can learn more about how the system thinks it can help us locate our families, friends and loved ones.¡± A heavy silence follows. Elise¡¯s eyes drop to the fire, her fingers curling tighter around her knees. Alex shifts uncomfortably. Even Nick looks away, his expression shadowed.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Alex stares at his feet. ¡°Yeah that makes sense. I¡¯m not trying to be a dick or anything. I guess I can¡¯t really relate. I¡¯m fine if I never make it back to my dad.¡± Nick snorts, a crooked grin breaking through. ¡°I can second that. Hell, I¡¯ll put it in writing.¡± Alex¡¯s mouth twitches, his first hint of a smile all night. ¡°What about you Elise? Is there anyone you are trying to get back to?¡± An idea slowly forming. She shrugs arms still hugging her knees. ¡°I just turned 18, so I was about to be free of foster care. So yeah not really.¡± ¡°What are you thinking Layton?¡± Jared¡¯s eyes narrow, clearly noticing the gears turning in my head. I hesitate, piecing it together. ¡°I don¡¯t know. What if it¡¯s just that simple?¡± I glance over at the other group of campers. ¡°Nick, Elise and Alex all chose combat oriented classes. Maybe the system just wanted to balance out your group and chose people who wouldn¡¯t mind being moved?¡± ¡°Maybe¡­but then again how would it know if these three felt that way about their current situation?¡± Jared had a point. Still something about it seemed right. I felt like I was on the right track but without all the pieces. ¡°Let¡¯s keep this on our radar. If we can figure out how the system thinks¡ªeven just a little¡ªit could give us an edge. Maybe even help us predict what¡¯s coming next.¡± We tossed around theories¡ªsome serious, others so ridiculous they earned outright laughter. Nick suggested we were chosen by a cosmic game of spin-the-bottle, and even Elise cracked a smile. As the firelight danced around us, the tension eased, and we drifted to lighter topics. Embarrassing high school stories, terrible cafeteria food, celebrity crushes. For the first time since this madness began, it almost felt¡­ normal. Eventually, we¡¯d find more answers. Whether they¡¯d make things clearer or just raise more questions¡ªI didn¡¯t know. But tonight, under the stars with laughter still echoing in the air, it felt okay to leave it a mystery. - The next morning I woke up in high spirits. The last had gone a long way in relieving some of the tension with Jared. Nick, Alex and Elise and I stayed up most the night talking and joking. Eventually we just fell asleep around the fire. The sky¡¯s just beginning to lighten, a pale blue bleeding into the night¡¯s darkness. The mountain¡¯s silhouette looms, untouched by sunlight. I stretch, muscles protesting from a night on the hard ground, and breathe in the crisp morning air, tinged with the faint scent of smoke from last night¡¯s fire. I have no real goals for the day besides continuing my sword forms. With the knowledge bestowed upon my mind I¡¯ve made what I consider to be incredible progress. My stance feels more natural and the movements less choppy. My spirit sword is leaning against a log next to where I passed last night. Even the scabbard is impressive, sleek and dark. I pick it up and soak it in for like the thousandth time. I cock my head as a thought dawns on me. I realize it¡¯s been a while since I checked on my sword¡¯s progress. With everything that¡¯s happened, I almost forgot it grows with me. If it¡¯s absorbing ambient mana, then maybe it¡¯s evolving alongside my skills¡­ Curious, I pull up my status and inspect my sword. [Spirit sword level 18: Spirit weapons absorb ambient mana and grow with the owner, inheriting traits from skills and titles. This spirit sword has gained traits that enhance the quality of summoned barriers. Spells casted by the user will consume less mana while also creating more powerful shields. Scales with both wisdom and Intelligence stats of the user.] [Would you like to name your spirit weapon?] I blink at the screen. Name it? When I first earned the sword, held it for the first time, it felt like greeting a long lost friend. I had just completed the wave trial, surviving a fight that challenged me. I still remember the feelings I had Facing the Chaos Spawn Champion. Fear. Not just a slight discomfort. In the moment before the fight the fear threatened to drag me into inaction. I had faced my fear and with the help of Mischief we survived. But then¡ªthe system gifted me my spirit weapon. From that moment on, the fear was... different. Manageable. The fear that once froze me now feels distant, like an echo from another life. I draw the sword from its sleek black sheath, the light blue metallic blade gleaming softly in the early light. It feels familiar, like an extension of my own arm. With this weapon, I¡¯ve faced Goblins, Trolls, Dire Apes, and Orcs. Sure, there were nerves before each fight. But the moment my fingers wrapped around this hilt, they melted away¡ªreplaced by a calm, steady focus. And now? As it grows, its natural qualities continue to provide safety in the chaos of a battle. A constant friend whispering peace. The name came to me naturally. Like I had known it was the name from the start. I close my eyes, letting the name settle. As the word forms on my lips, the morning air feels cooler, crisper. The sword hums softly, almost like a sigh of relief. [You have named your Spirit Sword: Tranquility.] The notification vanishes, but the feeling lingers. A calmness. A clarity. As if the sword were always meant to be called this. Chapter 27 - Product testing The sun peeks over the eastern mountains, fiery light gilding the clouds. The morning air is crisp, but the cold barely registers as my stats continue to grow. Dew-drenched grass glitters in the clearing, catching the early light. It feels like the world is waking up, shaking off the night¡¯s chill. At some point while naming Tranquility, I pulled the sword free from its scabbard. Its blade rests peacefully in my outstretched hands, light blue metal gleaming softly. The hilt feels warm against my palm, familiar. Comforting. A calmness settles over me, matching the serenity of the morning. Holding Tranquility, I feel... grounded. Like the fears of battle can¡¯t reach me as long as I have this blade. The air is crisp, cool against my face. I breathe it in, letting it clear my mind. ¡°Are you about to make out with your sword? Should I give you two some privacy?¡± I jolt, nearly dropping Tranquility before awkwardly hiding it behind my back. My face heats up. ¡°Not anymore, thanks to you.¡± ¡°Well then I¡¯m glad Alex stopped you when he did.¡± Elise groans, rubbing the bleariness from her eyes. I sigh, sheathing Tranquility, my fingers lingering on the hilt before I rest it against the stump I use as my seat. ¡°Well I guess now that my romantic morning is ruined, is anyone up for a healthy deer meat breakfast?¡± Nick groans and rolls to a sitting position. ¡°We really need to diversify our diet. Isn¡¯t there like berry¡¯s or something we could find? I think a fruit parfait would be amazing right now.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t those need yogurt?¡± Elise asked deadpan. ¡°Well maybe instead of killing the deer we milk them instead?¡± Alex adds sarcastic reaching out as I hand him a slab of pre-cooked meat. That earns a chuckle from the group. ¡°Look man, take it up with Mischief he¡¯s the one feeding everyone.¡± ¡°Speaking of Mischief, it seems like he is already out and about.¡± Nick nods to where Mischief was laying last night. I look over my shoulder, not really surprised. ¡°Too bad¨Cwe could¡¯ve asked him to bring back some deer milk for Nick to start churning into yogurt for his parfait.¡± Nick laughs, tossing a small pebble my way. I duck just in time. ¡°Deer meat is fine, but maybe we can start thinking about mixing it up a bit?¡± He narrows his gaze. ¡°Also don¡¯t think we¡¯ve forgotten about your little moment this morning when you thought no one was watching. What was that about?¡± ¡°It wasn¡¯t that weird, alright? I was about to go practice my sword forms this morning, but then the system asked if I wanted to name my sword.¡± Alex and Nick exchange a look. Alex¡¯s lips twitch. ¡°Oh yeah, totally normal. Every guy does that. But what¡¯s that got to do with your weapon?¡± Nick snorts, Elise groans. ¡°Haha, very mature.¡± I deadpan. ¡°No, I mean when I looked at my sword this morning¡ª¡± I catch Alex opening his mouth, eyes gleaming with another joke. I grab Tranquility and hold it up, point-first. ¡°THIS sword. The system asked if I wanted to name this sword.¡± Alex¡¯s smirk falters. ¡°Oh. Right. That makes more sense.¡± Then he grabs his Battle Axe and holds it in front of his face scrunching up his nose. ¡°Weird, I guess my axe isn¡¯t quite as special. What about you nick? Is your bow special enough to get a name?¡± Nick does the same mocking gesture with his bow really selling it. ¡°Nothing. Maybe it¡¯s just swords that get named? Or maybe you have to just REALLY care?¡± ¡°Ok, ok I get it. But this sword really is special.¡± Pulling Tranquility BACK out and letting them really scrutinize it for the first time. Alex scootches closer to get a better look. ¡°Let me have a look at this¡­¡± he trails off. ¡°What is with the strange light blue color? Some kind of special metal?¡± Nick and Elise notice Alex¡¯s genuine interest and they all close in. ¡°It is weird, at first glance I never really noticed.¡± Nick leans in really looking at the blade. ¡°Was this a starting weapon? It¡¯s not steel is it? I mean the color is subtle but it¡¯s definitely blue.¡± ¡°Well, well..¡± I say in a tone of mock triumph. ¡°Nobody''s laughing now are they?¡± ¡°Alex, this doesn¡¯t look like a starting weapon. Was this a system reward?¡± ¡°Why yes Elise, astute observation. It was rewarded after I completed the final stage of the trial. The system called it a spirit weapon. ¡± I bask in their awe as they stare in wonder at my sword. ¡°What!?¡± Nick and Alex say in near unison. They look at each other wide eyed before Alex barrels forward. ¡°You got a new weapon after the trial? How is that fair? All I got was a stupid health potion!¡± The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Nick nods confirming Alex¡¯s complaints. It is a fair question. So far the system seems so random with how it distributes items. A lightbulb goes off. Embarrassed, I study my feet a bit before hesitantly confessing. ¡°Well¡­I think it might have something to do with¡­some of my early decisions in class selection.¡± ¡°Ok¡­?¡± Alex subtly urges me on. ¡°I might¡¯ve¨Caccidentally, of course¨Cchosen to forgo a starting weapon before I entered the trial.¡± Alex, Nick, and Elise just stared. ¡°I think the sword might¡¯ve been part of my reward for starting the trial unarmed.¡± I can¡¯t meet the accusatory looks and immediately begin studying my feet again. ¡°Just so we''re on the same page... In the tutorial, when the voice said, ¡®Things are about to get wild¡ªchoose your weapon,¡¯ you really went with, ¡®Nah, I¡¯m just gonna raw dog this,¡¯ huh?¡± My head snaps up. ¡°No, Nick," I shoot back, a hint of attitude in my voice. "It wasn¡¯t exactly like that...¡± I hesitate, then shrug. ¡°Actually... yeah. Pretty much.¡± Alex stares at me, his mouth hanging open before he bursts out laughing. ¡°Wow... Maybe the system thought you were special and needed the extra help?¡± I roll my eyes, but a smile tugs at my lips. ¡°Glad my survival instincts are so entertaining for you.¡± ¡°So aside from being blue, what else can it do?¡± Elise asks, bringing us back on point. I smile happy to change the subject. ¡°It grows as I do, adapting to my abilities. It even boosts my shield spells and cuts the mana cost. It¡¯s like the sword¡¯s learning alongside me.¡± ¡°So, let me get this straight¡ªyou went full idiot mode, and your reward is an overpowered sword that grows with you? I officially hate you.¡± She crosses her arms, scowling. ¡°I guess the big question¨Cwhat did you name it?¡± The name that felt so perfect a moment ago now sounds cheesy and stupid. I sheathe Tranquility, heat creeping up my neck. Why did I have to get so sentimental? ¡°That¡¯s private information.¡± I snap, a little too quickly. Their teasing laughter follows me as I stand. Nick stands with me and grabs my shoulder. ¡°Oh come on. You can tell us, it can¡¯t be that bad?¡± I shrug off his hand and start walking to where I usually practice my forms. When I get an idea to change the subject. ¡°Are you guys up for a little practice this morning?¡± I smile hoping they don¡¯t see through my plan to avoid answering their question. ¡°I want to do a little testing on my shields to see how they¡¯ve grown.¡± Alex shoots up like a rocket from where he was sitting, Nick eyes me and Elise just shrugs. ¡°Hell yeah I want to practice!¡± Alex doesn¡¯t even wait, he just starts walking to my usual spot. Nick starts walking too but eyes me as he goes before mouthing ¡°I will hear that name.¡± Elise and I trail behind the others, the dew clinging to the grass and seeping into my jeans, chilling my ankles as we high-step through the clearing. Nick and Alex are waiting in the roughly twenty foot space that has been packed flat from my constant drilling. ¡°So, how do you want to do this? Just pop on one of those barrier spells and let me start taking swings at you?¡± Alex asks, hefting his axe and rolling his shoulders. ¡°As tempting as getting hacked at by an oversized child with a massive Axe sounds I have a slightly better idea.¡± I¡¯m already casting the spell while I speak. Moving to the center of the clearing. I focus like I did during the trial, feeling the shimmering mana enveloping my body. Just like before, I step out of my shield, leaving a faint ripple in the air where the spell lingers. I check my MP and grin. Only two points. Not bad. ¡°Alright, can you see where the barrier is? It¡¯s faint.¡± Alex eyes me. ¡°Oh yeah I can see it. Should you be able to do that?¡± ¡°I wondered the same thing when I first tried this out. But it¡¯s actually pretty easy, the mechanics don¡¯t really follow video game logic.¡± Shrugging. ¡°I figure it¡¯s safer than you pounding away on my shield while I am still inside.¡± I wave my hand toward the shimmer. ¡°Well? Hack away.¡± Without another word Alex steps forward, lifts his Axe high above his head and brings it down with a massive heave right where I¡¯m assuming my head would¡¯ve been. Wham! The impact echoes through the clearing. Alex stumbles back, his arms flailing as he barely keeps his grip on the axe. With eighty-one points in strength, that blow should¡¯ve shattered anything in its path. We all stare, holding our breath. The barrier doesn¡¯t budge. ¡°Well, damn,¡± Alex huffs, catching his breath. ¡°Yeah.¡± I scratch my head, fighting a grin. ¡°Still standing, though. Shouldn¡¯t we see how far it can go?¡± Alex shoots me a look, then glances back at the shimmering shield. He sucks in a deep breath adjusting his grip. Wham! Wham! wham! Three more massive swings. The barrier ripples and surges, but it doesn¡¯t budge. The shimmer dances, then settles back into place, defiant as ever. Nick whistles, shaking his head. ¡°Wow. Seriously, Alex? I thought you were supposed to be the Axe man.¡± Alex hits Nick with a flat stare, resting his axe on his shoulder. ¡°Dude. It sucks hitting this thing. It¡¯s like smacking a brick wall.¡± ¡°You seem pretty confident Nick, maybe you should give it a try?¡± Elise is smirking at Nick with her arms crossed. He pulls his bow from his back and draws an arrow. ¡°I mean I¡¯m no Axe man but sure, it¡¯s not like I could do any worse.¡± Nick moves to stand near the edge of the flattened grass and we follow suit. In a smooth easy motion he draws back on the string pulling the arrow to his cheek. The air around the arrow begins to swirl just slightly. He¡¯s going to shoot my barrier using a skill. The movement takes barely more then a second before Nick releases the shot. The arrow shoots forward like a bullet sending a small concussion of wind. Pwing. The arrow rebounds off of the barrier shooting off far into the distance and out of sight. I blink. ¡°Well... at least it didn¡¯t explode.¡± Nick scratches his chin. ¡°I used one of my skills. Concussive Shot. It¡¯s supposed to cause knockback and maybe stun a target. I figured it might disrupt your shield.¡± We all stand there, arms crossed, watching the shimmering barrier. Nick is still holding his bow, his eyes narrowed. Without warning, he lifts his bow and fires off another shot. The arrow flies straight and true, impacting the barrier point-blank. This time, the shield buzzes, vibrating with a strange hum. The arrow quivers, then shoots through, piercing the other side. We stare in stunned silence. I open my mouth, then close it. Finally, I manage, ¡°Well...there you have it. Not bad right?¡± Chapter 28 - Settling in The next hour was spent testing my barrier spell in every way we could think of¡ªattacks with skills, attacks without skills. Casting while holding Tranquility, then without it, then with Tranquility in dimensional storage, and even with it several feet away. Time flew by as we ran test after test, trying to figure out just how much I could trust my spell. The best part? The mana cost was so low that I could keep casting it one at a time, easily replenishing my MP between each attempt. ¡°Well, I think we¡¯ve officially beaten this horse dead,¡± Nick declared, hands on his hips after releasing ten straight shots into my stationary barrier. My once-pristine circle of packed grass looked like it was attacked with a weed whacker. What used to be neatly flattened grass was now a muddy, chewed-up mess. The clean scent of cut grass mixed with dirt filled my nostrils, and a wave of nostalgia hit me. ¡°So... what did we learn?¡± I asked, scratching the back of my neck. ¡°For starters, Alex is a lumbering brute who should really warn people before launching a sweeping blade skill,¡± Nick said, crossing his arms. ¡°Good thing you¡¯re stupidly slow, or I might¡¯ve been in real trouble.¡± Alex flipped Nick off, unfazed. But Nick had a point. Compared to us, Alex was moving in slow motion. During one test, he used a skill against my barrier while Nick was within range. Nick had time to see the strike, sigh, and step out of the way before it rebounded off the stationary barrier. That was another interesting discovery. When Alex used a skill, an ethereal blade extended from his weapon, acting independently. For example, when he used Sweeping Blade, a massive spectral axe blade extended nearly ten feet from his weapon. But when it struck my barrier, the ethereal blade stopped dead, while Alex¡¯s actual axe continued its swing, carrying its momentum. They acted separately. It was like watching two attacks in one¡ªthe physical axe¨Cand a ghostly afterimage that moved on its own. ¡°Uhh, well... I learned that when I hit level 15, momma¡¯s gonna get herself a defensive skill.¡± Nick, Alex, and I stare at Elise, dumbfounded. This is the most animated she¡¯s been since last night. ¡°What?¡± Her face turns bright red as she looks down, retreating back into her shell. ¡°I mean... it would help the team if both Layton and I had the barrier skill.¡± Even though I¡¯m certain that we all agree the shock hasn¡¯t worn off quite yet. ¡°Momma¡¯s gonna get a new defensive skill...¡± Alex repeats slowly, drawing out each word. Silence. Then, all at once, we burst out laughing¡ªeven Elise. ¡°Okay, okay,¡± I say, wiping away tears. ¡°Now that we¡¯ve thoroughly beaten this joke to death, should we take stock of what everyone brings to the table? Maybe even do some training?¡± The group is still composing themselves but they all nod along. ¡°We should have at least a basic strategy before the next raid,¡± I continue. ¡°Even if it¡¯s rough.¡± ¡°What strategy?¡± Alex hefts his axe. ¡°You throw up one of those barriers, and we hit stuff. Seems pretty straightforward.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know Alex, what if the enemy doesn¡¯t stand completely still?¡± Nick shoots back. He scratches his chin thoughtfully. ¡°Well that would be pretty annoying and I would harness my anger to move faster.¡± I exchange a look with Nick, trying not to laugh. ¡°Alex, I hate to say it, but Nick has a point. You¡¯ve got the strength, but what about putting some stats into agility?¡± Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. Alex scowls. ¡°Can¡¯t exactly go back in time. Points are already spent. Maybe I was a little hasty... but I planned to even out my build anyway.¡± ¡°Good. You¡¯ll still be a monster with that sweeping attack. My shield can handle several full strikes, and I can keep it up pretty much indefinitely with a group this size. Normally, I¡¯d be practicing sword forms right now. What do you say we all get some training in?¡± ¡°I¡¯m in,¡± Alex agrees. ¡°But you¡¯ll probably need to go half-speed on me.¡± Nick snorts. ¡°Half speed? More like one-eighth.¡± From that point on each day was spent before the raid was spent practicing skills and testing our limits. Everyone had their own slightly unique skills. To be honest I was a little disappointed. The skills gained were all so vanilla. My piercing shot that extended the range of a lunging sword attack, Alex¡¯s sweeping blade, Nick''s Concussive arrow, and Elise¡¯s healing skills. There was nothing flashy about it. Sure they were handy in a fight but it wasn¡¯t uncommon to see extremely similar or identical skills from other fighters. The good news was that stats did super charge the skills and help them grow. Alex¡¯s sweeping blade attack was devastating, with my barrier active I tried catching the attack with Tranquility. It moved slowly but hit like a train. If we were going to help Alex get kills in the next raid, we¡¯d have to get creative. His attack was too slow to land without distraction. And that was on us to figure out. So, we practiced. Day after day. I was careful not to reveal my fighter skills. I didn¡¯t need to. My stat gap was massive. At these early levels, even a small difference was huge. At level 100, a 20-point stat gap wouldn¡¯t mean much. But at level 10? It was a chasm. With my titles and levels, most enemies under level 15 were hopelessly outclassed. I was determined to help my friends close that gap as quickly as possible. - And after seven days, the camp has changed¡ªa lot. Jared walks me through their work, explaining how skills, perks, and levels play a huge role in efficiency. It reminds me of how I¡¯ve been improving with my sword, except they didn¡¯t need a book to learn their craft. Where there was once thick forest, a fortified log wall now stands. Inside, cabins¡ªten of them, so far. Eight towers rise along the outer perimeter, standing watch over an ever-growing settlement. ¡°Jared, I have to say¡ªI¡¯m impressed.¡± I watch as people hammer logs into place, reinforcing structures. ¡°These cabins house groups of four right now,¡± Jared explains, leading me through the camp. ¡°Once the raids are done, we want to build something higher quality. We left space for other buildings, but we¡¯re not sure what to prioritize yet. But here¡ª¡± He stops in front of the only fully completed cabin with a quaint fire pit in front surrounded by wooden benches. I wait for him to explain. ¡°Well, would you like a tour?¡± he asks. ¡°Sure, but like I said before¡ªI¡¯m good with whatever you guys want to do here. You don¡¯t need my approval.¡± Jared looks confused for a second before smiling. ¡°I know. I just thought you¡¯d like to see your new place.¡± I blink. ¡°My what now?¡± ¡°Your cabin. It¡¯s not permanent, but it¡¯ll give you some privacy¡ªand maybe a better place to store that giant pile of loot bags you¡¯ve been stacking in the woods.¡± I just stare at him. I remember him mentioning this before, but I didn¡¯t think he was serious. ¡°Jared, this is¡­ a lot. I¡¯m actually happy with my current setup.¡± ¡°You mean that pile of sticks you call a shelter?¡± he says, laughing. ¡°Come on, at least take a look before you reject it.¡± I sigh. ¡°Fine. But I doubt it¡¯ll be any better than what I have now.¡± Jared just shakes his head and opens the carved wooden door. I step inside and take it all in¡ªthe solid wooden walls, the real bed, the sturdy table. It''s... more than I expected. More than I deserve, if I¡¯m being honest. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to say.¡± I admit. I don¡¯t really need to sleep often anymore, but it¡¯s a cozy space to relax. ¡°You and your people didn¡¯t need to do this.¡± Jared won¡¯t meet my eyes. ¡°Layton, I¡¯ve been thinking a lot about how I treated you after the first raid.¡± ¡°Jared you don¡¯t¨C¡± He raises his hand to stop me. ¡°Yes I do. We came to you asking for help and instead of being grateful I challenged your honesty. Since then you¡¯ve been nothing but generous and fair. This is the least I can do to make it up to you.¡± I smile, ¡°It¡¯s more than enough.¡± The silence hangs in the air awkwardly. So I try and change the topic with a cough ¡°So, what¡¯s in the basement?¡± He seems grateful to move on. ¡°Yeah ok right¨Cfor now, just storage. We noticed you just leave your loot bags in a pile. This should be a decent upgrade.¡± ¡°Thanks, Jared. This is¡ªseriously¡ªreally great.¡± I glance around again, exhaling. ¡°I guess I really live here now.¡± ¡°It¡¯s looking more like that everyday.¡± Chapter 29 - Raid 2 With the seventh day winding down, everyone gathers near the clearing where the first raid appeared. Mischief, Nick, Alex, Elise, and I stand alongside two archers and another fighter carrying a spear. The group shuffles about in hushed conversation. I can sense there is an uneasy tension in the air. Shifting glances towards where the portal should be appearing, weapons held tight in clammy hands. Two months ago, we were just normal people, living mundane lives. Now we¡¯re standing on strange soil, away from our homes, waiting to fight off an alien invader. I scan their faces¡ªfear, doubt, hope. They all keep shooting glances at me. Relying on me. Elise nudges my arm, her eyes urging me to do something. What am I supposed to do? We had discussed the plans in detail, Elise and the others. I was confident that everyone would be fine. Mischief and I would still do most of the heavy lifting anyway. I glance at the man holding a spear. His knuckles are white from gripping his weapon hard in both hands. Hesitantly, I clear my throat. ¡°Alright, everyone,¡± I start. Everyone turns to look at me. ¡°The plan is simple. Archers, you play support. Mischief and I will be playing decoy, hopefully taking up most of the attention. Alex, you and uhh¡­you with the spear will wait for the raiders to engage in the fight¨Cthen charge in. Hopefully netting some easy kills and experience.¡± ¡°Maddux.¡± The man I forgot says with a slight wave of his spear. ¡°Right yeah, Maddux.¡± Should¡¯ve remembered that. Great start, Layton. I had hoped explaining the plan would calm some of their nerves, but people were still shifting uneasily. That¡¯s when I get an idea. I pull Alex aside and whisper something in his ear. He smiles and we walk away from the group a bit. Everyone is already watching the two of us so I don¡¯t need to call people''s attention. Instead I cover myself in a barrier, then like before I step out and nod at Alex. Wham! Wham! Wham! Alex¡¯s axe slams into the barrier, each strike sending ripples across its shimmering surface. The force reverberates through the air, but the barrier holds¡ªunyielding. Just like I need to be. ¡°I doubt any of us thought we would be here a month ago. I just thought you should know, each of you will be completely shielded during the fight.¡± I can see the tension easing, shoulders relaxing. ¡°Everyone will be fine. If things go south, either I will step in or Mischief. But remember, the goal is for you to gain experience. I¡¯m here for support, not to carry the fight.¡± ¡°And let me be clear¡ªdo not play hero. There¡¯s no point in risking your life unnecessarily. Got it?¡± Alex straightens and shouts out a very mocking, very crisp ¡°Yes, SIR!¡±. The rest just nod along standing taller. It¡¯s not much but it¡¯s the best they are going to get from me. One last look around and I catch a glimpse of our camp. It¡¯s still daytime and the light is hitting the trees at just the right angle to cast a sepia tone over the meagre walls. The cabins are visible¨Cbarely peeking over the top of the log palisades. A few thin stacks of smoke curl lazily into the sky. I breathe in the fresh pine smell and let the sun warm my face. The chill air contrasts the warmth of the sun perfectly. It¡¯s peaceful. There is only about a football field length of pine trees between where I stand in the clearing and our camp. Briefly, I wonder how safe it is to build our settlement so close to where the raids occur. Maybe once this fight is over I would talk with Jared about it. For this raid I had a feeling we wouldn¡¯t need to worry. Something about that bothered me. Was I being too casual about all of this? The team moves into position. We don¡¯t have to wait long. A large shimmer ripples through the air. The raid has begun. This time, it¡¯s not orcs. The raiders step out¡ªand they¡¯re the most human-like creatures I¡¯ve seen yet. But something¡¯s wrong. Instead of human noses and mouths, they have canine-like muzzles¡ªjaws lined with sharp teeth. Without fur the look is unsettling, just skin stretched over the long snouts. Most wear tattered cloth shirts and pants, but they¡¯re better armed than the last raiders¡ªcarrying longswords and two-handed claymores. Something about their appearance reminds me of our own ragtag group. Even at my distance I can see the sag of shoulders, set in desperate determination. The mannerisms are so human. None of the raiders have any armor. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. The group is only fifty strong¡ªhalf the size of the last raid. As is my habit, I try to reason with them. ¡°Hey there!¡± I shout, waving in what I hope is a universal gesture of goodwill. ¡°You don¡¯t have to do this! We¡¯d prefer a peaceful resolution!¡± The lead raider cocks his head and mutters something to another. I can¡¯t understand a word of it. Then, he raises his sword and shouts. I glance at Mischief while running fingers across the orcs locket in my pocket. Did any of that get through? Mischief just shakes his head. I let out a sigh. I tried. I draw Tranquility from her home. The raiders charge. I remind myself¡ªI¡¯m here more for support than anything else, our team needs to close the level gap. The idea of our team growing gives me chills. Besides, this is the perfect chance for me to test my swordplay. No skills¡ªjust technique. We agreed that Mischief and I would rush first and draw as much attention as possible. The goal is to distract and not kill. The killing is for the others who will close in later¨Chopefully scoring some easy wins. I close the distance in a rush so fast my clothing whips in the wind. The raiders aren¡¯t idle though, several open with a volley of sword skills¡ªin a moment ethereal blades come screaming towards me. In training we practiced defending these types of attacks. The spectre blades would be solid and could be deflected just like a real blade. I adjust my stance, waiting to redirect their momentum. One attack is deflected, another sidestepped. The third¡­ slips through and slams into my barrier. Damn. I¡¯m annoyed but keep moving. Not a bad start. Better than I expected really for my first attempt in actual combat. The hit on my shield still bothers me though. I hated the idea that I had to rely on it. If I didn¡¯t have my barrier skill this fight would have ended before it even started. I grit my teeth pushing the thought from my mind. Besides the only reason I am even willing to be this reckless is on account of my shield. Otherwise we would have a different strategy. I barrel into the ranks of the raiders swiping blades as I dive into the masses. Raiders rush in behind me. Closing me in. I¡¯m surrounded. Perfect. This is what I wanted¡ªlive application of my sword motions. In close quarters my nostrils are assaulted with a horrible odor. Something like bile mixed with excrement. I gag. If the smell isn¡¯t enough the dog snouts are even more disturbing up close and personal, skin pulled taught in strange angles with open holes as nostrils. I set into my stance trying to ignore the attack on my senses. The clothes on these creatures are barely being held together flapping loosely. The raiders rush in alternating between attacks. My hours¨Cdays of training are pay off. My movements are smooth. Instinctual. Six raiders are attacking at once. A blade swoops in aimed at my head while I sense another coming for my back. Ducking I avoid the first attack while pivoting to face the second that I parry and redirect. At first¨CI revel in the movement. I feel my own power surging in my limbs powered by my stats. Tranquility sings as it deflects another blade with ease, speed and power urging my movements forward. Exhilaration surges through me. Then it curdles, sour and heavy. Even with six opponents attacking in tandem, it feels like I¡¯m fighting children. Where my movements are smooth and calculated the creatures attacks are clumsy and slow. Another raider lunges for me and I nearly have to wait before parrying the attack. I was so caught away in my own movements I hadn¡¯t noticed just how embarrassingly pitiful the attacks on me were. A heavy claymore swings at me from behind. I sense it more than I see it. I turn, shifting just enough to slap the blade aside. The raider¡¯s momentum spins him around¡ªhis sword still outstretched¡ª And he can¡¯t stop his movement and eyes go wide as it accidentally guts one of his own allies. You have killed Hyenasapian (Level 11). I blink. Really? That counts? I barely did anything. Thanks, system, for rewarding accidental manslaughter. Level 11? They might as well be bugs and I¡¯m a car driving down the interstate. Even being surrounded I can easily still peer around the battle. Mischief is a blur darting through the raiders occasionally swiping out to hamstring one after the next. It¡¯s good work, those would be easy kills for Alex or Maddux. Still moving, I scan the battlefield. The raiders are growing desperate¡ªfear evident in their eyes being accentuated by a chorus of odd barking shouts. Through the chaos and stench I can¡¯t help but wonder what it must feel like to face an enemy so far out of reach. I¡¯ve long accepted that killing is unavoidable. But¡­ sometimes, the reality seeps through. I can see it in their faces¡ªso human in spite of the dog snouts¨Cthe realization is obvious. They can¡¯t win. Hopelessness. NPC¡¯s. That¡¯s all these are. The system somehow creates them. I cut down an attacker. Then another. NPC¡¯s. This isn¡¯t a fight. It¡¯s a massacre. I glance toward Alex and Maddux again. Ten or so raiders have them pinned, my spell is holding but they¡¯re overwhelmed. I rush in, recasting Barrier. A few quick slashes thin the crowd. Alex sees an opening and swings his axe¡ªunleashing a powerful slashing skill. It carves through three enemies. Three kills that should be a nice boost for his growth, hopefully he can get a level and start taking care of his lopsided stats. The thought helps relieve a knot in my chest. Experience, levels, yeah that¡¯s all this is. The knot doesn¡¯t fully dissolve though. The fight drags on longer than it needs to, but that¡¯s the point. Growth. Levels. Finally, the last raider falls to a well placed arrow from Nick. [Congratulations! Raid two of three has been defeated.] Alex drops his axe and sighs. ¡°Uggghhh! Layton, I love that barrier spell!¡± I force a laugh. Time to start thinking about the next challenge. Chapter 30 - Ben dont be a wuss Later that night, I stretch out on one of the wooden benches near my new fire in front of the cabin Jared built. I soak in the warmth letting it sink into my skin. The air is crisp, carrying the scent of burning wood and fresh pine. The quiet hum of conversation drifts from nearby cabins. Mischief is nowhere to be seen. I¡¯m not worried. He has a habit of exploring on his own when things are quiet. It¡¯s sometimes nice actually. Our new friends still aren¡¯t quite used to him being around. It¡¯s hard to blame them. With Mischief gone people are more confident and several people join me around the fire pit. Alex has become a constant presence to my time relaxing. Along with Alex, Nick and Damon are also lounging with us. Damon chose the blacksmithing class during the tutorial. He¡¯s a bit older, maybe pushing thirty but he has a calm nature and easy smile. He¡¯s a nice contrast to Alex¡¯s supercharged enthusiasm. ¡°Alex, did you grow some more?¡± Nick has his hands cupped together and is shaking a small piece of ember in his hands while he talks. Alex looks up as if to check. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Probably. I leveled up during that fight. It¡¯s great, the system apparently understands what I¡¯ve known all along. I¡¯m a unit!¡± We all laugh. It¡¯s true though Alex has grown too much. Since no one has extra clothes he is still wearing what he came in. A pair of sweatpants, that now look like leggings, a red zip hoodie, and he used to have a shirt but it ripped a while ago. ¡°What are you going to do if you never stop growing?¡± Damon sizes Alex up with an inquisitive look. ¡°What do you mean? That would be awesome right?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know, maybe it would be awesome up to like 20 feet. But then it would start getting a little inconvenient. We¡¯d probably have to kick you out of our village.¡± I say sarcastically. Alex¡¯s face turns serious processing it. ¡°I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll stop soon.¡± he says, sounding not really sure. There is another round of laughter. Nick tosses another log onto the fire. It crackles and hisses as the new log settles in. Nights like these make it almost possible to forget our situation. It¡¯s been over a month now since the world changed and grew. Hell, earlier today we fended off a raid of hairless dog men. My mind starts to wander while I watch the last log Nick added shift and change as the fire slowly consumes it. ¡°Have any of you been thinking about how everything works?¡± I ask as I take a stick and prod at the flames adjusting the wood. I get a few confused stares before Nick jumps in. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°You know. It¡¯s like. This FEELS like a video game, but also it really doesn¡¯t. And doesn¡¯t everything seem a bit¡­. Convenient?¡± The three exchange a look. ¡°I¡¯m not sure being separated from my home and friends in the middle of nowhere feels all that convenient.¡± Damon finally says. ¡°Yeah, I mean I doubt Matt would consider it convenient either.¡± Alex adds. I cringe. It''s clear how they interpret my question and so I backpedal. ¡°No, no I don¡¯t mean it like that.¡± I sigh looking up to the sky. ¡°I mean. Take the dungeons for instance. If you don¡¯t enter them you wouldn¡¯t even have to fight anything besides the first tutorial.¡± I point out. ¡°Even the raids wouldn¡¯t have started if we didn¡¯t clear the other dungeons.¡± Damon leans back and weaves his fingers behind his head, considering. ¡°Ok¡­but I am not sure why that would be any more weird than literally anything else happening.¡± That is a fair point. Compared to everything else, weird had really proven to be a relative term. An owl hooted somewhere in the distance. ¡°Yeah for real. What is weird anymore? Look at me. I¡¯ve literally grown a foot in a month.¡± Alex gestures towards his body. It¡¯s not like am disagreeing with them at all. They are totally right. But why was every single fight so far against creatures in even worse conditions than us? Shouldn¡¯t it be different? For some reason I had a picture in my mind of roaming monsters that could attack at any moment. Not the organized chaos so far. ¡°Ok just hear me out. Matt sounds like an incredible man but it wasn¡¯t a raider or monster that killed him. It was a human. If it wasn¡¯t for Richard you would¡¯ve completed the first raid with SEVEN people, you fought FIFTY.¡± I let that sink in. ¡°Doesn¡¯t that seem strange at all?¡± ¡°I guess I kind of see your point.¡± Nick says. ¡°But we did also prepare for the fight and had fortifications built.¡± "That¡¯s true. Plus the raiders we fought had terrible equipment and barely seemed like they knew what they were doing.¡± Alex added Waving my heads exasperated ¡°See that¡¯s just it. Shouldn¡¯t we be flooded with crazy monsters right now? And why do the raiders seem like they know less about fighting than we do? The ones we fought today were basically hobos.¡± I¡¯m not really sure why it bothers me so much. ¡°I mean seriously Alex, you went in with the most lopsided build I have ever seen and still tallied several kills.¡± I feel a bit like I am rambling so I drop the point. Then I think about how everything I have fought since the tutorial has had a class. What was that about? The more I thought the more I realized I didn¡¯t know. I let the questions drop and soon enough conversation went back to being light and casual. We talk late into the night before everyone heads to their own cabins for a few hours of rest before the day begins anew. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. - The next week flies by. Jared and the non-combatants work tirelessly, pushing ahead with new projects every day. He¡¯s constantly coming to me with new ideas for how we can improve our little territory. The more we talk, the more we learn. Turns out his group was at a campground in Southern California when the induction started. That means this isn¡¯t just an expansion¡ªit¡¯s a reshuffling. ¡°Layton, do you realize the implications?¡± Jared says, pacing excitedly. ¡°That means there could be other groups like ours nearby. If we start clearing areas, maybe we could find them and create a safe haven!¡± Jared¡¯s passion to help others¡ªit¡¯s contagious. ¡°That could be cool,¡± I agree. ¡°I¡¯m all for helping people. But let¡¯s wrap up this raid first and see where things go.¡± ¡°Yes, of course,¡± Jared nods. ¡°But in the meantime, I want to start building sustainable infrastructure. We have all kinds of non-combat classes¡ªblacksmiths, gatherers, builders¡ªeach with unique skills that could support our community.¡± Jared is so animated while he speaks pointing to clusters of trees and up the sloping mountain. ¡°I trust you¡¯ll handle the raid, but I don¡¯t think we need to wait to start testing how mana affects crops. Do we have permission to clear an area?¡± That actually sounds really cool. ¡°Absolutely,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m all for eating meat, but it¡¯d be nice to have some variety. Go for it. In fact, you don¡¯t need to ask me before doing stuff like this. It¡¯s not my wheelhouse¡ªyou handle all that, okay?¡± Jared brightens. ¡°I¡¯ll get to work on some of my ideas right away. Thank you, Layton.¡± With nothing much to do, I help clear out a section of trees for the garden. It takes Alex and me just a day to clear a full acre. Skills and mana really speed things up. The others work the soil while we stack logs for later use. By the end of the week, our little walled camp has transformed. It¡¯s no longer just a camp¡ªit¡¯s a settlement. A fortified wall encloses everything. A dozen buildings line a central road of packed dirt. I speak with a girl in camp named Jessie, a ¡°Gemcrafter,¡± she is experimenting with minor chaos shards¡ªtrying to create mana-infused utilities, like lights and running water. Unfortunately the results are less than optimal. I¡¯m reminded of my own experience using shards when I created the shock knife. Progress feels real. But without fighting, I start feeling kind of useless. Then one day as I¡¯m strolling through our village admiring the new buildings¡­when my ears perk up. I overhear a very interesting conversation. ¡°Well, that¡¯s easy for you. All you have to do is plant shit. I don¡¯t even know what a Beast Tamer is supposed to do.¡± I freeze. A Beast Tamer? My brain explodes with ideas. Not for Mischief¡ªhe¡¯s off-limits. But¡­ what about that pack of wolves near my lake? What if we could train them? What if they leveled up the way Mischief has? What if we had an army of wolf riders? I¡¯ve never been more certain of anything in my life. We obviously need an army of wolf riders. I spin around and zero in on the guy who spoke¡ªa younger man with shaggy brown hair, looking bored and mildly annoyed. I make a beeline right to him. He jumps when I stand a little close before saying a little too loud. ¡°Hello there, sir,¡± I¡¯m all smiles. ¡°My name is Layton. Did I just hear you say something about being a Beast Tamer?¡± The man in question is named Ben. And ten minutes later, Ben strapped to Mischief¡¯s back, screaming for dear life as we tore through the forest hunting wolves. Convincing Mischief was NOT easy. But when I promised he could solo the next dungeon faction leader, he reluctantly agreed. With Mischief tracking, finding the wolves is almost too easy. They¡¯re still near my lake, living in a small cave less than a mile away. I decide that before barging in, I should unstrap Ben from Mischief. ¡°Okay,¡± I say seriously. ¡°Are you ready for this Ben?¡± He stares me straight in the face, dry tear streaks line his cheeks ¡°NO!¡± Ben flails his arms. ¡°I have no idea what I¡¯m doing! That¡¯s a huge pack of wolves! I¡¯ve never used my skills before!¡± ¡°It should come naturally,¡± I reassure him, placing my hand on his shoulder. He jerks away. ¡°Look¨Cit¡¯ll be easy just like healing was for me. Trust your instincts.¡± Ben does not look convinced. ¡°You¡¯ll be fine,¡± I add, casting Barrier on him. ¡°Besides, even if you mess up, they can¡¯t touch you. You have nothing to worry about.¡± He absolutely does not believe me. Ben approaches the cave slowly, throwing unsure glances back at us every few steps. I grin encouragingly. Mischief looks indifferent. The wolves are already aware of him¡ªseveral stand at the entrance, growling. Ben hesitates, then tries his first strategy. ¡°Uhh¡­ follow me?¡± The wolves do not follow. Ben clears his throat. ¡°Good boys?¡± Nothing. Finally, in desperation: ¡°H-here wolfie, wolfie?¡± To add to the effect he whistle and snaps his fingers. I bury my face in my hands. Yeah, okay. This might take some work. The wolves are done waiting. With a chorus of snarls, they charge. Ben screams. The wolves hit Ben like a battering ram, barreling him to the ground. They bite and scratch at his barrier, confused as to why they can¡¯t break through. I sigh. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s help before he has a breakdown,¡± I say. Mischief gives a lazy nod, and we move in. The second we approach, the wolves panic. Apparently they still remember me, scattering in a flurry of movement. But I have an idea. I sprint after the closest wolf¡ªeasily catching up¡ªand grab it by the scruff of the neck. It thrashes and bites, but I ignore it and hoist it over my shoulder in a fireman¡¯s carry. Then, I walk over to where Ben is still curled up in a ball on the ground. He cracks an eye open. ¡°Am I dead?¡± ¡°Not yet,¡± I say cheerfully, bouncing the angry, struggling wolf on my shoulder. ¡°Look! I got you a present.¡± Ben is not on board. Ben sits up and stares in horror. ¡°ARE YOU CRAZY? They didn¡¯t listen to me at ALL! That¡¯s NOT how this works!¡± ¡°Ben,¡± I say seriously. ¡°You listen, and you listen good.¡± I crouch down, meeting his eyes. ¡°I will have my wolf riders. And you are going to help me.¡± He opens his mouth. Closes it. Looks at the wolf. Looks back at me. I stand, patting the wolf¡¯s still-snapping jaws. ¡°Now hop back on that mountain lion and let¡¯s ride.¡± Ben looks so unbelievably done. But he sighs, climbs back onto Mischief, and resigns himself to his fate. Back at camp, Jared helps me pick a spot for our new ¡°wolf kennel.¡± It¡¯s a small reinforced bunker, near the fields that haven¡¯t been used yet. I drop the furious wolf inside and latch the door. ¡°Alright, Ben,¡± I say, turning to him. ¡°The raid is in two days. I want this wolf ready to fight.¡± Ben blinks. ¡°IN TWO DAYS?!¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m doing!¡± ¡°Think of our whole territory. the growing fields, the settlement, the fortifications. No one knows what they¡¯re doing, Ben.¡± He hesitates. I see the moment the realization hits. I press forward. ¡°Look at everything we¡¯ve built. We¡¯re all figuring it out. But if you learn your class, you could be one of the most important people here. What do you think?¡± Ben takes a breath. Then¡ªslowly¡ªnods. ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll do my best.¡± I grin. ¡°That¡¯s all I ask.¡± We leave off and I run with a huge smile on my face. WOLF RIDERS. Chapter 31 - The final raid The day of the final wave arrives. Jared¡¯s group is more prepared this time. The last battle¨Cif you could call it that¨Cdid wonders for their confidence. Before the last raid the mood was quiet and tense. Today? There is an electricity in the air. People are speaking casually, stances relaxed. Maddux, who was pale and trembling mess before the last fight, now leans casually on his spear, deep in conversation with Alex about flanking maneuvers. His eyes are bright, animated¡ªa far cry from the fear that once gripped him. I stay quiet, letting their voices wash over me. They debate where to spend their next stat points, argue over which skills are worth the grind. It¡¯s casual, almost light-hearted¡ªa stark contrast from the silence that hung over our first raid. I¡¯ve felt it too¡ªthat shift from Please don¡¯t let me die to This is incredible. What will 15 more points of Agility feel like? But there¡¯s another question that lingers, one I can¡¯t shake. Who¡¯s paying the price for my power? I clung to the idea that it was simply NPC¡¯s but it was getting harder and harder to convince myself of that. Doesn¡¯t mean I didn¡¯t try. Ben stood at the tree line, Samson¡¯s shaggy grey fur blending into the shadows beside him. They watched in silence, Ben leaning against the rough bark, his posture just a little too casual, as if trying to convince himself he was at ease. My boots crunched on the dirt as I make my way over to stand next to Ben. He barely acknowledges me¨Ckeeping his hands in his pockets, shuffling the dirt with his feet. I don¡¯t say anything. I just stand next to him and fold my arms. ¡°The raids always come at my favorite time of the day.¡± Ben says, still watching the group. Just like the last raid, the sun was just setting. Instead of clear blue skies clouds dotted the horizon. The sunset was breathtaking and was only enhanced by curves and breaks of the mountaintops. ¡°It really is something.¡± I glance down at Samson who is standing faithfully by Ben''s side. ¡°It¡¯s amazing how far you¡¯ve come in just a few days.¡± He pulls his hand from his pocket to rest it on Samson¡¯s head. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯ve learned a lot. My class is different than I expected.¡± He scratches Samson behind the ear unconsciously. ¡°The class beast tamer might be a bit¨Cmisleading. I¡¯m still figuring things out. You better keep Samson safe out there.¡± This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it I turn and give Ben a serious look. ¡°Ben, you have my word that Samson will be my number one priority. He will be totally safe. I will follow him the entire fight.¡± Samson was only level three. This fight would be interesting to learn how experience was distributed. On his own Samson would be totally outclassed. My shield should even out his defenses but his offensive output would be the real question. Ben nodded but didn¡¯t say anything else. A shimmering buzzing noise pulls me from my thoughts as the raid portal begins to open. This raid is different. Over a hundred raiders pour out of the portal, their heavy footsteps shaking the earth beneath us. Another orc-like species, but this time their thick, leathery skin is red, and their saber-toothed jaws make them look even more monstrous. I go through my normal pre-battle ritual. Offering a peaceful resolution, telling them I¡¯d like to talk. Same as always my words fall on deaf ears. I¡¯m not surprised but the offer helps ease my conscience. Our enemies are tall and powerful looking. But just like the other two raids before these creatures all look the worse for wear. Carrying nasty looking bone clubs that must be some kind of jawbone since there are still teeth attached to most. Dressed in crude loincloths and open vests, they strike an imposing figure. But I can see the hollowness in their eyes, the weariness in their movements. Intimidating, yes. But I¡¯ve learned to look past the bark to see the weakness beneath. Mischief does what he does best. Moving like a shadow, weaving through the enemy ranks with lethal grace. He maims, not kills, a calculated cruelty that leaves his victims broken but alive. Between raids I made sure he was still progressing in levels. The rest of the team joins in the fight. Just as I had predicted in spite of the intimidating look these creatures fell without much fight. Alex¡¯s attention to agility is already paying off and he wreaks havoc on the enemy ranks. Tanking the front lines with reckless abandon swinging is battleaxe like a man possessed. He is beaming ear to ear. Clearly he doesn¡¯t share the same hesitations I do about who we¡¯re killing. Also, I should probably talk him about relying so heavily on my barrier spell in the future. I can already hear him blaming me when he overextends and my barrier breaks, allowing him to take damage. Yeah definitely need to break that habit, maybe find him some armor or something. For my part¨CI spend all of the fight trailing Samson¨Cdarting through the enemies ranks. It¡¯s exhilarating¡ªweaving between attacks, striking with precision. I don¡¯t even need to rely on my fighter skills. I move purely on instinct. I can see their movements before they make them. These poor bastards don¡¯t stand a chance. You have killed Garmonian (Lvl 10, 9, 11, 10, 10). I have to consciously hold myself back from hewing the monsters down. I try to focus on creating openings for Samson to swoop in jaws snapping at throats. I¡¯m pleased to see that the wolf catches onto the strategy and takes full advantage. [Level up] The Garmonians'' time on earth was short lived. Where had they come from? Who were they before they marched through that portal? I feel the illusion of them being NPCs slipping further and further away, replaced by a creeping unease. If they were real... if they were alive... what does that make me? Just another monster waiting for someone stronger to cut me down? Was it possible we would be the one raiding someday? Will we be seen the same way if we do? The final raid is over. Chapter 32 - A healer needs his cloak [Congratulations! You have defeated the final raid. Objectives complete. Rewards based on contribution. Calculating rewards¡­ Calculation complete. Rewards ¨C 15,000 Universal Bronze Coins, Healer¡¯s Cloak (Spirit Item). You have successfully completed all objectives to claim your first territory. You have unlocked Universal Interface (Bronze Level 1). You may now trade items with the Interface for Universal Coins. You may now set objectives for your territory. You have unlocked a map of your owned territories. You can now see posted objectives of nearby factions. You can assign a Steward for your territory. You have 2 hours to name your faction or a name will be assigned. Hidden Objective Complete ¨C Perfect Raid Score: No one in your party was injured during all three raids. Reward: 10,000 Universal Bronze Coins.] I let out a slow breath. That¡¯s¡­ a lot of notifications. Before I tackle the growing list, I open my status screen to assign skill points and check for new titles. I¡¯m not disappointed. New Titles Earned: Not only is this a massive stat boost, but the per-level scaling is incredible. I can¡¯t help but grin. Then I open the next item on my reward list. [Healers Cloak (Level 1) - Spirit Item: Absorbs ambient mana and grows with the owner, inheriting traits from skills and titles. Enhances potency of healer class spells while reducing mana consumption. Auto-equips and self-repairs.] Like with my sword, the cloak begins to materialize in the air before me. A faint, ethereal melody hums through the air, each note resonating with the swirling wisps of light. They weave together gracefully, threads of silver and white dancing like fireflies. There¡¯s a slight tugging, as if reality itself is bending. Slowly, the cloak takes shape, shimmering softly before solidifying. I reach out just before the final strands form, and the delicate fabric falls weightlessly into my outstretched arms, cool and soft against my skin. The moment the fabric touches my skin, a spark of energy races through me. It¡¯s faint, but unmistakable¡ªa whisper of mana flowing between us. The cloak itself is simple. Crafted with light grey finely woven strands of soft fabric. The hems have softly flowing white embroidery that reminds me of ocean spray. Almost in a trance I hold the robe in one hand and begin to remove my tattered leather vest, storing it. With a thought the robe disappears from my arms and I look down to find myself draped in the fabric. I flex my shoulders, testing the robe¡¯s range of motion. Perfect. It moves with me, never restricting, never hindering. And with its mana efficiency boost... my barriers will last longer. I¡¯ll be able to shield my team even more effectively. A game-changer. I can¡¯t wait to test it in battle. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! ¡°You have got to be kidding me.¡± I nearly jump out of my skin. I was so wrapped up with my new cloak I hadn¡¯t even heard Alex walk up. I whirl on him cloak twisting with my movement. ¡°Alex, geez man you nearly gave me a heart attack.¡± He glares at me. ¡°It would serve you right. What the hell is this?¡± He waves his hand up and down gesturing at my new cloak. ¡°This?¡± I say twirling like a little princess. ¡°Why I¡¯m surprised you noticed. This my large friend is as much for you as it is for me.¡± Alex sets his hands on his hips. ¡°Oh yeah? Because from here it looks pretty much just for you.¡± ¡°It might look that way, but this new cloak adds more juice to those shields you love to abuse so much. So really, it¡¯s for us both.¡± I smile still beaming with pride at my new cloak. ¡°I¡¯m not sure¡­I¡¯d say that''s still pretty much just for you.¡± He glares at me with hands still firmly planted on his hips, then his composure slips and a wide grin splits his face. Then he reaches out a hand. Pop. ¡°This¨Con the other hand¨Cis alllll mine.¡± Standing proudly in the fading light is a sleek slightly goldish yellow claymore. He strokes his chin with his left hand. ¡°I just wonder what I¡¯m going to name her.¡± ¡°Alex! You stupid big oaf! You already showed him? We were supposed to do it together!¡± - I stare. Dumbfounded. In front of me, both Alex and Nick are holding their shiny new spirit weapons above their heads, faces aglow with pride. They look like they¡¯re reenacting The Lion King, weapons lifted high like Rafiki presenting Simba at Pride Rock. All that¡¯s missing is the dramatic ¡°Naaaaants ingonyamaaa!¡± echoing in the background. ¡°Both of you?¡± I ask, breathless. ¡°Okay, okay, I get it. You can put them down now.¡± Are they for real? How long are they planning to hold those things up there? Seriously, are they waiting for a chorus to start singing? Nick peeks around his bow, feigning innocence. He starts to lower it... then snaps it back up, eyes wide and triumphant. I take a menacing step towards them and they drop the pose. ¡°Fine, take it easy.¡± Alex raises his hand defensively. ¡°But seriously, this is crazy right? I had to look at my reward like five times before I could even believe it.¡± Nick is still holding his bow, running his hand up the finely polished wood like he can¡¯t believe it¡¯s real. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anything like this. It¡¯s... perfect.¡± Alex¡¯s face is a mix of wonder and disbelief. ¡°I mean... I¡¯ve played games with legendary weapons before, but this... this is different. It¡¯s mine. It¡¯s real.¡± ¡°It really is.¡± I watch them, faces glowing with pride, and feel a fleeting tug in my chest. Just for a second, I miss that feeling¡ªbeing the only one with something special. But then I see the joy in their eyes, the excitement buzzing between them, and I can¡¯t help but smile. ¡°Maybe spirit weapons are more common than we thought?¡± I ask. But then, a different realization dawns on me. ¡°Alex¡­that''s a sword.¡± His smile melts a bit, transforming into a sheepish grin. ¡°Yeah well. I don¡¯t know, I thought a claymore was the name of a big axe.¡± Nick snorts a laugh. ¡°OH PLEASE. You did not! Just the other day you were fanboying over how cool Layton looked with his sword. You picked it because you wanted to be more like Layton.¡± Alex levels a death stare at Nick. ¡°That¡¯s not true. I¡¯m just stupid¨Cshut up Nick. I¡¯m really mad this isn¡¯t an axe." As soon as the words left his mouth he looked down at his sword and mouthed something that looked very much like ¡°No I don¡¯t. You know I love you baby.¡± Shaking my head, I can¡¯t help but smile. Did them getting new spirit weapons make me feel just a little less special? Yeah, a little. But that¡¯s not what matters. What matters is they¡¯re stronger. Safer. Our people are safer. And I wouldn¡¯t trade that for anything. Our little team just got a BIG upgrade. That meant safety. It meant stability for our people. Mostly? I just was geeking out about how awesome my friends were getting. Chapter 33- The interface After chatting with Nick and Alex a bit more I figure I should probably find Jared and share the new changes to the territory. Of the whole group, only Nick and Alex had been given new spirit weapons. Would that continue to be a growing theme? How common were they? I now had two items, my cloak and Tranquility. If that was the case what would be the point of crafting anything? These were questions for another day though, no point dwelling on it now. Jared hadn¡¯t even bothered watching the raid. I find him speaking with a small group of people, completely unfazed by whether we succeeded or not. ¡°So as your skills grow, you can increase both the growth time and yield of crops?¡± Jared cradled his elbow with one hand, his other hand pressed against his cheek as he considered the problem. ¡°Let¡¯s try to monitor this closely. Food is a big priority right now, I think people are tired of meat.¡± I interrupt, placing my hand on Jared¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Hey, Jared. We finished the last raid, and I unlocked a bunch of new features for the territory. I wanted to go over them with you and whoever else should be involved.¡± Jared nods. ¡°That¡¯s great.¡± He raised a finger to the group, signaling for a moment¡¯s patience. ¡°Let me quickly wrap up here and gather a few people. Meet at your shelter?¡± Minutes later, Jared, myself, and two others are sitting around my table while Mischief lounges in the corner. He¡¯s getting massive now¡ªeasily eight feet long. His color is shifting, with hints of orange replacing his usual muted yellow. The five of us have to squeeze into the small sitting room. The table is rough, not polished but solid with four three legged stools surrounding it. Jared starts. ¡°Alright, Layton, let¡¯s start with the biggest question¡ªwhat did we unlock?¡± I recount the notifications in full. Jared and the others listen, eyes locked onto me. Jared nods. ¡°Alright, the first thing we should probably do is activate the Universal Interface and explore our options.¡± I agree, standing up. ¡°Yeah, let¡¯s get that set up. It¡¯s about the size of a whiteboard¡ªI¡¯ll place it on the empty wall here.¡± I open my inventory and will the Interface into existence. POP. A six-foot by six-foot glass screen materializes against the wall, hovering just slightly above the surface. Words scroll across it. Welcome, Layton! Congratulations on claiming your first territory. Tutorial has been skipped. Before accessing features, you must name your faction. I smack my forehead. Freaking system. Jared glances at me. ¡°Why did it skip the tutorial?¡± I sigh. ¡°Because the system and I have an inside joke.¡± He just stares at me. ¡°...What?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not a big deal,¡± I say with a shrug. ¡°I just got a little antsy when the induction happened and skipped everything. Now it¡¯s a permanent feature for me. It¡¯s gotten me into trouble a few times, but overall, it¡¯s not that bad.¡± I wave a hand dismissively. ¡°Can we get back to naming the faction?¡± I get some incredulous looks¡ªsome of them definitely judging me. ¡°Okay¡­ we can talk about that later.¡± Jared clears his throat. ¡°As far as a faction name goes, we¡¯ve actually been calling ourselves something for a while now. I think most of us would agree to it¡ªif you do.¡± I raise a brow. ¡°Alright. What is it?¡± ¡°Okay, but keep in mind that people really like it before you shoot it down.¡± Jared waits for me to nod suspiciously before continuing. ¡°We¡¯ve been calling ourselves Layton Mischief¡­ you know, like a play on the word ¡®latent¡¯?¡± I pause, thinking it over. Latent¡ªdormant potential waiting to awaken. Add in the obvious nod to Mischief, and¡­ yeah, I actually kind of love it. ¡°That¡¯s solid,¡± I admit. ¡°Let¡¯s go with it.¡± You have chosen to be known to the universe as ¡®Layton Mischief.¡¯ You may now use the interface. A number of screens populate on the interface: Jared¡¯s eyes flicker to the Interface, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table. I can see the gears turning, already calculating how to use this to secure our people¡¯s future. That¡¯s Jared for you. Always five steps ahead. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. I scan the options. ¡°Looks like we have three main fields for now¡ªShop, Objectives, and Requests.¡± Jared frowns. ¡°Three? I only have access to the Shop prompt. That must be because you¡¯re the faction leader.¡± That would make sense. On a whim, I navigate through the interface. It¡¯s wide enough that Damon, Jared and myself can all mess around with the screen at the same time. We each have separate windows open as we toy with the system screens. After a brief search I find the screen that I am looking for and assign Jared as my Steward. ¡°Hey Jared, I just assigned you to be the Steward of the faction, but I think you have to accept it manually. Check your status.¡± Jared blinks in surprise. ¡°Layton, I¡¯m honored, but are you sure you want to assign a Steward so early?¡± I can¡¯t help but chuckle. ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡± he asks. Shaking my head, I grin. ¡°I¡¯m just not used to hearing ¡®are you sure?¡¯ Most of my decisions get locked in the second I make them. And yeah, I¡¯m sure. You¡¯ve already been doing the job¡ªyou might as well have the title.¡± Jared checks his interface. ¡°Alright. I accepted it. Let¡¯s see¡­ yeah, I have full access to Objectives and Requests now.¡± ¡°Perfect. Let¡¯s take a look at what we¡¯re working with.¡± We spend the next few hours exploring the Shop menu, scanning through the available items. Our meeting is accompanied by the sounds of construction outside the small cabin. Occasionally a loud BANG that rattles the door on its hinges accompanied by muffled shouts of ¡°NO Alex, it needs to go here!¡± The last raid has barely ended and Alex is already back to playing pack mule moving logs for construction. His strength makes him an exceptional pack mule. Through the noise I toggle through the interface screens. I had high hopes¡ªmaybe legendary weapons, top-tier armor, or even some rare skills. What I found instead? Tools, blueprints, and crafting materials. Not useless¡ªjust not what I expected. The shop is clearly geared toward infrastructure, offering things like smithing hammers, construction plans, and even farming equipment. There is a section titled skill books, I make a mental note to review later. There¡¯s also an option to sell items, though the system warns that its prices aren¡¯t as good as bartering with other factions could be. Out of curiosity, I test it¡ªselling off stacks of hundreds of monster meats¡­ for a total of 100 Universal Bronze Coins. I exhale. ¡°Well, no offense, but¡­ does anyone else feel like the shop is kinda anticlimactic?¡± I glance at Jared, Damon, and Jessica, expecting agreement. Instead, Damon looks at me like I just kicked his dog. ¡°What are you, crazy?¡± Damon says, borderline offended. ¡°This is the best thing I could¡¯ve hoped for.¡± He continues thumbs through more of the store. His eyes wide with excitement. ¡°The last three weeks, I¡¯ve felt almost completely useless.¡± I blink. ¡°Huh? How could you feel useless? You¡¯ve been building like crazy. What you and the others have done is nothing short of remarkable.¡± I gesture toward the cabin we are all sitting in. ¡°I mean, look at this place! Walls, cabins, fields¡ªyou all built a freaking town from nothing.¡± Damon lets out a rough exhale, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°Yeah, but¡­ it didn¡¯t feel like I was progressing. I watched you guys fight, get stronger, level up¡ªmeanwhile, I was just hammering logs together. It felt like I was stuck.¡± Jessica nods. ¡°Most of us felt that way. Imagine if you fighters had nothing to fight. What would you even do?¡± She gestures at the interface. ¡°But now? Damon actually has something to work toward. His craft will grow, just like your combat skills.¡± I sit with that for a moment, then nod. ¡°Alright. That¡¯s a fair point.¡± Damon grins. ¡°Damn right it is.¡± I shake my head, laughing. ¡°Then I guess it¡¯s time we make the most of what we¡¯ve got. Damon, can you walk me through how your leveling works?¡± Damon leans forward. ¡°It¡¯s pretty straightforward. The more time I spend smithing, the more I level. Higher-quality materials and better tools improve my gains. I also get bonuses for making higher-tier gear. So far, I¡¯ve only gotten experience from basic weapon maintenance, but I haven¡¯t had the right setup to push my skills further.¡± His explanation makes sense. I start seeing the bigger picture. If we want stronger fighters, we need better equipment. If we want better equipment, we need a proper smithy. And if we want a proper smithy¡­ I open the Objectives menu. Create Objectives: Assign objectives to faction members. Interesting. I can create specific tasks for faction members, complete with rewards. Even better¡ªI can set objectives by class. It even shows me the items in my inventory, I choose the items I had in mind. I test it out, pulling up Damon¡¯s profile. After a few tweaks, I finalize my first faction objective. ¡°Damon, can you check your status real quick?¡± Damon pauses, then his eyes widen. ¡°I¡¯ve got a new optional objective: Construct a building to start your forge. And there¡¯s a reward attached¡ªUncommon Blacksmithing Set and 1,000 UBCs. Plus¡­ huh, a two-week experience boost?¡± That last part surprises me. I didn¡¯t assign an XP boost¡ªseems like the system automatically adds one. Would it do that everytime? Jared would have to play around and see how the rules worked. I grin. ¡°Well, that worked out perfectly. That blacksmithing set¡¯s yours as soon as you build your forge.¡± Damon stares at the objective, then looks up at me. ¡°Layton¡­ I don¡¯t know how to thank you. This means everything.¡± I wave him off. ¡°No need to thank me. I just want to see what you can do.¡± Damon springs out of his chair. ¡°I¡¯ll get started right now!¡± And with that, he¡¯s gone¡ªalready planning his next steps. Jessica smirks. ¡°I can¡¯t wait to get my own objective soon. Looked like there was some interesting harvesting equipment in the store.¡± She winks, then heads off too. I turn back to Jared. ¡°You¡¯ve been looking through the interface, right?¡± Jared nods. ¡°Yeah. And now that I have Steward access, I can manage objectives too.¡± I grin. ¡°Good. Because I¡¯ve got a lot more to throw your way.¡± Chapter 34 - A heart to heart The possibilities start stacking up in my mind. Damon¡¯s perspective makes a lot of sense, and I can see how big of a step the new interface will be in leveling up our territory. But there¡¯s a nagging feeling I can¡¯t shake. Things are going to get harder. The more time I spend with these people, the more responsibility I feel. I¡¯m not just fighting for myself anymore. It was simpler times with just Mischief and I against the world. Now? I have a new faction to protect. The problem? I can¡¯t be everywhere at once. If we¡¯re going to survive long-term, everyone needs to be capable¡ªnot just fighters, but crafters, builders, and support classes. And for that, they need the right tools to grow. ¡°Jared, how long would it take to build proper workspaces for our specialists?¡± I ask, already planning ahead. Jared scratches his head. ¡°Maybe one or two months to get everything up and running. But not every specialist needs their own building. Some roles can overlap.¡± I nod. ¡°Then we need to prioritize Damon. Arming and protecting our people is my top concern.¡± We go back and forth on the logistics for a while, talking about the values of each crafting class. I shift in my robe slightly before I look back at the interface. I¡¯ve never been tactful with difficult situations so I figure I will just lay out my thoughts. Looking over the screen I casually scroll through the tabs. ¡°Have you been digging through the interface?¡± I ask Jared. He nods. ¡°Yeah. Once I accepted the steward role, I played around with the prompts. Looks like you and I have identical access now.¡± That¡¯s good news. ¡°Perfect.¡± I rest my hands in my lap and face Jared. ¡°That brings me to something I wanted to discuss.¡± Jared leans forward, sensing a shift in tone. I hesitate for a second, then push forward. What I am about to confess has been on my mind for a few days now. ¡°Jared, listen¡ªhaving everyone here has been great. Having a faction is great.¡± I rake my hands through my hair, trying to choose my words delicately. ¡°But I don¡¯t think I¡¯m cut out to be the leader of it.¡± I pause, searching for the right words. ¡°Everything we have? The organization? The efficiency? That¡¯s all you. I¡¯d still be sleeping in the dirt if not for you and your people. What I¡¯m getting at is¡­ maybe you should take over running this faction?¡± Jared doesn¡¯t seem surprised he just rests a hand on the table and studies me. I can almost see the gears turning in his head as he processes, his expression unreadable. I shift on my stool, the silence making me uncomfortable. Raising my hands defensively I start the word vomiting. ¡°And just to be clear, I¡¯m not trying to dump responsibility. I¡¯ll still help however I can, but I think you¡¯re the one who should be leading. Hell, I''m only the faction leader by default since I was the only one here.¡± I cock my head slightly. ¡°Well I mean besides Mischief over there but he can¡¯t talk so I don¡¯t think he counts.¡± That earns me a light huff from the corner where mischief lays. Jared holds up a finger, signaling me to wait. The silence stretches. Feeling uneasy with silence I start rambling again. ¡°Hopefully it doesn¡¯t seem like I¡¯m just trying to ditch the job,¡± I add quickly. ¡°I¡¯ll still be involved, I just¡ª¡± Jared finally exhales and cuts me off. ¡°Layton.¡± He pauses and waits for me to meet his eyes. ¡°I appreciate what you¡¯re saying. I really do.¡± Jared folds his hands together on the table. His eyes are boring into mine, I try to hold them but have to look away. ¡°And it¡¯s admirable that you¡¯re thinking about the good of the group. But I think you¡¯re looking at this the wrong way.¡± I frown. ¡°What do you mean?¡± He leans back slightly, crossing his arms. ¡°Before we met you, Richard had just murdered Matt, our strongest fighter and our leader. Our territory was about to face a raid we knew we couldn¡¯t win and we were wandering through a forest we had never been to. God only knows where. We were lost. With no direction and little hope.¡± Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. He sits back forward leaning in towards me. ¡°Then we met you.¡± He chuckles and shakes his head. ¡°You were in a wide open field alone swinging a sword around like the last samurai.¡± ¡°I have to admit. When we first met, I had my doubts¡­¡± He rests his hand on the table and shakes his head again. ¡°Then I saw you fight.¡± ¡°It scared the shit out of me.¡± I opened my mouth to tell him that he didn¡¯t have to be scared but we held up his hand again. ¡°It scared me partly because you are so damn unassuming. I mean, no offense. But I had expected Mischief to be the real powerhouse.¡± Jared shoots Mischief a smile. ¡°And boy is he a powerhouse. But you? I had no idea.¡± He catches my eyes again and there is a burning intensity. ¡°But what really scared me? I had to ask myself, what kind of man did we just tie ourselves to? Richard or Matt? Maybe something worse?¡± "Watching you in that clearing¨CI knew, without a doubt¨Cwhatever you wanted to be, you had the power, and there wasn¡¯t a damn thing I could do about it.¡± I try to interrupt but he holds up his hand again. Nodding that he had a point. ¡°Then I started to get to know you. I learned that you were definitely not Richard. But you weren¡¯t Matt either.¡± He smiled thoughtfully at me. ¡°You are Layton. I can see how you care about the people here. You¡¯ve spent time and energy helping our fighters get stronger. You care.¡± I stare at Jared. I¡¯m not sure what to say anymore. ¡°Watching you these last two weeks¡­well for the first time since this all started, I actually believe we have a shot at making it.¡± He gestures toward the settlement outside. ¡°Look at how people have responded to you! Layton, you are the leader. There¡¯s no question in my mind.¡± Something in me wants to correct Jared, to tell him he¡¯s got the wrong guy. The words won¡¯t come. My eyes burned, blurring my vision. I blinked rapidly, refusing to let the tears fall. ¡°You¡¯re the strongest among us, but more than that¡ªyou inspire people. That¡¯s what a leader does. I¡¯m happy to handle the logistics, the planning, the management. But if you think for a second that anyone else in this camp is going to rally people the way you do, you¡¯re dead wrong.¡± He finally leans forward again. ¡°So no¡ªI won¡¯t take over. But I will help you run things. And actually, I have a few proposals I want you to consider.¡± A group walks by the cabin, I can hear their conversations muffled through the door. I rub the back of my neck. Not exactly the answer I was expecting. There is a tug in my throat I swallow down before I answer. ¡°Alright,¡± I say, my voice cracking a little. ¡°Let¡¯s hear them.¡± Jared nods, then grins. For a brief moment he reminds me of my dad. Sensing my emotions he clears his throat and allows the conversation to shift gears. ¡°I have a vision for LM,¡± he says. He leans back and pounds his hands on a large pine log that makes up my cabin. ¡°I don¡¯t want us to just survive¡ªI want us to build a safe haven. A place where people can actually live, not just scrape by. And I know for a fact that there are other groups out there, just like we were. Lost. Wandering. We need to find them. Bring them in. Grow. I want to turn our little village into something bigger.¡± I don¡¯t feel completely in control of my emotions. Jared had touched on feelings I didn¡¯t even know existed. I watch him carefully. He was smiling. He knew his words had meant something to me. Instead of forcing it he let me move on while maintaining my dignity. With some effort I composed myself, nod appreciatively and we move onto business. ¡°I can get on board with that plan. Where do we start?¡± Jared doesn¡¯t miss a beat. ¡°First priority: strengthening our fighters. I doubt we¡¯ve seen the worst of what this world has in store. Leveling is important, but gear matters just as much. We need Damon operational ASAP.¡± His words of encouragement still linger in my mind like a warm embrace. I still have my doubts. But I also have my own hope now. I settle into our strategic planning, placing my hands on the table and clearing my throat. ¡°Actually, that reminds me¡ªwe have two mines in our territory, one is a mineral mine and the other a shard. They are both classified as uncommon rarity. Do we have anyone who can mine?¡± Jared¡¯s expression shifts, intrigued. ¡°So far, we¡¯ve got a few gatherers. But here¡¯s the thing¡ªI think classes get more specialized the higher level they get. Right now, gatherers can level up by collecting any material. But I have a hunch that dedicated miners will eventually emerge.¡± That makes sense. ¡°So should we encourage specialization?¡± Jared considers. ¡°Choice matters. But¡­ maybe we use objectives to steer people toward roles that have the highest value to the faction?¡± I nod. That feels like a good balance¡ªguiding without forcing. Jared continues, ¡°Second priority¡ªwe need more people. Right now, our total population is 34¡ªincluding Mischief. That¡¯s way too low for long-term sustainability. I think we should run two initiatives at the same time. One: A scouting team looking for survivors. Two: A group systematically capturing and clearing new territories.¡± He folds his arms. ¡°Territory expansion can be assigned as an objective through the interface. The first few will need your help, but long term? I want to create task forces that can handle it without you.¡± I nod slowly, taking it all in. This is why I wanted Jared in charge. We continue fine-tuning the plan for another hour before we settle on a strategy. For now, we have clear objectives: Get Damon¡¯s forge operational ASAP. Recruit a mining team. Train and equip our fighters. Scout for survivors. Start capturing new territories. However there is one wildcard that still remains¡ªJared¡¯s old territory. We don¡¯t know who or what is there now. We decide that Mischief will scout it out. At first, we hesitate¡ªMischief can¡¯t talk. But in the end, we figure he¡¯ll manage. Jared fully embraces his steward role, outlining his next steps to power up the faction. With clear priorities in place, we finally part ways. Things are about to change. And I have a feeling this is just the beginning. Chapter 35 - Durkil (Sidestory) Durkil walked alone through the crumbling streets of Ulm. Once, it had been a capital¡ªa city of power, its warriors unmatched, its craftsmen revered. Now? Now, it was little more than a dying husk. Durkil often wondered what Ulm had once been. His imagination transforming the reality his eyes showed him. Uneven roads, cracked from decades of neglect, became finely paved walkways bustling with trade and commerce. The buildings¡ªif they could even be called that¨Cbarely standing, walls sagging, roofs barely keeping out the wind-- transformed to sturdy monoliths of white marble gilded with colorful banners. If Ulm had ever been great, that time had long since passed. The air was musty with the stench of spoiled food and waste. Durkil barely noticed anymore. Most of his days were spent outside the city, mining for the larger factions. Compared to the cramped sweaty stench of working in the mine the city smelled like roses. Durklil looked at the blue-green heavens filled with burning suns that were barely specs glittering in the twilight. It wasn¡¯t uncommon for Durkil to wander the streets late at night. He preferred the streets that way. Quiet besides the rattle of cloth scraps against stone openings. There is a scuttle in the street. Likely a small creature foraging for food. Good luck, Durkil thought bitterly. He followed the noise but the culprit is already long gone. He hadn¡¯t realized he had walked so far from his hovel. No surprise his hooves had carried him to the one building in all of Ulm that was moderately well maintained. Durkil stopped to glare coldly. The monument to the Immortals. A three story stone building surrounded by small purple shrubs and wide pillars with worn but ornate stenciling in burnt orange, a stark contrast to the white pillars. Each floor held a shrine to one of the three Immortals. The top floor belonged to the self-proclaimed god, Devorah. Durkil spat into the bushes. The Immortals. Ageless leaders that lived mostly in legends in the long abandoned impoverished territories around Ulm. Many Guildians worshiped them, near-deities who shaped the fate of the world. There were temples, shrines, even entire doctrines dedicated to their glory. Durkil wasn¡¯t one of those Guildians. At eighteen years old, Durkil¡¯s mind was constantly preoccupied with questions no one could answer. Whenever he thought of the Immortals, his skin crawled. How could anyone so powerful allow places like Ulm to rot? The Immortals stripped resources from worlds like his, feeding the expansion of their empires while leaving the people here to starve. Were they watching from above? Had they simply forgotten about Ulm in their expansion or did they just not care? Either way, they had moved on to greater things. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. And Durkil was one of those left behind. He stood at just over seven feet tall, his antlered head setting him apart even among his own kind. Born with the fighter class, his body was built for combat¡ªjust like every guildian in Ulm. It wasn¡¯t that Guildians didn¡¯t produce non-combat classes at birth. In fact, Ulm had almost a one-to-one ratio of fighters and craftsmen. His sister had been one of those born with a crafting class. Durkil was young when the Devorites came and whisked her away. His eyes locked on the burnt-orange stenciling. Unbidden, a memory surged. A loud knock on the door. His mother scrambling to hide his baby sister¨Ccut short as the door to their small home was kicked off its hinges. Splinters sprayed across the dirt floor, biting into Durkil¡¯s skin. His little heart pounded in his chest. His father said that this day would come. It always did, randomly once a year. Strangers clad in purple and gold shining armor step casually into the room. Durkil raised a shaky hand to shade his eyes from the light bursting into the room outlining the men. One is clearly a Guildian with prominent tasseled antlers protruding from a well made helmet, the other some other breed of alien, likely from a faction conquered long ago. The men reached for Durkils mother while she fought to shield her baby. She pleaded with the men through snot and tears, they didn¡¯t need to take her daughter. The men''s faces were stone, the pleas falling on deaf ears. Then the pleas changed, she demanded that if they were going to take her daughter that they would have to take her too. The Guildian didn¡¯t listen, he pried the child loose from my mothers grasp and shoved her into a heap in the dirt. The men began to leave. Panicked, my beautiful mother drew a knife she kept hidden near her ankle and lunged for the armor clad guildian. The Alien moved in a blur. A flash of steel. Then his mother was falling, the sword buried deep in her chest. The Alien¡¯s gaze flicked to Durkil, hollow eyes lingering a moment longer than necessary. Then he sheathed his blade, his face empty, indifferent. Then they were gone. Durkil¡¯s hand twitched, reaching out instinctively for his mother. His body wouldn¡¯t move, frozen by terror. He watched, paralyzed, as his mother fought and fell. He didn¡¯t scream. He couldn¡¯t. His voice died in his throat, strangled by fear and shame. He curled up, too paralyzed to even weep. Soft tremors racked his small frame until his father arrived and wrapped him in a blanket holding him until sleep overtook him. The memory faded, but the shame remained, coiled tight in his chest. Durkil unclenched his fists, blood dripping from where his nails had bitten into his palms. According to the Devorites religion, the children with crafting classes were being taken and blessed by Devorah and the other immortals. Durkil knew better. The sad truth was craftsmen could level without combat. That meant they couldn¡¯t remain unchecked. Fighters on the other hand. Without battles to fight they would remain dormant, never growing, never becoming a threat. That¡¯s why the Devorite soldiers appeared each year. Sent by leaders¡ªunknown and unseen by Durkil¡ªto take every new Guildian born with a crafting class away never to be seen again. According to legend¨Ccenturies ago, when Guildian was first inducted into the System, war consumed everything. The world was divided between two titans: Devorah, a spellcaster of unimaginable power, and Oliver¡ªan enchanter whose craft turned soldiers into legends. For hundreds of years, their war consumed millions. In the end, it was betrayal that sealed Oliver¡¯s fate. No one knew who had snuck into his treasury. Some said it was a trusted ally, others whispered that Oliver¡¯s own kin had betrayed him. But the truth was lost to history¡­ or buried by Devorah¡¯s will. With its power, Devorah crushed Oliver¡¯s forces, killing him and his entire retinue. And she never forgot what it took to win. When she took control of Guildian, she locked the world down. In order to maintain control and prevent rebellion, she centralized power. She controlled the raids. The resources. The people. If you weren¡¯t chosen, you were left to rot. Durkil had never been chosen. He was just another warrior forced to work, never to fight. spending his life mining for scraps. Chapter 36 - Guildians say goodbye to Ulm (Sidestory) Durkil left the monument behind. The memory of his mother leaving him in a somber mood. A faint glow ahead draws his attention. Light flickered through the window of a run-down shack casting eerie shadows into the empty streets. At this hour? Curious, Durkil creeps closer, pressing himself to the wall beside the window. The voices inside were urgent. ¡°Are we really doing this? A raid at this price is essentially suicide!¡± ¡°What choice do we have? We¡¯ve saved for years¡ªthis is the only raid even remotely within our reach.¡± ¡°We can keep saving! If we wait, we¡¯ll find a better opportunity. What¡¯s the point of throwing our lives away?¡± ¡°This isn¡¯t life. I¡¯m not going to die in some mine while others get to fly. I¡¯d rather die out there than rot in here.¡± Durkil can barely believe his ears. A raid? His heart clenched. Years ago, after spending day after day in quiet sorrow, Durkils father had left to join a raid. And he¡¯d been left behind. That was last he had ever seen his father. With no family left Durkil felt alone and in a world he knew he didn¡¯t belong. He didn¡¯t hesitate. Durkil shoved open the door. The group inside jumped at the sudden intrusion, chairs scraping against the floor. A few reached for weapons. The room was small and cramped but nicer than most with stone floors rather than dirt. ¡°Let me join your raid!¡± Durkil blurted out. His heart was beating fast as he scanned the room. He nearly tripped over a chair in his rush. All eyes turned to him. ¡°Durkil?¡± The voice came from Jamus, one of the older Guildians. He often worked the same mining camps as Durkil, though they¡¯d never spoken much. Durkil straightened, now fully aware of all the eyes on him. ¡°I saw the light and I was curious.¡± he shuffled his hooves looking at the floor. ¡°Please¡ªdon¡¯t be angry. I want to join you. I¡¯m young and strong, and I have no family left.¡± He reached into his inventory, pulling out a small bag of bronze coins and offering them up. ¡°You can take these. I don¡¯t care. Just¡ªlet me go with you.¡± Durkil¡¯s tone was desperate. Eyes pleading. Jamus sighed and waved him off. ¡°Put your coins away, Durkil. We don¡¯t need them.¡± Durkil hesitated, looking around at the ten faces in the room. He only recognized Jamus. The rest were strangers. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. A Guildian with sharp features narrowed his eyes. ¡°What makes you think you can just barge in on our meeting?¡± ¡°Does it really matter, Ellison?¡± Jamus countered. ¡°We planned on letting anyone join who wanted out. Durkil just got ahead of the invitation.¡± Ellison frowned but said nothing. Then his serious demeanor broke and he chuckled. ¡°True enough.¡± Jamus leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. His eyes narrowed. ¡°Actually¡­ Durkil might help us make a decision.¡± Durkil straightened. ¡°How?¡± Jamus ignored the question, his gaze sweeping over the room. ¡°Durkil¡¯s father, Tenson. He was part of the last raid Ulm sent out ten years ago.¡± A heavy silence filled the room. ¡°Tenson and the others¡ªyou all remember¡ªthey never returned.¡± Jamus looked Durkil in the eye. ¡°I¡¯m surprised, given your family¡¯s history, that you¡¯d be so eager to follow in his footsteps.¡± Durkil¡¯s chest tightened. He remembered the day his father left. Even then he had begged to join his father. He didn¡¯t want to be left alone in this wasteland. His father left anyway. ¡°I have to go,¡± Tenson had told him. ¡°This world isn¡¯t for me anymore, I¡¯ll find a new one and bring you once I do.¡± Durkil had been too young to understand. He hadn¡¯t known why his father had to leave. But now? Now, it was obvious. This world¡ªUlm¡ªwas a dead end. ¡°He might not be dead¡­¡± Durkil said quietly, but his voice lacked conviction. Jamus sighed. ¡°He¡¯s dead, Durkil. When a raid fails, the interface closes the objective. If it had succeeded, the objective would still be active.¡± He paused. ¡°There¡¯s no doubt. They were defeated.¡± Durkil swallowed. Jamus studied him carefully. ¡°Does that change your mind about joining us?¡± Durkil liked to pretend that his father was out there somewhere¡ªon some distant world, gaining strength, preparing to return and take him away from Ulm. But deep down, he knew that wasn¡¯t the truth. ¡°My father knew the risks. And so do I.¡± His voice was steady as he met Ellison¡¯s gaze. ¡°I was born a fighter. So I will fight¡ªif you¡¯ll let me.¡± Ellison studied him for a long moment before sighing. ¡°You should understand something, Durkil. Raids this cheap are almost always suicide.¡± Durkil clenched his fists. Ellison continued. ¡°The more you pay, the better the options. We can¡¯t afford a high-quality raid, so this is all we have. The only reason we¡¯re even considering it is because it¡¯s a rare opportunity¡ªa newly integrated world.¡± Durkil didn¡¯t care. How could they call this ¡®considering¡¯? This was a chance. A new start. ¡°How many can enter the raid?¡± Durkil asked. Ellison exhaled. ¡°Fifty. And since I¡¯ll likely be the raid leader, no one can be above Level 12. If we survive and complete the objectives, we¡¯ll be allowed to bring in more volunteers through the interface.¡± The discussion continued, but no one objected to Durkil¡¯s presence anymore. In the end, they voted. The slot was purchased. And just like that, the announcement went out through the interface. A timer appeared. First fifty names to sign up would go. Ellison was first. Durkil''s finger hovered over the sign-up prompt. A cold sweat broke out on his back. Was he ready to die? To vanish without a trace, just like his father? His chest tightened. But staying here¡­ that was a slower death. His name appeared on the list before he realized he¡¯d made his choice. Eighteen years old, Durkil was considered high-level for his age. Level 12 was an achievement few in Ulm ever reached. It had taken him four years to get there¡ªyears of taking every opportunity to fight when mana monsters spawned. Fights others had avoided, leaving it to the guards. Most of the other forty-nine in the group were nearly twice his age. If that wasn¡¯t proof that Ulm had nothing left for him, he didn¡¯t know what was. The next day, the timer hit zero. A portal opened. The location of the portal had annoyed Durkil. Right in front of the Immortals monument. He looked up at the blue-green sky bidding it goodbye, then spit into the purple bushes one last time. Chapter 37 - Weclome to Earth (Side Story) Durkil knew the odds. He knew death was likely. And yet, his feet didn¡¯t hesitate. He stepped forward. The sensation was strange. Like stepping through warm water¡ªand then he was somewhere else. Ulm was gone. Durkil had expected to step into a battlefield. Instead, he found nothing. No enemies. No frenzied fight for survival. Just a green world with a bright vibrant blue sky above. There was a calm breeze that felt out of place with the cold tension in Durkils heart. The entire group stood in stunned silence, weapons gripped tightly. The landscape bore clear signs of battle. Defensive walls¡ªdamaged but standing. Scattered debris from past fights. The lingering scent of blood and death. In the middle of the walls is a small settlement built from the strange trees of this new world. But as for the defenders? Gone. Ellison moved first, scanning their surroundings. Durkil approached him. The rest of the Guildians began moving away from the portal cautiously. ¡°Isn¡¯t this supposed to be a raid?¡± Durkil asked. Ellison¡¯s brows furrowed¡ªfrom what Ellison knew of raids the enemy should¡¯ve been warned and prepared to attack on sight. Were they preparing some type of ambush? ¡°This is a raid mission¡­¡± he murmured. There was no enemy, this really could only mean one thing. ¡°It looks as though we¡¯ve had an incredible stroke of luck. This territory is abandoned.¡± A murmur of excitement spread through the group. And then, cheers erupted. Durkil didn¡¯t celebrate. Something felt off. There must¡¯ve been a reason the previous faction would abandon this territory. Ellison didn¡¯t cheer either. He took a few steps forward and then scratched the base of his antlers. As the rest of the group was celebrating their good fortune, He was reviewing the system objectives. His head raised from reviewing his status screen, expression serious, eyes growing wide. Durkil saw the expression and waved his arms to gather the rest of the group. The cheers slowly died and the group began to surround Ellison. ¡°It seems¡­¡± He exhaled. ¡°It seems we aren¡¯t just taking over an abandoned territory.¡± He turned and scrutinized the abandoned defenses. ¡°We¡¯re now in the middle of our own defensive cycle.¡± The group stilled. Celebration twisted into unease. Fear rippled through the crowd in hushed whispers. The only fighting any of the Guildians had ever seen was the occasional mana spawn. Fighting another organized faction? That was something totally new. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°What does that mean?¡± someone asked. Ellison turned back to the Guildians and his gaze swept over them. The portal faded, revealing a world bathed in alien light. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of unfamiliar blossoms. A breeze brushed against Ellison¡¯s face, warm and invigorating. The heavens light was much brighter and deeper blue then the muted blue green hue of their home in Ulm. To Ellison, it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. No more old decrepit slums. No more working just for scraps. Technically he had never been a slave, not by definition. But just because they weren¡¯t locked in chains didn¡¯t mean they were free. He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. No chains had bound him, but Ellison had always been a prisoner. Until now. Until this. He looked out over the alien horizon, eyes burning. This was freedom. And he would die before letting anyone take it away. Gripping his old rusty sword tight he set his shoulders. ¡°We¡¯ll have to defend this territory.¡± They had entered the portal expecting to die. Ellison did too, he had made his peace with it. Now? Not so much. Hope was a dangerous thing. ¡°If we survive the raid cycles, this land will officially be ours. No one else''s.¡± The words did little to settle the unease. Durkil stepped forward. ¡°So the only thing between me and my own life is three measly raids? Seems a small price to pay.¡± Durkil had heard stories about factions gaining territories before¡ªbut Ulms territory hadn¡¯t changed faction ownership in centuries. Instead they were part of the Devorites galaxy size faction. No one dared change that. He was scared but they had been given a gift. Ellison smiled at Durkil. His words didn¡¯t immediately chase the fear away but it was a start. ¡°So let¡¯s get to work and claim what is ours.¡± Ellison explained: They would be facing three enemy raids. They would have time to prepare between each one. Each successful defense would allow them to bring more Guildians through the portal to the new world. The Guldians spent all seven days preparing the best they could. They had no crafters but did the best they could. And then the first raid came. It was a slaughter. Fifty Guildians entered this world. Only fifteen survived. Durkil was one of them. The battle had been brutal. If not for the pre-built defenses, they would have been wiped out. Ellison, Jamus, and a spellcaster named Daevon were among the survivors. Durkil stood among them, panting, his club slick with blood. His level had jumped twice. Two levels in a single battle. Back in Ulm, that would have taken years. When the dust settled, the portal to Ulm reopened. Fifty more Guildians arrived. They were no longer just survivors. They were growing. The next week they tried to add to the defenses the walls were thicker but crude. Scouts were sent out though they didn¡¯t dare venture far. Edible vegetation was everywhere from berries to leafy green shrubs. All they gathered was thrown into the abandoned shelter. The second raid came. They fared better. This time, only seventeen were lost. Durkil wondered about the enemy. The second wave had been even weaker than them. What kind of hell had they come from? What circumstances had forced them into taking such a desperate raid? Durkil pushed the thoughts away. Guilt had no place here. It was kill or be killed. He chose to live. The third and final raid arrived. Durkil stood tall at the end of it. Panting. Bleeding. But alive. Three weeks ago, he had been Level 12. Now? Level 16. Four entire levels. The most growth he had ever experienced. He turned his eyes to the sky¡ªhe was already growing to love the dark shade of blue. As he peered into the heavens he wondered what his father had seen in his raid. Was it alien and beautiful like this world? Did his father see him? Was he watching from somewhere beyond this world? It didn¡¯t matter. Durkil had escaped Ulm. He had survived. And for the first time in his life, he had a future. Chapter 38 - A short lived victory Ellison stood amidst his fellow Guildians, their cheers echoing across the battlefield as the last raider fell¡ªhis skull caved in by Durkil¡¯s huge wooden club. It was over. The stench of blood and sweat hung heavy in the air, bodies strewn across the battlefield¡ªsilent testaments to the price of victory. Ellison exhaled, allowing himself a rare moment of relief. They had done it. He turned his gaze toward Durkil, watching as the young warrior caught his breath. He stood tall, club at his side, his humble clothing painted red with the blood of his enemies. This was always what Durkil was born for. Not toiling away in the mines. Durkil had been nothing short of heroic during the raids. If he hadn¡¯t been there even with their advantages in the first raid they would¡¯ve failed. Ellison was certain of that. Ellison had known Durkil¡¯s father, Tenson, before his death. A good man, if not a stubborn one. He had seen that same stubborn fire in Durkil¡¯s eyes these past few weeks. And now, against all odds¡ªhe had survived. Ellison was proud of him. But this was just the beginning. They had crossed their first major hurdle, but greater trials awaited. For now, however, they could celebrate. It had been a hard-fought victory. And with it came rewards. More Guildians would soon arrive, strengthening their numbers. As they completed objectives, their new faction would grow in level¡ªExpanding. Thriving. Surviving. Ellison couldn¡¯t help but smile. They had been so lucky. It could¡¯ve, no it SHOULD¡¯VE been so different. Ellison didn¡¯t pray to the immortals like many Guildians. He didn¡¯t believe them to be deity¡¯s, but he did still pray. He prayed to the system. He would never admit to anyone, but he had prayed before the raid. He had even thanked the system for their good tidings. Was their good fortune a coincidence? The abandoned territory had given them a rare advantage¡ªthe chance to fight on the defensive, rather than attack headfirst into unknown dangers. Probably. He had prayed to the system many times and never had answers. It didn¡¯t stop him. He would continue to pray as he did, it brought him peace of mind. Now here they were with their very own territory. This was their best chance at survival. And he had no intention of squandering it. But something didn¡¯t sit right. As the victory cheers faded into the night, he took a deep breath, scanning the strange alien sky above them. This planet was so different then his native land but the distant suns looked the same as they did on Ulm. The raids were over. For the first time, he allowed himself to truly wonder¡ªWhy had this territory been abandoned? What had driven its former occupants to flee?And more importantly¡ªWere they really alone? There were so many questions that would need answered. For now though they could breathe. He gazed over his faction''s new land, its beauty fresh and majestic. Massive mountains loomed in the distance, their jagged peaks veiled by mist, whispering of hidden ores and untapped riches. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. Thick forest and large trees for building new homes. For now, they had no crafters, that would make things hard at first but that would change in time. He smiled, letting his shoulders relax¨Csoaking it all in. He was about to join in the celebration with the rest of the Guildians when he froze stone still. His stomach dropped. His eyes locked onto something in the distance. A figure. No¡ªseveral. Silhouetted by the fading light, they stood atop a nearby hill¡ªsilent and unmoving. The leader, clad in a simple gray robe, bore a sword across his back, its hilt catching the last rays of the sun. And beside him¡­A monstrosity. A massive, four-legged beast wrapped in flaming orange¨Cyellow hair. Ellison¡¯s blood ran cold. The creature stood poised, muscles coiling beneath shifting fur. Its predatory aura sent a shiver up Ellison¡¯s spine. This was no ordinary creature. This was something else entirely. A beast of nightmares. Another silent prayer formed on Ellison¡¯s lips, did the system really listen? For all their sake please let it listen. His fingers tightened around his weapon. Were the new rewards enough? Would they survive this? Ellison¡¯s pulse quickened. If those figures chose to fight... He knew deep in his core, it wouldn¡¯t be his people who lived. - ¡°Well, what do we think, team?¡± Layton asked, glancing back at his small group of fighters from Faction LM. Alex was the first to speak, his deepening voice carrying easily. ¡°After watching them handle the last raid? Honestly, Layton, you or Mischief could probably wipe their whole group out without breaking a sweat.¡± Layton looked at him¡ªthe guy had grown again. Several inches taller than Layton now, Alex had filled out, his frame thicker with muscle. The guy was a freak. Elise spoke up next, her voice quieter but firm. ¡°I feel bad for them.¡± She hesitated, looking down at the deer-like people celebrating their victory. ¡°They look¡­ happy. Just like us, after a win. Are we really gonna take that from them?¡± Layton exhaled. He wanted to believe in peace too. ¡°I don¡¯t know, Elise. So far, every non-human we¡¯ve run into has had a ¡®murder first, ask questions later¡¯ mentality.¡± And that was the truth¡ªevery encounter outside of their own had ended in bloodshed. ¡°Yeah, but those were raids. Dungeons. System-generated stuff.¡± Elise folded her arms, watching the deer-people carefully. ¡°These guys? They¡¯re not a raid or a dungeon. And come on, look at them. They¡¯re basically deer people. We have to at least try to talk, right? It¡¯s not like you can¡¯t just slap on one of your stupidly overpowered shields and go supernova if they attack.¡± Layton smirked at her not-so-subtle manipulation. Besides it had always been his tradition to try and reason with every enemy they encountered. Why stop now? Peace was always preferable¡ªhe just wasn¡¯t sure it was possible. ¡°What do you think, buddy?¡± Layton turned to Mischief, who had grown massive¡ªhis head nearly at Layton¡¯s shoulder now. ¡°You wanna go down there and see what they have to say? Might need an interpreter.¡± Mischief just nodded. Layton grinned. ¡°Alright. Let¡¯s go try and make some new friends.¡± As they moved toward the group below, Layton saw the deer-people take notice. Weapons shifted in their hands. Their celebration dulled into tense silence. I raised both hands in a peaceful gesture. Still covering myself and Mischief in a barrier. Just in case. When we were within twenty yards or so, two of the deer-like people stepped forward cautiously but not outright hostile. One of them was impossible to miss¡ªthe massive, seven-foot-tall club-wielding warrior they had watched during the raid. I noticed how he looked so similar to every raid monster they had faced. They all did. The other was older, his fur showing streaks of gray through his beard. Mane? I wasn¡¯t exactly sure what to call it. I take a breath. I¡¯m not worried about fighting, if it came to that I was confident. But this is the first time an alien force didn¡¯t outright attack on sight. Time to see if they¡¯d be different. ¡°Hello!¡± I shout. My voice loud but controlled. ¡°My name is Layton! I come in peace, fellow travelers!¡± I groaned internally, where had this fellow traveler''s nonsense come from? I let out a silent prayer. For once, let this work. The older deer-man placed a hand over his chest, stepping forward¡ªand then he opened his mouth and spoke. ¡°Hello, Layton. My name is Ellison of Ulm, and these are the people of my faction. Are you the leader of yours?¡± I nearly faint, my jaw dropping to the floor. Chapter 39 - Negotiating I stand there, frozen, jaw hanging open. My brain refuses to catch up. Words exist. I know they do. But right now? Blank. Mischief nudges my arm. I have to shout in my head Layton snap out of it! ¡°Oh¡ªyeah! Uh¡ªhi! Wait, no, I already said hi¡ªuh¡­¡± Mischief sighs and flicks his tail. I clear my throat, pulling myself together. ¡°Yes. I¡¯m the leader.¡± I exhale. Okay. Better. ¡°Wow. I was not prepared for this. Usually things don¡¯t get this far before heads start rolling.¡± Ellison¡¯s brow raises slightly. Wincing I try and salvage my last comment I raise my heads defensively ¡°Not that I want heads to roll. That¡¯s not a threat. It¡¯s just¡ªyou¡¯re the first group that hasn¡¯t immediately tried to kill us. That¡¯s¡­ new.¡± I have to pause, and take another breath. Good job, Layton. First potential alien diplomacy in human history, and you¡¯re rambling like a lunatic. Ellison studies me with a neutral expression before responding. ¡°We wondered where the previous occupants had gone. Are you the faction that was first here?¡± It is a fair question.. They were probably shocked when they arrived expecting a fight and found none. But the other huge question was HOW ON EARTH WERE WE TALKING? I made my best effort to compose myself and not look more like a fool. ¡°Those people with me on the hill, this was their territory.¡± I point using my head. ¡°I must seem like a fool, it¡¯s just I haven¡¯t been able to communicate with anyone since our world changed. How are we understanding each other?¡± Ellison¡¯s gaze drifts to the hill, eyes narrowing as he studies Alex and the others. His mannerisms¨Cdespite looking like a deer man¨Cseem so human. He studies me a bit more before speaking. ¡°You seem young, and your surprise is certainly justified. As for how we understand one another¡ªupon completing the third wave, I was granted the ¡®Gift of Tongues.¡¯ A true blessing.¡± I blink. Well, that explains a lot. Was that similar to what Mischief earned to understand spoken language? Ellison speaks slowly, carefully. ¡°At the risk of being too forward¡ªif you were capable of completing the raid objectives, why did you abandon your territory and its defenses?¡± I consider the question. I could lie, be cautious. But¡ªthat wasn¡¯t me. My dad always told me, men that lie or don¡¯t speak directly are hiding something. I had nothing to hide. Besides, if this did go sideways, deer heads would roll. Might as well shoot straight. ¡°Well, like I said¡ªthe people behind me were the original owners here.¡± I watch Ellison looking for a reaction to them being the original owners. His face is stone. ¡°There was an internal conflict and their group was forced to abandon the territory and that little fort there.¡± I point toward the beaten up walls and makeshift fort. ¡°After leaving they stumbled into my territory and chose to stay.¡± I take a breath. ¡°We knew someone new would take their place. And since you were upfront with me, I¡¯ll be upfront with you¡ª¡± I lock eyes with Ellison. ¡°We¡¯re here to see if you¡¯re a threat.¡± My eyes sweep over the group behind Ellison, especially the big boy, to gauge their reactions. It seems only Ellison could understand the conversation. The others shift uneasily, some gripping their weapons but they look to their leader. They trust Ellison. The big club-wielding deer-man looks especially restless. Ellison nods slowly. ¡°It was kind of you to accept their people as your own.¡± He pauses. ¡°Truly, you must be a benevolent leader.¡± I wasn¡¯t sure if that was flattery or sarcasm. For now I assume it''s genuine. Ellison continues, ¡°But I am curious. If you came here to assess a threat¡ª¡± He motions toward the group standing on the hill behind Layton. ¡°Why bring the ones who ran, instead of your own warriors?¡± Stolen story; please report. Ahh, you wily old deer-man. Ellison wasn¡¯t outright asking about my faction¡¯s strength¡ªhe was fishing for weaknesses. Trying to understand the extent of our forces. I could tell already¡ªhe was a diplomat. A leader in his own right. More careful than me. More calculating. But I wasn¡¯t one for word games. ¡°Ellison, no games. Ask me anything, and I¡¯ll answer straight. Let¡¯s cut the pretense.¡± His expression didn¡¯t shift, but I caught the slight widening of his eyes. ¡°You¡¯re looking at our warriors.¡± I gesture up the hill. ¡°That¡¯s it. Those few people, plus the wolf. The rest back in our territory are all non-combatants.¡± I let that sink in before continuing. ¡°You outnumber us three to one.¡± My hands rest on my hips. ¡°If you¡¯re trying to gauge whether you could win a fight?¡± I met his eyes, steady and unyielding. ¡°That would be a mistake. Not a threat¡ªjust reality.¡± Ellison isn¡¯t expecting that level of bluntness. At first, he looks caught off guard. But as I keep speaking, something shifts in him¡ªnot fear, not anger¡ªsomething closer to relief. ¡°It seems you saw through my subtle attempts to learn more about your people.¡± A faint smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. ¡°It wasn¡¯t my intention to offend you. In truth, I find your honesty¡­ refreshing.¡± He fell silent, wrestling with a decision. I let him take his time. Finally, he spoke. ¡°I will extend the same honesty to you.¡± The air between us felt charged. ¡°My people and I come from a world where only the rare few are allowed to progress.¡± His voice was steady, but I could hear the weight behind his words. ¡°The rest of us¡ªpeople like me¡ªwere left to live with less than table scraps.¡± His people stir uneasy at his words, shifting in place. ¡°We came here expecting to raid. We viewed it as our chance at something new. A future.¡± Ellison turns and gives his people a look of pride before turning back to me. ¡°We will fight and die for that chance.¡± Ellison inhales sharply. ¡°That said, I would rather not fight you. We only want the opportunity to grow.¡± Then, his gaze locked onto mine. ¡°Do you see any possible way for us to co-exist?¡± Damn it. I like Ellison. Aside from his earlier probing, he was genuine. Open about his intentions. And I couldn¡¯t even blame him for wanting to assess the risk we pose. But there was one massive problem. How could I just let a foreign power grow unchecked right on my doorstep? Even if Ellison was sincere¡ªwhat about his successors? What about the next generation of his people? Would they still see us as allies? Or would they see us as competition? That risk put my people in danger. And that would not do. With a sigh I shake my head. ¡°That¡¯s a tough question, Ellison.¡± He watches me carefully. ¡°On one hand, I get it. Your people got screwed over.¡± I start pacing slowly. ¡°If I¡¯m understanding right, you¡¯re from a world where some people basically became gods, while you had the potential¡ªbut never had the chance.¡± Ellison nods. ¡°That is an accurate summary.¡± It was hard for me to imagine living in a world like that. ¡°Alright. So here¡¯s my problem.¡± I fold my arms. ¡°What would you do if you were in my position? A foreign group, strong and growing, settling right next to your people? They seem different but you don¡¯t know them.¡± ¡°Would you just let them grow unchecked?¡± I stop my pacing and wait for Ellison to answer. He doesn¡¯t answer. Silence stretches between us, heavy and unyielding. He considers my words¡ªreally considers them. Then, he exhales. ¡°If I were you¡­ I would eliminate the threat.¡± His eyes flick toward Mischief. A silent acknowledgement. He may not understand just how completely outmatched they were, but he seems to have an idea. I nod slowly. ¡°That¡¯s one way to do it. But it screws us both.¡± Ellison raises an eyebrow. ¡°What alternative do you propose?¡± ¡°What if we grew together?¡± I can visibly see the shift. The subtle tightening of his shoulders. The slight narrowing of his eyes. His people behind him¡ªespecially the big one¡ªsee it too. I see a single finger twitch on his bloody stump of a club. ¡°How would that help anything?¡± Ellison¡¯s voice holds a sharper edge now. ¡°We would still be a threat to your people. Not only that, but we refuse to go back to being second-class citizens.¡± I catch the tension spreading through his group. Even though they didn¡¯t understand our words, they understand his tone. I meet Ellison¡¯s gaze. ¡°And I wouldn¡¯t expect you to.¡± He doesn¡¯t answer. I continue. ¡°Look. We¡¯re building something new here. We¡¯ve barely started.¡± I glance at the poorly constructed defenses. ¡°Hell, I don¡¯t even fully understand how half of this works.¡± I gesture broadly around me. ¡°But here¡¯s what I do know¡ªgrowth benefits us both. I don¡¯t want to stop you from progressing. In fact, we need more fighters.¡± His expression shifts slightly at that. Barely anything. A crack. A sliver of something beyond suspicion. Hope. ¡°And?¡± He asks carefully. ¡°And if we work together, you¡¯d even get representation in our leadership. You¡¯d have land of your own.¡± That made him pause. ¡°If we fight?¡± I let the words rest. ¡°Even if you somehow win¡ªand that is a big IF¨Cdo you think the rest of Earth¡¯s population will leave you alone?¡± ¡°This world is new, but I guarantee you¡ªour people will keep coming.¡± Ellison''s eyes move to me, then to the hill, then to his people before he exhales sharply. His hand moves to his fur covered face. The human gesture encourages me that I was on the right track. ¡°This is more than I was expecting from our conversation.¡± He spoke with his head still in his hand. His polished diplomatic demeanor crumbling. ¡°Will you allow me time to counsel with my people?¡± I nod. ¡°Of course.¡± Chapter 40 - Durkil verse Layton With my assent, Ellison spins on his heels, walking over to a small group of deer people¡ªincluding the big one¡ªand begins speaking in his native tongue. Oddly enough, his translator ability toggled off. Smart. Wouldn¡¯t want me eavesdropping. They leave me standing there, waiting while they talk¡ªand talk¡ªand talk some more. It must be an hour or longer that they leave me standing, waiting with Mischief. I kill time by running through sword forms in my mind. I am getting restless when Ellison finally turns back to me. ¡°We are torn.¡± His voice is even, but his eyes carry weight. ¡°I will admit you have me convinced. In turn, I was successful convincing a few others. But there are still some¡ªfoolish ones¡ªwho believe we should fight.¡± A muscle twitches in my jaw. ¡°They believe our numbers give us the advantage.¡± I run my hands through my hair and sigh. ¡°I assume you tried explaining how wrong they are?¡± ¡°I did. They remain unconvinced.¡± He shifts hesitantly. ¡°So I proposed a compromise.¡± My ears perk up. ¡°A show of strength.¡± I nearly snort but manage to hold it in. Of course. Classic. ¡°Alright,¡± I say grinning. ¡°What¡¯s the deal?¡± ¡°One-on-one. Your best fighter against ours.¡± His eyes flick toward Mischief. I really need to stop bringing him to these things. He¡¯s always stealing my thunder. It¡¯s hard to blame them though. ¡°No spells. No skills. Non-lethal.¡± Once he¡¯s done explaining I start rolling my shoulders. ¡°Fair enough. Who am I fighting?¡± Ellison raises an eyebrow. ¡°You?¡± You¡¯re wearing healer¡¯s robes, are you not?¡± Looking down at my simple gray cloak I just shrug. Ellison chose his next words thoughtfully, likely hoping not to offend me. ¡°It is important that you demonstrate strength.¡± He glances up at the hill. ¡°Perhaps the large one? Or better yet¡­¡± His eyes come back to Mischief. ¡°¡­Your monstrous friend?¡± ¡°No, it''s fine. I¡¯ll fight your best.¡± I didn¡¯t hesitate in the slightest. Ellison levels a flat stare at me, he¡¯s not sold. I¡¯m glad he is taking this seriously. A decisive show of strength must be important. Most likely his people were much more on the fence that he led on. ¡°Are you sure?¡± He asks, studying me carefully. I nod. ¡°It will be fine.¡± ¡°Who did you have in mind?¡± As if I even need to ask. I already know who it will be. The seven-foot brute who had been a wrecking ball during the raid steps forward. I¡¯d watched him fight¡ªraw power, overwhelming force, not really much in the form of technique. He looks at me and tilts his head, then back to Ellison as if to confirm. Clearly confused he mutters something in his native tongue. Ellison shrugs and simply points at me. The brute narrows its eyes at me brow furrowing as he gives me a once-over¡ªlike he doesn¡¯t understand why a ¡®healer¡¯ was volunteering. I grumble one last time about Mischief not even being that scary. I guess I¡¯d just have to show him. - Durkil was listening closely while Ellison took time recounting his conversation with the newcomers. He spoke of the man¡¯s strange honesty¡ªhis na?ve but oddly compelling offer to merge factions despite knowing nothing about them. His description of the small leader¡¯s confidence, his belief that if it came to a fight, the Guildians would certainly lose. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Durkil already felt the weight of that claim, especially after sizing up the monstrous feline prowling at the man¡¯s side. Not everyone was convinced. Daevon, the spellcaster, was the most vocal skeptic. ¡°It¡¯s too convenient,¡± Says with a scoff. ¡°Why would he invite us in so easily? It is so obviously a trap¡ªa way to enslave us.¡± Daevon also was skeptical that a handful of fighters could overpower their entire force. Let alone all the new levels. ¡°They¡¯re bluffing,¡± he insists. ¡°If we strike first¡ªeliminate the beast¡ªthen we can crush them before they react.¡± Ellison, however, shut that down immediately. ¡°Even if we win,¡± he counters, ¡°we¡¯d be making enemies of this world¡¯s people. You want to trade our only chance at freedom for another war?¡± The debate was dragging on until they all came to a compromise. If the newcomers could prove their strength¡ªshow that their confidence wasn¡¯t a bluff¡ªthen they¡¯d discuss an alliance. And so, a contest of champions was decided. Durkil was chosen. It was a close vote¡ªDaevon obviously thought he should have the spot¡ªbut ultimately, Durkil was the strongest among them. After there was agreement Ellison went to share the proposal. The human and Ellison speak briefly before Ellison turns and nods to Durkil. Head high Durkil walks forward swinging his club in tight rotations. He was not a stranger to fighting monsters. Running into large and dangerous looking mana beasts was not common on Ulm but Durkil had faced them before¨Csome were even twice his size. But something about this feline made his skin crawl. He reminds himself this fight wouldn¡¯t be lethal while taking a steadying breath. Then came the first surprise. Instead of the large feline predator¨Cor even the large man on the hill, Ellison points to the small awkward man in grey healer robes. Durkil frowns. The healer barely reached his chest. Was this a joke? Appearances could be deceiving¡ªDurkil is no fool, the universe was full of strange and powerful beings¡ªbut a healer? How much of his growth was dedicated to Intelligence and Wisdom rather than Strength or Agility? This is meant to be a test of strength, what did this man intend to do? Heal me into submission. Durkil takes a step forward but hesitates. This was a non-lethal fight, so he¡¯d have to be careful. Just one wrong swing could end the human. Durkil settles on a controlled strategy¡ªtargeting the legs. If this man was truly a healer, his best defense would be regeneration. He should be able to destroy the legs without causing a lethal blow or even lasting damage. Simple enough. Durkil raises his club and charges. With a thunderous step, he lifts his club high above his head before swinging it crashing down in a sweeping arc aimed low. Already, his first mistake. The strike meets nothing but air. The man isn''t there. Durkil¡¯s momentum carries him forward, almost pulling him off balance. He stumbles forward off balance, but quickly corrects his stance¡ªbut his target was already behind him. Durkil¡¯s eyes widen. Huh? That swing had a massive radius. How had the small man avoided it? Now on guard, Durkil adjusts his stance. He tightens his swings¡ªkeeping his club close, testing his opponent¡¯s reflexes. But each time he strikes, the man is gone just before the blow can land. It was maddening. It was infuriating. Durkil could tell¡ªhis opponent wasn¡¯t even trying to counterattack. His swings grew more and more frantic. Discarding the initial plan of aiming solely for the legs¨Che powers forward. No more holding back. He will take whatever he can get. The human? He keeps dodging. Effortlessly. Was he toying with me? Durkil grits his teeth. Nothing. Not one strike connects. That¡¯s enough. Throwing caution to the wind he lets loose. His club of blur of wild swings¡ªthe careful targeting is long gone¡ªhis brow set in determination to land a single hit. The man in the cloak isn¡¯t dodging like a fighter, or even a warrior. He moves like the wind. Durkil feels his frustration reach its peak. What was the point of this!? If he doesn¡¯t strike¡ªthen this fight is a stalemate. Durkil can¡¯t move fast enough to hit him, but at the same time, a ¡®healer¡¯ can¡¯t possibly hit hard enough to take him down. ¡­Right? That¡¯s when everything changes. Durkil swings¡ªa wide, heavy blow aiming at the man¡¯s ribs. This time, the man doesn¡¯t dodge. He moves forward. Durkil¡¯s swing is perfect this time. Heavy. Fast. Unstoppable. Then¡ªshhk! The impact never comes. The weight in his hands vanishes. But the strike didn¡¯t miss. Rather than dodging¨Cthe small man''s sword flicks out like a viper, in a blur. Durkil¡¯s club¡ªhis weapon¡ªseparates into two pieces. The larger chunk spins through the air, flipping end over end. He barely sees it before it thumps to the ground. Silence. Even the wind seems to hold its breath. Durkil barely has any time to process what is happening¡ªWhen he feels the cold steel at his throat. His body locks up. Then he looks down. The robed man stands before him, sword outstretched, blade pressing lightly against Durkil¡¯s neck. His heart thuds in his ears. And then¡­ Durkil meets his eyes. In that instant, he understands. This man wasn¡¯t bluffing. He wasn¡¯t making idle claims or boasts of his own strength. He was simply stating the truth. This isn''t just a healer. He can see that much. The broken handle of his club drops to the ground. Standing there, cold steel against his throat he peers into the man''s eyes. And what does he find? A glimpse¨Cjust a whisper¨Cof something unstoppable. Durkil had never felt small before. But in this moment standing before this human? He was staring at a ripple. A ripple that Durkil knew¨Cwith his very soul¨Cwould one day become a tidal wave. Then the man smiles and pulls back his sword before turning to Ellison and speaking in his foreign language. Durkils hand moves on instinct to his throat where the sword had rested. He couldn¡¯t pull his eyes away from his opponent. Just who was this small unassuming boy they were tying their fate to? Chapter 41 - Welcome to LM The boy leaves his sword at Durkil¡¯s throat for a beat longer, watching Ellison¡¯s reaction. Ellison¡¯s mouth was still slightly agape¡ªhis mind racing. This was a newly inducted world, meaning it was very unlikely he was level 25. Meaning his class was yet to evolve. Yet, despite his healer¡¯s robes, he moved with the speed and precision of a Level 20 agility specialist. And he carries a Spirit Weapon¡ªa beautiful blue blade that sang when he raised it to Durkil¡¯s throat. Spirit Weapons were rare, spoken of in rumors, and seeing one in the hands of this young man made Ellison¡¯s skin prickle. Does the boy even know what he has? To be fair, Ellison is only really aware of rumors about such things. He is ready to burst into questions one by one. Now isn¡¯t the time for that though. Composing himself he finally speaks, forcing his voice to be steady. ¡°I¡­ yes. Yes, I think you¡¯ve more than proven you weren¡¯t bluffing.¡± He takes a breath, straightening. ¡°Thank you for accommodating our request.¡± Not only was this young man not bluffing, but he was beyond anything Ellison imagined. Was this the boon of a newly inducted world? Would there be more like him? More monsters¡ªlike Layton and his strange feline companion? No, he doubts that would be the case. Ellison knows, without a shadow of a doubt, if Layton had come in sword swinging¨Chim and every Guildian would be dead. But instead? Layton was cordial¨Ca bit strange¨Cbut seemingly honest. Ellison tries to find the hidden angle. His instincts tell him there must be some nefarious motive. But what was it? Ellison scrutinizes the boy standing in front of him. The wind tousles his mottled brown hair. His active piercing blue eyes, a simple grey cloak and strange white shoes on his feet. He fights with a light blue spirit weapon that pulses with power, a unique contrast to his easy unassuming persona. Layton doesn¡¯t have the look of a schemer. His mere presence seems so¡­normal? No that wasn¡¯t it. It is just natural. His people had fought and died to secure this territory. It was theirs, they had earned it. Ellison looks at them now. Standing watching anxiously, trusting his judgement to lead them. He cast a silent prayer to the system and made his decision. ¡°As a show of good faith, I will transfer ownership of this territory to you and merge our faction with yours.¡± Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! The boy blinks. ¡°Really?¡± He shakes his head. ¡°I was actually going to suggest that you meet with Jared¡ªour steward¡ªbefore making any big decisions.¡± Ellison raises a brow. Inwardly he was flummoxed. It''s the right choice to wait. But Ellison knows he won¡¯t change his mind either way. He opens his status toggles a bit the territory screen and makes the transfer official ¡°I appreciate the sentiment, but I¡¯ve made the decision I think is best.¡± Layton sees the notification and accepts. It¡¯s done. ¡°You mentioned your Steward?¡± ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s the one who actually knows what he¡¯s doing.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll still need to meet with him so we can figure out how to integrate our people. We¡¯ll also want to discuss securing the connecting territories.¡± Ellison nods. ¡°That sounds like a reasonable next step. We will wait here. Should we expect to see more of your people in the meantime?¡± ¡°Mischief here has been scouting and hasn¡¯t seen any.¡± With a glance Layton addresses his oversized feline companion. ¡°That actually brings up a good point. If you run into another human, they¡¯re probably not ours. Maybe I should leave someone here to avoid any¡­ misunderstandings.¡± Ellison¡¯s expression darkens slightly. ¡°That would be wise. Are you comfortable leaving your people with us?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not me I¡¯m worried about.¡± He scratches his head. ¡°How about this¡ªI leave the whole group here, and I¡¯ll just run and grab Jared myself? If I carry him, I¡¯ll be back in a couple of hours.¡± Ellison¡¯s lips twitch in amusement. ¡°Are you willing to carry your steward on your back?¡± ¡°He might complain, but yeah.¡± ¡°Then go. We are now all members of the same faction, and we will behave as such.¡± Satisfied, Ellison watches the boy smile, before he turns and jogs back up the hill where his people wait. - ¡°Hold on.¡± Alex crosses his arms. ¡°Let me get this straight.¡± He points at me. ¡°You went down there. Talked to the deer people. And somehow, in less than an afternoon, convinced them all to join our faction?¡± I nod. ¡°Well it¡¯s not done yet, but it¡¯s looking promising.¡± ¡°¡­And now you want us to just stay here? With them?¡± He gestures dramatically. ¡°While you run off to get Jared?¡± ¡°Basically, yeah.¡± Alex exhales, rubbing his temples. ¡°I don¡¯t even know why I bother being surprised anymore.¡± Of course, Ben has something to say about it. ¡°Are you CRAZY?¡± The monster tamer takes a step forward. ¡°You want us to stay here with a group of alien deer people you just met? What if they change their minds and attack while you¡¯re gone?¡± ¡°Ben.¡± I hold up a hand. ¡°When have I ever steered you wrong?¡± Ben gives me a long, flat stare. ¡°¡­Do you want that list alphabetically or by disaster level?¡± ¡°Relax.¡± I grin. ¡°I¡¯m leaving Mischief here. Even if things did go south, you guys would be fine.¡± Ben¡¯s eyes flick to the massive feline. Mischief yawns lazily. Ben¡¯s shoulders relax. ¡°¡­Fine. But don¡¯t dilly-dally.¡± Elise snorts. ¡°Dilly-dally? Seriously? What are you, sixty?¡± Ben shoots her a deadpan look. I smirk. ¡°I solemnly swear¡ªno dallying of any kind.¡± I turned, already preparing to sprint. ¡°I¡¯ll be back soon.¡± And with that, I¡¯m off. Chapter 42 - Jared can we keep them? Jared sits in his small log cabin, the crackling fire casting flickering shadows across the log cabin¡¯s rough-hewn walls. It isn¡¯t cold, but the scent of burning pine and the rhythmic pop of sap anchors him, grounding his thoughts. On the table lies an intricate web of strings, each thread connects to small nails Damon had driven into the wood. Without paper, this is how Jared maps out the village¡¯s future¡ªlines of progress stretch across the rough tabletop. So far they had broken ground on several new projects. Damon''s new forge. Jessica¡¯s shard enchanting shop. Jessie¡¯s fields where they had begun growing the seeds Layton had earned in a dungeon. They had even started a project for a lumber mill. Jared¡¯s status screen flickers before him, familiar lines of data arranging themselves neatly. JARED HENDERSEN ¨C HUMAN Humans are well-rounded and adaptable. Receives +5 free points per level. CLASS STATS ABILITIES TITLES The day before Jared hit level fifteen and gained another skill. It occurred to Jared while looking through his options, that each of his skills enhances the efforts of the members of his faction. He had looked for skills that directly improved overall work speed but there were none to be found. Of course. His class wasn¡¯t about forcing people to work harder¡ªit was about maximizing their potential. Efficiency over compulsion. Just his style. But it wasn¡¯t the abilities that had him thinking. It was the function of stats for non-combat classes. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. The purpose of stats was still somewhat of a mystery to Jared. Especially since they didn¡¯t seem to act the same person to person. He was still running numbers on everything to understand it all more completely. In fighter classes the stats seemed much more straightforward as to what they would do. Constitution gave hp and effected endurance which also powered how many times skills could be deployed. Strength and agility both were obvious. He did feel much stronger, more youthful. Compared to Layton or Alex? It was a joke. But Jared wasn¡¯t about to complain. Still, he was determined to unravel more of the mystery of how the stat system worked for non-combat. For now though, Jared¡¯s eyes traced the lines of string on the table, his mind drifting to Jessie¡¯s fields and the possibility of speeding up crop growth. His interface flickered, a soft chime breaking his thoughts. New notification. New territory gained for faction Layton Mischief. Jared¡¯s eyebrows shoot up. Curious, he opens the prompt¡ªand a map unfolds before him. It shows the very same territory that his group left abandoned weeks ago. What the hell is Layton up to now? Jared taps the screen, zooming in. If the territory is theirs now, that means one of two things: Layton had cleared out the occupying force or...Layton had cleared out the occupying force. ¡­Because really, there was no other option. Layton is a force of nature. Whatever was there didn¡¯t stand a chance. Jared exhales, rubbing his forehead. Alright. At least this simplifies things. With this new addition, they now controlled two separate territories. The next logical step would be securing the two neutral zones in between. He is just about to start planning when something catches his eye. A long list of new names in the faction member tab. Jared frowns. Wait. What. The. Hell. He scrolls. And scrolls. And scrolls. The list is now four times longer than it had been this morning. Dozens of new members. Names he doesn''t recognize. Daevon. Durkil. Ellison. Jamus. On and on it goes. His pulse quickens. Had Layton somehow convinced the invaders to join his faction?! That¡¯s impossible. So far, every single non-human they had encountered had one strategy¡ªattack on sight. None had ever attempted conversation, let alone diplomacy. Jared¡¯s hands fly over his interface, pulling up one of the profiles. Race: Guildian. Definitely NOT human. Jared sits back, running a hand through his hair. Layton¡­ what did you DO? With a sigh, he spent the next couple of hours digging through the profiles, trying to make sense of their new ¡°citizens.¡± A few hours later, a sharp knock sounds at Jared¡¯s door. ¡°Come in.¡± Jared doesn''t even look up from his interface. The door creaks open. ¡°Hey there, Jared.¡± Layton¡¯s voice carries a distinct tone of forced innocence. Jared glances up. Yep. Guilty as hell. Layton grins sheepishly from the doorway. ¡°How¡¯s it going?¡± Jared sighs. ¡°Just come in, Layton.¡± He gestures at his screen. ¡°You have some explaining to do.¡± Layton slips inside, closing the door. ¡°Heh. You saw that, huh?¡± Jared just stares at him. Layton coughs into his fist. ¡°Okay, so¡ªthings went a little different than expected.¡± Jared folds his arms. ¡°No kidding.¡± Layton launches into his explanation. ¡°Your old territory? Yeah, taken over by deer people.¡± Jared stares, mouth slightly open. ¡°¡­I¡¯m sorry, did you just say deer people?¡± Layton grins. ¡°Yep. Hooves and everything. Like something out of Narnia.¡± He waves his hands. ¡°Wild stuff.¡± Then he cocked his head and rested his hand on his chin. ¡°Huh, I wonder if Ben would consider this ¡®dilly-dallying.¡¯¡± Jared pinches the bridge of his nose. ¡°Layton.¡± His voice is dangerously calm. ¡°Can we skip to the part where we suddenly have a hundred new foreign faction members?¡± ¡°Ah, yeah, yeah.¡± Layton clears his throat. ¡°So, when we got there, we saw them finish their last raid. Instead of murdering them immediately¡ªbecause, you know, progress¡ªwe figured we should try talking first.¡± Jared¡¯s expression doesn''t not change. ¡°And?¡± ¡°And it turns out their leader, Ellison, earned some kind of translation skill. We talked. He¡¯s actually a decent guy. Long story short¡ªnow we¡¯re friends!¡± Silence. Layton scratches the back of his head. ¡°¡­And I know we¡¯re looking for more humans, and you have this whole ¡®vision¡¯ thing, but you also wanted this place to be a beacon for all, right? So¡­ I figured¡ªwhy not REALLY make it for ALL?¡± Jared sighs¡ªa long, weary exhale. He closes his eyes, then laughs, sharp and incredulous. ¡°You remind me of my old neighbor. Couldn¡¯t help but bring home every stray he found.¡± Layton smirks. ¡°You say that like it¡¯s a bad thing.¡± Jared shakes his head. ¡°Considering I was one of those strays, I guess I can¡¯t complain.¡± Then his expression turns serious again. ¡°But have you thought about how we¡¯re going to support them?¡± Layton shrugs. ¡°Nope.¡± ¡°Are we even sure they¡¯ll stay peaceful?¡± ¡°Nope.¡± Jared exhales. ¡°Layton¡ª¡± Layton claps a hand on Jared¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Look, that¡¯s why YOU¡¯RE here. We have to be strong to support the people we meet. But we¡¯ll never know who¡¯s a threat until we give them a chance.¡± Jared rubs his temple. ¡°Alright, alright. Let¡¯s just go meet your new friend.¡± Layton grins. ¡°Great! So here¡¯s the plan¡ªI¡¯ll carry you.¡± Jared holds up a hand. ¡°Absolutely not.¡± ¡°It¡¯s the fastest way!¡± ¡°I¡¯d rather walk.¡± ¡°Jared, don¡¯t be stubborn¡ª¡± ¡°Let¡¯s go meet your friend Ellison but I think there is a better way then piggybacking if it¡¯s all the same to you.¡± He says with a chuckle. Chapter 43 - It never was a game Five minutes and 2,000 UBC''s later, we step through the newly acquired territory¡ªout of our very first portal. It''s seamless. Like walking from one room to another. The portal itself is a double-wide stone doorway¡ªunassuming until activated. Once the destination is chosen, one side shimmers like rippling water, allowing passage. Stepping through feels warm, almost fluid. A little weird, but not unpleasant. There are some customization options, like setting permissions and access restrictions, but Jared wants to meet Ellison before tweaking those settings. Placing the exit portal is surprisingly simple. The system¡¯s map interface let us pinpoint a drop location near where the Guildians were stationed. We place the exit accordingly and step through. The placement is damn near perfect. We emerge just a short walk away from where Mischief and the others are waiting. ¡°Well, that was fast.¡± Alex greets us as we approach. ¡°Right?¡± I grin. ¡°When I told Jared about everything, he figured it made sense to connect our new territories with a portal. It''s awesome¡ªfeels like taking a one-second shower. Except you¡¯re not wet, and I¡¯m pretty sure it doesn¡¯t actually clean you.¡± ¡°Is it like Star Trek?!¡± Nick calls out. Jared answers before I can. ¡°Yeah, I guess it was a bit like star trek.¡± ¡°You know,¡± I muse, ¡°we probably have things handled here if everyone else wants to head out. We still need to track down the dungeons in the next territory.¡± Most of the group jumps at the offer, eager for some action. Only Elise stays behind. ¡°I think I¡¯ll stick around,¡± she says crossing her arms. ¡°I¡¯m glad we didn¡¯t have to fight, and no one got hurt. I want to see how things go from here.¡± I nod. Elise has been gaining confidence over the past month, and I see no reason to exclude her. ¡°Sounds good. Let¡¯s head down.¡± Jared and Elise fall into step beside me as we make our way toward Ellison and his waiting Guildians. ¡°Welcome back, Layton. This is Jared I presume? And forgive me, but I am not familiar with your name.¡± Ellison bows slightly, indicating Elise. ¡°It¡¯s good to be back. Hope we didn¡¯t keep you waiting too long.¡± I gesture toward my companions. ¡°Yes, this is Jared, our faction¡¯s steward, and Elise, is one of our healers.¡± Jared had suggested on the way over that we offer help if they have wounded to help build trust. ¡°Actually, I should¡¯ve mentioned before¡ªElise and I are both healers. If you have injured, we¡¯d be happy to help while you and Jared talk.¡± I feel a small pang of guilt. Of course they had wounded. I should have offered before running off to get Jared. It botherd me that I hadn¡¯t thought of it on my own. Ellison¡¯s expression softens. ¡°It is a pleasure to meet you, Jared.¡± He bows again before glancing toward the injured. ¡°And yes, we have many in need of aid. Your kindness is most welcome.¡± He turns to an older Guildian, murmuring a few words. The man¡ªJamus, I think¡ªlooks at me in shock, though I''m not sure why. Had he didn''t expect us to actually help? His surprise vanishes in an instant, replaced by a polite nod of his antlered head and he gestures for me to follow. Elise and I move after him, leaving Jared and Ellison to their discussion. We find the wounded gathered in the grass¡ªmore than a dozen of them, wrapped in bloody bandages, their bodies marked by deep gashes and bruises. I approach the closest one¡ªa smaller female, unconscious, her thigh wrapped in blood-soaked cloth, another wound hidden beneath crimson-stained fabric on her head. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. I kneel beside her and cast Weak Heal. Light flares, washing over her body. The tension in her limbs ease, but its hard to tell how much more she needs with the bandages in the way. I unwind them carefully, casting again as I work, watching her wounds knit shut as if they were never there. Her breathing steadies. Slowly, her eyes flutter open. First, confusion. Then, fear. Jamus kneels beside her, murmuring reassurances. She turns to me, hesitates, then dips her head. A silent thank you. One by one, Elise and I move through the injured, restoring them to health. It feels good, even if it doesn''t erase the deeper wounds¡ªfear, grief, whatever losses they had suffered. Then, we reach the last one. He''s young¡ªmaybe about the same age as me. His midsection is torn open, his fur matted thick with blood. But I don¡¯t need to examine him to know. He is already gone. Another Guildian sits beside him, cross-legged, hand resting on his shoulder. His eyes are puffy, fur streaked with dried tears, and as I watch, fresh ones spill silently down his face. How long has he been gone? If I¡¯d gotten here earlier¡­ if I didn¡¯t waste time¡­ would it have made a difference? A voice in my head says no. It isn¡¯t my fault. I didn¡¯t strike the blow. I didn¡¯t force them to fight. It didn¡¯t change the gnawing ache in my gut. I kneel and gently rest my hand on the lifeless body. It¡¯s still warm. I cast Weak Heal and watch the faint glow of yellow mana seep into the broken body. Nothing. The young Guildian doesn¡¯t stir. His eyes¡ªmercifully closed¡ªremain still. I study the young Guildians face. It looks peaceful, like he is simply resting. I focus on his untouched face to avoid seeing the horrible wound. They had come as a raid. The Guildian in front of me had thoughts, feelings, and hopes¡ªjust like Ellison. A vise clenches around my ribs, squeezing the air from my lungs. The other Guildian sits beside him, watching me in silence. I¡¯ve known¡ªfrom the first dungeon¡ªthat there was more at play than just mindless NPCs or monsters. Each fight, each kill I shoved every logical thought down into a deep corner¨Cvalidating each and every kill with my own poorly constructed delusions. Now? My brain was desperate. Clawing and scrambling to hold on to the lie. The lie that I just hadn¡¯t known. The lie I told myself to justify killing monsters. NPCs. I lied to myself because I wanted to kill. For levels. For growth. And to do that, the monsters had to die. The lie cracked open, and the broken bodies spilled out¡ªdungeons, raids, slaughter¡ªuntil my hands dripped red with the truth. I cast weak heal again. The body stayed broken and unmoving. Gritting my teeth I keep going. The more I look into the young boy¡¯s face the more my facade breaks down. My shoulders sag under the weight of my decisions. Grief coils around me, heavy, and suffocating. I don¡¯t stop casting. If I can just fix this¡ªjust this one¡ªmaybe the others would forgive me. Someone moves next to me. ¡°Layton.¡± A hand touches my shoulder and I shrug it off. ¡°Layton, you can¡¯t do anything else here. You¡¯ve done enough.¡± ¡°Layton." Elise''s voice is quieter this time. Careful. Like she thinks I might break. Her words fall on deaf ears. Again. Again. Again. I burn through every last drop of mana, let it replenish, then cast again. The spell lights up his body, but then fades each time with no effect. This world bent to stats. To systems. To power. But no numbers could undo this. My fingers curl into fists. My eyes burn, but I refuse to let the tears fall. My justifications were dead, rotting in the grass beside this young Guildian. And without them? I had nothing. Just the truth. They wouldn¡¯t be able to carry the weight of my decisions anymore. In their place? A storm of emotions. Anger bubbled to the surface. Anger was easier. It drowned out the guilt. I didn¡¯t want to kill. The system made me. How was I supposed to know they were living beings? What was I supposed to do? Just die? If I didn¡¯t level, if I didn¡¯t grow¡ªthen I¡¯d be the one bleeding out in the dirt. The world began spinning. Even the anger couldn¡¯t hold. It cracked, crumbling under the weight of guilt. At some point, I ran out of mana entirely. My hands trembled with exhaustion, though I barely noticed. I stared down at the boy¡¯s still face, frustration simmering beneath my skin. I¡¯d been waiting for the other shoe to drop. And when it did, it crushed me. The dam finally broke. I was sinking. Drowning. The weight of it all was dragging me under. Then, like a whisper in the dark, I heard my mother¡¯s voice. "Layton, it doesn¡¯t matter how fast you run. The truth will always catch you." She is always right. Of course she is. ¡°You can¡¯t outrun it, you can only face it.¡± The last thing I want to do is face this. ¡°It might beat you up a bit, but you¡¯ll be stronger for it.¡± This isn¡¯t like when I was in highschool messing around and being dumb though. It doesn¡¯t matter. I hate to face this. Slowly I exhale. No more lying about what I fight. From the first dungeon I knew. It felt better to pretend, but that crutch was gone now. It is time I realize that this world is not the one I grew up in. I have been killing sentient beings, just the Guildian laying in the soft grass in front of me. And I am going to do it again. No more false pretense, I will kill, I will grow. Part of me even feels good doing it, the thrill¨Cthe experience. That is the truth. From now on, no more hiding, no more pretending. Without words I climb to my feet. For the first time, I notice the crowd around me. Dozens of Guildians, watching in silence. They don''t look at me with pity. Or judgment. They simply bow their heads. I turn away, forcing myself to move, each step heavier than the last. Jared and Ellison are still deep in discussion when I return. They are seated at a small table¡ªJared must have pulled it from his storage. I stand there for a moment, watching them, the grief still pressing against my ribs. This was never a game. And now, I had no excuse to pretend it was. Chapter 44 - Can we get Layton and Mischief in a dungeon please? I arrive just as Ellison and Jared are wrapping up their conversation. ¡°Ellison, I have to admit,¡± Jared says, extending a hand, ¡°I had my reservations about this. But after our talk, I can truly say I look forward to building a future with your people.¡± Ellison hesitates for a moment before clasping Jared¡¯s hand in a firm shake. ¡°I will have to grow accustomed to this. Thank you for teaching me.¡± He gives a small nod. ¡°And yes¡ªI, too, look forward to working together.¡± With that, we turn and make our way back toward the portal. Jared doesn¡¯t waste any time filling me in. ¡°So, there are 112 Guildians here so far, and according to Ellison, more can still come through unless we set a limit.¡± I try to focus, but my steps feel heavy, the memory of the young Guildian weighing me down. What was it he said? 112? That is more than I expect. Jared continues, his tone thoughtful. ¡°Here¡¯s something else¡ªyou probably already noticed, but every single one of them is a combat class.¡± I raise a brow. The news draws me out of my moping. ¡°Every single one?¡± ¡°Every last one,¡± Jared confirms. ¡°Turns out, on Ulm, the powerful Guildians strip non-combatants from the general population. The ones who remain?¡± He scoffs and shakes his head. ¡°They spend all their time working, this keeps them from progressing and becoming a threat to a faction they call the Devorites.¡± My jaw clenches. I don¡¯t like hearing about the horrible conditions. It forces me to wonder about the other raiders I faced and massacred. Had it been the same for them? I shake my head trying to clear the thoughts. Jared goes on. ¡°That said, there is a way to change classes¡ªbut it¡¯s insanely expensive. Ellison says most of them never even considered it an option. Not when they could barely afford to eat.¡± I exhale sharply. I thought I had it rough at the start, but at least I had a choice. I pretty much bungled that choice but at least I had it. ¡°We won¡¯t force anyone into a role,¡± Jared adds. ¡°If they earn enough to change classes, they can¡ªbut for now, we¡¯re treating them as part of our faction¡¯s fighting force.¡± That makes sense. ¡°And in the short term?¡± ¡°We¡¯re bringing in our crafters to build them proper shelters. In return, they¡¯ll help us expand our territory. With their numbers, we can locate the dungeons faster, complete them, and handle the upcoming raids.¡± Now that got my attention. Was I ready to face more dungeons? I was still processing my feelings from earlier. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. For now? My decision was made. I was still uncovering my moral compass¨Cthat would happen over time. Until then? Dungeons. Raids. Growth. My fingers instinctively twitched at the thought. ¡°I figured you¡¯d like that,¡± Jared says with a smirk. ¡°I know you¡¯ve been getting restless.¡± I didn¡¯t deny it. Things had been going well¡ªtoo well. No real threats, no real challenges. But that was about to change. - The next day, the Guildians are already proving their worth¡ªthey locate all three dungeons in the neighboring territory to theirs. So much for the weeks it took Mischief and me the first time. Jared, our fighting team, and I don¡¯t waste any time and teleport over to plan our approach. We find Ellison and a group of five other Guildians waiting near the old abandoned fort. The other Guildians were likely out scouting. They were tireless. I close the distance with a smile. ¡°Ellison, you guys are insane. It took me and Mischief forever to find our first dungeons, and you found all three in a day?!¡± Ellison gives a small smile. ¡°Numbers help. Dungeons also tend to appear in places of interest. We can teach you how to spot the signs.¡± His expression turns serious. ¡°Shall I explain what we found?¡± Jared nods. ¡°The first dungeon is in a grove nearby. It¡¯s level 10. The second is in a clearing to the north¡ªlevel 15.¡± He pauses with a grimace. ¡°The third¡­ is where things get complicated.¡± ¡°How complicated?¡± Ellison scratches the base of his antlers. ¡°It¡¯s evolved beyond the others. We found it in a mana-dense meadow¡ªit radiates something¡­ unnatural. Level 24.¡± I feel my pulse spike. Level 24? Why would this dungeon be so much higher than the others? Jared frowns. ¡°Ellison, do we have the firepower to clear that dungeon with zero losses?¡± ¡°No.¡± Ellison¡¯s tone is absolute. ¡°Not as we are now. And I strongly advise against attempting it before leveling up.¡± I shrug. ¡°Yeah, no. Mischief and I are doing it now.¡± Both Jared and Ellison stiffen. ¡°Layton, that¡¯s reckless¡ª¡± I cut him off. ¡°Look, I get the concern, but I¡¯m doing it. Mark it on the map or send a guide.¡± Ellison¡¯s eyes darkened. ¡°You don¡¯t understand. Even if you somehow survive, completing it will escalate our future raid difficulty.¡± That gives me pause. But it¡¯s not enough to change my mind. ¡°Escalate how?¡± Jared asked. Ellison¡¯s expression was grim. ¡°The system balances difficulty based on your strongest combatants. If we clear a level 24 dungeon, our raids will scale to match. I don¡¯t think we¡¯re ready.¡± I consider that. He has a point. But¡­My mind is already made up. ¡°Ellison, look around you.¡± I gesture at the group. ¡°You think this world isn¡¯t getting harder? That if we wait, things will stay at our level? This dungeon exists because the world is evolving. If we don¡¯t push forward, we will get left behind. And you of all people should understand why that¡¯s not an option.¡± Ellison¡¯s expression hardens, but he stays silent. I continue. ¡°I get that this raises the stakes, and I respect your caution. So, let¡¯s make a deal.¡± I see his ears twitch slightly. He was listening. ¡°If Mischief and I clear this dungeon, I¡¯ll personally pay for five of your people to switch to non-combat classes.¡± Now I have his attention. Ellison studies me carefully. ¡°And if you fail?¡± ¡°Then Jared will distribute all my wealth however you see fit. You can build, expand, protect¡ªwhatever it takes.¡± Jared frowns. ¡°Layton, you¡¯re gambling with your life¡ª¡± ¡°My life is what makes us strong.¡± I meet his gaze. ¡°And strength is what keeps us alive. This is happening, so let¡¯s stop wasting time.¡± A flashback of the dead Guildian boy enters in my mind unbidden. Ellison scratches his antlers slowly. ¡°¡­Fine.¡± We shake on it. A few minutes later, Mischief and I arrive at the dungeon portal. I turn to him. ¡°What do you think, buddy? Are we crazy?¡± Mischief flicks his tail and gives me a look. The kind that says, Yes. Obviously. I laugh. ¡°Okay, maybe a little.¡± I stare at the portal, then crack my neck. ¡°Alright. No more waiting.¡± Mischief bares his teeth in something almost like a grin. We step through the portal. Chapter 45 - Into the dungeon You have entered a Level 24 Dungeon. Objectives: Defeat the murderous bandits in each of their camps and checkpoints and defeat the faction leader. Camps cleared: 0/4 Checkpoints cleared: 0/3 At first glance, this dungeon looks the same as the others¡ªstepping through the portal, we find the familiar landscape waiting for us. Tall pine trees, a meadow dotted with short shrubs, and a variety of wildflowers. Their white petals stand out stark against the darkness. The air is fresh but mixes with the scent of smoke and cooking meat. But this one isn¡¯t quite the same. Firelight flickers in the distance, sending jagged shadows crawling up the palisade walls. Even from here¡ªmaybe two football fields away¡ªI can tell it¡¯s occupied. Smoke drifts over the trees, mingling with the scent of roasting meat. The ground beneath my boots is soft with wild grass. I haven¡¯t recovered from my breakdown while healing the young Guildian. Not even close. But there isn¡¯t time for moral platitudes. Blessedly, this dungeon is extending a lifeline. Labeling them murderous bandits isn¡¯t perfect, but it¡¯s enough. Enough to quiet the doubt¡ªfor now. Mischief¡¯s ears flick sharply, eyes locked on the walls. I don¡¯t know much about feline behavior, but he¡¯s definitely noticed something. But what? The camp is too far for noise to reach us¡ªeverything here is silent. Wham. A terrible pain erupts in my gut. My eyes shoot to the pain and I drop to my knees. As I drop, something slices the air past my ear¡ªa second shot, missing by inches. From my knees my hands move instinctively to the pain but stop just before touching the arrow that is so deep in my body it has punctured all the way through my back. Through the haze of pain, I see Mischief darts in front of me. I cast a barrier, It activates just in time for another arrow to hit and rebound off. It slams into the barrier¡¯s invisible surface, deflecting off into the dirt. Gingerly I touch the arrow. "Shit¡ª!" Even just that gentle touch is enough to send blinding pain through my whole body. My hands shake as I just stare at the stump of the arrow in my stomach. I can¡¯t heal the wound like this. I had to get the arrow out. Another arrow slams into Mischief''s barrier¡ªshooting off somewhere into the night. No time to think. I grit my teeth and try to force myself to push the arrow through. Just like before the second my hand touches the arrow my body locks in pain. ¡°Mischief, help¡± I cough out the words. Mischief whips his head toward me, eyes sharp. Before I can brace, his jaws clamp down on the arrow¡ªand with a brutal yank, he tears it through me. I hit the dirt hard, bile rising in my throat. My stomach clenches, and I barely register the taste of vomit. Darkness claws at the edges of my vision¡ªbut somehow, I force out a healing spell. Warmth blooms in my gut, a stark contrast to the searing hole in my flesh. For a moment I lie there in the dirt. Dizziness clouding my thoughts. Through the haze I force myself to move. The phantom pain of the arrow still hums at my side. I cover myself in a barrier with a groan and force myself into a sitting position. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. With my barrier active I give myself a moment to breathe. Wham! An arrow slams hard into my shield right at my face, I flinch but it never reaches me. Only¡­it doesn¡¯t rebound off. My breath catches. The arrow hangs there, vibrating in my barrier, pushing forward¡ªdrilling. I throw myself to the side a heartbeat before it shreds through and zips past. What¡­the hell¡­was that?! Rather than rebounding harmlessly off my shield that last shot had struck my barrier and began to drill through it. Mischief growls, hackles rising. Yeah. Enough of this. I turn to him. ¡°Did you see where the shots came from?¡± A sharp nod. ¡°Lead the way.¡± Without another word, were off¨Csprinting through the undergrowth, closing the distance in seconds. A wall of scrub was blocking my view of the attackers, I don¡¯t hesitate for a second and burst through. There are three of them. The next few seconds happen in a blur of movement. A tall female archer is already nocking another arrow when I arrive. She is guarded by two swordsmen standing ready swords already drawn. The archer let loose. Wham, bzzzz. Shit. I barely twist in time¡ªthe shot whistles past my ear. Then the swordsmen are on me. I lash out with a sweeping blade ability. The first fighter blocks¡ªjust barely¡ªbut the force knocks him off-balance. The second lunges forward, his sword glowing with a skill. I ignore him. I know it''s a reckless move¡ªbut I trust my barrier in spite of the archers'' strange attack. Thwack! The sword hits and rebounds off. With each strike landing on my barrier I refresh the spell. With the first attack failing I focus all my attention on the staggered opponent, closing the gap in a blink. My sword swings up, aiming for his torso¡ª Another drilling arrow screams toward my head. I have no choice¡ªI adjust at the last second before my strike lands. My sword cuts through his arm at the shoulder momentum carrying the blade upward carving into the side of my enemies head, taking his ear. I don¡¯t have time to register the blood-curdling scream. The second fighter is swinging at me again. Crack. Another strike against my shield. I twist, dodging to the side¡ªthe swordsman''s strike leaves him stumbling, its all I need. I drive my sword straight through his chest. You have killed Dark Elf Fighter (Level 23). You have leveled up. Dark Elf? That was¡­ unexpected. No time to think. I whip around, expecting another shot from the archer¡ªit never comes. Mischief has it taken care of. She lies in a pool of her own blood, motionless. The last fighter¡ªthe one I¡¯d maimed¡ªturns to run. He never gets the chance. Mischief launches, his fangs flashing in the dim light. A strangled gurgle, a violent shake, and then¡ªsilence. You have killed Dark Elf Fighter (Level 22). Even though Mischief strikes the killing blow¨Clike usual we are both shown a kill notification. Silence. The whole fight lasts less than a minute. And yet¡­my hands drop to my knees and I choke in rasping breaths. For the first time since the wave trials, I was wounded. Not just a graze. Not just a slight burn from neglecting to cast a barrier. I was one second away from a kill shot. My defenses were not absolute. The drilling arrows, the barrier failures¡ªthese weren¡¯t just lucky shots. They seem specifically disrupting magical shields the defense I rely on most. A direct counter to me. We¡¯ll have to rethink our approach. If every camp has archers like this, fighting head-on is a death sentence. I run through possible options while looting the dark elf bandits. I was lucky my shield was strong enough to give some reaction time or this fight would¡¯ve been even shorter. Each of the elves was wearing common grade leather armor and common grade weapons. This was an upgrade to the typical drop of crude weapons and equipment. Mischief and I take a quick breather in the clearing. I¡¯m holding one of the new common grade swords out scrutinizing it. It doesn¡¯t seem all that special. I remember that I am carrying one of the crude swords from a raid in my inventory so I pull it out. Holding them side by side nothing jumps out, the only difference is a bit of wear on the crude sword. The weight feels the same, the length nearly identical. But that doesn¡¯t mean much. I¡¯ve learned that subtle changes in this world matter¡ªjust because I can¡¯t see the difference doesn¡¯t mean it won¡¯t affect a fight. I make a mental note to ask Damon later. For now? I need to come up with a battle plan with Mischief. Chapter 46 - First Checkpoint (Planning complete this is the perspective of Layton and Mischief''s victims) Dantu stands on the palisade, gripping the worn hilt of his sword. The night stretches before him. Peering into the darkness his nerves tense. The fires push back the dark for fifty yards, but beyond that¡ªnothing. Noises catch his attention. The sounds of a struggle in the dark¡ªthe telltale clash of steel, it was so faint he could almost brush it off. Should he raise the alarm? His ears strain. No more signs of battle. What does that mean? There are patrols out in the night watching for signs of mana spawns, or even a faction challenging the dungeon. If this is another monster spawn attack, the patrol will be back soon to report. The patrols skirted the edges of the dungeon so if they were on the way to report he had to wait. Something feels wrong though. No sign of the patrol. No sounds of movement. Just¡­ the night. Dantu begins to fiddle with his sword¨Crestless, waiting. He already faced dozens of waves of mana spawns in this dungeon. They could be intimidating but they were never intelligent and just attacked mindlessly. But this¡­feels different then the mana constructs. They would¡¯ve attacked by now. Or the patrols would have returned. Was the dungeon being challenged? Had their patrol slaughtered the enemy so fast they hadn¡¯t even had time to cry out? A gust of wind rolls through the valley stoking the fires casting weird shadows. There is a flicker of movement below. His breath catches. Eyes narrowing Dantu peers into the darkness. Is his mind playing tricks? But no. His instincts were screaming at him¡ªthere is something down there. Dantu leans over the edge of the palisade. His eyes darting over the tall grass, straining to catch another glimpse of¡ª Auburn eyes. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Wha¨C? They peer up at him from the shadows, luminous and unblinking. Then come the teeth. A massive shape erupts from the darkness, a blur of muscle and fur. Dantu barely has time to gasp before something slams into him, ripping him from the palisade with bone-crushing force. Fangs close around his throat. He tries to scream. Nothing comes out. Darkness swallows him whole. - (Dantu¡¯s dead. We move to Carmen) Carmen¡¯s stomach lurches as Dantu is ripped from the palisade and flung into the darkness below. He barely has time to register the horror before the beast¡ªa blur of fur, claws, and snapping fangs¡ªvanishes into their camp. ¡°WE¡¯RE UNDER ATTACK!¡± Carmen¡¯s voice cracks as he points to what remains of Dantu¡¯s headless corpse. The bloodied remnants twitch in the moonlight, the neck ragged and torn. The bandits on the walls scramble, shouting over each other. ¡°Where is it?!¡± ¡°I don¡¯t see it!¡± ¡°Carmen! What the hell did you see?¡± Carmen barely has time to answer before he sees it¡ªmovement. A flash of fur, then another screaming bandit is drug into the darkness. Before the beast completely disappears a single arrow rebounds off the terrifying monster. ¡°They have a caster¡ªBARRIERS!¡± The call echoes across the checkpoint. They had counters for that. But the best counter to a caster? Kill them first. Carmen spun toward the meadow beyond the wall, eyes narrowing. If there was a caster, they should be close. His senses¡ªthe highest stat in his class¨Cfinely honed from years of ambushing unsuspecting prey in the dark¡ªcut through the night. Carmen scans the treeline, filtering out the chaos behind him. Where? Where? Then, he sees movement. Not the beast. A shadow streaking toward the wall¡ªsilent, inhumanly quick. Carmen¡¯s breath hitches. No hesitation. He draws and lets his shot fly in one fluid motion¨Cspellcasters are not this fast Carmen still uses his penetrating shot skill to be safe. The arrow slams into a glowing barrier mid-air. Carmen¡¯s stomach twists. Too slow. The invader veers, eyes locking onto him. Oh, hell. He fires again, another penetrating shot. The arrow doesn¡¯t hit the barrier¡ªthe bastard dodges. No. No. NO. Carmen backpedals on the rampart as the figure reaches the wall. Impossible. He watches, frozen, as the invader leaps, planting a foot on the palisade¡¯s side¡ª And vaults over. Carmen barely has time to think before the enemy lands smoothly before him. Hands shaking he struggles to draw another arrow¡ªa desperate shot¡ªpunches through the barrier. Carmen¡¯s breath catches. I got him¡ª The boy steps aside before the arrow can break through. Carmen¡¯s stomach drops. His fingers fumble for another arrow, but he already knows. I¡¯m going to die. The boy draws his sword. Carmen sees blue eyes. Cold, but not cruel. Deep, but not empty. For a moment, they almost look kind. Then the sword enters his chest. Carmen tries to breathe but it comes out ragged and wet as the world tilts. The boy steps forward, close enough that Carmen could smell the steel, the faint scent of sweat. His grip on his bow weakens. He barely even feels himself fall. The last thing he saw were those eyes¡ªgentle, without malice, but vast. Like the ocean before a storm. Then¡ª Darkness. Chapter 47 - Wrapping up checkpoint 1 I rip my sword from the bandits chest and turn to take in the chaos. Mischief is doing his work too well. The camp is in total disarray¡ªscreams, blood, and bodies torn apart. Damn it, he¡¯s getting all the kills. I cringe. I don¡¯t want to have those thoughts. They creep in uninvited, still I¡¯m glad that I¡¯m facing them. I know I have a long way to go yet but I know that fighting is a gruesome necessity in this new world. An arrow whistles past my ear. Another slams into my barrier, digging into the shield, the tip vibrating in midair before I shift and allow the arrow to pass. I sprint forward, sword flashing. A dark elf appears in my path, raising a curved dagger. His stance is good¡ªknees bent, balanced. A trained fighter. It doesn¡¯t matter. I faint left. He adjusts. Too slow. I step past his guard and bury my sword into his ribs. A gasp chokes out, then he crumples against me. Dead. Another leaps at me from the rampart¡¯s edge, trying to take advantage of my distraction. He swings low¡ªa short, brutal chop meant to sever a knee. I hop back, then I jump kicking off the rampart¡ªvaulting over him. He twists, looking up at me in the air. As I land my sword sweeps out, cutting him down. Surprise was a great equalizer. The bandits are reeling. Mischief is a master of ambush never appearing in the same place twice. The dark elves had botched their ambush. They had their chance. Instead they revealed their trump card against my barrier. If the ambush was executed better? The consequences were life and death. Ahead, the rampart narrows, forcing a single-file engagement. They try to hold me here. A dark elf lunges. I let his blade scrape against my barrier, twisting my sword under his guard and carving a line across his throat. He staggers back, clutching the wound. Another charges in, screaming. This one has armor¡ªrough, scavenged plate. Slower. I sidestep his downward slash and drive my sword into the gap between his pauldron and chest plate. He gurgles and falls. A spear lunge flies toward my face. I duck, feeling the air shift as it misses by several inches. They aren¡¯t idiots. The bandits realize that fighting on the rampart is suicide, there largest advantage is numbers and on the wall that advantage is negated. They begin retreating toward the center of the fort, grouping up. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. To this point the fight was going exactly to plan. Keep moving, avoid them grouping up. I am not as confident facing a large group. Fighting them one-on-one was easy. A group fight? Different story. Mischief catches two more before they escape to join the rest grouping together. His massive form enveloping the fleeing bandits in teeth and claws. Their screams barely last a second. By the time I catch up, only eight remain. Together they are waiting in a loose circle ready to make their last stand. This is going to be the real fight. Have we done enough? I take a deep breath. An arrow slams into my barrier, acting as the starting gun. - Yaren tightens his grip on his blade. His breath comes heavy. Eight. Eight of his fighters left. That¡¯s all. Their numbers had been gutted before they even knew they were under attack. The boy and the beast had moved like ghosts, they had cut them down one by one. Now they are face to face. No more shadows. No more stealth. Yaren turns his back to the boy, judging the monster to be the greater threat. He isn¡¯t wrong. A blur of muscle and fangs explodes from the darkness. Mischief hits like a meteor, closing the distance in a blur. Yaren and his men are ready though. "NOW!" Yaren barks. Four warriors strike at once. Their blades meet barrier magic¡ªthree bounce away uselessly. Yaren¡¯s does not. His ethereal blade vibrates and then carves through the shimmering shield, sinking deep into the monster¡¯s hindquarters. Mischief yowls in pain as he soars through the air. But in spite of the wound the attack isn¡¯t a waste and his paws wrap around a bandit. One of Yaren¡¯s men lurches to avoid the attack before the beast massive front paws latches on dragging him tumbling from the group, rolling in the hard packed dirt. The body is shredded to ribbons. Injured as he is, Mischief is unable to slow his momentum and¨Cwith a bone jarring crash¨Csmashes into the wooden walls of a shelter sending debris flying. The bandit in his grip? Gone. Just a pile of mangled flesh. Yaren can live with the sacrifice if it means the monster is out of the fight. With the cat down his focus snaps back to the boy. He turns to evaluate and his blood runs cold. In the few seconds Yaren had spent watching his attack land, the boy had already cut down two of his men. A whirlwind of speed and steel. Another dark elf barely dodges a blade meant for his throat. Yaren moves. He activates a penetrating strike, channeling raw force into his sword. No barrier magic is stopping this. The boy dodges the main attack from a nearby bandit¡ªbut two more skill-powered shots crash into him from behind drawing away his attention. Yaren seizes the moment. A clean, perfect arc. Right before the last strike, the boy catches it from the corner of his eye. He shifts and his barrier holds just long enough for him to avoid a fatal strike to his body. The attack still lands however, cutting deep into the young man''s forearm. Yaren is rewarded with a shout of pain from his enemy. He grins. The boy staggers back, sucking air through his teeth in pain. His eyes dart to the wound, then back onto Yaren. The gasps of pain slow. Yaren can clearly see the laceration on the arm through the sliced fabric. Then, Yaren¡¯s grin fades into a frown. His enemies arm begins slowly mending. Yaren watches, stunned, as muscle, sinew, and skin re-knits before his eyes. He¡¯s a healer?! The implications are still forming when a wall crushes him from the side. No. Not a wall. The beast. Razor claws tear through his chest. Jaws clamp onto his face and throat. Yaren feels a brief moment of terrible panic before the world turns dark. Chapter 48 - The one that got away Two level-ups. Not bad. I pull up my status screen, assigning my points to Wisdom, hoping to snag a title for breaking 100 in another stat. Nothing. Damn. Guess I wasn¡¯t the first this time. Not surprising¡ªthere are billions of people in the world. The fact that I¡¯d even gotten two titles already was insane. Still, a win is a win. I switch tabs to check my dungeon progress. Good start. I wasn¡¯t sure why the system called them ¡°checkpoints,¡± but at least now I had a feel for what to expect. I glance back at the palisade, the wooden walls standing stark against the fading firelight. Smoke rises from behind the barricade. A reminder of the lives left behind. My hand rests on my stomach where the arrow hit. It¡¯s easy to remember the pain from being shot. It had been a while since I last felt this exposed. It''s a sobering feeling. I am lucky to be alive. My own negligence nearly cost me everything. Adrenaline carried me through the fight. The silence after the fight betrays me, leaving me with my thoughts. It¡¯s still night. The smoke mingles with the smell of the fight. Inside the fort reminds me of our village. Rough shelters, signs of life. But it¡¯s not home. Not even close. There is a rough dirt path that leads out of the walls away from the way we entered. My eyes trace the path. No more mistakes. I¡¯m in a dungeon, these dark elves are dangerous. They have skills that counter my barrier. One more glance down the path, there is more work to do before we can leave. Mischief and I loot everything of value, piling up common-grade weapons and leather armor. Total haul: The second we clear out the last body, I feel that pull. The urge to move. With nothing left to do at the fort we set off¨Cfollowing the path to the next objective. The next camp is much easier. Unlike the checkpoint¡¯s log palisades, this camp is barely fortified¡ªjust a few squat wooden bunkers. Ten dark elves. Dead in under a minute. The first three die before they even know they¡¯re under attack. It''s intimidating watching Mischief work. Our strategy has been simple. I call the plan ¡°the Mischief surprise special.¡± It fits. He slowly prowls through the grass silent as a whisper and before anyone can blink two bandits lie dead with another nowhere to be seen. Carried off somewhere into the dark. Once the panic sets in, I swoop¡ªDash skill active, blade swinging. These ambush attacks teach me a valuable lesson. Surprise is a brutal advantage. One that Mischief leverages to deadly and terrifying efficiency. I don¡¯t pray often, but if I did, I¡¯d thank every god there is for putting Mischief in my corner. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. The next camp is much the same. Then we hit the second checkpoint. For the bandits the nightmare that is Mischief continues. Even with his bright orange fur he moves through the night like a specter. One second he¡¯s there the next he¡¯s tearing through the throat of an enemy. By the third camp, I¡¯m not even feeling a challenge. The dungeon''s path winds through a scenic mountain valley with gently sloping hills. Through the pine trees I can see the last camp coming into view. Something is off. The same squat shelters, but no fire. No smoke. Nothing. I¡¯m starting to feel uneasy. Because this camp? It¡¯s empty. I freeze at the entrance to the abandoned camp, scanning the area. Mischief does the same. His ears flick, his muscles tense. But he doesn¡¯t growl. Doesn¡¯t sniff the air. Just stands there. Waiting. ¡°Where is everyone?¡± I whisper. Mischief tilts his head. Shrugs. I frown. ¡°Can¡¯t you smell them or something? You¡¯re supposed to have crazy senses right.¡± He snorts. Shrugs again. I roll my eyes. ¡°Real helpful.¡± Still. Something is off. I check my status again. Four out of Four? Then where the hell are they? I lower my screen and glance back at the empty camp. My gut twists. There¡¯s only one explanation. Somehow¡ªone of them got away. And that meant they were waiting for me. The element of surprise was gone. How much would that matter though at this point? With nothing more to do at this camp we just head off toward our third and final checkpoint. I chat with Mischief as we walk. Mostly just to ease my mind of the turmoil. Silence hasn''t been my friend the last couple of days. Looking over to Mischief who is nearly eye level with me at this point, I ask. ¡°Do you ever feel guilty when you kill something?¡± He glances at me and cocks and then cocks his head. ¡°You know, when you ripping out someone''s gut or biting off their head?" "Which by the way¡­that has become quite a favorite for you.¡± I know he can understand me but I don¡¯t get any response. I¡¯m fine with it though, Mischief doesn¡¯t seem annoyed, content to simply listen. ¡°Well¡­anyway¡­sometimes¡­I do.¡± I kick a rock on the trail as we walk. ¡°Honestly lately it''s been more than just sometimes." We catch up to where I kicked the rock before. "I guess not so much in this dungeon.¡± I kick the rock ahead again. ¡°I mean they are murderous bandits. Allegedly." It still seems suspicious that the system labeled them as "Murderous" to me. "They can¡¯t all be murderers though can they?¡± We reach the kicked rock again this time I lean down and pick it up. The rock is small in my hand. Round but no bigger than a nickel. I give it a little toss in the air and then snatch it on its way down. ¡°It¡¯s easy to kill these dungeon monsters." I hate the words but it''s true. It has been so easy to kill these Elves. "I just imagine they killed the Guildian boy I couldn¡¯t heal the other day.¡± I open my hand and examine the rock in my hand. ¡°Do you want to know what really makes me sick though?" We stop briefly and Mischief gives me an inquisitive look. My first closes and I squeeze the small rock. "I know it¡¯s bullshit.¡± I cock back and throw the rock as far as I can. It sails into the night. I don¡¯t hear it land. - The sun is just beginning to rise when we arrive. We move through the trees, creeping up the hill that overlooks the last checkpoint. And that¡¯s when I see it. Compared to the other checkpoints this is a fortress. The other two checkpoints? Laughable. Thin walls. Narrow ramparts. Barely worth calling defenses. This? This was something else. A triple-wide palisade¡ªfortified with sharpened stakes, built for actual siege defense. Large enough to house at least fifty fighters. More than twice what I expected. A true stronghold. The ten or so who should¡¯ve been in the last camp would also be adding to the numbers. I look to the east. The sun is climbing the mountain and the night is fading quickly. Light was not my friend in a surprise attack. On top of it all? They would be waiting. ¡°Yeah,¡± I mutter. ¡°A frontal assault is suicide.¡± Mischief gives me an incredulous look, which seems very unnatural on his furry cat face. ¡°Don¡¯t give me that,¡± I say. ¡°I like fair fights.¡± He huffs. ¡°Fine, I like slightly unfair fights. But this?¡± I gesture to the stronghold. ¡°This is a slaughter waiting to happen.¡± I glance back at Mischief. ¡°It seems like our only option is the sneaky way.¡± He bares his fangs. In the daytime I know I''ll be basically no help in a stealth attack. But Mischief? His stealth is uncanny. We are in no hurry and the men in the fort would be easy pickings for my furry friend. Attacking head on would be foolish which leaves only one option. This will just have to be a game of attrition. Chapter 49 - Mischiefs awakening Mischief slithers through the tall grass, each step a whisper against the earth. The dark elves have no idea. He could feel their presence beyond the wall, the vibrations of their movement against the timber, their hushed voices whispering commands. They are on edge. They should be. When he reaches the palisade, he moves slowly. Methodically. Every claw digs into the wood with precision as he ascends the fifteen-foot wall in total silence. Above him, a lone dark elf walks his patrols. Unaware. Oblivious. Mischief waits. He counts his steps. One¡­ two¡­ three¡­ Now. His massive paw strikes fast and silent, claws sliding into flesh with effortless ease. The elf doesn¡¯t even have time to scream before he is yanked from the wall out of sight Mischief drops down with the body crushing the elfs chest for good measure. He waits tight to the palisade wall, tail flicking slightly in anticipation. There are no heightened movements or sounds of alarm. Satisfied his first kill goes unnoticed he moves pinned to the outer wall defenses, fur brushing softly against the rough logs. Finally he reaches his next victim. Just as Mischief is about to crest the wall and claim his target, the enemy shouts a name. Likely noticing the other guard missing. ¡°Carigan!? Get your lazy ass back to the wall!¡± Mischief hesitates. Then attacks. ¡°Argghh!¡± The dark elf shouts right before Mischief is able to sink his dagger length claws into his chest. You have killed level 23 Dark Elf Ranger. Level up It isn¡¯t a clean kill, shouts of alarm ring out in the fortress. He would have to reset before his next attack. He drops from the wall and bounds from the fortress to the concealment of the thick forest. That¡¯s fine, they are in no hurry. It was the bandits who should be feeling pressed. As Mischief enters the trees he considers his strange friend. Laytons plan to play the game of attrition plays well into Mischief''s strengths. He trusts Layton. More than that¡ªhe admires him. That realization unsettles him. Trust. Admiration. Loyalty. These are not the thoughts of an animal. They are the thoughts of something more. Mischief felt a click in his mind. And then, in an instant¡ªthe system confirms it. The notification flashes before his eyes. Congratulations! You have reached level 25, your first major milestone. You are now eligible for class evolution. Mischief freezes. A wave of awareness washes over him, a sensation unlike anything he had ever felt. For the first time, he could feel his mind expanding. No. Not just expanding. Changing. The voice spoke of a new evolution to his class? Mischief pulls up his choices, scanning each one. Emberclaw Predator ¨C Fire-based attacks, brute force, burning effects. No. Too crude. Too loud. Silent Hunter ¨C Precision, bleeding attacks, surgical efficiency. Tempting, but limited. Erebos Shadowborn (Progenitor) ¨C Telepathy. Shadows. Influence. His eyes narrow. He knows what to choose. But he would wait for his selection until he was back with Layton. He bounded to where they had made camp deep in the trees. Layton was sitting next to a small fire. Mischief grins. And then, for the first time, he speaks into the mind of his friend. "Hello, Layton." - I watch as Mischief¡¯s fur begins to change before my eyes. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. At first, it was just a dark splotch, bleeding through his coat like ink on water. Then it pulses, spreading¡ªnot like fur darkening, but like the shadows themselves were claiming him. The air felt different. Not colder. Not heavier. Just¡­ aware. The flickering firelight doesn¡¯t touch him the same way anymore. The places where the shadows ended before? They stretched now, bending ever so slightly toward him, as if they knew something had changed. Or maybe I was imagining it. When it was over, Mischief stood before me, his fur now a sleek, abyssal black, darker than anything I had ever seen. I exhale. Damn. Mischief looked straight-up badass. Before I can speak, a voice enters my mind. ¡°Hello, Layton.¡± I stiffen. My breath hitching¡ªnot a full panic, but an instant, instinctive reaction. My mind knows what had just happened, but my body needs an extra second to catch up. I look at Mischief. He was watching me, expectant. "Mischief?" I said aloud, just to confirm. His mouth curls slightly¡ªnot quite a smirk, not quite a snarl. ¡°What do you think?¡± I blink. My mind caught up, and I let out a short laugh. "I think you sound like a teenage Bond villain." ¡°I don¡¯t know what that means, but it sounds dangerous.¡± His tone held the faintest trace of amusement. "It¡¯s good to finally be heard.¡± ¡°Layton¡­ thank you." He bows his head towards me. "I¡¯ve wanted to tell you that for a long time now." And just like that, something clicks inside me. All this time, I had talked to him¡ªasked him questions, guessed at his thoughts, filled in the silence with my own assumptions. But now? Now I know. Now there is no more guessing, no more filling in gaps. Mischief isn¡¯t just my companion¡ªhe is¡­always has been¨Chis own being, with his own voice, his own thoughts. I had always known he was intelligent. He clearly understood the words I spoke. It was just so one sided. This is different. The realization feels a little strange. Not bad, more like...exciting. Maybe a little scary, now I will know what my friend really thinks of me. This is going to be different. And permanent. I smile. But beneath that smile, something else stirs. Because if this was his voice, if this is who he really is, then that means¡­ All the times I had spoken to him, assuming he could understand me. Now there is no more doubt. Through every battle. Through every loss. Through every reckless plan I dragged us into. He stayed by my side faithfully. The late nights just him and I where I explained my fears, my hopes and dreams. Not because he had to. Not because of some system mechanic. But because he chose to. I swallow, the weight of it settling in my chest. Mischief had never been just a pet, never been just a creature bound by instinct. He was a living breathing THINKING being. And a friend. One who had, for some reason, decided I was worth following. I let out a breath I didn¡¯t realize I was holding. "Without you, I never would have made it this far.¡± ¡°I would¡¯ve died¨Calone¨Cfighting chaos spawn.¡± The thought occurs to me that I was only in that situation because he tackled me into it but I just chuckle at it. ¡°You¡¯ve been a good friend." I step forward, resting a hand on his massive shoulder. Then, I grin. "Now, about this new look¡ªif you weren¡¯t terrifying before, you definitely are now." Mischief lets out a low, pleased rumble. Then just as before he uses telepathy to speak directly into my mind. It manifests as a thought almost, but in a low purring rumble. He sounds so young but his intelligence is startling. "I must be tied to my evolution.¡± He examines his own fur. ¡°When I reached level 25 I gained several class evolutions¡ª I chose Erebos Shadowborn.¡± He sits looking at me. ¡°It was the only class that included telepathy.¡± Still roughly the same size he looks like a massive panther now but even darker fur. The way Mischief sat shoulders set, he seems proud of the new changes. ¡°The change is impressive. Does it come with other changes?¡± I ask while still appraising my friend''s upgrade. ¡°It comes with a massive stat boost per level, nearly double. Plus two skills.¡± ¡°Nearly double!? You already are a menace. What are the skills?¡± I assume one must have to do with telepathy. ¡°The skill that gives me telepathy is called Whispers of the Abyss, I don¡¯t fully understand it. The other is Shadow Step, a movement skill using shadows.¡± The skills both fit the new look like a glove, a dark black glove. ¡°You are amazing my friend. Any ideas on the color change?¡± He simply shrugs ¡°It might have to do with the ''Progenitor'' title. Or just the fact that my class is based around darkness? "Erebos Shadowborn?" I mused. "Yeah, that definitely fits the whole ''dark and mysterious'' vibe. But wait¡ªyou¡¯re a Progenitor? Does that mean your class is unique? Like, something others could follow?" "I wish I knew," Mischief admits. "For now, I know as little as you." I cross my arms, thinking. "Well, one thing we do know is that class evolutions happen at level 25." That gives me pause. Pretty much every bandit we fought so far had been hovering right on the cusp of level 25. If evolutions triggered at that threshold¡­ Then the bandit leader might have already evolved. Mischief¡¯s ear twitches. "I¡¯ve seen you make that face before. You normally make that face when you want me to give you my kills" "What!?" I ask innocently, holding up my hands. "The same one you had when you decided to solo fight the goblin." Okay, fair. But this is an opportunity. "Mischief, have you been getting stat-boosting titles for doing different things?" His ears perk up slightly. "I have several, yes." "So what if¡­" I lean forward, eyes glinting. "What if there¡¯s a title for taking down an evolved class before evolving yourself?¡± Mischief hesitates. "If the leader is higher than level 25¡­" He trails off, his expression darkening. "Then his boost would be even greater," I finished. Mischief stares at me. He didn¡¯t like where this was going. ¡°You want to get the title I missed out on?¡± That is his take away? Not that I might get myself killed? He is jealous that I might get a title that he missed? It¡¯s funny how similarly we think, that would be my exact same thought. I clap a hand on his shoulder. "Don¡¯t dwell on it. We¡¯ve probably missed out on tons of titles already. We can¡¯t get them all. But what do you think¡ªcan I take down someone who evolved if I¡¯m only level 22?" Mischief is silent for a moment. Then, finally: "If it were anyone else, I¡¯d say no. But you?" He gives me a long look. "I think you could. But not with all the other bandits around." Good point. If I am going to do this, it needs to be one-on-one. And then, I have an idea. I turn to Mischief, smirking. "How about we make a deal?¡± Mischief snorts as if he knew this was coming. ¡°You handle the bandits. I¡¯ll handle the bandit faction leader?" Mischief regards me with narrow eyes. "You want me to take all of them?" "Think of it as a test run for the new model," I tease. "You get to try out your new skills, and I get a shot at a major title. Win-win. I¡¯ll just hang back and practice my swordplay while you do your thing." Mischief considers it. Then, finally, he lets out a low, approving growl. "It sounds like a fair trade to me." I grin. "Then we have a deal." Chapter 50 - Maridus the bandit leader "How many did we lose?" Maridus asks, his voice rough, drained. His hands press against his temples, his skull throbbing with frustration. He hadn¡¯t slept in three days. None of them had. His captain, grim-faced, answers without hesitation. "Six more today, sir." Maridus hands reach up and tighten on his hair, he clenches his teeth, forcing himself to stay calm. Eighteen men. Gone. More than half of the time no one had even seen the demon that took them. He lifts his gaze, fixing his captain with a glare. "Tell me someone at least saw it this time." The captain hesitates. "Only glimpses. A shadow. Eyes like embers." He clenches his jaw. "No one ever really sees it coming. They just hear the whispers." The captain visibly shivers at the memory of the cold voices that come before death strikes again. Maridus slams his fist onto the table, sending a half-empty mug flying. "Damn it, damn it, damn it! One bloody damn MONSTER! We''ve slaughtered entire waves of level twenty mana spawn in this dungeon¡ªhundreds of them! And now, one beast is turning us into prey!?" The captain stays silent. What was there to say? It was the truth. Maridus pushes back from the table, pacing. They had done everything right. The strategy was flawless. He had spent every coin he had buying this dungeon¡ªthis perfect dungeon, one overflowing with mana, a prime spot for training and leveling his men to outpace the rest of the new world. Everything was going so perfectly. They were on the path to making this world their own, It should be his world. Instead? A single monster is killing them. At first, they thought there were two¡ªone orange, one black. But then reports changed. No two creatures had been seen together. One beast. The damn thing must¡¯ve evolved it¡¯s class from the experience it gained killing HIS MEN. And worst of all? It wasn¡¯t even in a hurry. "The only daytime attack stopped after the first day," the captain says. "Now it only comes at night." Maridus'' fingers dig into his scalp, pulling at his graying hair. He already knows that. What he hadn¡¯t known, what no one had told him, was how his men were dying. First the whispers start. They come soft in the beginning, like a breath against the ear. The men who survive hearing the voice describe it as gentle at first, almost like their own thoughts. Easy to dismiss. But then¨Cthey change. Their own thoughts twisting and tangling with the voice of the beast. Asking them disturbing questions. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. "What will your last thoughts be before you are carried away alone into the dark?" "Will you soil yourself, like your friend did?" "Does it terrify you to know there is no escape from me?" When the voices come, someone ALWAYS dies. The men hold on¡ªat first. They are trained killers. They¡¯ve faced death before. This isn¡¯t just death though. The whispered promises¡­they become the calm static before a storm. One bandit describes it as standing in an open field exposed and naked staring at a wall of clouds while the earth holds its breath. There is nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The storm will come and all you can do is wait for your turn. And the storm ALWAYS arrives. This morning, they found the bodies of the three cowards who had locked themselves in a cabin. The door was wrecked and in pieces. The first had been ripped open like a pig for butchering. The second¡¯s face had been shredded down to the bone, an expression of sheer terror frozen in death. The third¡­ The third had tried to claw his way out. His fingers were still embedded in the wood, deep, raw scratches marring the wall¡ªas if he¡¯d been desperate to escape something already inside. The discovery left the entire camp on edge. Even in the daylight they jumped at every small noise. Peering around corners and avoiding the shadows. Maridus himself never left his quarters at night. He was easily the strongest but the darkness eroded his nerves. This isn''t normal. That was the thought clawing at the edges of his mind, the thought he refused to say out loud. This isn¡¯t a beast. This isn¡¯t a monster. And it sure as hell isn''t a mana spawn Something worse. The captain coughs, shifting uncomfortably. "Sir, the men¡ª" "I know," Maridus snaps. "They''re losing it." No. They had already lost it. Half of them still refuse to go outside after sunset. Some whisper prayers to gods they don¡¯t even believe in. Maridus had two bandits flogged for refusing to patrol. He told himself it was to show the others they feared the wrong thing. That they should fear him instead. But even as the whip cracked, even as their screams rang through the camp¡ªno one looked at him with fear. They only looked at the shadows. They were afraid of the monster that came each night, they feared the gentle voice that promised death. Maridus grits his teeth. What was he supposed to do? They couldn¡¯t leave the fort. How would that help? They would be chasing shadows, even more vulnerable then in their fort. Still, He wasn¡¯t about to just roll over and die. "Torren," he barks, turning to his spellcaster. "What do we do?" Torren, an older elf with a silver goatee, rubs his chin. "Perhaps," he murmurs. "We need to lure the beast." Maridus'' gaze snaps to him. "How?" Torren exhales, thinking. "The whispers. It¡¯s the only pattern we have. It has us, at this rate we will be slowly swept away.¡± He shifts. ¡°The men say that the monster speaks to them before it takes them." Maridus nods stiffly. "They should move toward us when it starts." Torren taps the table. "A controlled retreat. The moment they hear the voice in their heads, they run to the plaza¡ªwhere you and I will be waiting in ambush." Maridus'' captain frowns. ¡°There is only one problem.¡± The room looks to him. "Andre told us there was a spellcaster who attacked with the monster at his checkpoint.¡± The room hangs on his words. ¡°We¡¯ve never seen the spellcaster. Only the monster. It¡¯s unlikely they will come together, right?" Torren¡¯s lips twist. "It¡¯s not the spellcaster tearing us to pieces though is it?¡± The captain flinches. ¡°With the monster gone we¡¯ve already won. We kill it and then hunt down the caster.¡± The captain nods, it makes sense. ¡°The plan is simple, we draw the best to the center plaza. The moment the monster steps into the sight, I¡¯ll light it up. Everything. No more shadows, no more hiding. If the caster is nearby, we¡¯ll flush them out too." Maridus likes the plan. It''s certainly better than dying slowly cut down one by one. He needs to see the thing that had been making him feel like prey. For the first time in three days, he smirks. "Then let¡¯s burn the bastard alive." The men need this hope. Even a false hope is better than none. And if this didn¡¯t work? Then maybe the whispers were right. Maybe they really were all going to die. Chapter 51 - The trap is sprung (Mischief) For the past three days, Mischief had been gradually honing his new skills while Layton let him practice. Could he have killed the bandits faster? Easily. But that wasn¡¯t the point. He was learning. Refining. The more he used his abilities, the more he understood them¡ªand more importantly, the more he understood his prey. There was something else at play with his telepathy. Something deeper. He could sense it. Whispers of the Abyss wasn¡¯t just a tool for communication¡ªit was an instrument of corrosion. The more broken his victims became, the more potent his influence grew. So he played with them. He watches. Listenes. Strikes when their fear is at its peak. He doesn¡¯t just kill them¡ªhe validates their terror. And each time, the next victim falls apart even faster. Tonight would be no different. As night falls, Mischief slips into the shadows and begins his approach. The palisade looms ahead, its wooden walls standing as the final, fragile defense between the hunted and the hunter. He steps forward¡ªand vanishes. Shadowstep carries him to the top of the wall without a sound. His control had improved. The landing was perfect. One smooth motion, claws gripping the timber, then dropping down into the blackened shadowy spaces below. Darkness welcomes him. Inside, the camp stretches only two hundred yards across, its wooden cabins arranged around a central dirt plaza. Same as the others. Except something was¡­ off. It was taking longer to find his prey tonight. Then¡ªmovement. A patrol. Five bandits, huddled together. Mischief melts into the night, trailing them from the shadows. He takes his time. Practicing absolute silence. He observes every tiny detail¡ª The way their boots scrape against the dirt. The way their shoulders brush as they move, staying too close. The way they cast their eyes into the night, searching for death. They didn¡¯t need to look far. Mischief let the thought spill into their minds. Soft. Gentle. Like a whisper from the abyss. ¡°I can see you searching the shadows. Why? Are you so eager to see your death?¡± The rear guard freezes. With his sense stat it¡¯s easy to smell the urine running down the bandits leg. A second passes¡ªthen another¡ªbefore he reaches forward, grabbing the shoulder of the nearest bandit. Then altogether¨Cthey bolt. Running straight for the plaza. Each scrambling not to be at the rear of the pack. The rear bandit shoves his bandit ally aside just to get ahead. Mischief lets them go. Most of them. One wouldn¡¯t make it. The moment their backs turn, he lunges. In a few quick bounds he leaps claws sinking deep into flesh, puncturing the spine. He clasps his jaws over the dark elf¡¯s head and throat, crushing both in a single bite. Layton was right that this was becoming a favorite of his. The body shudders briefly before Mischief drags it into the dark. A satisfying crunch. The confirmation. You have killed Dark Elf (Level 22). Mischief doesn¡¯t wait. Shadowstep. He slips into the void just as the group vanishes into the plaza. Then¡ªsilence. No search party. No scattered panic. No disorganized scrambling. Strange. Carefully, Mischief follows the path the other bandits fled, creeping along the perimeter of the plaza. The moment he came within range¡ªhe felt them. Dozens of minds. With whispers of the abyss he can feel the minds. The sheer volume of them sent a ripple through his telepathic senses. It was a trap. They were baiting him. Mischief expanded his awareness, piecing together what little impressions he could gather from their minds. Anxiety. Tension. A coiled anticipation. Dread. The outer patrols were bait. They wanted to draw him into the plaza. What were they planning? Mischief¡¯s ears flick as he considers his options. He could just avoid the trap. It would be the smart choice. But that just didn¡¯t feel right. Mischief is curious. If he avoids the ambush he will never get to see what it is. Mischief makes his decision. If they want him in the plaza¡­ then he would give them exactly what they want. - (Maridus) Maridus stood frozen behind the cracked door, his breath shallow, eyes locking on the darkness outside. A minute passes, time crawling. No sound. No attack. His bait had run, just as planned¡ªsprinting in blind terror toward the plaza, right where they needed the monster to follow. But nothing came. Had it sensed the trap? Had it retreated? No. Maridus knows it''s out there. Watching. Waiting. Then, finally¡ªmovement. A massive, shadowy form emerges from the night. At first, it¡¯s just the head, a sleek black silhouette peering from behind one of the wooden dwellings bordering the plaza. Its amber eyes burning. Then¡ªslowly, methodically¡ªthe rest of it follows, stepping into the open with unnatural grace. Maridus holds his breath. Even now, looking directly at it, something about the creature felt... wrong. His vision strains to hold it in focus, as if the shadows themselves bent to accommodate its presence. Still, it took the bait. That was all that matters. Yes, it took the bait, and yet¨Clooking at this demon¨Che almost wished it hadn¡¯t. Maridus¡¯ fingers tighten on Torrens¡¯ shoulder. Now. He steps back and yanks the door open. Torren wastes no time. A blinding sphere of light erupts from his staff, rocketing skyward before bursting over the checkpoint¡ªdrenching everything in searing white radiance. A sun in the dead of night. The reaction was instantaneous¡ªbandits all across the plaza cry out, stumbling, shielding their eyes. Even Maridus, prepared as he was, was momentarily blind, blinking furiously against the white-hot spots burning into his vision. But when his sight returns¡ª The beast was still standing. And it''s staring directly at him. Maridus¡¯ blood turns to ice. Internally he hopes it doesn¡¯t show. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Now that he can see it fully¨Cit is massive¡ªeasily five feet at the shoulder, its sleek black coat reflecting nothing in the light, as if the color itself was a void. But it isn¡¯t just its size or appearance that unsettles him. It''s the stillness. The monster isn¡¯t the least bit afraid. It isn¡¯t panicking, not lashing out. It''s just¡­ watching. And then¡ªa voice. Cold. Calculating. Delivered not through sound, but directly into Maridus¡¯ mind. It gently forces its way into his conscious ¡°Hello, dark elf.¡± A shiver crawls down his spine. Maridus knew the creature could speak this way. He even prepared for it. Yet the sheer weight of its presence in his mind made his skin crawl. Still, he forces himself to respond, keeping his voice steady. ¡°So, you¡¯re the monster that¡¯s been harassing my dungeon?¡± ¡°I have to admit, I find that hard to believe. Surely you had help. How many are in your party?¡± Maridus is not a master with words. He controls with strength and fear. He doesn¡¯t even believe his own words. His plan is to try and learn about the spellcaster before they kill the beast. And since it isn¡¯t running he might as well see what he can learn. The creature doesn¡¯t answer his question. Instead, the voice in his head asks one of its own. ¡°I think you''re the one I¡¯ve been looking for¡­ do you have an evolved class? Like your magic friend there?¡± Maridus frowns. ¡°Typical.¡± he scoffs. It feels forced even to himself. ¡°Simple mind, simple priorities.¡± He sneers. ¡°Look around you. You are surrounded. If you have any intelligence at all, you will surrender. Or are you not able to understand your situation?¡± The voice remains even, unfazed. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± Maridus blinks. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Your name,¡± the beast repeats. ¡°I¡¯m Mischief. What¡¯s yours?¡± The question was so pointed, so direct¡ªit sends a flicker of irritation through him. ¡°Are you not getting this?¡± Maridus snaps. ¡°You are at my mercy, beast. You don¡¯t get to demand anything.¡± The response was immediate. Calm. Unshaken. ¡°I understand my situation. What is your name?¡± Something about the way it asked¡ªso deliberate, so unaffected¡ªunnerves him in a way he couldn¡¯t quite place. ¡°¡­Maridus,¡± he said through clenched teeth. ¡°Now answer my question!¡± ¡°Alright, Maridus. I will make you a deal. Answer my question, and I will tell you everything you want to know about the challenger to your dungeon. Every little detail.¡± Maridus narrows his eyes. A trick. Surely. Yet¡­ why would it care if he had evolved or not? And more importantly¡ªwhat did it matter if he told it? He has nothing to lose. ¡°¡­Yes. I have evolved.¡± ¡°Good.¡± The creature says simply. Maridus leans forward. ¡°Now¡ªkeep your promise. How many are in your party?¡± The cat¡¯s eerie, unreadable stare didn¡¯t waver. ¡°I entered your dungeon with one other.¡± ¡°One?¡± he repeats. ¡°Yes.¡± Maridus scowls. ¡°And this ¡®one other¡¯¡ªis the spellcaster who covers you in a shield?¡± He grinning wider. Yes that¡¯s right, we know about your friend he thinks to himself. But the demon is unfazed. ¡°Yes actually. A healer, in fact.¡± A healer? Maridus almost laughs. Finally a stroke of good luck. That explains everything. No wonder the beast fought alone. If it is telling the truth, then this is even easier than he thought. Kill the beast. Find the healer. Done. A full on toothy smile spreads across Maridus¡¯ face. ¡°So what you¡¯re saying is¡ªyou¡¯re the only real threat here?¡± The cat tilts its head. ¡°No¡± it says, slow and deliberate. ¡°I didn¡¯t say that.¡± Something in its tone made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. ¡°In fact,¡± the voice continues, its presence in his mind as cold as ice, ¡°It¡¯s probably the opposite.¡± The grin slid from Maridus¡¯ face. ¡°You might even say¡­ I¡¯m the only reason you¡¯re still alive.¡± Silence. The doubt comes crashing back. What is this monster talking about? ¡°¡­Stupid beast,¡± he growls, stepping forward, drawing his sword. ¡°Care to tell me where your friend is hiding before I cut you down?¡± The cat met his gaze, completely unmoving. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t worry about finding him,¡± the voice in his mind said. ¡°I¡¯m certain you¡¯ll meet him sooner than you want.¡± Then¡ªit moves. A blur of shadow. Maridus reacts instantly¡ªhis sword lashing out, three piercing lunges aimed exactly where the cat had been¡ª It''s no longer there. The ethereal blades slamming into the wood of the shelter behind where it had been. All around him, bandits launch their own attacks. Magic. Arrows. Skills. Not a single one lands. Maridus catches a final glimpse of the beast as it bounds onto a rooftop, then launches itself toward the palisade walls. It¡¯s so fast. Maridus was not about to let it get away. He gives chase using every single point of agility he has. It''s getting too far away. By the time Maridus reaches the walls, sword clenched in frustration, the beast is already gone, disappearing into the night. Something doesn¡¯t sit right though¡­If the beast had incredible stealth¡­why didn¡¯t it use it until Maridus reached the wall? ¡­No. His heart drops into his stomach. Not gone. It had led him away from its true target. Behind him¡ªthe screams start. Shouts of panic. And then¡ªthe light above the plaza flickers¡ª ¡ªand dies. The checkpoint plunges into darkness. And Maridus knows¨Cthe nightmare they had known was merely an appetizer the real nightmare had just begun. The broken screams bleed into the night. Meridus runs. His feet pounding against the dirt, his lungs burning, his mind racing¡ªbut it doesn¡¯t matter. He is too late. By the time he reaches the source of the first scream, the truth has already settled deep in his gut. Torren is gone. No body. No blood trail. Just¡­ gone. His men had seen it happen. Seen one of their strongest yanked into the dark, screaming like an animal in a trap. And after that? Everything fell apart. No one knew where the next attack would come from. No one knew where to run. Every time Meridus turned¡ªanother scream. Another body dragged into the abyss. Another gurgling death, choked off before it could even finish. This wasn¡¯t a fight. This was a massacre. It felt impossible that they were only fighting one monster. It moved like a shadow. Never where he expects it to be. At some point, Meridus stops running. Stops trying to prevent the inevitable. Whenever he sprinted toward a cry for help, another scream came from the opposite direction. By the time he arrived? The fight was already over. So he stopped. He walked to the plaza. And just sits down in the dirt. Then he waits. Waits as the screams fade, one by one. Waits as his men¡ªhis army¡ªhis friends, are picked apart like cattle in a slaughterhouse. The screams fading to the back of his mind, Meridus had time to think. Was this karma? Had all the men and women he¡¯d killed¡ªall the lives he¡¯d shattered¡ªfinally come back for him? Or was he simply fuel for someone else¡¯s rise to power? What shit luck. And then, at last, the night fell silent. Still, he sat. Then¡ªit came. A low, predatory growl. Meridus lifts his head. From the ruined buildings to his right, the beast prowled into view. A specter of death wrapped in fur and shadow. Moonlight kisses its jet-black coat, revealing the monstrous shape that had haunted him for days. Meridus doesn¡¯t flinch. He just stares. Why did it have to go this way? He had planned everything. He was supposed to be the one who ascended. The one who took power. The king of this new world. And now? Now he was sitting in the dirt like a dog, waiting for the end. The voice comes again as Maridus hangs his head. ¡°I told you my friend would come to you.¡± ¡°Now you will join all your men.¡± Meridus looks up at that. And there he was. The man in grey. A breeze catches the edges of his cloak, but he stands unmoving, unreadable. At first glance, he doesn¡¯t look like much. Not compared to the monster beside him. But that doesn¡¯t matter. Because Maridus hates him. Not because he is an enemy. Not because his beast of a friend had killed all his men. But because¡ªHe is a nobody. A nameless, faceless nothing. Some random bastard in a robe who had no business standing where Maridus should have been. This is who the beast said would come? This simple man was supposed to kill me? Meridus laughs¡ªa bitter, broken thing. ¡°This?¡± he spits. ¡°This is the one who is supposed to take everything from me?¡± His voice cracks. No. No, this isn¡¯t right. Meridus had crawled his way up from filth. He had earned every piece of power¡ªthrough blood and fire. And now? Now some nameless piece of trash was going to take it all away? No. His hands shake with fury as he climbs to his feet. He ignores the cat. Maridus'' fight was meant to be with the man in grey. He charges. His sword gleaming in the torchlight, and as he closes the gap, he activates his skill¡ªPiercing lunge but multiplied by three. Three ethereal blades tear through the air, all aiming for the grey robed man. The man moves. One step. One precise motion. His sword flashes, catching the middle blade and deflecting it cleanly. At the same time, he twists his body¡ªthe two remaining blades whistle past his front and back. Maridus had expected that. He was already closing the distance. This time, he unleashes Sweeping Blade his passive skill again multiplying the number of blades¡ªa skill designed for close-quarters combat. The blade multiplier is an ability earned at his evolution. The man doesn¡¯t parry. This time he ducks low, avoiding all three strikes by inches, shifting position to eliminate any chance of a follow-up attack. He¡¯s fast. Nearly as fast as Maridus. But it doesn¡¯t matter. Maridus had fought dozens of duels. This man had skill, but his movements weren¡¯t as refined. He was raw. Most likely gaining his skills from a skill book. Skill Books are a good start but they are a poor replacement for real life combat. Maridus had both. The fight wears on. Swords swinging in blurs. Enhanced senses combine with agility giving each fighter inhuman reaction time. Clash. Parry. Counter. Strike. Deflect. Reset. Maridus can feel it. Countless victories before tell him the tide is shifting. The boy is on his heels barely able to counter anymore. Just a matter of time now. Then¡ªThe opening. Maridus uses a skill piercing lunge, forcing the man to block the incoming blades. There it is. The moment he needs to end this fight. Victory near at hand he starts planning his attack on the horrible beast. The man in the grey cloak swipes his blade trying to deflect the projectiles, Maridus lunges¡ªreal sword aiming straight for his exposed torso. Die. But the blade never reaches the man. Maridus'' blade stops mid-air. An invisible force preventing the strike from ever landing. A shield. Barrier Magic. Of course, how had he forgotten this detail? Realization strikes too late. The world moves in slow motion. Maridus watches the shift in the man¡¯s stance¡ªThe trap snapping shut. A flash of steel. Pain explodes in his chest. Maridus staggers and looks down in shocked disbelief. The man¡¯s sword is buried deep between his ribs. He tries to inhale¡ªair doesn¡¯t come. His body refuses to move. His knees buckle. He hits the dirt. His hands move to his chest where the sword still resides. He looks up at the man standing over him. Bright blue blade gleaming in the moonlight. The blade is blue? What a strange thing to notice as his thoughts begin to betray him. His mind slips away into an inky black nothing. Rage boils in his blood, giving him a moment more clarity. He tries to lift his sword¡ªtries to moves His strength is already leaving him. The man in grey robes crouches slightly. Meeting his gaze. The voice... that damned voice enters his mind again as the corners of his eyes begin to close in. ¡°You asked for my friend. Do you regret that now?¡± Maridus chokes on his own blood coughing and spitting. His anger is no longer enough to keep him lucid. Frothing anger replaced with icy terror. NO, it wasn¡¯t supposed to end like this. He was supposed to be the one who ascended to power here. He tries to will himself to stand, this isn''t the end. The world blurs. His fingers tremble. Then, the voice comes¡ªone last time. They are the last words he will ever hear. ¡°Goodbye, Maridus.¡± Terror and anger flicker before the sword slips free. And the bandit Maridus is no more. Chapter 52 - Class Evolution You have killed Level 29 Bandit Leader. level up. level up. Congratulations you have reached Level 25 in Healer and can choose a class evolution. Congratulations! You have completed all objectives in the dungeon. Calculating rewards¡­ Rewards calculated: 1,500 UBCs, Area Map Unlocked, Resource Upgrade Token. I look down at the cooling corpse of the Bandit Leader. It had been the toughest fight yet. Without my Barrier, I wouldn¡¯t have walked away from it. That single spell¡ªthe one I had leaned on so much¡ªwas the only reason I was still standing. The bandit leader was faster and more skilled than I was. Even with the skillbook, I was undoubtedly outclassed. If the fight went sideways I know Mischief would have stepped in. Fortunately it hadn¡¯t come to that. The gamble with my barrier worked but only because the bandit leader seemed to forget it existed. And that thought unsettles me. This dungeon had been a test, not just of my strength but of my limits. And my limits? They had been far too close. How many more dungeons like this existed? How many stronger factions were out there, waiting, growing, evolving? Speaking of growing and evolving. How were these bandits at such a high level? Did they arrive at that level or was there something I was still missing. Maybe Ellison would know? If it hadn¡¯t been me here¡ªif it had been my faction, without Mischief and I to defend them¡ªwould they have survived? No. And that realization cut deeper than any wound. I need to grow stronger, there is no doubt about that. But it couldn¡¯t just be me. Because if we aren¡¯t ready when the next enemy comes¨Call of us¨Cwould people die? We wouldn¡¯t get another chance. I exhale and turn to Mischief. ¡°Thanks for letting me take that fight. You would have handled him better than I did.¡± Mischief tilted his head. ¡°Would I?¡± I scoff. ¡°If I didn¡¯t have my Barrier, I would¡¯ve been toast.¡± He huffs in amusement. ¡°Good thing you did then." I stretch, rolling out my shoulders. ¡°I wonder if I at least got the title?¡± Mischief flicks his tail. ¡°Find out for yourself.¡± Right. I had been too caught up in my own thoughts to check my status." I open my interface and scan for new additions¡ªAnd there it is. Evolution Underdog ¨C Defeat an evolved foe before evolving yourself. +5 to all stats. I grin. A free stat boost for winning a fight I had no business surviving? I¡¯ll take it. But the real reward was waiting. Congratulations! You have reached Level 25 and achieved your first class evolution. Your evolution options are based on your achievements, stats, and titles. I pull up my choices. There is a list of three. They are all centered around healing, which makes sense considering my fighter class was leveling the same rate as my healer class which meant it was only level thirteen. Sweet, I would get a second evolution later. For now I scan through my choices. First on the list. I make sure to repent of my evil ways and read through each class thoroughly. White Mage of holy light. The stat gains to this class are nice and they are stacked very heavily in favor of wisdom. It''s a class primarily built around cleansing and an attack skill using something called holy magic. It''s an interesting start but it doesn''t suit my style. Since I have a fighter class I figure that will give me the offensive juice I need, but an attack scaling with intelligence does sound appealing. I move on. Shaman Guardian. I read the entire class and just can''t wrap my head around it. There is talk of spirit magic and chants and the whole thing just gives me the creeps. That leaves just the third option. Warden of Judgement A defensive healer who creates a sanctuary for allies, healing and reducing damage within a safe zone. Note: as an arbiter of judgment in your new world, your actions become justified by their very nature. Do not take this mantle lightly. New Abilities: Defender¡¯s Aura ¨C Creates a field of energy that enhances the shield integrity for everyone within its radius judged as allies. Note even spells not cast by the user. Area size is adjustable; the larger the area, the higher the mana cost. Scales with Wisdom and Intelligence. Dome of Protection ¨C Projects a barrier shielding against all ranged attacks. This shield will only repel ranged attacks outside its casted radius, any attack from within the shields radius will not be repelled. Strength and size scale with Intelligence. Stat Increases: Constitution: +2 Strength: +3 Agility: +2 Wisdom: +8 Intelligence: +8 Sense: +2 All previous skills have evolved out of the weak designation. Just reading the class feels like coming home. Like always once I make my decision the class locks into place without verifying if I am sure. That¡¯s fine, I was certain of my decision, the raw stat boosts alone made this class the clear winner. The only area of reservation was the strange warning in the class description. I frown at the strange wording as I read it again. As an arbiter of judgment in your new world, your actions become justified by their very nature¡­ What the hell is that supposed to mean? Does it mean that whatever I decide is right¡­ actually became right? That makes no sense. Growing up Christian the lines on right and wrong always seemed so clear. This new world was already starting to redraw lines of what I understood to be right or wrong. I mean what Mischief did in this dungeon alone felt like a straight up war crime. I didn¡¯t stop him though. His strategy was sound and they were murderous bandits according to the system. There is something though that makes me wonder. If the objectives weren¡¯t satisfied in this dungeon would we have sat in limbo? Was the system basically saying kill or be killed otherwise you¡¯re stuck here forever? This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. The raid objectives weren¡¯t quite as rigid as defenders, we could leave the territory and essentially forfeit. It didn¡¯t seem that the attacking raiders had the same benefit. There would be no retreat once you committed to the raid, the system again demanded kill or die. Why was it like that? If the raiders are obviously surrendering what would happen? So far that hasn''t happened. A hidden objective maybe? Time would tell. With my evolution locked in, I turn back to Mischief. ¡°Mind looting the rest while I finish checking my status?¡± He lets out a dramatic sigh but doesn¡¯t argue, grabbing the nearest corpse and flipping it over to inspect. ¡°Oh, here¡ª¡± I flick open my inventory, pulling out 1,746 UBCs. ¡°Half the haul so far.¡± He snags the coins mid-air, stuffing them into his own storage with a flick of his tail. I do one last scan of our total rewards: 1,500 UBCs Area Map Unlock Resource Upgrade Token Decent. Not as flashy as I had hoped after a dungeon like this, but considering the loot we pick up along the way, plus the levels and class evolutions? Yeah. Worth it. We have more than enough weapons and armor to upgrade every single fighter in the faction with common grade. I crack my neck and get to my feet. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s wrap this up and head back.¡± Mischief flicks an ear in acknowledgment, I help to finish his looting. Mischief left me the bandit leader. I pick up his sword and give it a once over. At first glance it looks like all the others. I open my status screen and give it a closer look. Common grade longsword (upgradeable up to rare grade) The distinction of upgradeable is something that I haven¡¯t seen yet. The sword itself looks no different from any of the other weapons. I¡¯m no genius but I suspect this means someone with the right skills like Damon can improve the quality. I reach down and touch the body of the dark elf looting the rest of his corpse. More leather armor that stacks with the others I¡¯ve collected along with coins and a silver ring. Common grade silver ring: Enchanted to increase the wearers agility. Agility +2 The stat increase is a drop in the bucket to my already 150 plus effective agility. I still slip it on. When all was said and done, we stepped through the portal. And just like that¡ª We leave the dungeon behind. - The morning air is crisp as we step out of the dungeon, the meadow stretching wide before us, just as we had left it. The same bright purple flowers blanket the earth, their colors made even more vivid by the rising sun cresting over the mountains. It would have been easy to get lost in the beauty of it. If not for the shout that shatters the quiet. ¡°HEY! You¡¯re back!¡± I turn to see Nick, the archer from Jared¡¯s group, jogging toward us. ¡°Yeah, uh¡­ hi, Nick.¡± His eyes flick to Mischief, widening in astonishment. ¡°Whoa. Is that Mischief? He looks insane¡ªwhat the hell happened in there?¡± ¡°It was¡­ more than I expected,¡± I admit. ¡°But worth it. What are you doing out here? How did you know we¡¯d be getting out today?¡± Nick shakes his head. ¡°We didn¡¯t. Jared has us taking turns watching the dungeon. It¡¯s been a busy five days, and he wanted to talk to you the moment you got out.¡± Four days. By far the longest I have spent in any dungeon. ¡°Alright,¡± I say, stretching. ¡°Where is he?¡± ¡°He¡¯s in this territory, getting things ready for the upcoming raids. I can take you to him.¡± I glance at Mischief. ¡°What are you going to do?¡± ¡°I want to hear what¡¯s been happening also. I¡¯ll follow you.¡± So, we take off at a light jog, weaving through the forest, the ground sloping gently upward. It isn¡¯t long before we reach a clearing, where I spot Jared, Ellison, and several craftsmen deep in discussion. Jared looks up as we approach, his face breaking into a grin. ¡°Layton! Welcome back!¡± I wave. ¡°Good to be back. Nick told me there¡¯s been a lot going on while I was away.¡± Ellison nods, his gaze flicking to Mischief, his expression tightening. ¡°I see we have missed a few things as well.¡± I chuckle. ¡°Yeah. A few things.¡± Jared pulls his customary table and chairs from storage, setting them down in the level clearing beneath the trees. I look around, amused. ¡°Nice little meeting spot.¡± ¡°It¡¯ll do in a pinch,¡± Jared says, motioning for me to take the seat beside him. To my surprise, Mischief takes a seat next to me, sitting on his haunches, his massive form easily reaching the table. Ellison stiffens. Mischief paints an intimidating picture. I can¡¯t help but wonder if people will ever adjust to my friend. Pretending not to see the obvious reaction I sit down. The rest of the group follows. Jared leans forward. ¡°Alright. Now that we¡¯re all situated, why don¡¯t you start, Layton?¡± I nod. ¡°Sure. First off¡ªboth Mischief and I hit Level 25 and evolved our classes. Obviously, Mischief¡¯s change is a little more¡­ pronounced.¡± ¡°We can¡¯t really be sure but we think the changes are so prominent because it¡¯s a progenitor class.¡± At that, Ellison¡¯s mouth falls open. I frown, noticing the reaction. ¡°Ellison? You good?¡± He blinks. ¡°I¡ªsorry, I must¡¯ve misheard. I thought you said¡­ Progenitor class?¡± ¡°Nope, you heard me right.¡± I tilt my head. ¡°Mischief¡¯s class evolution is Erebos Shadowborn Progenitor. Why? What¡¯s the big deal?¡± Ellison looks at me like I¡¯d just announced I was the literal king of the universe. ¡°Why am I acting weird?!¡± he repeats, shaking his head. ¡°Do you even understand what Progenitor means?¡± I shrug. ¡°Vaguely. It means, like¡­ the first of its kind?¡± Ellison pinches the bridge of his nose. ¡°Yes. But do you know what that entails?¡± I give him a flat look. ¡°If I did, I wouldn¡¯t be asking what the big deal is.¡± He exhales sharply. ¡°Mischief¡¯s class is an original.¡± Then looks to Mischief in awe. ¡°It means others will follow in his path. He is the father of his class. Do you realize how rare that is?¡± I look at my friend fondly, not even the least bit surprised. ¡°Huh. Sounds like you got a good one, Mischief,¡± I smile, and give him a thumbs up. ¡°I¡¯m a little jealous.¡± Ellison looks personally offended. ¡°A good one?!¡± ¡°Layton, the only Progenitor class I have ever heard of in my lifetime belongs to the Supreme Ruler of Ulm. The leader of our entire world. And now you¡¯re telling me¡ªcasually¡ªthat your companion just became one?!¡± I stare at him. ¡°So¡­ what you¡¯re saying is¡­ Mischief is basically royalty now?¡± Ellison makes a strangled noise. I chuckle. ¡°Alright, alright, I get it. But let¡¯s be honest¡ªdo any of us actually know what this means?¡± ¡°Well¡­I don¡¯t know exactly what it means.¡± He confesses. ¡°There you go.¡± I clap a hand on Mischief¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Guess we¡¯ll find out together.¡± Ellison looks horrified. ¡°Layton, this will change your faction. The stories say that the Supreme Ruler grew to power by gifting her class to those she deemed worthy. If the same is true for Mischief¡­¡± ¡°Then we¡¯ll deal with it.¡± I wave a hand dismissively. ¡°I trust my friend. If it becomes a problem, we¡¯ll handle it.¡± To me it¡¯s hard to see why this would be an issue. If anything I was excited to see what it would do to strengthen our little faction. If this world had taught me anything so far is that factions that are weak in this world don¡¯t last. Ellison rubs his temples. ¡°You are unbelievable.¡± I grin. ¡°Glad we¡¯re on the same page.¡± Jared clears his throat. ¡°Layton, you also mentioned that the raids scale based on the dungeon strength. Any guesses on what we¡¯re dealing with?¡± I frown. This is the part they were not going to like. ¡°If that¡¯s true, then we might be in some trouble.¡± Resting my hands on the wooden table I lay out what we faced in the dungeon. ¡°The weakest enemy I fought in that dungeon was Level 22.¡± ¡°And two of them had already evolved past Level 25.¡± Jared lets out a slow whistle. ¡°How many enemies in total?¡± I think back to the looted weapons, doing some quick math. ¡°Close to 150.¡± Jared and Ellison exchange looks shifting in their seats. Jared runs a hand over his face. ¡°This is going to be worse than we thought.¡± I straighten. ¡°Okay, what am I missing? Worse how?¡± ¡°This is something Ellison and I discussed earlier, and he mentioned it to you before you entered the dungeon. It¡¯s about how raids work.¡± He looks to Ellison. Ellison nods. ¡°When a world is first inducted, factions emerge. You already know the basic process¡ªclear dungeons, survive three raids, gain territory.¡± ¡°But what you don¡¯t know is where those raids come from. I¡¯m sure you have begun placing pieces already.¡± He leans forward. ¡°Take my people, for example.¡± ¡°When Jared¡¯s group reached the raid phase, my settlement in Ulm was given an option. The system offered us the chance to purchase a raid against them.¡± He¡¯s right that I had pieced it together some, what I hadn¡¯t known was that it was a choice. ¡°Wait, wait, wait¡ªyou¡¯re saying factions get the choice to invade?¡± Ellison nods again. ¡°Yes. And as your world progresses, you will start receiving similar options.¡± I frown. ¡°So¡­ some other faction is going to buy the right to raid us?¡± ¡°Most likely.¡± The way the raiders had looked so far I figured they were being punished or something, forced into a hopeless raid as a last resort. Why was it that the only factions buying up the raids were essentially the dregs of the worlds they are from? ¡°But wait¡ªif that¡¯s the case, what¡¯s stopping a Level 100 faction from buying a raid and steamrolling us?¡± Ellison shakes his head. ¡°The system won¡¯t allow that level of disparity. A Level 100 faction couldn¡¯t buy a raid against a newly inducted world. But¡ª¡± his expression darkens, ¡°¡ªthat doesn¡¯t mean we won¡¯t face serious threats. Especially if the dungeon you just cleared is setting the benchmark.¡± I tap my fingers against the table, deep in thought. ¡°So¡­Now that I cleared a level 24 dungeon, higher level factions can now purchase raids against us?¡± I murmur. ¡°So basically, If we don¡¯t want to get slaughtered¡­ we need to gain levels, and we need to gain them quickly.¡± Jared nods grimly. ¡°We have work to do.¡± Chapter 53 - Making plans There is work to be done. But before we get to it there are still some questions that don¡¯t make sense to me. ¡°Okay, I¡¯m with you so far,¡± I say, leaning forward, ¡°but couldn¡¯t a higher-level faction cheat the system?¡± I consider a few ways I might even try it. ¡°Like, get a lower-level guy to buy the raid and then just join their party?¡± Ellison grins. ¡°Great question. And the answer is no.¡± ¡°No one can join the raid if they¡¯re higher level than the raid leader. That restriction applies both to attackers and defenders.¡± I lean back and scratch my chin thoughtfully. ¡°So you¡¯re saying that after a raid is purchased, only fighters equal to or lower than the raid leader¡¯s level can pass through?¡± ¡°Exactly,¡± Ellison confirms. ¡°And since my faction has now been absorbed into yours, it¡¯s based on your level.¡± That left me with two big questions. ¡°The first is¡ªcan more of your people continue entering our world?¡± Ellison confirms with the typical nod. ¡°Yes, but now it requires UBCs. Before, we just had to complete objectives to bring more refugees. Now, we can pay for entry.¡± Ok easy enough. I wonder about limitations that can be set but I don¡¯t want to open up a can here quite yet. ¡°And my second question¡ªdoes this mean you can start bringing Guildians with evolved classes through?¡± Ellison shakes his head. ¡°Technically, yes. Practically? No. The population of Ulm doesn¡¯t have any evolved classes yet.¡± I exhale, feeling somewhat relieved. I trust the Guildians for the most part, but the last thing I want to create is a power struggle. Right now I think it¡¯s better if everyone knows who has the bigger stick. ¡°So,¡± I say slowly, ¡°Each raid that we have faced is from another faction somewhere else in the universe?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± I grimace. I already knew the answer of course. ¡°And,¡± Ellison continues, ¡°This early in the cycle, they¡¯re usually the dregs of their worlds.¡± ¡°Beings who have no other options. They accept these raids because they desperately need resources, and¡­ well, raiding a newly inducted world is basically a suicide mission.¡± My stomach twists. ¡°So I¡¯ve been killing beings who are just trying to survive?¡± Ellison holds my gaze. ¡°Make no mistake, Layton. They would have killed you just the same. If we had entered this world and you were already here, we wouldn¡¯t have hesitated either. The moment you face a raiding party, you can expect zero mercy.¡± I swallow. That doesn¡¯t make it feel any better. But it was the truth. Ellison folds his arms. ¡°And this brings me to the real issue. The system judges your faction¡¯s competence based on the dungeons you clear.¡± I sigh. ¡°So because we just wiped out a dungeon with over 100 enemies¡ªincluding two evolved classes¡ªour next three raids are going to be absolute hell?¡± Ellison smiles grimly. ¡°I¡¯d expect raiding parties of at least 100, all combatants Level 23 or higher, armed with common-grade weapons. And that¡¯s being conservative. At least some of them will have evolved classes.¡± Jared pinches the bridge of his nose in thought. ¡°We¡¯re looking at a serious disadvantage in both levels and gear.¡± ¡°Our party has thirteen fighters,¡± Jared continues. ¡°Your group has 112. What¡¯s the average level of our fighters?¡± Ellison ran the numbers in his head. ¡°Most of ours are still Level 15¨C16 after completing the five dungeons. A few standouts¡ªAlex, Daevon, Durkil, Nick, and Ben¡¯s wolf, Samson¡ªare at Level 17¨C18. Elise is our strongest at Level 19 she has been shooting up.¡± I blinked. Elise? Level 19? Damn. She was catching up fast. ¡°Hold on a minute!¡± I say, startled. ¡°You guys completed five dungeons while I was gone? That¡¯s insane! But¡­ doesn¡¯t that mean double the raids?¡± A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Jared rubs his temples. ¡°We finished the last raid yesterday. We figured if we started before you finished your dungeon, it might keep the difficulty manageable.¡± His jaw tightens. ¡°It was a bad call. We might need to abandon one of the territories.¡± I frown. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that just put a hostile force right in between our land?¡± Ellison agrees. ¡°Exactly. And I can guarantee no faction will come through that gate looking to make friends. At this level, everyone has had a taste of progress. They¡¯re coming here to conquer.¡± Jared shrugs and gives me a pointed stare. ¡°That leaves us with one question¡ªcan we actually defend this land?¡± I think about it. ¡°How long do we have?¡± ¡°Six days.¡± I scoff. ¡°Jared, six days is an eternity.¡± He gives me a look. I lean forward. ¡°Listen. There have to be more dungeons out there. If we start challenging them right now, we can level up our force. This is what we need. Our people have to get stronger.¡± I tap the table. ¡°I can¡¯t be everywhere. If we want safety, we have to grow. And to grow, we have to fight battles that actually push us.¡± Jared sits leaning back with his hands locked behind his head. ¡°I hope you¡¯re right.¡± I grin and pull a common-grade greatsword from my bag of holding, dropping it onto the table with a heavy thud. ¡°And that¡¯s one problem solved.¡± Ellison¡¯s eyes linger on the weapon on the table. ¡°This¡­ this is a common-grade weapon.¡± I smirk. ¡°Yeah. And I have plenty more where that came from.¡± Ellison picks up the sword, inspecting it with something close to reverence. ¡°In 100 years, I wouldn¡¯t be able to afford a single common-grade weapon in Ulm.¡± ¡°Well, you¡¯re not in Ulm anymore.¡± I grin and lean back. ¡°And in my faction, we aren¡¯t stingy.¡± Ellison stares at me. ¡°Layton¡­ this is too much. We¡¯ll be in your debt for years.¡± I roll my eyes. ¡°You clearly don¡¯t understand the concept of a gift. Besides, they hardly look any different from what you have.¡± I gesture at the sword. ¡°Take it. Take everything you need. Your people are our people now.¡± Ellison was silent for a long moment. Then, finally, he nods. That¡¯s when I remember the chaos shards I had collected earlier. Mine with Jareds group gives us thousands. ¡°Hey, Jared¡ªwhat¡¯s Jessica up to?¡± Jared smirks. ¡°Practicing enchanting. She¡¯s been working with the shards from the first trial.¡± I can¡¯t help but smile, Jared has things moving in the right direction. ¡°Then I say we give her our extra gear and let her experiment. If we can get enchanted weapons for our strongest fighters, we¡¯ll have a much better shot at these raids.¡± ¡°Agreed. That just leaves one last thing.¡± Jared responds. He turns to Ellison. ¡°We have six days. Are dungeons the only way we can level up?¡± Ellison considers. ¡°Dungeons are the easiest, but they aren¡¯t the only option. There are places where mana collects, creating unique quests and objectives. We just haven¡¯t found any yet.¡± That¡¯s when I remember something else. One of my dungeon rewards. I open my status screen and navigate to my map. You have gained a map of your surrounding territory. Changes being applied now. And just like that¡ªMy map explodes with information. I barely breath as I scan the screen. There has to be close to 100 territories now that we have information for. But that isn¡¯t even the best part. ¡°Jared,¡± I say urgently, ¡°do we have an interface screen out here?¡± He frowns, pulling one from his storage and placing it on the table. ¡°Pull up the map.¡± Jared does as instructed. His eyes flick across the screen¡ª And then widen. ¡°Forgot to mention¡ªone of my rewards was a territory map.¡± Jared blinks. ¡°Wait¡­ what are these colored boxes?¡± I lean forward closer to the map, eyes scanning the screen. ¡°In the legend,¡± I say, ¡°there are three major indicators.¡± Dungeon Locations, Places of Interest. And¡ª Two square markers. Two factions. Jareds voice was low, as he continues scanning the map. His eyes darting across the screen, absorbing the sheer magnitude of what we just unlocked. ¡°I know, right?¡± I grin. ¡°At first, I felt kind of ripped off after clearing a high-level dungeon. But now? Yeah, I¡¯m feeling pretty good about it.¡± That was an understatement. Not only did we now have access to every dungeon in the surrounding territories, but we also had marked locations for places of interest¡ªmysterious points where mana had gathered, potentially offering quests or hidden rewards. More than that, two other factions had been revealed on the map. We weren¡¯t alone. Jared stares in wonder at the map. ¡°Are there any other bombshell revelations you¡¯d like to drop on us before we actually start planning?¡± His tone was dry, but I could tell he was just as exhilarated as I was. ¡°Well, since you asked¡ª¡± I reach into my inventory and pull out the resource upgrade token. Ellison groans, shaking his head. ¡°Is there no limit to your good fortune?¡± I laugh. ¡°Apparently not.¡± Jared leans in, eyes narrowing. ¡°Alright, what does it do?¡± Ellison answers before I have the chance. ¡°That token¡­ It¡¯s exceptionally valuable. It can enhance any natural resource in our territory. If we have a mine, it¡¯ll upgrade the minerals inside. If we have fertile land, it could increase our food production.¡± He crosses his arms, giving me an exasperated look. ¡°This is a great treasure.¡± ¡°Awesome!¡± I roll the token around in my hands for just a bit. ¡°Jared, I¡¯ll leave this to you.¡± I toss him the token, which he catches mid-air and pockets immediately. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll put it to good use.¡± Jared nods, but his expression turns serious. ¡°There¡¯s something else you should know.¡± He tells me while storing the token. My eyes narrow. ¡°Ok, Go on.¡± He hesitates. ¡°While you were in the dungeon, an objective appeared in the interface. It was a request for aid¡ªsomeone was calling for help against a hostile faction. We didn¡¯t know if we should accept, but before we could decide, it just disappeared.¡± I frown at that. ¡°How long was it up?¡± ¡°A few hours, max.¡± A faction desperate enough to send out a distress call¡­ only for it to vanish? Either they¡¯d been wiped out, or they¡¯d managed to fend off their attackers. I doubt someone would create an objective and then just change their mind. ¡°Do you think it was one of these factions we see on the map?¡± I ask pointing. Jared shrugs. ¡°No way to know for sure. But if I had to guess¡­ yeah, probably.¡± My fingers drum against the table. There was nothing we could do about it now. That opportunity was gone and whatever the distress call was, it was over now. "Someone out there needed help badly enough to ask strangers for it. And now¡­ they¡¯re either safe¡ªor dead. Either way, we¡¯re too late to find out." I say. ¡°But for now? We focus on what¡¯s right in front of us.¡± Chapter 54 - Im the map No one hesitates. Everyone can sense the urgency of preparing for six raids hitting our territory. The fighters gather¨Ctogether we total well over 100. I empty my storage. First I start by laying out the weapons I¡¯ve collected from the past fights. By the time we sort through it, everyone is equipped with something new¡ªexcept for Durkil. He eyes the pile of weapons but shakes his head. Then speaks briefly to Ellison who translates his words. ¡°Durkil doesn''t feel like any of these weapons suit his style of fighting. He wants to stick with his club for now.¡± I give Durkil a look and am hit with a slight pang of guilt. He would still be using the club he came with but I cut that in half when we sparred earlier. Now he is armed with a club he made himself¨Ca massive chunk of wood he¡¯d fashioned from what looks like a tree trunk. By the time everyone combs through the loot, we still have an assortment of extra weapons and just as many suits of leather armor left over. The suits unfortunately didn¡¯t auto fit and our burgeoning army reminds me of a bunch of orphans. And yet I can¡¯t help but smile fondly on the progress we¡¯ve all already made. Once everyone is comfortably suited we gather the rest of the weapons and Jared stores them to pass along to Jessica. Jared tells me she is becoming a promising gemcrafter and enchanter and with more to work with her abilities will be pushed even further. With that taken care of we make plans for all our fighters to make final preparations. The five days in the dungeon had passed in a blur for me. It might have felt like I barely left but the growth of our small village said otherwise. Our small town had undergone even more changes in my time away. The palisade? Gone. Jared had decided it was useless. Anything that couldn¡¯t climb the wall wasn¡¯t a threat, and anything that could, the wall wouldn¡¯t stop anyway. Instead, the town had shifted toward real infrastructure. A sawmill had been built. In five freaking days that had built a sawmill. Proper tools were purchased from the interface which helped the process along. Couple that with skills and levels lending to the work? Progress was accelerating. The rudimentary log cabins were disappearing, replaced by more modern, structured buildings. Everywhere I looked, the village bustled with movement. I felt something I hadn¡¯t expected¡ªpride. It wasn¡¯t to the point I had imagined when I first left the wave trial so long ago but it was inching along. Without much to do I stop by my cabin quickly to grab a few items from my storage room filled with dimensional chests. Once I have what I need I head to the last place on my list before meeting up with our slowly growing army. My destination is the most impressive building yet. A two-story structure with a stone foundation and a mixture of stone and lumber walls. Damon''s new forge. I can hear a soft rhythmic clinging through the wooden walls. Swinging open the door I step into a large open room. To my left is a staircase likely leading to Damons living quarters, and in the back a counter stands before an archway leading to the back. I hear movement in the forge itself, but I don¡¯t intrude. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. ¡°Hello? Damon?¡± The clinging in the back slows and then stops and is replaced by loud thumps of items being shuffled about. Soon enough, Damon appears, wiping his hands on a rag that he tosses on the empty counter. ¡°Layton!¡± He¡¯s wearing a thick apron filled with an assortment of tools. ¡°It¡¯s great to see you. What do you think of my new forge?¡± He beams. I smile taking it all in. ¡°Damon, this is incredible. How did you finish it so fast?¡± It had barely been over a week since we first spoke about setting him up. Damon gestures toward the walls with pride. ¡°Most of the credit goes to Jared and the carpenters. They¡¯re fast¡ªfaster than I ever expected." ¡°Jared really is a miracle worker,¡± I say, my mind already spinning with ideas. ¡°And you? Did you get your full smithing set?¡± Damon nods enthusiastically. ¡°I sure did. Want to see?¡± I smile. ¡°Lead the way.¡± The back room is even bigger than expected. The walls are mostly lumber, except for a reinforced stone corner where the forge sits coals glowing slightly. A proper chimney flue. A smelter. I recognize some tools, but most are foreign to me. ¡°Damon, this is amazing. Was all of this included in the set?¡± He nods. ¡°Everything I needed to get started. And let me tell you, it¡¯s made a world of difference.¡± I glance toward the corner of the room. A small pile of swords sits neatly stacked. ¡°Already been working, I see.¡± I gesture to the blades. Damon grins. ¡°I¡¯ve wasted no time.¡± ¡°Where are you getting the ore?¡± I ask, frowning. ¡°I was going to bring you a gift, but if you already have a source¡ª¡± Damon chuckles. ¡°You¡¯re the one who cleared the dungeon, remember? The mine is open now. I¡¯ve been paying Stetson¡ªone of our gatherers who wants to specialize in mining. I pay him, he brings the ore, I craft the weapons, and sell them back to the system. Small profit, but it works.¡± The collaboration is music to my ears. ¡°I totally forgot about that mine!¡± I laugh. ¡°Glad to hear people are taking initiative. In fact, that¡¯s where I found these.¡± I pull a block of raw iron from my inventory. Damon¡¯s eyes light up. ¡°A full chest of this stuff,¡± I add. ¡°I have no use for it, but I figured you might.¡± Damon claps his hands together. ¡°That¡¯s fantastic! But I can¡¯t take it for free.¡± I shake my head. ¡°It¡¯s not exactly charity. I do have a favor to ask.¡± Damon raises an eyebrow. ¡°I figured as much. Lay it on me.¡± ¡°Durkil.¡± Damon snorts. ¡°Oh, so you do feel bad about cutting his weapon in half.¡± I sigh. ¡°Yeah, yeah. The guy fights with bludgeoning weapons¡ªeither a hammer or a mace. I was wondering if you could make him something.¡± Damon scratches his chin. ¡°How soon?¡± ¡°Sooner the better, but I don¡¯t want you rushing.¡± ¡°Common grade weapons aren¡¯t far off. Maybe a month, maybe longer.¡± I nod. ¡°I can live with that. What do you think? Can I count on you?¡± Damon extends his hand, and we shake. - With my business finished at the forge, I regroup with Jared and Ellison. The map is laid out. The target location is set¡ªtwo territories east. We move immediately. 20 miles through thick woods and untamed country. We cover it in just over an hour, sprinting at speeds that would have been impossible before the induction. Ellison leads the way. As we run, he explains. ¡°Points of interest can take many forms. Some appear as system objectives, some emerge naturally. Mana surges create anomalies¡ªsome speculate it¡¯s caused by ripples from beings of immense power using their abilities.¡± I frown. ¡°So, these anomalies¡­ what happens if we don¡¯t clear them?¡± ¡°They open.¡± ¡°Meaning?¡± Ellison shrugs. ¡°If unresolved, they break free into the world. Some are minor. Others¡­ catastrophic.¡± His words settle uneasily in my stomach. We arrive. I look around. It looks like any other patch of forest. ¡°Are you sure this is it?¡± Ellison steps forward pointing. I can barely make it out, but something is definitely there. It¡¯s similar to a dungeon, but fainter. I open my status screen to get more details, it¡¯s not much. [You have discovered a Mana generated anomaly level 17] ¡°If this was in your territory, you¡¯d have been given a direct objective to clear the anamoly.¡± He touches the air where the shimmer distorts. ¡°But since it¡¯s not, it¡¯s hidden.¡± ¡°So¡­ how long do we have?¡± Ellison shrugs. ¡°Some last months. Others years. Depends on the anomaly.¡± ¡°I have limited knowledge myself. Any anomaly near Ulm was always cleared by representatives from the Devorites.¡± I exhale. ¡°Well there are no Devorite¡¯s here, let¡¯s get this party started.¡± Ellison nods and accepts the objective. We step through. Chapter 55 - XP farm? I step through the portal and Everything changes. Like with dungeons, I can see the evidence we¡¯re in the same place¡ªbut it¡¯s not the same. The once green trees full of life are dead rotting husks. The sky is gray and suffocating. Instead of the thick underbrush of shrubs and grass the ground is barren. One by one, our fighters step through. I inhale. The air is thick and foul. I turn to Ellison. ¡°Tell me something¡­ Are there undead factions in the multiverse?¡± The last of our group floods through the portal just before it seals behind us. Decay stretches for miles in every direction¡ªwithered trees, brittle soil, a landscape choked of life. Ellison surveys the terrain, his brow furrows. "Yes, there are undead factions.¡± He sniffs the putrid air. ¡°And it appears we may have just walked into one." A shiver runs up my spine. "What kind of undead are we talking about here? Walking Dead slow or World War Z fast?" Ellison blinks, obviously missing the reference entirely. "There are many types. Most likely the ones we find in this anomaly will be simple mana spawns.¡± ¡°For a faction to form, there needs to be a source creating or raising new undead. It takes time for risen undead to develop sentience. We likely won¡¯t see anything close to that here." Good. Mindless zombies are manageable. Sentient undead? A different story. "Are they contagious?" I ask. "Do we need to worry about getting bitten?" Ellison hesitates. "Not that I am aware of?" His tone isn¡¯t reassuring. "We can discuss that later. For now, we should prepare for combat." I still haven¡¯t spotted a single zombie, but I trust his instincts. "Let the ranged fighters know I have a barrier that can protect against projectiles¡ªif they stay grouped up." Ellison shouts orders in his native tongue. The Guildians scramble into position, unpolished but improving. They aren¡¯t a disciplined army, but that¡¯s why we¡¯re here¡ªto grow, to get stronger. I glance over our group. Eleven fighters, including Ben and his wolves. A ragtag bunch. But they¡¯re my ragtag bunch. "Alright, people," I call out. "We''re here to kick ass and gain levels. Give it your best¡ªMischief and I will provide support. Don¡¯t bite off more than you can chew. This is our world now. Let¡¯s stake our claim in it." Mischief snorts in my head. ¡°Inspiring.¡± "Think you could do better?" I ask. Before he answers, I realize I forgot to tell the others. "Oh, right¡ªMischief can speak telepathically now. If you hear a deep voice that sounds like live-action Shere Khan, that''s him. And you''d better listen." "Mischief can talk!?" Alex blurts. "Yes, telepathically," I repeat. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Alex¡¯s face lights up. "That¡¯s amazing! Mischief, I have so many questions! OH MAN, are you gonna start wearing clothes like a human?" Mischief¡¯s glare could curdle milk. Alex¡¯s smile falters. His color drains. I frown. "What did you say to him?" "Nothing important," Mischief replies smoothly. "Just that if he wants to talk with me, he has to earn it." I narrow my eyes glancing at Alex¡¯s pale face. "You sure that''s all you said?" A pause. "I might have also said that if he speaks to me again before earning it, I¡¯ll bite off an arm." I sigh. "You don''t actually mean that, right?" "No, but I was testing my skill. It¡¯s¡­ effective on lower-level minds." I glance at Alex. He''s still pale. Still sweating. ¡°Ok well how about from now on we don¡¯t practice your psychological warfare on our own faction members?¡± "Alex, don¡¯t take him seriously," I reassure. "He¡¯s just messing with you." Alex exhales shakily, then straightens. "No, he''s right. By the end of this fight, I¡¯ll earn his respect." Dramatic, but if it motivates him, whatever. I shift my attention to Ben. "So, you¡¯re more of a lover than a fighter, right?" Ben hesitates. "Well¡­ yeah. I mean, I¡¯m not a fighter at all." "Good. Stick close to me. Stay out of the front. Can you relay messages to your wolves?" I glance at them. They¡¯ve grown. One in particular is nearly the size of Mischief¡ªless muscle, but still massive. Ben nods. "I can communicate with them, sure." "Great. If they need help, they tell you, and then you tell me. And remember, Elise is our healer¡ªuse your resources." I make eye contact with each of them, making sure the message lands. Then¡ªsomething on the horizon shifts. At first, it looks like a storm cloud. But it¡¯s moving too fast. "Ellison!" I shout. "Get everyone together¡ªNOW!" Ellison barks orders. Fighters huddle close. I cast Dome of Protection, expanding it over the entire group. The first impact slams into the barrier. Then another. And another. Hundreds of jagged rocks rain down like a meteor storm. The dome flares bright with every hit, crackling as stones shatter, ricochet, pile up at the edges. The mana drain is steady, but manageable. I absorb nearly as much as I lose. Finally, the storm slows¡­ then stops. "Does anyone see them?" Nick calls out. I scan the ridgeline. Nothing. "Were they throwing those rocks?" someone asks. Mischief crouches beside me, tail flicking. "That was a lot of rocks. Plenty of kills for everyone." I grin. "Try not to take them all for yourself." Then¡ªmovement. Heads pop up from behind the ridge¡ªnot one, not ten, but hundreds. The first line steps into view. Decayed flesh, sunken eyes, bones exposed through torn skin. A football field wide. And they¡¯re jogging. The second wave appears. The third. They just keep coming. I nearly choke on my own words. "On second thought¡ªgo crazy!" Mischief launches forward like a bullet. I turn to Ellison. "Get your men in formation¡ªranged fighters focus on stemming the tide. We¡¯re going to be surrounded. Two deep¡ªif any break through, hold the line." Ellison relays orders. The Guildians scramble. Not fast enough. I curse. We need more time. I charge straight at the horde. My sword arcs out¡ªSweeping Strike. A thirty-yard radius erupts with force. Rotten flesh splits. Heads roll. Forty zombies bisected in an instant. Kill notifications flood my vision. You have defeated Level 17 Newly Awakened Undead. You have defeated Level 19 Newly Awakened Undead. You have defeated Level 18 Newly Awakened Undead. Immediately after my attack I relax a little. After just one sweep of my skill I killed so many. IF things went sideways I could stem the herd. More confident now I decide to crest the hill and get a look at what we are dealing with. I don¡¯t waste any time killing the disgusting zombies leaving the experience points for the rest of the faction. Bodies fly by as I sprint through their ranks to the top of the hill they were flowing over. In a wide swing I level another thirty or so, and stop to take in the view. Just over the hill set into the mountain is a massive stone quarry from the old world. Unnatural square cuts mar the mountain side hundreds of feet high. It¡¯s a surreal sight, the first sign of actual human engineering I¡¯d seen since the induction. And it¡¯s literally swarming with dead bodies. Thousands upon thousands. They mill about waiting for their turn to climb the hill and rush our little group. I turn back and look at my faction''s small army. They are completely surrounded now. Zombie bodies surging and fighting to break into our ranks. Out of the corner of my eye I catch a blur of movement. Mischief rips through the zombies ranks, a shadow of claws and fangs. Even with him holding back he decimates his enemies. That cat is terrifying. Chapter 56 - XP farm part 2 Plowing through the crowd I join the rest of Faction LM and take my spot in a support role. Elise already has things well in hand before I even arrive. At level 15 she chose the exact same barrier spell I use. It doesn¡¯t quite meet the same standards and she can¡¯t cover quite so many at once but it¡¯s a great boost to our defense. Combine that with my new aura ability and our defense is set up very nicely. Offensively I¡¯m also quite pleased. Especially with Ben¡¯s new additions. The wolves move strategically¡ªdarting in and out of the front lines, hamstringing targets, weaving back to safety. They are not racking up high kills but the contribution will still net them experience based on how the system recognizes kills. Playing support I scan the battlefield searching for opportunities to contribute. Nick Is standing nearby launching shot after shot into the enemy ranks. I still haven¡¯t asked him where all his arrows come from. I make a mental note to ask later, for now I just admire his handy work. Each shot claims at least one zombie, sometimes even several as he uses a skill that pierces through several bodies at a time. Collateral damage. Nice. Most of our army is arrayed in somewhat of a tight oval supporting each other. That is, most everyone is. Alex stands several feet out from the rest swinging his spirit weapon claymore in wide swaths. His golden yellow blade hewing down enemy after enemy bodies pile in heaps around him but he keeps moving. Throughout his slaughter he occasionally shouts out for Mischief to watch him work. Whether or not Mischief cares or even hears is another story. But that doesn¡¯t stop Alex anyway. Even with their level advantage, the zombies are clearly a poor match for our group. They have no armor. No weapons. No coordination. On top of all of that they seem to have seriously unbalanced stats leaning heavily to strength. Their advantage lies in numbers¡ªbut numbers aren¡¯t enough. They lack speed or reach. Ellisons assessment that these monsters would lack a cohesive strategy proved prophetic. But not absolute. After pounding ineffectively against our outer defense the zombies adjusted their strategy. Unfortunately for the zombies it was right back to one that they had already tried. This time though since they are not hidden behind the ridge I¡¯m able to get a view of the skill in action. I watch as hundreds of zombies begin picking up rocks, most likely the rocks they had already thrown from the quarry. Arms bend backward at unnatural angles, stretching like catapults. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. Then¡ªthey launch. Softball-sized stones hurtle toward us, faster than an arrow. This could¡¯ve been a problem. But even though my dome doesn¡¯t prevent the zombies from closing in and attacking close quarters it does wonders against their rock projectiles. The rocks slam into the translucent dome, bouncing off harmlessly¡ªsome even hitting other zombies. This fight is ours. Still, it¡¯s not without cost. A Guildian reaches to loot a corpse. A hand shoots up, grabbing his wrist. The zombie¡¯s mouth stretches unnaturally wide. A single chomp through Elise¡¯s barrier, skin and bone alike. His arm is gone. I react instantly, healing him before he bleeds out. Through his screams his arm slowly magically begins to reform. We adjust. From that point on, I¡¯m the one to cast a barrier every time someone loots. The battle drags, but we hold strong. There are no more real surprises. As things wind down I entertain myself by watching Durkil. He swings zombies like weapons, I smile in pride. A page out of my own book. He makes it look a lot better than when I was swinging child sized chaos spawn. But nothing beats an original I console myself. There is one more standout that catches my attention. Daevon¡¯s lightning arcs through the horde. Scorching and maiming anything it touches. Our own resident Sith lord. And with every kill, we grow stronger. This was a good start. No, this was a fantastic start. We were fortunate to match up so well against this horde. It was basically an XP farm. Again¡­this fight. Higher level monsters basically tailored fit to help our faction gain strength. If the enemies were faster, more agile it would¡¯ve posed a HUGE problem especially with their numbers¡­ Why did this same thought keep bothering me? Shouldn¡¯t I be grateful? For now I would be. Levels were enough. - It takes hours, but eventually, the wave slows. What¡¯s left is a few hundred stragglers¡ªtired, predictable, easy. We cut them down with minimal effort. And then¡ªsilence. A sea of corpses stretches around us, unmoving. To my relief, not a single casualty. There were injuries¡ªsome serious¡ªbut between Elise and me, we had everyone patched up before we even leave the anomaly. Before heading out, we loot the bodies. Since we¡¯d been collecting throughout the fight, it doesn¡¯t take long. Each zombie drops two or three UBCs, along with "Zombie Flesh"¡ªan alchemy ingredient, according to the system. This is the first time in a long time I¡¯d seen a drop from looting besides weapons, armor or UBC¡¯s. But then again this wasn¡¯t a faction, it was something else. Mana spawns technically? There¡¯s no perfect way to divide everything fairly, so we settle for a free-for-all. It gets the job done faster. Then, the system notification appears. [Congratulations on completing the anomaly challenge. Rewards calculated based on contribution. Calculation complete. Rewards: 200 UBCs, Unholy Minor Shard.] I frown. A shard? Another first. We already have literal piles of Chaos shards, it¡¯s a letdown¡ªit won¡¯t work on my spirit equipment. Still, Jessica might find a use for it. And 200 UBCs? Not exactly impressive. Then again, I didn¡¯t do much in this challenge¡ªa little healing, a few buffs. No complaints. Ellison has been checking in with his fighters, gauging our overall progress. I turn to him. "So? How did we fare?" He nods, satisfied. "Every single fighter gained at least two levels. Most gained three. Some of our elites¡ªDurkil, Nick, Alex, and Daevon¡ªall hit or passed Level 20." I raise a brow. "Durkil?" That does surprise me. The man fought half the battle with his bare hands, using zombies as weapons. I can¡¯t even imagine what he¡¯ll be capable of with an actual, proper weapon. Still, I shake my head. "It¡¯s progress, but it¡¯s not enough. This challenge was a gift. We bumped our average fighters to Level 17 or 18, and our elites are pulling ahead¡­ but we need more. Before time runs out, I want at least 20 or 30 evolved classes." I know firsthand¡ªthat¡¯s a tall order. The higher you level, the slower it gets. But the flip side? Stronger levels mean harder challenges. Harder challenges mean better growth. Ellison considers my words, then nods. "We¡¯ll do our best. Let¡¯s leave this challenge and move to the next closest." I agree. We step through the portal¡ªready for more. Chapter 57 - The beat goes on The march toward power doesn¡¯t slow. If anything, it accelerates. The next anomaly? Disappointing. A lake. Massive mutated fish with stumpy disgusting legs. That was weird. At first, I thought we¡¯d have to fight in the water¡ªa logistical nightmare. But then the damn things scurried out on their grotesque limbs, gills flaring, spitting jets of water. Their attacks weren¡¯t dangerous unless your Constitution was below 30, meaning our weakest fighters could tank the hits. It was barely a fight. By the time the last fish flopped lifeless onto the shore, most of our fighters had gained at least one level, and our elites each walked away with two. We looted the bodies, collecting fish meat, coins, and a few shards. Not a bad haul, but not enough. We move on. As we push toward the next anomaly, I catch something on the map¡ªa dungeon entrance, not far off. At first, it was just a curiosity. Then I see the level. 24. The same level as the dungeon Mischief and I had cleared alone. I stop. This¡­ this was worth a detour. Ellison catches up beside me, already shaking his head. ¡°I¡¯m not sure, Layton. The last time you entered a dungeon like this, it took you five days to complete.¡± I meet his eyes. ¡°And the last time, I was weaker.¡± Ellison scratches the base of his antlers. ¡°We don¡¯t have five days to spare.¡± ¡°We won¡¯t need five days.¡± I turn back to the entrance, a shimmer barely visible against the landscape. ¡°We could¡¯ve cleared the last dungeon way faster if we¡¯d been at this level. With evolved classes? We¡¯d have done it in a day. If we take a small team of elites, we finish before nightfall.¡± I could see the hesitation in his face, but I pressed forward. ¡°You¡¯re not gonna be idle, either. While I clear this with the elites, you take the rest of our fighters to the next challenge.¡± Placing my hand on Ellisons shoulder I try to be convincing. ¡°Elise is close to evolving her class. If you find a manageable dungeon or anomaly, she could hit the next tier. Same with Daevon¡ªif he unlocks a barrier spell, we¡¯re that much stronger.¡± Ellison stares at me for a long moment. Then, he smiles. ¡°When I first met you, I wondered how you gained strength so fast,¡± he says, almost amused. ¡°The more I see, the clearer it becomes. You don¡¯t stop.¡± I shrug. ¡°Strength is safety.¡± Ellison studies me for another second. Then nods. ¡°Alright. Face your dungeon. We¡¯ll meet at the anomaly when you¡¯re done.¡± I turn to the others. ¡°Mischief, Nick, Daevon, Durkil, Alex. You¡¯re with me. Let¡¯s get to work.¡± - Nick, Daevon, Durkil, Alex, and Mischief stay with me while the rest of our fighters head off for another challenge. ¡°Mischief, I can¡¯t speak directly to Durkil or Daevon¡ªwill you translate for me using telepathy?¡± Since gaining Gift of Tongues, Mischief has been able to understand all spoken languages. When his telepathy evolved, the skill adapted¡ªallowing him to communicate in those languages, too. He nods at my request. I take a deep breath. ¡°Alright, listen up. We¡¯re on a time crunch, but that doesn¡¯t mean we get reckless. My barriers are stronger now¡ªI can sense when they¡¯re breaking down¡ªbut they¡¯re not foolproof. Do not rely on my protection. Fight like it doesn¡¯t exist. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. ¡°This dungeon is above your level, which means two things: First, we¡¯ll need to play it smart. Second, you¡¯re going to gain levels fast. Take advantage of that. Push yourself. If you hesitate, you lose.¡± I scan their faces. They¡¯re tense, but determined. ¡°Everyone ready?¡± Nods all around. We step through the portal. - Like before, the world shifts. We step into a pocket dimension¡ªanother distorted echo of our world. The forest is still here, but the trees have been cleared in places, making way for a small village in the distance. Another lived-in dungeon. I was starting to get a bit of a sense of what to expect. Somehow other factions were placed into our world from others throughout the universe. Why? I was still piecing that together. But none had been idle upon arrival. They built and cultivated the dungeon. Another big why? Especially if this was just a pocket dimension? Maybe if they defended enough challengers they earned their freedom? I hoped in time the pieces would continue to come together. I signal the group to take cover immediately. I learned my lesson last time¡ªI won¡¯t be caught off guard again. I had already covered everyone in a barrier before we even entered and then again once we appeared on the other side for good measure. [System Notification: You have entered a Level 24 Dungeon. Objective: Eliminate Dungeon Occupants. Warning: The defending faction has multiple success conditions, including capture and enslavement as an acceptable completion scenario.] I freeze rereading the notification. The hell does that mean? I turn to Mischief explaining the notification. ¡°Can you ask Durkil¡ªwhat kind of sick system message is this?¡± Mischief is silent for a moment as he relays my words. Durkil responds. Then Mischief relays his answer. ¡°According to Durkil, slavery is a common practice among certain factions. Some dungeons capture enemies rather than killing them outright. He¡¯s surprised your world doesn¡¯t have slavery.¡± I scratch my head awkwardly. ¡°Oh, we had slavery. We definitely had slavery. We just weren¡¯t fans.¡± Durkil shrugs, uninterested. I shake my head. Great. So that means the system recognizes capture as a valid win condition. That¡­is such bullshit! The implications setting in. How was that fair? Every objective I had ever gotten was kill, kill, kill. I could¡¯ve been enslaving factions this whole time? Ok not that I would do that. I mean if this was an option that meant there COULD be other options besides killing. Then why the hell hadn¡¯t I gotten any? The more I thought about it the more annoyed I became. Choosing to ignore it for now I vowed to learn more from Ellison later. Moving on from my frustrations I begin to form a plan of attack. I turn to Mischief. ¡°I don¡¯t want to go in blind.¡± ¡°Would you be able to scout ahead¡ªsee what we¡¯re dealing with?¡± Mischief gives me a look. ¡°I thought you didn¡¯t like slaves?¡± Then, before I can respond, he vanishes into the shadows. I blink. That cat is really starting to get sassy with me. Honestly? I love it. Alex shudders beside me. ¡°That is so freaky.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± He gestures toward where Mischief disappeared. ¡°Watching him just fade away like that. I tried to track him, but between his speed and stealth, he¡¯s like¡­ a living shadow. It¡¯s terrifying.¡± I smirk. ¡°Yeah, but at least he¡¯s our living shadow.¡± Alex pales a little. ¡°Yeah. Except he did tell me he would bite off my arm.¡± ¡°He didn¡¯t though.¡± I say reassuring. It doesn¡¯t seem to help. We wait in silence. It doesn¡¯t take long. A moment later, Mischief reappears¡ªright next to me. Everyone jumps. ¡°Holy shit, Mischief,¡± I say, clutching my chest. ¡°Give a guy a warning.¡± He doesn¡¯t even look sorry. ¡°I could have.¡± I roll my eyes. ¡°What did you find?¡± Mischief sits, tail flicking lazily. ¡°There are over a hundred enemies. Some are armed with spears, but most are spellcasters. They¡¯re divided into four separate camps, far enough apart that we can take them on individually without alerting the others.¡± A hundred enemies. Mostly casters. That¡¯s new. My barriers can absorb a lot of physical damage, but I haven¡¯t tested them much against magic attacks. I rest my chin on a fist. ¡°Okay. Anything else?¡± Mischief¡¯s tail stills. ¡°Yes. There is a central camp. A large group of humans are being kept in chains.¡± I stiffen. ¡°Humans?¡± I echo. ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± He cocks his head. ¡°Well they are either humans or they just look exactly like humans.¡± My jaw clenches. The system warning flashes in my mind. Capture and enslavement. Somebody already lost to this dungeon. That changes things. I turn to Mischief. ¡°Can you translate one more time to the Guildians?¡± Explaining the situation to Alex and Nick--Mischief relays my words, his eyes watching me carefully. The others react with mixed expressions¡ªDurkil and Daevon are indifferent. Alex¡¯s hands tighten into fists. Nick just shakes his head. I take a deep breath. ¡°Our priority hasn¡¯t changed¡ªwe clear this dungeon. But if we can free those people, we do it.¡± I glance at the village. I can¡¯t tell what kind of condition those prisoners are in. Can¡¯t tell if they¡¯re still themselves or just another part of the system¡¯s twisted rules. But I know one thing for certain, it won¡¯t be hard to put down the inhabitants of this dungeon. Chapter 58 - Teamwork makes the dream work The plan--per the usual¨Cis simple. Nick, Daevon, Durkil, and Alex would engage while I provide support with barriers, buffs and heals if necessary. Meanwhile, Mischief would stay hidden, ensuring no one escaped to alert the other camps. Surprisingly Mischief was very excited for his role, hoping that several would try and he could give them the ¡®ol Mischief surprise. ¡°This first camp has about twenty-five fighters,¡± I remind them. ¡°Most are spellcasters. That means slow, weak bodies, but powerful attacks¡ªand most will have magical defenses similar to mine.¡± Nick looks thoughtful before asking. ¡°Do we know if you can stack barrier spells? Twenty layered spells would be pretty freaking annoying.¡± Had I ever tested if barriers stacked? Nope. Not once. Elise and I had cast them at the same time before, but we never checked if they layered or just replaced each other. And now that Nick asked, I was realizing that was kind of a stupid oversight. Of course Nick would think of that. Stupid Nick, asking stupidly smart questions. Now I have to think about it. I hate that he made me think about it. ¡°Well¡­I don¡¯t think so. But I¡¯m pretty sure we¡¯ll figure it out soon enough.¡± I shrug. ¡°Good thing these two don¡¯t speak our language. Otherwise, they¡¯d be reconsidering their life choices right about now.¡± I give Alex a flat stare. He smiles innocently back. ¡°Look, just stay close so I can keep the dome up, but don¡¯t rely on my shields to carry you. Fight like you don¡¯t have me.¡± ¡°Ahh don¡¯t say that boss, we¡¯ll always be together.¡± Nick bats his eyes at me. Mischief flicks an ear in what I think is amusement. I roll my eyes and push to my feet. ¡°Let¡¯s just go before Nick finds another question to ruin my day.¡± At my words Mischief disappears. The rest of us aren¡¯t far behind exploding from cover, sprinting toward the camp. Durkil reaches the enemy first¡ªat full speed, he¡¯s well beyond a peak human, his footfalls shaking the dirt. Alex isn¡¯t far behind, his claymore gleaming in the sun. Daevon and Nick lag slightly, keeping themselves at range. The camp is completely unfortified. No walls, no watchtowers¡ªjust wooden cabins with pitched roofs covered in fir branches. A garden pavilion sits near the center, with several creatures tending to the plants. They are tall, slender humanoids, covered in deep purple scales that transition to bright yellow at the head and neck. Most wear robes and carry staves or books. A few wield long spears with serrated metal tips. They are not prepared for us at all. Durkil crashes into the first spellcaster like a freight train. He¡¯s replaced his tree-stump club with another and brings it down hard, collapsing the creature like an accordian before it even raises a defense. Alex cuts down another, his claymore carving straight through its midsection. Nick fires an arrow through the throat of a third. But that¡¯s the last free kill we get before the camp erupts into motion. For a moment, chaos. The camp erupts¡ªspellcasters stumbling backward, some tripping over each other. The spearmen hesitate¡ªthen someone barks an order. The shift is immediate. Casters scatter, spearmen lurch forward, snapping into formation. I raise the dome and flare defenders aura. Barrier spells already up. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. Durkil and Alex engage the spearmen head-on. They¡¯re outnumbered five to two and the scaly creatures seem to be built for agility. Alex has made strides in that stat but he is under leveled and not an agility specialist. Durkil is faster but still a poor match for the speed of his foes. Outside the dome, twenty casters unleash hell. Fire. Ice. Lightning. Shards of green crystal that explode as they impact against the dome. I flinch as they hit. But, just as before my dome of protection holds strong. Nick doesn¡¯t stand idle, he unleashes arrow after arrow towards the spear fighter, but they are covered in magical barriers that absorb the hits. Daevon¡¯s lightning arcs through the air¡ªadding to Nick''s damage on the magically shielded lizard men. As planned the melee happens inside the dome. Meaning the spellcasters can¡¯t add support to their spear wielding friends. It doesn¡¯t keep them from trying however as they continue to rain down attacks. I keep a close eye on my mana as it ticks away. It''s a manageable pace but unlike the rocks the zombies lobbed this fight was on a timer. The spearmen attack in perfect rhythm¡ªlunging, pulling back, lunging again. Durkil blocks the first spear, countering with a heavy downward swing of his own. It creates a shockwave that sends a lizard staggering. Alex tries to force an opening, but their reach is too much. Even his claymore can¡¯t break their defense¡ªevery time he moves in the lizard men dance away and he is forced to move back, staying within the protection of the dome. The stalemate won¡¯t last. We need to crack them before they wear us down. I glance at Daevon. Waving my arms wildly in a gesture that I HOPE indicates bigger attacks. He nods, and I hope it¡¯s because he understands the message. We need a big attack to rupture the barrier in one go rather than repeated small attacks. Gripping his gnarled wooden rod, lightning crackles. It looks as though he is using some kind of charging spell. The air crackles. The static hum crawls across my skin, sharp and electric. Then¡ªBOOM. A bolt slams into the spearman, snapping its head back. Its barrier ignites, flickering like shattered glass before shattering entirely. The smell of burned scales fills the air. The lizard staggers¡ªwide-eyed, twitching. The shock leaves him reeling. Durkil doesn¡¯t hesitate. His club swings sideways, catching the lizard in the ribs. The force sends it flying twenty feet, where it lands in a crumpled, twitching heap. Nick fires a shot into the eye of the smoking lizard man leaving no doubt. I look back to Daevon with a gleeful smile waving my arms. We have a strategy now. ¡°More!¡± I shout, still waving my arms. Daevon delivers. A second lizard takes another of Daevons charged electric shocks just like before it''s shield collapses, leaving a gaping, burning wound across its torso. Nick finishes the job¡ªan arrow straight through the skull. The remaining three fighters hesitate. No doubt sensing the shift in the fight. They shift their strategy. Instead of continuing the fight with Alex and Durkil, two break off and charge directly at Daevon, Nick, and me. I remember Richard adjusted to the same tactic when we fought. Wasn¡¯t it a common strategy to kill the healer first? They must have realized that as long as I¡¯m standing, they can¡¯t win. I step forward. Parrying the first attack easily. The second comes in fast, aiming for my throat¡ªI sidestep, redirecting the spear so it sails just past my ear. Then¡ªI grab the shaft. And I yank. The lizard stumbles forward, off-balance¡ª I slam a boot into its chest, sending it sprawling onto the ground. Daevon and Nick unleash everything. The lizard twitches as lightning courses through its body¡ªthen Nick¡¯s arrow finds its skull. I turn to the second spearman. Even through the alien slits it has for eyes I can see the all too common emotion of battle. Fear. Before it can react, Alex rushes from the side, swinging his claymore in a brutal arc. The fight is over. While the other two spearmen charged me Alex and Daevon overwhelmed the last remaining before Alex turned his blade to the last. Once the spearmen are down, the magic casters collapse. Without their frontline holding back Durkil and Alex, the fight turns into a slaughter. We cut through them quickly. Even with their shields, they can¡¯t sustain under continuous attacks. The good news? It doesn¡¯t appear they can stack barrier spells. In minutes, it¡¯s over. I glance at my team, watching them breathe heavily, weapons dripping. This fight felt much different than any other I had been in so far. We deployed a simple yet effective strategy. It paid off. We¡¯re learning. The others begin looting. I turn as Mischief saunters into camp. ¡°Two of them tried to run.¡± he says showing his bright white teeth in the scariest smile I have ever seen. ¡°Oh yeah? How¡¯d that go for them?¡± Mischief¡¯s teeth glint in the light. ¡°Unsuccessfully.¡± I chuckle. Durkil approaches, carrying a massive double-sided axe. He says something in his language, and Mischief translates. ¡°He wants to know if he can keep it.¡± I shrug. ¡°Of course. Tell him from now on, whatever he loots is his. He doesn¡¯t need to ask.¡± Mischief translates, and Durkil nods solemnly. I glance at the others. ¡°Same goes for all of you. Keep what you kill.¡± There are murmurs of approval as the group gets back to looting. Mischief tilts his head. ¡°You are becoming quite the warlord, Layton.¡± I smirk. ¡°What do you know about warlords anyway? I prefer efficient.¡¯¡± Chapter 59 - My Hero? Sadie had been driving when it happened. One second, she was gripping the wheel, rehearsing how she¡¯d break up with her boyfriend. The next¡ªpoof. The tutorial had ripped her away mid-thought, dropping her into a nightmare. But that wasn¡¯t the worst part. The worst part was what came after. Sadie wasn¡¯t placed back in Basin City when the tutorial ended. Nooo instead, she reappeared in the middle of a forest, surrounded by nearly a hundred strangers. Most were from the Pacific Northwest, though there was one guy all the way from Phoenix. A group quickly formed. Some clung to logic, denying the reality in front of them. Others, like Greg, tried to take charge. ¡°I¡¯m not going into that trial dungeon,¡± Greg said on the first day. ¡°You¡¯d have to be crazy. I don¡¯t know what¡¯s actually going on, but I¡¯m walking back to Seattle.¡± Sadie stared at him, dumbfounded. After everything? The tutorial, the monsters, the system messages¡ªhow could he still believe this was anything but real? ¡°Greg, how else do you explain all of this?¡± she demanded. To prove her point, she cast her spell. A small rock formed in her palm, growing rapidly. She shot it skyward¡ªit streaked into the sky like a bullet. Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Some looked convinced. Greg wasn¡¯t. ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± he said, shaking his head. ¡°We have no food. No shelter. I¡¯d rather worry about real human problems than play some messed-up game.¡± He turned and left. Half the group followed. The rest stayed, splitting into two factions¡ªthose willing to try the trial dungeon and those who still hoped civilization would come find them. For four days, Sadie tried to convince the others. She failed. When the deadline ran out, only thirty entered the trial. The forty others stayed behind. The dungeon wasn¡¯t easy, but with their numbers, they fought their way through without losing a single person. Sadie felt invincible. She leveled up, honed her magic, and for the first time since being dropped in the middle of nowhere, she felt exhilarated. That was how she felt anyway¨Cit all changed once she stepped out of the portal¡­ She saw the first body. Or what was left of it. She stopped breathing. Corpses littered the forest floor. Ripped apart. Scattered. Unrecognizable. The people who refused to enter the trial had been forced into it anyway¨Calone. The Chaos Spawn had slaughtered them. Once she stopped vomiting, her and the rest buried what was left of the bodies. As she shoveled dirt over the ruined remains, she decided she would do everything she could never to become like these people. After the funeral, Sadie noticed a flashing notification on her screen. She read the new objectives then she explained them to the survivors. She expressed her desire to tackle the objectives. After seeing how the system handled people who didn¡¯t play along? No one argued. They wouldn¡¯t make the same mistake as the people they just burried. Moving quickly, not wasting any time, they found and cleared the first dungeon¨Cit was level 5. Then they found another. Sadie stood before the portal, reading the system prompt. Level 9. Xander, the weird guy from Phoenix, spoke up. ¡°Sadie¡­ you¡¯re only level 7. We all are. We should find the third dungeon first.¡± Sadie hesitated. The logic made sense. But then she pictured the bodies she helped bury. And she made her choice. ¡°No,¡± she said, steel in her voice. ¡°We can do this.¡± And they entered. The moment they arrived, the system warning appeared. [System Notification: You have entered a Level 9 Dungeon. Objective: Eliminate Dungeon Occupants. Warning: The defending faction has multiple success conditions, including capture and enslavement as an acceptable completion scenario.] Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Sadie barely glanced at it. She should have. Because the lizards were already looking at them. No walls. No defenses. Just a village of purple-scaled humanoids. Tall, robed figures with staffs and books. Others with long, jagged spears. They weren¡¯t surprised. They were waiting. Sadie panicked. She raised her hands, summoning baseball-sized rocks and launched them at the nearest target. The stones exploded harmlessly against an invisible barrier. Sadie¡¯s stomach dropped. Her group followed her lead¡ªarrows, spells, everything they had. Nothing worked. The lizards watched the attack''s landing. Then they returned fire. A barrage of spells erupted. Seven melee fighters charged the enemy¡ªthey all died in an instant. Sadie froze in horror. Xander was the only one spared¡ªbut only because he was slower than the others. His right arm caught fire. He collapsed, rolling in the dirt, screaming. Sadie wanted to run. Instead, she stood paralyzed, watching a lizard approach Xander, step onto his chest, and hold him there. In its left hand, a blue orb hovered. In its right, flames sparked from its fingers. It was going to burn him alive. Sadie couldn¡¯t move. She saw the fear in Xander¡¯s eyes. She saw the amusement in the lizard¡¯s face. She had led them into a massacre. And there was only one way out. Her hands shook as she raised them¡ª A sign of surrender. Weapons clattered as the rest of her group did the same. The lizard grinned. It had won. And Sadie realized her fate was no longer in her hands. - Sadie sat at the edge of the cage, her back against the wooden bars. The damp earth was cool beneath her, a contrast to the warm, stagnant air inside their prison. The lizards hadn¡¯t fed them yet today¡ªnot that she had much of an appetite anymore. She stared at the guards, two purple-scaled slavers standing just outside the entrance, chatting idly in their strange, guttural language. Their spears rested casually in their hands, their postures relaxed. They weren¡¯t afraid. Sadie hated that. She clenched her fists, the metal cuffs around her wrists digging into her skin. The dull weight of them was a constant reminder of how weak she had become. The chains dampened her stats. She wasn¡¯t sure how, but she could feel it. Casting even the simplest spell had become impossible. She glanced around at the others in the cage. Most were slumped in defeat, their spirits long since broken. Xander sat nearby, staring blankly at the ground. He hadn''t spoken much in weeks. Most of her time was spent watching the Lizard men face strange waves of creatures that appeared regularly. The monsters were crude looking amalgamations of animals or just random constructs. As the Lizard men fought, they grew stronger and leveled. Sadie used to imagine methods of escape. The truth was there really wasn¡¯t even a need for the cage. Even if they did manage to break free, she would still be locked away in the dungeon. On top of that, the longer she was locked up the greater the level gap between her and her captors grew. She had lost all hope long ago. But then¡ªSomething changed. As she was sitting in her cage drawing strange pictures in the dirt. She thought she caught a motion at the corner of her eye. More creatures to help these damned lizards grow. Whatever it was¨Cit was fast. A black blur, there and then gone. She blinked. One of the guards twitched¡ªjust slightly¡ªas if sensing something. And then¡ªIt was over. A black mass slammed into both guards at once, a blur of claws and fangs tearing through them like paper. One slaver didn¡¯t even have time to open its mouth before massive jaws clamped over its head and ripped. A sickening crunch filled the air. Sadie¡¯s breath hitched. Her body locked up. Her mind refused to process what she had just seen. The lizards¡ªthe ones that had stood unchallenged for months¡ªwere dead. And the monster that had killed them? It wasn¡¯t leaving. Sadie¡¯s entire body trembled as the black-furred beast casually dragged the corpses aside and settled onto its haunches, curling its long tail around its body. It was huge. More massive than any predator she had ever seen, its sleek black fur shimmered like liquid shadow. Amber eyes flicked lazily toward her. Sadie couldn¡¯t move. Her breath came in short, ragged bursts. She didn¡¯t even realize she was shaking until her teeth started chattering. A monster. A real, living nightmare. And yet¡ªit wasn¡¯t attacking. No. It was waiting. For what? Then, a voice. Clear. Deep. Inside her head. "You¡¯ll be released soon. I¡¯m here to keep you safe while my friend has all the fun." Sadie flinched. Her hands flew to her ears¡ªbut the voice hadn¡¯t come from outside. It was inside her mind. Slowly, carefully, she looked at the cat. ¡°¡­Excuse me?¡± she whispered. The beast¡¯s ears twitched. "Who else would it be?" Sadie felt her stomach twist. The monster was speaking to her. How? Her breath quickened. ¡°What¡ªwho are you?¡± "Not important." Its tail flicked. Casual. Indifferent. "Stay quiet. He¡¯ll be here soon." Sadie¡¯s mind swam. The "he" it mentioned¡ªwho was it talking about? A dungeon boss? Another monster? Something worse? "Let us out," she tried. Her voice was hoarse, but she pushed through. "We can fight. Just¡ªjust let us help." The massive cat turned its head slightly appraising her with a single eye. "You wouldn¡¯t be any help. Stay in the cage." Sadie bristled. A spark of anger cut through the fear. Who the hell did this thing think it was? Before she could snap back, the creature¡¯s ears twitched, its head tilting slightly. The air shifted slightly. The energy. Sadie¡¯s skin prickled. Shouting erupted from the village. Panic. She whipped her head around. Several lizards had stopped what they were doing and were now pointing, their slitted eyes going wide. Then, fire. Bright orange flames burst across the village street, twisting into a wall of heat and light. The slavers sprang into action, their previous laziness gone. They launched spells at something just beyond the flame. Fire, ice, lightning¡ªa frenzy of magic hurled into a single point. A battle. Someone was fighting them. Sadie strained to see¡ªbut the fire obscured everything. Then, she heard it. A whooshing noise. And then¡ªa blade of energy cut through the flames, slamming into one of the lizards'' shields. More spells followed. More attacks. Sadie¡¯s breath caught. What¡ªwhat was out there? Then, for the first time, she saw him. A figure burst through the fire. The flames licked at his cloak but did not burn. His blade shimmered. And then¡ªhe moved. Sadie couldn¡¯t track it. One moment he stood there. The next¡ªa lizard fell, its body split clean in two. Another died. Then another. And another. The lizards¡ªthe ones who had imprisoned her for months¡ªwere being slaughtered. But then¡ªhe stopped. Three lizards remained. And he waited. Why? Why wasn¡¯t he finishing it? Sadie frowned, watching. Then¡ªthe cat beside her stood. It stretched lazily before prowling forward. The lizards saw it. They froze. For a moment, there was only silence. Then¡ªthe strongest of the remaining lizards, the one with the strange glowing orb, staggered backward. It stared at the man. Then at the cat. And then¡ªit screamed. The main lizard and his companions turned to run. Sadie had no idea what had just happened. But she knew one thing for sure. Whatever that lizard had just realized? It was already too late. chapter 60 - Fresh air It caught me off guard when the last three slavers turned and bolted. But in the end, it only made things easier for Durkil, Daevon, Nick, and Alex. I¡¯d been careful throughout the fight, tracking which of the lizards had used advanced spells. I left them alive just long enough for my friends to land the finishing blows¡ªsecuring titles and experience. Morbid? Maybe. But if we hadn¡¯t killed them, they would¡¯ve enslaved us. No guilt there. Which reminded me¡ª I turned toward the wooden cage where the prisoners sat, shackled and silent. A dozen pairs of eyes locked onto me. But one stood out. She was striking¡ªdark hair, sharp features, athletic build, and eyes like polished obsidian. Beautiful, obviously. Which meant I immediately did my best to ignore her completely. Instead, I focused on the chains. We¡¯d looted several keys from the slavers, and I tested them on the cage door. None fit. Annoying, but not a problem. I grabbed the lock and wrenched it off with a burst of strength, sending metal shards scattering to the dirt. The prisoners flinched. Right. Probably should¡¯ve warned them first. I stepped back, clearing the way. "You''re free," I say. "We''ve cleared the dungeon. My friends are finishing up looting, and we¡¯ll leave soon.¡± Silence. Then, the woman¡ªthe one I wasn¡¯t looking at¡ªspoke first. ¡°We can¡¯t thank you enough. How did you find us?¡± Her voice was clear. Strong. Not at all what I expected from someone who¡¯d been locked in a cage for months. I shrug, trying to keep my tone casual. ¡°Honestly? We stumbled onto this dungeon by chance. We were looking to gain some levels. Lucky for you guys, I guess.¡± "My name¡¯s Layton, by the way," I add awkwardly, shuffling my feet. Just then, Mischief and the others finish looting and walk over. Alex grins. ¡°I think we got everything. You done playing hero over here?¡± I visibly cringe. ¡°Thank you for the update, Alex,¡± I deadpan, then bat my eyes dramatically. ¡°Did you really think I looked heroic?¡± ¡°Oh yeah, very heroic,¡± Alex shots back, smirking. ¡°Don¡¯t think I didn¡¯t see you flex under that robe when you ripped the cage door open.¡± "Was it that noticeable?" I laugh. The prisoners¡­ did not laugh. I expected relief, maybe even some excitement now that they were free. Instead, they look tense. Like they were waiting for something to go wrong. That¡¯s when I realize¨Cto them, we aren¡¯t a rescue party. We are terrifying. Mischief, a towering, pitch-black predator who had literally ripped apart their captors. Alex, 6''10" made of pure muscle, barely contained in his stretched-out, ragged clothes. Durkil, an even bigger fur-covered deer-man, his exposed chest covered in dried blood from the fight. Daevon, shaman-like deerman, with antlers adorned with feathered tassels, eyes unreadable. And then there was me. The robed figure who had cut through their slavers like a reaper. No wonder they were on edge. I sigh, then try again. ¡°Why don¡¯t we head out?¡± I offer, keeping my voice calm. ¡°We can get to know each other on the way.¡± A beat of hesitation. Then, the woman nods. In agreement, I lead the way to the portal. No one spoke as we step through, leaving the dungeon¡ªand everything that had happened there¡ªbehind. - With the dungeon cleared, I force myself to focus. The whole reason we tackled this in the first place was to push our elites into their evolved classes. We hadn¡¯t expected to find a group of captives, but here they are. And as much as I was eager to process our gains, I knew we had some things to sort out. I turn to the woman I¡¯d spoken with earlier¡ªthe one who seems to be in charge. "Now that we''re all out, I¡¯m sure you have questions. I do too. But first, what¡¯s your name?" She lets out a small laugh. ¡°I don¡¯t mind at all. My name is Sadie.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure, Sadie.¡± I gesture behind me at my squad. ¡°That¡¯s Mischief¡ªthe oversized housecat. The one bursting out of his own shirt is Alex, the bow guy is Nick. The deerman with the axe is Durkil, and the other deerman is Daevon.¡± Sadie glances past me, taking in our questionable-looking group. Alex, of course, beams and waves like a dumbass. ¡°What would you like to know?¡± I ask. She hesitates, then asks, ¡°Is it just the five of you, or did you come from a nearby city?¡± ¡°No cities,¡± I say, shaking my head. ¡°Just a growing village. So far, we haven¡¯t seen anything bigger than that.¡± ¡°What about you? Are you part of one of the factions nearby?¡± Sadie frowns. ¡°No, we weren¡¯t part of a larger group. Everyone here got dropped together after the tutorial. Mostly from the Pacific Northwest. There¡¯s even a guy from Phoenix.¡± She pauses. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be rude, but you have a¡­ unique group of friends.¡± This girl is more direct than I am. I laugh, rubbing the back of my head. ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re not wrong. We''ve had a strange journey. But honestly? This whole world is strange.¡± Sadie seems ready to respond when someone else steps forward interrupting her. Tall. Dark wavy hair. The kind of ridiculously good-looking guy that you¡¯d see doing viral dances on social media. His shirt is burnt open on his right arm exposing a large red scar. ¡°How are you all so strong?¡± he asks, eyes twinkling. ¡°You must be close to level 40, and your friends are insane!¡± Sadie glares at him. ¡°Xander. Not now.¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I say, shrugging. ¡°I¡¯m not level 40. We¡¯re all around level 25. Mischief¡¯s probably the highest, maybe pushing 30.¡± Xander shakes his head. ¡°I don¡¯t buy it. You tore through those lizards like they were nothing. Why should we tell you anything if you won¡¯t even be honest with us?¡± Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. Alex steps in, looming over Xander. ¡°What¡¯s your problem, man? Layton isn¡¯t lying. I¡¯ve seen his level in our faction screen. And in case you forgot, he just saved your ass.¡± Xander raises his hands but stands his ground. I have to give him credit for that. ¡°Hey, hey,¡± I cut in before things can escalate. ¡°They have no reason to trust us yet. Things are crazy right now. We¡¯ve just been lucky. A lot of my stats come from gaining titles. Do you know about those?¡± My words are patient. My actual feelings? Annoyed. This is the second time I had saved a group and rather than showing gratitude they immediately started calling us liars. Sadie answers before Xander can. ¡°Yes. Some of us have gotten a few. They boost stats like achievements, right?¡± ¡°Exactly.¡± I nod. I¡¯m at least grateful for Sadie. She seems to be genuinely grateful. Xander just seems like an entitled asshole. ¡°I got lucky with some early ones. Some are even repeatable, so we¡­ cheese our fights to stack them.¡± I leave out the part where I get a massive boost from having two classes. Xander huffs, reluctantly cooling off. ¡°I guess that makes sense. It¡¯s just¡­ a lot to take in. We fought those things when they were way weaker, and it still went horribly.¡± His apology does little to change my first impression, but at least it¡¯s a start. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± I wave it off. ¡°But that brings me back to my question¡ªhow did you end up as slaves?¡± This time, Sadie doesn¡¯t hesitate. She and the others recount their story¡ªhow some had ignored the tutorial¡¯s warning, lost half their people, and barely survived the trial dungeon. They talk about finding the lizard dungeon too early, thinking they could take it, and how quickly things went south. How they surrendered. How the slavers grew stronger by fighting off endless monster waves. By the time they finish, my chest feels tight. I thought of my parents. My dad. He isn¡¯t stupid. He wouldn¡¯t ignore the tutorial. ¡­Right? I shake the thought off and focus. ¡°That¡¯s rough,¡± I say. ¡°Losing people like that. But¡­ your decision to enter that dungeon? That was stupid.¡± Sadie¡¯s head snaps up, eyes flashing. ¡°Excuse me?¡± I had been thinking the words as Sadie spoke, but I absolutely had no intention of saying them. My eyes grow wide. I open my mouth to speak and more unintended words spill out. ¡°You made a bad call. I get why you did it. But you were the leader. You risked everyone¡¯s lives, and you weren¡¯t strong enough to back it up.¡± The words came out sharp, even to me. It takes all my effort to keep my hand from flying to my mouth. What the hell was this? I felt like Jim Carey in Liar Liar. I hated the words as I said them, but they were my exact thoughts and I knew they needed to be said. Sadie¡¯s face turns scarlet burning red-hot. She takes a step and shoves a finger in my direction. ¡°You weren¡¯t there! You didn¡¯t bury their bodies. I did what I thought was best.¡± I shake my head. ¡°No. You didn¡¯t. You knew it was a bad idea, but you were scared. You acted on impulse. And people died because of it.¡± Something was working inside me. It¡¯s hard to explain, almost like how the mana moved the first time I used it. I could feel it slithering inside me. A raw wave of emotion began emanating from Sadie¡ªguilt, regret, self-loathing. It crashed into me like an open wound laid bare. She carried this pain on purpose. Not because she couldn¡¯t move on¡ªbut because she refused to. It was like a puzzle piece clicking into place. Warden of Judgment. Had my class done this? Is that why I was reading her feelings? I flick open my status, rereading the description. Take note¡ªas an arbiter of judgment in your new world, your actions become justified by their very nature. Do not don this mantle lightly. The words carry a new weight now. More¡­ literal. I suck in a slow breath and make my decision. I forgive her. The thought feels foreign to me. Logically I question my own audacity. What right did I have to forgive her? But I couldn¡¯t escape the NEED to do it. She¡¯d made a terrible call. But who wouldn¡¯t? She carried the guilt because she thought she deserved it. But that wasn¡¯t justice. That was punishment. And just like that¡ªthe sensation vanishes. My mind clears. And I realize I¡¯d completely zoned out. I shake my head clear. ¡°Can everyone please just calm down?!¡± Nick was shouting. Alex and Xander were inches from fighting. Sadie looks like she is about to explode. The freed prisoners looked like they expected all-out war. ¡°HEY!¡± I bark. ¡°What the hell is going on?¡± Silence. Xander rounds on me. ¡°Are you serious? First, you call Sadie stupid, then you just zone out like a psycho. You think just because you¡¯re higher level, you¡¯re better than us?¡± Alex bristles, looking ready to swing. It would be a VERY bad day for Xander if Alex started swinging. I sigh. ¡°Okay, yeah¡ªthat¡¯s fair. Alex, give him some space. This is my fault.¡± Alex hesitates, then backs off. I look back at the Guildians and Mischief. They are standing watching with the most casual faces I¡¯ve ever seen. Even in this crazy moment it almost makes me laugh. I turn back to Xander. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I probably sound like a total dick right now. I don¡¯t know what came over me¡ªI think it has something to do with my class.¡± I run my hand through my hair. I must sound like a crazy person. ¡°But you¡¯re right. I don¡¯t know what you went through, and it was wrong to assume.¡± Xander doesn¡¯t look convinced. Sadie, face still flushed, turns away. ¡°I¡¯m done here. I¡¯d say we owe you, but I get the feeling you¡¯d have cleared that dungeon with or without us.¡± She starts to leave. Then¡ª ¡°I¡¯d like to join your faction.¡± It¡¯s a middle-aged woman in a puffy vest. A silence washes over the crowd. Sadie freezes in place, and I stand shocked. Nick coughs, bringing me back. ¡°Of course! Anyone who wants to join our faction is welcome.¡± I smile at the woman who spoke up. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± ¡°Kennedy.¡± ¡°Our village is a decent walk from here, and I won¡¯t be heading back for a few days,¡± I inform her. ¡°I can¡¯t escort you, but I can update your map. Also, if anyone else is interested, there are two other factions nearby. I don¡¯t know what state they¡¯re in, but now that you have the info, the choice is yours.¡± I open my interface again, testing if I can actually share my updated map. And just like that¡ªan option appears. It was weirdly similar to airdropping data on a phone. ¡°I just made my map accessible to everyone,¡± I say. ¡°You should be able to check it in your status screen.¡± The group immediately pulls up their menus. After a beat, Xander speaks. ¡°What happens if we join your faction but decide it isn¡¯t for us?¡± I stare at him. My response sounds a bit confused ¡°Then you leave?¡± Xander frowns. ¡°Just like that?¡± ¡°What do you think this is?¡± I ask, exasperated. ¡°I¡¯m not running some weird cult. We¡¯re just people, same as you.¡± ¡°Well,¡± Alex interjects, grinning, ¡°technically, only half of us are people. Did you forget about Mischief and the Guildians?¡± I palm my face. ¡°Yeah I guess If you want to be technical.¡± I face the rest of the group. ¡°Look, do whatever makes sense for you. You¡¯ve got the map now. Your call.¡± It''s time to wrap things up. It had been half a day since we entered the dungeon, and we still needed to regroup with Ellison. ¡°Are you going to enter more dungeons?¡± Xander asks. ¡°That¡¯s the plan,¡± I shrug. ¡°We¡¯re grinding levels for the next four days. We need to meet up with the rest of our group first, though.¡± Xander¡¯s brows furrows. ¡°Why the hurry?¡± I fold my arms. ¡°The world¡¯s now split into territories. To claim one, you have to close the dungeons inside. That usually means clearing three. Once that¡¯s done, you have seven days to prepare before you¡¯re hit with three waves of raids. We¡¯re on day two.¡± Xander blinks. ¡°So basically, you¡¯re speedrunning to get stronger before the fight?¡± ¡°More or less.¡± His lips press together. ¡°Do you think I could join you?¡± Alex burst out laughing. ¡°Are you serious? After all that shit? Besides what level are you?¡± Xander crosses his arms. ¡°I¡¯m level 10.¡± ¡°Oh my god.¡± Alex shakes his head. ¡°You probably can¡¯t even hurt the things we fight.¡± ¡°That¡¯s exactly why I want to go with you!¡± Xander pleads. ¡°We¡¯re months behind you guys. If we don¡¯t catch up fast, we¡¯re dead. Let me train with you¡ªI¡¯ll pull my weight.¡± Alex isn¡¯t wrong¡ªXander will be dead weight in combat. He¡¯d need constant protection. Someone would even have to carry him just so he can keep up. Still¡­I cringe before the words come out. ¡°You can come,¡± So far I am far from impressed with Xander. He seems arrogant and brash. But I felt the same way about Alex when I first met him. ¡°But someone will have to carry you to our next fight. You¡¯re too slow otherwise.¡± Alex¡¯s jaw drops. Xander looks equally shocked. ¡°Alex,¡± I say, grinning, ¡°do you really not remember asking the exact same thing when we met?¡± Alex looks down at his feet. ¡°I¡­ of course I remember that.¡± ¡°Good. Then pass that lesson along.¡± I meet his gaze. ¡°We don¡¯t leave anyone behind who¡¯s willing to grow.¡± Alex mulls it over¡ªthen nods reluctantly. ¡°Fine. But I¡¯m carrying him. And it WILL NOT be a pleasant ride.¡± Before Xander can react, Alex hoists him up like a sack of potatoes and throws him over his massive shoulder. ¡°HEY! WHAT THE HELL?¡± Xander shouts, kicking wildly. ¡°PUT ME DOWN, YOU BIG APE!¡± I choke back a laugh. ¡°All right then,¡± I begin walking away from the group. ¡°Anyone heading to our village¡ªfind Jared and tell him I sent you.¡± We¡¯re just about to leave¡ª ¡°WAIT!¡± Sadie shouts running up. ¡°I¡¯m coming too.¡± I nearly trip mid-step. ¡°You?¡± I ask, genuinely surprised. ¡°I thought for sure you were heading to one of the other factions.¡± She folds her arms. ¡°If Xander¡¯s going, so am I. But if you think for even one second that you¡¯re carrying me, you¡¯re out of your mind.¡± ¡°Well, you¡¯re not fast enough,¡± I point to the others. ¡°So you¡¯ll have to convince someone else. And the deer people don¡¯t speak english.¡± Before she can argue, Mischief¡¯s voice enters my head. ¡°I¡¯ll carry her.¡± I blink. This day is already full of surprises. ¡°Seriously? Last time I asked you to carry someone, you nearly took my head off.¡± Mischief¡¯s grin was audible in my mind. ¡°I like her. She really doesn¡¯t like you. I think it¡¯s hilarious.¡± I snort. ¡°Well, lucky you,¡± I nod toward my friend. ¡°Mischief has volunteered.¡± Sadie narrows her eyes. ¡°Why did you laugh? What did he say?!¡± I smirk. ¡°Ask him yourself. We¡¯ve got to move.¡± Hesitantly, she approaches Mischief. He lowers himself, letting her climb on. I hear her mutter something under her breath. Then, we take off. Chapter 61 - An upgrade for Durkil At our speed, it only takes an hour to reach the next anomaly. Ellison is already there waiting. He spots us immediately and waves us over. ¡°Layton! You made it.¡± I jog over. ¡°Yeah, dungeon cleared. No losses. We even had a perfect run.¡± Ellison¡¯s eyes flick over our group, landing on Xander and Sadie. ¡°I see that. Are these your rewards for a perfect run?¡± He gestures just as Alex dumps Xander off his shoulder. Xander stumbles, catching his balance. ¡°NEVER AGAIN.¡± He shoots a glare at Alex, who just grins. I laugh. ¡°Yeah, you could say that. We found them locked up by slavers. Freed them. Some wanted to come along. Xander¡¯s the guy, Sadie¡¯s the girl.¡± Ellison gives them both a polite nod before extending his hand. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you. I¡¯m Ellison. A Guildian. Layton was kind enough to allow my people to join his faction.¡± Sadie steps forward first. ¡°Yeah, good to meet you.¡± She shakes his hand, studying him. ¡°Are you one of the alien races the tutorial said merged into our planet?¡± ¡°No, my people are from another world entirely.¡± Ellison¡¯s tone was polite but final. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll hear all about it in time, but for now, there are things Layton and I need to discuss.¡± Sadie folds her arms, still grumpy from our last interaction and definitely not satisfied with Ellisons response, but she lets it go. Ellison produces two chairs from thin air, setting them down. He goes to take his seat, but I stop Sadie and Xander before they can wander off. ¡°Actually, stay. None of this is secret, and you might as well get caught up.¡± Ellison shrugs and pulls out two more chairs. Once everyone is situated, he turns to me. ¡°Would you like to begin, or should I?¡± I bow regally. ¡°Please, after you good sir.¡± He gives the customary antler scratch before getting into. ¡°After you entered the dungeon, we didn¡¯t want to waste time. So we searched for a lower-level dungeon to clear ourselves.¡± Ellison pulls out his own interface. What the hell? Does everyone have one of those puppies? He opens his map, pointing at a new dungeon marker. ¡°The first one we found was too high¡ªLevel 30. We¡¯ll need to figure out a way to deal with that later. But the second was Level 16. We took it on.¡± He continues, explaining how they fought gnomes, a near-even battle where their gear and numbers gave them the advantage. ¡°We escaped without casualties, but Elise was kept busy healing throughout the fight. She¡¯s growing into a fine healer.¡± ¡°She should be nearing her class evolution soon.¡± I say scratching my chin. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. ¡°She should,¡± Ellison agrees. ¡°As for levels¡­ unfortunately, gains were minimal. With our numbers, the experience was spread too thin.¡± ¡°So it¡¯s confirmed. Higher numbers dilute experience.¡± I shrug. We already pretty much had that confirmed. ¡°That tracks.¡± ¡°Yes. And without upgrades to our weapons and armor, the only way forward is through harder challenges to continue level increases.¡± Ellison points at the Level 19 anomaly. ¡°This anomaly should be manageable with our elites.¡± ¡°Well it does suck that the last dungeon didn¡¯t give much in terms of growth.¡± I can¡¯t hide a faint hint of a smile creeping onto my face. ¡°But we do have some good news¡­¡± I let my words hang before Ellison gestures for me to get on with it. ¡°Four of our elites evolved their classes.¡± Ellison¡¯s eyes widen slightly and he smiles. ¡°Oh?¡± ¡°Durkil and Daevon hit Level 25. Daevon¡¯s now a Storm Elementalist¡ªwhich comes with a defensive skill. Durkil became a Champion of Ulm.¡± At that, Ellison sits up straighter. ¡°A Champion of Ulm?¡± His tone carries weight. ¡°Yeah. Apparently, it comes with two aura skills.¡± Ellison slowly nods along, processing. ¡°Alex and Nick are close. They should break through in our next fight.¡± ¡°Excellent.¡± He says resting his hands on his legs. ¡°And we all gained two new titles.¡± I quickly explain the first: Then I shared the second: ¡°There is something I noticed though when I evolved my class. It mentioned something about titles when I was evolving.¡± Ellison studies me. ¡°You¡¯re asking if titles influence class evolution?¡± I nod. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m assuming the more titles you have, the better your options?¡± He folds his arms. ¡°I don¡¯t have much experience with class evolutions. Durkil and Daevon are the first Guildians from Ulm to evolve in generations. But from what I know, yes. Titles matter.¡± That was all I needed to hear. ¡°Then we need to track our faction¡¯s evolutions. Compare class options to their stats and titles. If we can optimize class choices, we¡¯ll get stronger in the long run.¡± Ellison agrees. ¡°Consider it done.¡± Now to the part I¡¯m REALLY excited about. ¡°We also got some decent loot.¡± I quickly summarize most of our dungeon rewards: Then I get to the part I was most excited about. [Liberator¡¯s Chestplate - Uncommon Grade (Set Piece 1 of 5.) +2 to all stats, additional +2 all stats for a matching set. Exponential aura ability scaling per piece. Self-repair & auto-equip. Upgradeable] ¡°Everyone in our raid team received a set piece. Well everyone except Nick¡ªwho got an uncommon-tier quiver.¡± I watch Ellisons reaction carefully. ¡°After some discussion, we agreed that either Durkil or Alex should get the full set.¡± Ellison leans forward, eyes fixing on me. ¡°Alex made the final call. Durkil¡¯s class has two aura skills. It makes the most sense for him.¡± Mischief was listening to our conversation from nearby. We wanted the reveal to be a surprise to Ellison. He let Durkil know when to tromp over. Ellison looks up as Durkil arrives behind me. He activates the armor set. In an instant, his tattered leather vest and pants disappear¡ªreplaced by dark, steel-blue armor that covers him head to toe. The helmet is shaped perfectly for his antlers, leaving them exposed as they jutted proudly from his head. At seven feet tall and clad in an uncommon grade plate, Durkil looks like a goddamn legend. ¡°Layton¡­.¡± Ellison¡¯s voice comes out choked. I grin broadley. ¡°I know, right? He looks awesome.¡± Ellison isn¡¯t smiling. There are tears in his eyes. I blink. ¡°Wait¡ªEllison? What¡¯s wrong?¡± He shakes his head, voice thick with emotion. ¡°Layton, you must think this is just the way things are. That power like this is common.¡± He shakes his head dabbing at his tears. ¡°It¡¯s not. My people¡ªUlm¡ªcould save for generations and never touch armor of this quality.¡± I hesitate, suddenly realizing. The Guildians had spent generations scraping by. And we had just handed Durkil top-tier armor like it was nothing. I swallow. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ glad it¡¯ll help.¡± Ellison sucks in a deep breath. Then he wipes his eyes and squares his shoulders. ¡°Enough of this. We still have work to do.¡±He gestured toward the anomaly. ¡°We have days left to prepare. Shall we get started?¡± Chapter 62 - Adjusting The next anomaly teaches us a few important lessons. Ellison had urged me before the fight to let Durkil fight without the aid of my barriers. He wanted to see how Durkil would fare without my aid. The answer? Incredibly well. With his new armor, he tore through enemy ranks with reckless abandon, a walking force of nature. The strange looking half human half amphibian monsters swarmed Durkil, leaping and crawling to drag his massive body down. Their efforts were in vain. He swung his ax in massive arcs hewing his enemies as he went. His blue shining armor left him Impervious to any and all attacks from his enemies. My pride swelled watching the seven foot tall tank with antlers. As he fought I felt a tug to move. To stand with him in his struggle. My legs itched to leap in and join the Hero in the front lines. The pull was nearly overwhelming, no doubt the effect of one of Durkil''s aura abilities. Durkil was so effective at killing that we actually had to hold him back so others could get kills and gain experience as well. The same could be said of all our elites¡ªthey outclassed the Level 19 anomaly completely. It forced us to rethink our approach to how we tackled dungeons. Keeping all the elites in low-level fights was a waste. The experience gained plummeted fighting weaker opponents. Worse yet, it also stunts the growth of our lower-level fighters stunting their growth also. So we adapted. Fights below Level 15? We left for Ellison and the standard fighters. The elites? They split off to find more suitable challenges. And as the days passed, we pushed our limits. Fight after fight. We took special care not to complete three dungeons in any region. Ellison plotted important landmarks to bring back to Jared for strategic planning and expansion. Levels are far from the only spoils of war either. UBC¡¯s begin to stack up, along with more shards, weapons, armor and skill books. Our once ragtag force is slowly beginning to look more like a professional army. Each battle moves us a little closer to safety and security. Eventually, the time comes to return to our village. Not a single day had been wasted. Every single elite had reached their first class evolution. I hit Level 30 in my evolved class Warden of Judgement and level 18 in my fighter class, Durkil reached Level 31, Mischief surged ahead to Level 33, and Nick, Alex and Daevon are not far behind. The growth exceeds all expectations. And through it, we uncover key insights about class evolutions. The first big takeaway is that the level 25 class evolution is where talent really starts to shine through. Our elite fighters gain more unique classes and higher stats per level plus more impressive skills. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. But the real difference came in stat gains per level. Base classes gained 16 stats per level. Standard evolutions ranged from 19-23 stats per level. Strong evolutions pushed into the high 20s. Our elites? They broke the mold. Alex, Nick, and Daevon each had classes that gain 32 stats per level. Durkil: 34 stats per level. Mischief: 38 stats per level. Me? 50 stats per level. The second big takeaway¨Ctitles Shape Evolution Paths. We¡¯d suspected it, but now we had hard proof¡ªmore and better titles led to better class evolutions. The system rewarded those who pushed boundaries, took risks, and accomplished meaningful feats. Titles weren¡¯t just stat boosters¡ªthey were a roadmap to power. The third and last important nugget? Higher Stat Gains equal slower Leveling There was a catch to those high stat evolutions. More power meant more experience required per level. It was a tradeoff¡ªbut one every member of the faction was willing to take. By the end of the week, we¡¯re running on fumes. Sleep is a luxury. Food is fuel, not a pleasure. Every morning, we wake up sore, bruised, aching¡ªand then we do it all again. Not a single person complains. No one asks for a break. They know what¡¯s at stake. They simply went to work. So did I, spending my time playing my role as support, watching as my faction grew and powered up every single day. I¡¯d be lying if I said I didn¡¯t love every second of it. This world was a strategy game, and I was learning how to play it at the highest level. I loved watching my people grow. I loved optimizing paths to power. I loved crushing challenges that were supposed to be difficult. But above all¡ªI kept my focus on the true goal¨CCreating safety. For my faction. For anyone who needs it. Because the moment we stop growing¡ªwas the same day we¡¯d become the prey my faction spent crushing in dungeons. As much success as faction LM had gained not everyone had evolved yet. Sadie and Xander were close¡ªbut they¡¯d started from too far behind. With our usual enemies sitting at Level 20 plus, it had been brutal for them. A Level 5 facing a Level 10 was already a stretch. Facing a Level 20 plus? Pretty much impossible. Early level disparity was a real thing. A five level disparity at level fifty might not be so bad. Facing something twice your level at five was essentially suicide. It meant your opponent would have double your effective stats. But they refused to give up. Fortunately for the two of them the system was gracious with how it allocated experience. Even if your contributions towards a kill were minimal the system would still recognize it and experience trickled in. Their efforts paid off and both landed killing blows on enemies twice their levels netting massive experience boosts along with a title called david vs goliath. There was a problem though. The more we learned, the more I realized that class maxing became a serious balancing act. Higher enemy levels meant massive experience, and more fights before evolution might mean more potential titles. The problem was, if you rushed your leveling without gaining the right titles you might be rushing into evolution too soon hampering future growth potential. That realization made my brain spin. I started thinking about my own progression. Could I time my evolution to maximize gains? Was there a perfect way to game the system to get the best results? Ultimately, I didn¡¯t have all the answers. And for all I knew I might never know. I resigned myself to just do the best I can and hope it works out. I know myself and if I spiral down the rabbit hole I would second guess every decision that I had to make. Right now I¡¯m satisfied with all we have accomplished and excited to get home and show Jared. Chapter 63 - Back home After a week of grinding levels, faction LM¡¯s village had transformed again. Even from a distance, the changes were impossible to ignore. More houses stretched toward the mountain slopes, their log-and-stone structures blending into the terrain. The dirt roads were vanishing beneath carefully laid cobblestone, giving the place an actual sense of permanence. It felt like a real settlement. But I didn¡¯t have time to admire it for long. We only had six hours until the first raid challenge, and I needed a status report. That meant tracking down Jared. I found him easily¡ªarguing with a group of men, his hands moving in quick, sharp gestures. When he saw me, he waved me over, his expression a mix of relief and irritation. ¡°We need a way to communicate when you and every single fighter in the village disappear for a week!¡± Jared said, voice tight. ¡°I had no idea if you were coming back, or if we were suddenly on our own.¡± I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling a little guilty. ¡°Yeah¡­ I guess we got kind of caught up in the grind.¡± Jared¡¯s glare deepened. ¡°No kidding.¡± I grinned, trying to defuse the tension. ¡°Hey, at least we all made insane progress, if I do say so myself.¡± His scowl softened¡ªjust a bit. ¡°Good. But next time, would it be so much to ask to just send someone back with occasional updates?¡± Yeah that really wasn¡¯t asking much. I¡¯m not sure why no one thought of it. I mean I know why I hadn¡¯t thought of it. I was making money and gaining levels. It was freaking fun and I lost track of time. ¡°Next time we should rotate a garrison. If something had attacked while you were gone, we wouldn¡¯t have had anyone to defend the village.¡± I blinked. Right. That¡¯s... an obvious oversight. ¡°¡­Yeah, that¡¯s on me. I¡¯ll make sure we rotate guards moving forward.¡± Jared nodded, accepting my answer, before shifting gears. ¡°Come on. There¡¯s a lot to show you before the next raid arrives.¡± He grabs my arm and begins half draggin half leading me through the village, and I quickly realize the buildings weren¡¯t the only thing that had changed. The place was busier, the tension of our first days here gone. People walked with purpose. Damon hammers away at new weapons, merchants barter over supplies, and new structures are going up everywhere. Eventually, Jared releases my arm in front of a brand-new building. A wide storefront with a large, hand-carved sign that read: This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°Shards & Enchantments¡± I raise a brow. ¡°This is new.¡± Jared smirks fondly at the new building. ¡°Your ability to state the obvious is truly unmatched.¡± I¡¯m happy his earlier sour mood is shifting. I shoot him a look. ¡°Someone¡¯s feeling a bit bipolar today aren¡¯t they?¡± He chuckles wryly. ¡°Come inside.¡± I follow him in, and my eyes widen like a kid in a candy shop. The room is literally filled with crystal shards¡ªshelves lined with gleaming stones in every color, each labeled with a brief description. I stop in front of one: Crude Shard of Water Spout Creates a small spout of water from an associated object that can be activated with a touch. Cost: 100 UBC I turn to Jared. ¡°Are you kidding me? How do these work?¡± A familiar voice calls from the next room. ¡°Why don¡¯t you ask the expert?¡± Jessica. She strides into the shop, her usual confident grin plastered to her face. It suits her well with her blonde hair just passing her ears. She reminds me of a fit soccer mom, even though I am pretty sure she doesn¡¯t have any kids. ¡°Alright, expert. What¡¯s the deal with these shards? And where did they all come from?¡± Jessica folds her arms. ¡°Since you asked so nicely, I suppose I shall bequeath upon you my knowledge.¡± I narrow my eyes. ¡°Bequeath?¡± ¡°Yes. Bequeath.¡± I sigh and then proffer a rolling wave with a slight bow. ¡°Bequeath away.¡± Instant regret. Jessica rolls her eyes. ¡°Okay, listen up. Have you used a shard before?¡± I hit her with the customary shrug. ¡°Yeah once or twice. The second time didn¡¯t go so great. I ended up basically making a self inflicting taser knife.¡± I reflect on my second attempt at using a chaos shard fondly. ¡°I wonder what happened to my shocky pointy friend?¡± I stare off into the distance. Jessica cocks her head confused. ¡°Uhhh..OK?¡± She opens her mouth ready to ask more, then shuts it again and shakes her head. Wisely she chooses to ignore the tangent. ¡°Just yes, I have used shards before.¡± I glance at Jared and he mouths¨Cshocky pointy friend? I ignore him and Jessica ignores us both. Getting back to her explanation. ¡°Then you already know the basics. You channel mana into the shard, and boom¡ªthe effect happens.¡± That was pretty much my experience in the wave trial. It left me wondering though. Was mana the charge? Did they have to keep stuffing mana into the enchantment? ¡°Yeah, but do they need constant recharging or something?¡± Jessica¡¯s grin widens. ¡°That¡¯s the best part¡ªthey¡¯re self-sustaining.¡± That stops me. ¡°¡­Wait. What?¡± ¡°Yup. Once activated, they pull from ambient mana.¡± That is huge. But it leaves a lot more questions that I don¡¯t know if I want to get into right now. Like, what happens when the ambient mana in an area isn¡¯t enough to power the enchantments? My mind immediately moves to potential uses¡ªwater purification, heating, defensive enchantments. ¡°And this is just the basic stuff?¡± I ask. Jessica''s head bounces and down. ¡°Yep. Basic up enchantments for utilities. But weapons and armor? That¡¯s where I come in.¡± I raise a brow. ¡°Meaning?¡± ¡°My enchantments scale with my level. The stronger I get, the more powerful the enhancements become.¡± I whistle. ¡°That¡¯s ridiculously good.¡± We talk for a while longer, but after a few minutes, my brain is fired from all the new information. Finally, I decided to cut to the chase. ¡°How¡¯s the chaos infusion project going?¡± ¡°Finished. About a 50/50 success rate. Nothing too fancy, but it¡¯s a start.¡± She turns, picks up a chest of holding, and hands it over. ¡°Here. It¡¯s all yours.¡± I pull out 500 UBCs and offer it to her. Jessica snorts. ¡°Not a chance. They¡¯re free.¡± I drop the coins on the counter and walk out before she can argue. Chapter 64 - Building a home After leaving Jessica¡¯s shop Jared continues his tour of the faction. The village had grown far beyond what I¡¯d expected. Infrastructure was developing, enchantments were making life easier, and our people were growing stronger. But none of that mattered if we couldn¡¯t defend it. I glance at the countdown timer hovering in my vision. Five hours, thirty-two minutes until the first raid. I wanted to stop by the armory and check in with Damon to see if he had completed Durkil¡¯s club, but Jared was already ahead of me. ¡°Damon thought you¡¯d be asking. He told me that he¡¯s getting close, but he¡¯s not ready yet.¡± I frown, disappointed, but I had a feeling it would be worth the wait. Instead, we take a more scenic route down the cobbled streets. I marveled at how much everything has changed. The buildings had taken on a modern, yet rustic feel, with cut timber and stone foundations blending into the natural environment. It felt like the kind of town you¡¯d find at a luxury ski resort¡ªonly this one was built out of pure necessity, not leisure. Jared explained how he wanted to maintain the natural beauty of the area as we expanded. ¡°You¡¯ll also be happy to know that although we¡¯ve begun excavating the shard mine near your mountain lake, we¡¯ve taken extra care to preserve the scenic lake itself. Stetson managed to open a mine shaft from a different angle, leaving the entire area undisturbed.¡± He looks at me with a twinkle in his eye. ¡°I have special plans for it.¡± I raise an eyebrow. ¡°Special plans?¡± ¡°You¡¯ll see.¡± I decided not to push. Jared enjoys his cryptic reveals, and honestly, I liked seeing where his vision took things. Our walk led us out of the village, still following a finely cobbled road through the trees until we emerged into a sprawling field that gently sloped up the mountainside. And that¡¯s when I see it. Ten acres of neatly organized rows of crops stretched out before me, already knee-high. Nearby, a cottage stood beside several silo-like structures made of stone, and further back was a large wooden stable. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. I took a slow breath¨Ctaking in the earthy green smell. The soil¡¯s damp richness mingles with the green, sun-warmed leaves. ¡°Jared, this is incredible.¡± My voice was almost reverent. ¡°What are we growing?¡± ¡°You know, I keep forgetting.¡± He scratches his chin. ¡°Jessie would know better, but I don¡¯t see her around. We used some of the seeds from your loot chest.¡± He gestured toward the silos. ¡°Those were built with one of Jessie¡¯s skills¡ªapparently, they don¡¯t just preserve food, they enhance it. Some of the stored crops even develop healing properties.¡± That is insane. This would open so many new and exciting possibilities¡ªcommerce, trade, sustainability. What if we could refine those enhanced crops? Could they be sold like potions? Mass-produced? I had to rein myself in. One step at a time. Still, this was proof. Jared¡¯s vision¡ªour vision¡ªwasn¡¯t just an idea anymore. It was happening. Then my eyes landed on the stables. ¡°Jared, are those stables?¡± He hesitates. ¡°Something like that.¡± That wasn¡¯t a good sign. ¡°What do you mean ¡®something like that?¡¯¡± ¡°We built them for the wolves. Thought they might like a home base.¡± He shrugs. ¡°But¡­ turns out, we were a bit presumptuous.¡± ¡°They didn¡¯t want to live in the stables?¡± Jared shakes his head. ¡°No, they did not. According to Ben, they¡¯re developing a sense of self-awareness¡ªmuch like Mischief. They still work alongside us, but they don¡¯t see themselves as¡­ pets.¡± The words hit me harder than I expected. No wolf cavalry. The first bad news of the day. The image I¡¯d built up in my head¡ªthe unstoppable charge of mounted warriors, wolves tearing through enemy ranks¡ªgone. I swallow my disappointment. This world kept throwing curveballs. I had to roll with them. But damn, that one stung. Jared must have sensed my mood shift, because he changes the subject. ¡°Speaking of communication barriers, I found a solution.¡± That got my attention. ¡°I¡¯m listening.¡± ¡°There¡¯s an upgrade we can purchase in the panel¡ªa universal language comprehension perk for faction members. The problem is¡­ it costs 40,000 UBC¡¯s. I scraped together 20,000 from contributions, but we still need 20,000 more.¡± I donn¡¯t hesitate. I pull up my status screen. 22,500 UBC¡¯s. Without a second thought, I pulled 20,000 from my inventory and hand Jared the coin bag. ¡°Here. Get it done.¡± Jared hesitates, his hand hovering over the bag. ¡°Layton, this is¡ª Look, I¡¯ll make sure you¡¯re reimbursed.¡± I shake my head. ¡°It¡¯s a gift.¡± He runs a hand through his hair before finally taking the bag. ¡°You make it real hard to keep up with you, you know that?¡± I just smile. ¡°Do we need to be in our owned territory for the upgrade to activate?¡± ¡°No, and that¡¯s probably why it costs so much at this stage. Once someone joins the faction, it takes effect immediately. But if we wanted individual translation for outsiders, it¡¯d cost 100,000 UBC per person.¡± ¡°That¡¯s steep, but we¡¯ll cross that bridge when we need to.¡± Jared agrees, looking down at the bag for a moment before shaking his head again. ¡°Layton, this is great work. You¡¯ve seen our progress¡ªnow, how about I see yours?¡± ¡°Our little army is gathered where the first raid should hit.¡± ¡°Then let¡¯s not keep them waiting.¡± Chapter 65 - Asking questions Ellison believed raid portals would open in the nearest controlled territory, meaning the first wave would hit our village¡¯s starting point¡ªthe clearing where it all began. I didn¡¯t love it. The idea of battles happening this close to home made me uneasy. As Jared and I neared the clearing, we discussed strategy, brainstorming ways to mitigate the risks of fighting so close to the settlement. Most of our ideas revolved around massive walls, defensive wards, and layered protective barriers. Jared had seen items like that in the interface but those were long-term solutions. For now, we stationed sentries near the village as an emergency fallback. When we arrived, the clearing was already alive with movement. Fighters ran drills, checked their gear, and talked in tense, excited tones. Alex was the first to greet us, he walked over with his usual grin. ¡°I was worried you wanted to let us do all the work,¡± he says, and crossed his arms. ¡°You¡¯re cutting it kind of close, don¡¯t you think?¡± ¡°What? Is someone worried they won¡¯t have my barriers to keep them safe from the bad guys?¡± I shoot back. ¡°HEY,¡± Alex says, pointing a finger at me, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t even need your barriers if I hadn¡¯t so bravely given up that fancy new armor set. Basically, I¡¯m a saint.¡± I smirk. ¡°A real hero.¡± Jared chuckles but turns to Alex. ¡°While we¡¯re on the subject, why don¡¯t you fill me in on your class evolution?¡± Alex puffs out his chest. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re going to love this. I¡¯m a Warlord! One of the best evolutions stat-wise, besides Layton here and Durkil.¡± He jabs a thumb at me. ¡°I mean, obviously, they got freak-tier upgrades, but mine¡¯s nothing to scoff at.¡± ¡°I think that suits you well,¡± Jared says. ¡°What about Nick and Elise? How did their evolutions turn out?¡± Alex and I share a look before he continues. ¡°Elise got a class called Dawncaller. Bit dramatic in the name department, but honestly? It¡¯s amazing. She still has healing, she picked up a barrier skill like Layton suggested, and now she can cast buffs. Basically, she¡¯s a full-on support powerhouse.¡± Jared nods in approval. ¡°That¡¯s great. And Nick?¡± ¡°Nick¡¯s evolution was¡­ unexpected.¡± I look around suspiciously. ¡°He¡¯s probably lurking nearby.¡± And, right on cue, Nick materializes from Alex¡¯s massive shadow. I flinch, Alex recoils. ¡°I¡¯m a Shadowborn Ranger,¡± Nick announces happily, stepping into full view. ¡°Damn it, Nick!¡± Alex barks. ¡°How many times do I have to ask you to stop doing that?¡± Nick beams. ¡°Oh, come on, Alex. Your shadow is an easy target, and I still need practice.¡± Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Alex just glares. Nick¡¯s changes were still unsettling. He looked mostly like himself¡ªsame build, same posture¡ªbut the details were off. His hair had turned inky black, they shifted subtly even when there was no wind. His eyes were completely black now, twin voids that swallowed the light around them. Jared studied him carefully. He might have been thinking the same thing I was¡ªif one Shadowborn class could exist, how many more could follow? Was this how Mischief¡¯s Progenitor title would evolve? ¡°This is an interesting development,¡± Jared says slowly. ¡°I¡¯m surprised Mischief was willing to pass along his title.¡± Alex, Nick, and I exchange glances before Nick speaks. ¡°He didn¡¯t exactly give me his blessing. I¡¯ve been watching him for a while¡ªfanboying, really¡ªand when the opportunity presented itself, I just took it. Didn¡¯t think to ask first.¡± Jared rubs his temple and lets out a long sigh. ¡°Oh no. How did he take it?¡± Nick winced. ¡°Let¡¯s just say it was a mixed bag. First, he asked if he was allowed to kill me.¡± ¡°But after some reasoning, he started seeing the silver lining. We did have to set a rule, though¡ªanyone else given the class option has to ask for his permission first.¡± Jared raised an eyebrow. ¡°And that was enough to pacify him?¡± Nick squared his shoulders, fists clenched. ¡°Don¡¯t worry¡ªI¡¯ve got a plan.¡± Alex scoffed. ¡°Yeah? Does it involve not being an insufferable fanboy?¡± Nick¡¯s grin widens. ¡°Nope.¡± Jared and I walk the perimeter of our raid preparations, the tension of earlier conversations fully dissolved. Any lingering frustration from my late return had been replaced with clear admiration for our progress. Still, something sat heavy in my mind. ¡°We don¡¯t have long before the raid starts,¡± I say, breaking the silence, ¡°but I wanted to get your take on something that¡¯s been bugging me for a while now.¡± Jared glanced at me. ¡°Alright. What is it?¡± ¡°It¡¯s something I¡¯ve noticed for a while now¡ªa pattern.¡± I hesitated. ¡°It¡¯s still a theory, but the more I think about it, the more it bothers me.¡± We continued walking as I played out my thoughts. ¡°Everything is moving along too conveniently. I mean, from what we¡¯ve gathered, the dungeons and the raids are all made up of factions from other worlds. Barring maybe the anomalies, which seem to be something else entirely.¡± Jared strokes his chin. ¡°That sounds right. But I don¡¯t see what¡¯s bothering you about it.¡± I throw out a hand. ¡°It¡¯s not just that we¡¯re facing other factions¡ªit¡¯s the quality of them.¡± His eyes narrow slightly, thinking. ¡°Look at the Guildians,¡± I continue. ¡°When we met them, they¡¯d already survived multiple raids. They¡¯d gained levels, earned rewards, and were technically progressing. But let¡¯s be real¡ªif either me or Mischief fought them back then, it wouldn¡¯t have even been a fight.¡± Jareds lips turn down. ¡°That makes sense, though. They came from a dying world with no real opportunities. This place has given them more chances than they¡¯d ever had before.¡± I gesture around us. ¡°But that¡¯s just it. Why? There have to be stronger, more capable factions out there. Why is the system throwing weak groups at us? It¡¯s basically free kills and XP.¡± I stop and really look at Jared. ¡°Sure, if you¡¯re careless, you can get killed, but nothing we¡¯ve faced has actually been insurmountable.¡± Jared goes quiet for a moment, mulling it over. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s just a gradual difficulty ramp. Not everyone progresses as fast as you do. You¡¯re a unique case, Layton.¡± I shake my head. ¡°No. This is bigger than just me. Why are all the dungeons locked? Why are factions just¡­ sitting inside, waiting to be cleared? What kind of faction agrees to get locked up in a dungeon on a new world?¡± Jared¡¯s expression tightens. I could tell the thought hadn¡¯t fully clicked with him before. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he admits. ¡°There¡¯s something going on,¡± I say, my voice lower now. The words felt heavier than I expected. ¡°I can feel it. Something we¡¯re missing.¡± ¡°And it is driving me insane.¡± Jared is silent again for a long moment before finally clapping a hand on my shoulder. ¡°Let¡¯s handle things one step at a time,¡± he says. ¡°First things first¡ªthe raid¡¯s about to start.¡± I glanced at my status. He was right. One step at a time. We had seen so much growth, so much experience. On one hand I was so excited for how we were doing. On the other hand? I kept feeling the gnawing sense in the back of my mind. One step at a time. Then why did it feel like those steps were leading straight off a cliff? Chapter 66 - Treemen As the timer wound down, I stepped closer to the front-line. This fight had the potential to push some of the wolves over the threshold for their class evolution, and I knew that Sadie and Xander were on the cusp of evolving as well. Since being freed, they were the only two from their group who had consistently joined our fights. The rest still struggled. According to Jared, most of them remained shell-shocked, lingering on the edges of our settlement, hesitant to pick up weapons or face combat again. Who could blame them? If it had been me, if I had been the one chained up like that, forced into helplessness¡ª No. I wouldn¡¯t let that happen to me. Ever. And I think Sadie and Xander felt the same way. They were growing into their roles fast. Xander¡¯s path especially intrigued me. His class mirrored mine in some ways¡ªhe wielded fire in his attacks but also fought with a sword, focusing heavily on agility. Meanwhile, Sadie was evolving into a pure spellcaster, she conjured earth with devastating force. I was excited to see where they would go from here. Class evolutions fascinated me. The first 25 levels were so basic, so foundational¡ªeveryone started from the same building blocks. But once evolution hit? The paths branched into infinite possibilities. Take Stetson, for example. He started as a simple gatherer, a support role that provided resources. Then, at level 25, his class evolved into Golemmancer. Now he could craft and command golems to do his work for him. I loved my own progress, but there was something deeply satisfying about watching others reach their full potential¡ªabout helping them reach it. One by one, we were all growing into something greater. But my thoughts were cut short. The timer reached zero. Immediately, our entire force tensed. The strategy was straightforward, Muscle in the front. Rangers and spellcasters in the back. Agility-based classes played disruption, harassing enemy flanks and intercepting stragglers. Mischief, Nick, and the wolves were especially deadly in this role¡ªshadows in motion, always in the right place at the right time. If any of our fighters got overwhelmed, they would be there in an instant. I lifted my hand. The portal flared open. And as the first enemies emerged, I cast my Dome of Protection. - Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. A group of twenty-foot-tall tree monsters lumbered through the portal. Their bodies were twisted masses of bark, roots, and thick vines, and rather than wielding conventional weapons, they carried massive boulders wrapped in tangled roots, turning them into brutal makeshift clubs. I had asked Ellison to attempt diplomacy, though he had been adamant it would be a waste of time. ¡°They won¡¯t listen,¡± he had said. ¡°Even if they did, they wouldn¡¯t believe.¡± I still wanted him to try. So, he did. Ellison cupped his hands to amplify his voice. ¡°Welcome!¡± he called across the open field. ¡°Please, wait! We would like to disc¡ª¡± A massive boulder hurtled through the air, cutting off his words. It struck my Dome of Protection with a thunderous crash, exploding into a thousand fragments. The entire dome warbled and shook, but it held. Ellison gave me a deadpan look. ¡°I tried.¡± I sighed. Another senseless fight. Still, we didn¡¯t charge. We held our position, waiting as the treemen advanced. They were slow and lumbering, thick bark encasing them from head to toe like natural armor. They had power, that much was obvious. Their stats likely leaned into Strength¡ªand possibly magic. But agility? Not their strong suit. Yet, they didn¡¯t continue their boulder assault, which told me something important¡ªthey weren¡¯t mindless. Instead of wasting their ammo, they closed the distance, preparing for close-quarters combat. Ellison barked a command, and our ranged fighters let loose. Arrows and spells rained down in a relentless volley. Would this be over before it even started? To my surprise, the treemen countered. A massive translucent green barrier shimmered into existence¡ªa wall of conjured vines and bark, almost like stained glass woven from plant life. Our attacks struck the wall with incredible force, sending shockwaves rippling through the valley, bending the grass in all directions¡ªbut the wall held. From behind it, one of the treemen took a massive, ground-shaking step forward. Then, it slammed its foot into the earth. The ground rippled like water, and a tremor shot outward. A second later, an eruption of roots and jagged stone exploded from beneath our ranks. Screams filled the air as several of our fighters were thrown into the sky¡ªsome landing dozens of feet away. Dirt and shattered rock pelted my back, and I twisted to assess the damage. Elise was already moving. Her hands glowed with golden light, and she sprinted toward the injured, casting healing spells with swift, precise motions. I turned back to the fight. ¡°Keep hitting the barrier!¡± I shouted. ¡°Do as much damage as possible! ALEX! We need to break through! Ellison, tell Durkil to follow! We¡¯re going in!¡± Another volley of arrows and magic slammed into the barrier ahead of me, and I saw it begin to splinter, cracks spiderwebbing outward. A second explosion erupted behind us, another devastating root attack from the treemen. No time to think. I moved. Instinct took over. I didn¡¯t hesitate. I charged. My sword stayed sheathed¡ªI didn¡¯t need it for this. Lowering my shoulder, I slammed into the green wall with everything I had. A deep, cracking groan echoed from the barrier, but it didn¡¯t give. Then¡ªA second impact. A massive force crashed into the wall beside me, a metallic clang reverberating through the air. The barrier shattered. Beyond it, the battlefield was chaos. At least twenty of the treemen were engaged, but¡ªonly two root attacks had been cast. Something wasn¡¯t adding up. Why? And then I realized¡ª While I had gone through the barrier, Mischief, Nick, and the wolves had simply gone around it. I wanted to slap myself for the sheer stupidity of not anticipating that. But there wasn¡¯t time. I drew my sword. A massive tree limb swung toward me¡ªI twisted, letting it whistle past my head, and retaliated with a brutal slash to the first leg that crossed my path. Just like every other raid before this¡ªonce we closed the distance, the fight was over. Even before we had broken through, Mischief had tore through the battlefield, chunks of bark flew from treemen¡¯s bodies, it caused havoc among their ranks. Arrows stuck from the trees like pincushions smoking strange black smoke while the wolves weaved in and out of the long tree trunk legs they ripped and pulled at them. Their moans and wails filled the air as Guildians flooded in behind me, Alex, and Durkil. They were overrun. And minutes later¡ª The raid was over. Chapter 67 - Time to meet our neighbors While the others looted, I ran straight to Elise. I grabbed her shoulders. ¡°Tell me we didn¡¯t lose anyone.¡± She looked up at me with a sheepish smile. ¡°We didn¡¯t lose anyone.¡± I let out a breath. ¡°Thank Goodness.¡± ¡°How bad were the injuries?¡± I asked, steadying myself. She tilted her head. ¡°Not as bad as they looked. Everyone had barriers up, and I healed the worst wounds immediately.¡± My stomach knotted. It was just like I thought it would be. Again. For what felt like the twentieth time this fight felt wrong to me. There had been a thought tickling the back of my mind since I spoke about it around the fire so long ago. Why did it feel like this world was on easy mode? Raids were pitiful dregs, dungeons were only dangerous if you entered and there wasn¡¯t a single threat outside of us seeking them out proactively. The enemy had surprised us for a moment, but it should¡¯ve been worse. The treemen had no armor. No weapons besides their boulder-clubs. They were undoubtedly evolved, but in one move, they had been outmaneuvered and torn apart. This feeling had been building for a while now. Even the anomalies weren¡¯t allowed to enter the world immediately. This last raid cemented it for me. I had no doubts anymore. Something was off. The system was holding back. I could feel it in the air now. The only question is what do I do? - I left the battlefield behind, jogging toward the village. The fight itself didn¡¯t matter anymore. The pattern did. I needed to find Jared. I spotted him speaking with Damon near the forge, the two deep in conversation. As I approached, Damon turned, wiping soot from his hands. ¡°Layton! Raid¡¯s over already?¡± He glanced past me toward the clearing. ¡°We heard some explosions.¡± I gave him a brisk nod. ¡°It¡¯s done. Everyone¡¯s just cleaning up.¡± ¡°What was it this time?¡± Jared asked, crossing his arms. ¡°Oh, just your basic, run-of-the-mill twenty-foot-tall tree people throwing boulders the size of carts. Not many, but they packed a punch.¡± Jared exhaled, shaking his head. ¡°You¡¯re making that sound way too normal.¡± I clapped a hand on his shoulder. ¡°Is it okay if I borrow Jared for a minute?¡± Damon raised a brow. ¡°Uh¡­ yeah, sure.¡± ¡°Thanks! And I¡¯ll be back later¡ªI can¡¯t wait to see your progress on our project.¡± I barely let Damon respond before dragging Jared away from the forge. We barely made it twenty feet before Jared yanked himself free. ¡°Hey! Hold on¡ªwhat the hell¡¯s gotten into you?¡± I spun around. ¡°It happened just like I thought.¡± This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. Jared frowned. ¡°Slow down. What are you talking about?¡± I clenched my fists, words spilling out. ¡°The dungeons. The raids. This entire world. It¡¯s not right, Jared. I can feel it. It¡¯s like¡ªit¡¯s like that scratch at the back of your throat before a fever.¡± My breath came quicker, pulse hammering. ¡°We keep getting stronger. The fights keep getting easier. And that¡¯s the problem. This isn¡¯t a real test. It¡¯s a goddamn setup.¡± Jared¡¯s expression flickered between concern and frustration. ¡°You¡¯re still on this?¡± He ran a hand through his hair. ¡°Look, even if you¡¯re right¡ªwhat are we supposed to do about it? You¡¯re already running at full speed, clearing dungeons, gaining levels, while the rest of us are working day and night improving our crafts. What more do you want?¡± I sucked in a breath. He was right about that. We were doing everything we could. But it wasn¡¯t enough. I started pacing, my thoughts tumbling over each other. ¡°Are there defensive items in the shop? Walls? Wards? Anything?¡± ¡°There are some,¡± Jared admitted. ¡°But they¡¯re expensive. And honestly? Our money¡¯s better spent on things that¡¯ll help our people progress. It¡¯s been months, Layton. Months. We haven¡¯t faced a real threat, and we¡¯re far away from the next closest factions.¡± His logic makes sense. Am I overreacting? I stopped pacing and turned to face him. ¡°Jared¡­ I know I sound paranoid. But I refuse to ignore this feeling. Buy the defenses. I don¡¯t care how much they cost, I don¡¯t care where you get the money¡ªmake sure it happens.¡± His expression hardened. ¡°Layton. I really don¡¯t think we need to take it that far.¡± He must think I¡¯m losing it. Hell, maybe I am. But I still wasn¡¯t wrong. I locked eyes with him. ¡°Please. Don¡¯t fight me on this. If I¡¯m wrong¡ªI¡¯ll give you every single coin I earn for the next year. Just do this.¡± Jared stared at me for a long moment, like he was searching for some deeper answer in my face. I stood firm. Finally, he let out a slow breath. ¡°...Alright. I¡¯ll do it.¡± His shoulders squared. ¡°So what are you going to do now?¡± I glanced toward the edge of the village, toward the unknown. ¡°I¡¯m traveling to our neighboring factions.¡± I exhaled. ¡°And I¡¯m bringing Ellison, Nick, and Mischief with me.¡± Jared hated the idea of me taking two of our strongest fighters and leaving. He stood in front of me, arms crossed, expression stone-cold serious. ¡°You know there is for sure a raid coming again tomorrow, and then two more in a week?¡± he said, his voice flat, controlled. ¡°And you¡¯re making decisions on a hunch?¡± His words haunted me. Was I wrong? Was I about to make a terrible mistake? Still, I stuck to my decision. Damon was already hard at work, promising that before the week was up, Alex would be fully armored, and Durkil would have his warhammer. If my gut was right, I¡¯d left more than enough firepower behind to handle the next raid. And there was another surprise. The wolves. They¡¯d evolved during the last fight. Not just in strength. In form. Rather than remaining on four legs, they¡¯d chosen evolutions that made them walk upright. They grew hands. And with the new communication upgrade, they could finally explain why. Not very well, their language was rough and child-like in many ways. But their message was clear. They wanted to be more like me. I still remembered our first fight¡ªwhen I first faced them as enemies. They remembered it too. It had stuck with them. And they had chosen, deliberately, to be more human whenever possible. It bothered me, I didn¡¯t like the idea of people modeling decisions after me. Sadie and Xander were so close. One more raid. Just one more, and they¡¯d evolve too. I was torn. I wanted to see it. See the moment it happened. Be there to congratulate them and try to gain more trust. But I had to go. Before I left, Jared had asked me something that stuck with me. Why Ellison? The answer was simple. We knew there were factions nearby. We didn¡¯t know if they were human. I needed Ellison for his gift of tongues and his natural aptitude for diplomacy. And Mischief and Nick? They were, without question, our best scouts. But Jared¡¯s last question was the hardest to answer. Why now? I had no concrete answer. No evidence. No proof. Just an instinct. A feeling in my bones that if I was right, that waiting¡ªhesitating¡ªwould cost us more than we could afford. I was proud of what we had built here in Faction LM. I felt like Noah or something before the flood. We had built our ship. Our faction hadn¡¯t wasted time, we grew and prepared. I wanted to be wrong. But deep down I know, something is coming. What was it? I had my suspicions, but for now, I felt we were prepared and would continue to build on it. But we have neighbors. For now, I just wanted to find thriving factions¡ªpeople better off than we were. I was proud of what we had built, but our numbers were still too few. Selfishly, I wanted more people. More fighters. More hands. But I knew that was unrealistic. Undoubtedly, these factions would have their own goals, their own ambitions. Best case scenario? We establish trade, strengthening both groups. Worst case? I didn¡¯t want to think about the worst case. Chapter 68 - Disappearances Cassie barely registered her own footsteps as she walked back home. The air felt too heavy. The world too empty. She had just given up everything. Hadn¡¯t she? Maybe it was for the best. Jordan was a good enough man. It wasn¡¯t like she could lead on her own. She was never supposed to lead. That was Andrew¡¯s job. That was always Andrew¡¯s job. ¡°Baby, I know it¡¯s scary,¡± he had told her once, his grip firm in hers. ¡°But since when have we run from scary?¡± Cassie squeezed her arms around herself, as if she could trap the memory before it slipped away. Over the last decade of their lives that had become their mantra whenever things got hard. We don''t run from scary. Her husband, Andrew, was a plumber by trade. In his early twenties he decided to leave the company he worked for and start his own plumbing company. He said the same thing then. At first, it had been hard. But they stuck with it and Andrew made it work. Two weeks before the induction they had celebrated their first million dollar year. Like everything in his life when the tutorial had started he was ready to attack it head on. That''s just who Andrew was. A natural leader. A fighter. Cassie wasn¡¯t a fighter. She had chosen to be a jeweler. Even after she chose it, she didn¡¯t know what she was doing. It just seemed like a good choice. It was. She was able to craft accessories from different materials that could hold small enchantments if they had the shards. It was exciting how the system worked and also rewarding to track her growth. Her crafting had been a hot commodity around the community of nearly 3,000 people. When the world changed there were more than 4,000, the day the deadline hit still haunted her memories. People had just disappeared. Then one by one they would reappear, or at least what was left of them. Not even the children were spared. It was that very memory that spurred her on to craft. She HAD to occupy her mind from the brutality. Andrew had taken that day hard as well, everyone had. People all reacted differently. It was terrifying. Some like Andrew resolved to get stronger. Others hid away. There were still a hodgepodge of modern suburban homes that had been pulled through. But not nearly enough for everyone, and the amenities they had all grown accustomed to were no longer working. But people adjusted, gradually the area had begun to change as rudimentary cabins mingled with the more modern homes. The inconsistency nagged at Cassie¡¯s OCD but she made due. Andrew had been the one to receive the objectives. He was surprised that of the 3,000 people, the system had chosen to give him the objective to begin founding a territory. Cassie wasn¡¯t surprised at all. She was surprised however at the complacency of so many of the people. There were many who wanted to join Andrew in spreading out and growing their influence but it was only a fraction. It was enough though and soon they had cleared their territory and even completed fighting off the raids. Andrew had formed a small council of people together to help him plan and make decisions that had both fighters and non-fighters. The home where they met would often ring with competing voices on what the next best plan of advance would be. It became especially heated when the first raid handed them a number of casualties. It was the first time since the tutorial anyone had died. No one had taken it well, especially Andrew. That didn¡¯t mean the reactions were the same. Andrew wanted to push forward. Others had pointed out that they didn¡¯t NEED to fight the dungeons. Soon enough others would fight the dungeons. There was no hurry. All they had to do was wait, let the military handle this. It was around this time that people had started going missing. When the first woman disappeared Andrew and the council had shrugged it off. The family had shown up and explained she had disappeared overnight, but it had only been a few hours certainly she would show up sooner or later. She hadn¡¯t. The day came and went without a trace of the missing woman. The next morning, two more women. Same as before, gone without a sound. The pattern continued, but it wasn¡¯t just women anymore. Night would fall and people would vanish. This went on for a week. Andrew was flustered after the third night he began having men walk through the streets patoling. Then one of the patrols disappeared. He made the patrols stay in groups of at least three. It was in this precarious situation that Jordan had entered their factions'' territory with five other strong looking men. He had announced himself as the faction leader of a neighboring territory. One that was only a few Territories away. He was a pleasant Man in his 50¡¯s with a bright inviting smile. Jordan explained how one of his faction members had been scouting surrounding areas and he stumbled across their town. He had told Andrew he was relieved that there were other people nearby and he hoped they could work together. Andrew agreed and asked if he would like to meet the rest of their council. - Andrew ushered Jordan and his men into the home where they had gathered their small council. ¡°Please, come in. Make yourself at home.¡± They met in the front room of one of the larger houses that made it through the induction. The former owners had chosen to ignore the tutorial. They were a beautiful family of five. They had taken down the pictures, Andrew had taken one for himself. He kept it in his inventory, occasionally he would pull it out and look at the smiling faces. It kept him grounded, kept him moving forward. This is the life he would still create with Cassie. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. The five men huddled into the room and found seats not already occupied by his own people. It was a tight squeeze but they made it work. ¡°Andrew, thank you for getting this put together on such short notice. Especially when we showed up on your doorstep out of the blue.¡± Jordans smile was infectious. Andrew was in no mood to smile though. ¡°Of course, we''re all still people after all. The world might be falling to shit but that doesn¡¯t mean we have to.¡± Jordan laughed. ¡°Sure, Sure.¡± Jordan reminded Andrew of his own father. With creases at the eyes made from having an easy smile his whole life. ¡°But I think we can all admit, we are living in a very unusual time. With more than its fair share of tragedy and challenges.¡± ¡°You are really underselling it.¡± Tyler, one of the members on Andrews council said under his breath. Jordans eyes softened and his smile faltered. ¡°I try to stay positive. It can be hard. I¡¯m not sure about your faction here but we have experienced more than our share of loss already.¡± Andrew could relate to Jordans deflation. ¡°We have also. This home is a painful reminder. The family that lived here was lost when the tutorial timer counted down. They had three children.¡± Andrew''s words seemed to Sober Jordan. ¡°I couldn¡¯t convince my wife of 20 years to join our group. I didn¡¯t know¡­¡± He trailed off and his eyes began to fill with water. Jordan cleared his throat. ¡°Yes, well, I didn¡¯t come to tell you my own sad story.¡± ¡°So why did you come?¡± Cassie, another member of the council, asked maybe a bit more pointed than she meant. Andrew glanced at her, half exasperated, half amused. That was just like her¡ªno dancing around, no patience for politics. Jordan met her gaze, his expression sobering. "You¡¯re right, of course. It¡¯s a fair question." A beat of silence. "You should know my intentions aren¡¯t altogether altruistic." Andrew nodded for him to continue. "Finding you wasn¡¯t entirely an accident," Jordan admitted. "For the past few days, people in our faction have been disappearing randomly in the night." The air in the room shifted. Andrew felt the unease ripple through the council. "We¡¯ve taken measures to stop it," Jordan went on. "We¡¯ve doubled patrols, set up watches, but¡­ nothing works. At first, I thought it was some kind of monster, something stalking us from the dark." His eyes swept across the room, gauging reactions. No one spoke. "But the more I thought about it, the less that made sense. The only monsters anyone had seen were in dungeons.¡± Andrew had that same thought himself. ¡°But If it wasn¡¯t a monster, it had to be one of our own. A traitor. Someone taking people for their own reasons." Tyler stiffened. Cassie¡¯s fingers curled into a fist against her thigh. "We conducted a full investigation. We searched every home, interviewed every person. But we came up empty." Jordan exhaled. "So we expanded our search. If it wasn¡¯t someone in our group, then maybe¡ª" He let the words hang. Andrew¡¯s stomach sank. Tyler beat him to it. "Maybe it¡¯s someone in ours?" Silence. Cassie let out a sharp breath, eyes narrowing. "Are you serious?" Jordan didn¡¯t react to the accusation. He simply raised his hands in a calming gesture. "If it feels like I¡¯m pointing fingers, that¡¯s not my intention. I¡¯m simply here to get answers." "Well, maybe we want some answers too," Tyler shot back. "Because it isn¡¯t just your faction losing people." Andrew closed his eyes briefly. There it was. Jordan straightened in his seat. "You¡¯ve been losing people too?" Andrew hesitated. He hadn¡¯t planned on revealing that yet. But now the information was out. "For the past three days. Yes." Jordan raked a hand through his silver-streaked hair. "This is worse than I thought," he muttered, half to himself. Andrew¡¯s pulse ticked up. "What do you mean?" Jordan turned to one of his men before answering. "Think about it," he said carefully. "Two factions. Forty miles apart. Experiencing the exact same disappearances." He let the weight of it settle. Cassie was the first to reach the conclusion. "That means there are two of whatever¡¯s doing this." The room went deathly still. For a long moment, no one spoke. The air was thick, suffocating. Andrew didn¡¯t know what was worse¡ªthe fact that something was out there taking people in the dark¡­ Or the fact that they still had no idea what it was. ¡°So if you''re not here to point fingers, then why?¡± Andrew already had his suspicions. ¡°I hadn¡¯t come here expecting your group to have the same problem.¡± Jordan had admitted. He hesitated. ¡°Our hope in coming here was to try and find answers. Ideally, collaboration. We didn¡¯t know what to expect. Now?¡± He shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Andrew sat scratching his chin. All that they had learned tonight was that their problem might be even bigger than they thought. Jordan came here but he didn¡¯t have any solutions. ¡°There is something.¡± Jordan said a bit slowly. ¡°What?¡± ¡°I¡¯m just brainstorming here but if we work together it might be easier to root out the cause. The problem is our factions are so far apart. But, maybe you¡¯ve already seen the teleporters in the panel shop?¡± Andrew had seen them. He didn¡¯t see how that would help anything though, they only worked in your own territory. Jordan hadn¡¯t said it yet but he knew where this was heading. Of course. ¡°The answer is no.¡± Jordan played at a look of shock. ¡°No?¡± ¡°That¡¯s right. No, we are not going to join your faction. We don¡¯t know you, you don¡¯t know us. It¡¯s much too early to consider anything like that.¡± Jordan again raised his hands in surrender. ¡°Normally I would completely agree. But everyday we don¡¯t find a solution, more people go missing. Those people matter to me. If you are not willing to join our faction would you consider us joining yours?¡± Andrews brow furrowed. ¡°You would want to join our faction?¡± ¡°No. I don¡¯t WANT to join your faction. I also don¡¯t want my people to keep disappearing. Together I think we could find a way. I¡¯m willing to do whatever I have to.¡± His tone was solid. ¡°How would joining our factions help?¡± Cassie asked with genuine curiosity. It was a good question. So far, neither faction had any success protecting their people. What would MORE people do? Jordan scratched his chin thoughtfully. ¡°Cassie, the truth is, I don¡¯t know yet. What I do know is that I am scared, and the thought of working together to fix this helps me feel just a little better.¡± I could tell Cassie was buying it. Jordan seemed like a good man, with good intentions. Still, something about how the conversation just all worked toward combining factions didn¡¯t sit well with Andrew. ¡°Jordan, this is not a no. But before we talk anymore about combining factions I would prefer to visit your people. Just to get a feel for who we¡¯d be aligning with. Is that asking too much?¡± Jordans pleasant smile returned. ¡°I think that is a perfectly reasonable request. If it¡¯s all the same to you, I¡¯d prefer to not waste any time. Why don¡¯t we all get some rest and in the morning we can make plans?¡± Jordan began to rise readying himself to leave. ¡°Why don¡¯t you and your men stay here tonight in this home? It has enough room for everyone. You¡¯ve given us all a lot to think about.¡± Tyler said, looking to Andrew for his approval. Jordan followed tylers lead looking to Andrew. ¡°Of course. Yeah, please. Make yourselves at home. I have some responsibilities to handle but we can meet again in the morning.¡± And with that Andrew reached out to shake hands with Jordan and the rest of his men. Everyone exchanged pleasantries briefly and then Andrew and Cassie left together into the fading light of the day. ¡°You don¡¯t like him?¡± Cassie asked, reaching out to walk hand in hand with Andrew. Grabbing his upper arm and pulling him close. Andrew looked ahead. ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ It''s not like I don¡¯t like him. It¡¯s just. I don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t you at least a little bit relieved that we are not alone in all of this?¡± Cassie asked, pulling Andrew to a stop and looking up into his eyes. ¡°Of course I am. It¡¯s great. I just want to make sure we are being careful.¡± Cassie nodded and rested her head on his chest. ¡°I trust you baby. I know you will make the best choice for us.¡± And with that she kissed him on the head and they walked home, holding hands hopeful. Chapter 69 - Dont do it Cassie The next morning. Cassie woke up to a cold chill. She reached out and stretched her arms wide in a yawn. Andrew and Cassie had stayed up most the night talking. She loved those nights. She loved how much her husband cared. Speaking of her husband. She rolled over. Andrew''s side of the bed was empty. Typical. He had probably already gone out and started his day. Cassie pulled the blankets tight around herself. She wasn¡¯t ready to get up. Not quite yet, but she knew it was an important day. She forced herself out of bed and took a few minutes to prepare herself for the events to come. Once she was ready she stepped out into the brisk morning air. Andrew was most likely already at the house with Jordan and Tyler. She took her time. Andrew could handle himself. Once she arrived she politely knocked on the door. Tyler answered. ¡°Good morning Cassie. Why don¡¯t you come in? Jordan and his men are ready to solidify plans.¡± He looked out the door. ¡°Do you know when Andrew plans to get here? I¡¯m surprised he¡¯s not with you.¡± The question was a surprise to Cassie. ¡°He¡¯s not here yet? I left thinking he was already on his way.¡± Tyler shrugged. ¡°No, I haven¡¯t seen him yet. I figured he was with you.¡± That was strange. Andrew had made it very clear last night how important today was. It wasn¡¯t like him to just not show up. Tyler waved it off. ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯s nothing. He¡¯ll be here in no time.¡± Jordan walked to the doorway. ¡°Good morning Cassie.¡± He poked his head out the door. ¡°Is Andrew still planning to meet this morning?¡± ¡°I was just telling Tyler, I thought he was already here.¡± He tried not to show it but Jordan seemed annoyed at the delay. ¡°He will be here soon. He probably had something come up this morning. Hopefully it¡¯s not more disappearances.¡± That¡¯s probably what it was, why wouldn¡¯t it be? She felt sorry for Andrew. It always tore him apart facing the family and friends of the missing people. ¡°Well why don¡¯t you come in, Jordan has already been telling us about his faction.¡± Tyler ushered Cassie inside. She looked over her shoulder expecting her husband any second. Time passed. And then more time. Jordan went from being politely annoyed to openly frustrated. ¡°Cassie, Tyler, I¡¯m sure that Andrew is doing something important. But I hope you can understand why I might be in a hurry?¡± Tyler pulled back a curtain and looked out the window. ¡°I do, I¡¯m really surprised Andrew isn¡¯t here yet.¡± This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Cassie was surprised also. ¡°He wouldn¡¯t make you wait unless he had a reason. Stay here, I¡¯ll see if I can find him.¡± Without a word Cassie left. Where would he be? She didn¡¯t have to go far before she was met by a mob of people making their way to the house. They were shouting. A man in front raised his arms to quiet the crowd of people. Before speaking. ¡°Cassie. We''re here to see your husband.¡± He was an older man. Maybe close to the same age as Jordan but more robust. Cassie searched in her mind to remember his name¡­ Eric! ¡°Eric, what is going on?¡± She asked, gesturing at the crowd. ¡°We¡¯re here to get answers. Three more people went missing last night that we know of. People are terrified!¡± Shouts of agreement rang out from the group. Cassie recoiled slightly. Eric noticed the movement and his eyes softened. ¡°Alright, Alright. Everyone, let''s calm down, CALM DOWN!¡± The group listened to Eric for now. ¡°Cassie, I know Andrew. He¡¯s a good man. I know he is doing his best but this isn¡¯t working.¡± Cassie barely heard them. Her mind was racing. She was sure he was already working with people. If this crowd was here, that clearly wasn¡¯t the case¡­ Her heart started to race. If he wasn¡¯t helping his faction where was he? She was overreacting. Vaguely she heard Eric speaking with her but she wasn¡¯t listening anymore. Cassie fought to stay calm. She was losing the battle. In a moment of clarity she opened her status screen. Please no. Please. With trembling hands she opened the area that showed objectives. Andrew had spoken of the objectives many times. The objectives that only he could see as the faction leader. The objectives that she could see now. Cassie''s legs buckled. Her breath wouldn¡¯t come easily. It doesn¡¯t mean anything.¡­ Maybe Andrew somehow transferred them to her? Her thoughts felt hollow. She was on knees. When did that happen? There are people around her. She couldn¡¯t hear them, her ears were ringing. There was another reason. There had to be another reason. If she said it enough it would make it true. She knew she was lying to herself. Her mind cracked. Cassie buried her face in her hands. She screamed. - Cassie¡¯s breath still hadn¡¯t fully steadied. She lay on the couch, numb, her thoughts a storm she couldn¡¯t control. She wasn¡¯t sure how she¡¯d gotten inside¡ªshe barely remembered Tyler pulling her away from the crowd, away from their eyes, their questions. It didn¡¯t matter. Nothing did. Somewhere nearby, she heard voices. ¡°Are we sure he¡¯s gone?¡± Jordan¡¯s voice. Low. Controlled. Tyler exhaled, his tone uncertain. ¡°I don¡¯t think we can be a hundred percent sure¡­ but based on Cassie¡¯s reaction, it¡¯s not looking great.¡± Jordan muttered a curse under his breath. He shook his head. ¡°This is exactly what I was hoping to avoid.¡± A pause, measured. ¡°We¡¯ve both already lost so many.¡± Silence stretched between them. Then Jordan spoke again. ¡°I think it¡¯s best if we leave.¡± Tyler turned toward him, surprised. ¡°Leave?¡± Jordan nodded, his expression carefully neutral. ¡°This is a difficult time for your faction, and I don¡¯t want to complicate things.¡± He let the words settle before adding, ¡°You know where we are. When you''re ready, come find us.¡± His voice carried the weight of finality. The suggestion of abandonment. The implied consequence. And then¡ªmovement. Cassie didn¡¯t remember standing. Didn¡¯t remember crossing the room. But suddenly, she was there, in the kitchen, looking at them. Her voice was raw, barely above a whisper. ¡°I can¡¯t do this.¡± Neither of them spoke. They just waited. Her hands trembled at her sides. ¡°I can¡¯t do this without him.¡± She turned to Tyler first. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes¡ªhesitation. Doubt. ¡°Are you sure?¡± he asked, his voice quiet. Cassie¡¯s lips trembled. No. She wasn¡¯t sure. She wasn¡¯t sure of anything anymore. But Andrew was gone. And she couldn¡¯t do this alone. Her fingers shook as she pulled up her interface. She swallowed hard. ¡°Jordan, help us.¡± A single motion. A confirmation screen. And without another word¡ªshe transferred the faction to him. Jordan exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. "Alright," he said, his voice even. "I¡¯ll do everything I can." He didn¡¯t smile. That would be too much. Instead, he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder¡ªjust enough to steady her. Just enough to make it seem like he hadn¡¯t orchestrated this from the start. Cassie didn¡¯t react. She turned and walked away without another word. Cassie heard Andrews voice in her mind, steady and unshakable, as if he were right beside her. "But since when have we run from scary?" Her breath caught. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. She wanted to believe it. But this time¡­ she had run. She had let fear win. Behind her, Jordan let out a slow, measured exhale. Chapter 70 - The law comes to town (Thank you Tibbish the chapter idea) We wasted no time. Our group moved at breakneck speed, cutting through terrain at a pace that shouldn¡¯t have been humanly possible. Ellison kept up better than expected, though he wasn¡¯t on the same level as Nick, Mischief, or me. I stayed at his side, matching his pace. But neither of us spoke¡ªexcept when he needed to stop. Nick and Mischief didn¡¯t wait. That was the plan. The two of them would scout ahead, get a feel for what we were walking into before we arrived. We had to cross ten territories¡ªnearly two hundred miles¡ªand we did it in under a day. Even now, after everything, I couldn¡¯t ignore the marvel of stats. I should be dead from a run like that. My body should have collapsed miles ago. Instead, my breathing was heavy, but controlled¡ªlike I¡¯d just done a comfortable three-mile jog. Ellison wasn¡¯t so lucky. He doubled over, hands on his knees, heaving deep lungfuls of air. I held up a hand. ¡°We can stop here.¡± ¡°Al¡ªright,¡± he wheezed. The forest around us stretched wide, thick pine towering in every direction. Unlike our home territory¡ªall steep mountains and jagged cliffs¡ªthis land was a valley, sprawling and level. I let my muscles finally relax, inhaling the crisp mountain air. It smelled like pine and damp earth¡ªthe kind of deep, grounding scent that made you forget, for just a moment, that the world was tearing itself apart. Ellison, still catching his breath, looked around. ¡°Will Mischief find us? We never said where we¡¯d meet.¡± I huffed a small laugh. ¡°His Sense stat is through the roof. He¡¯s probably already close.¡± Ellison nodded, accepting that, then hesitated. A beat passed before he spoke again. ¡°¡­We haven¡¯t had much chance to talk since we left.¡± His voice was careful now, not questioning¡ªbut concerned. ¡°I agreed to come. But why leave with five raids still left to fight?¡± He swallowed, looking uneasy. ¡°I¡¯m worried.¡± I¡¯d had this conversation with myself twenty different ways before we ever even set out. ¡°They¡¯ll be fine.¡± The words came out solid, certain. And I meant them. Durkil, Alex, Daevon and Elise. They were more than capable. Even if Durkil fought alone, I was confident he could handle it. The raids so far had been from the dregs of the universe¡ªbarely a challenge, even at the higher levels. But that was what made my skin crawl. Why were they so weak? Ellison and the Guildians had become powerful allies in a short time, but it chilled me to think how easily things could¡¯ve gone the other way. I told myself we had always tried. Tried to reason with them. Tried to give them a choice. But Ellison still believed that was never an option. And the victory conditions had never proven him wrong. The defenders could run¡ªleave the territory, abandon the fight. But the raiders? It was win or die. I glanced at Ellison. ¡°Before you came to our world, did you think the system was cruel?¡± He gave the question real thought before answering. ¡°The system?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± My gaze stayed on the horizon. ¡°Do you feel like it¡¯s unfair? Like the cards are stacked against some people from the start?¡± I let him take his time. Finally, he shook his head. ¡°No.¡± That surprised me. ¡°You don¡¯t?¡± ¡°No.¡± His response was resolute this time. ¡°Life might be cruel. But the system?¡± He took a long recovery breath through his nose. ¡°It¡¯s not the system that makes life unfair. It¡¯s the ones living in it.¡± Richard¡¯s face flashed in my mind. ¡°What do you mean?¡± Again, he didn¡¯t answer right away. Ellison wasn¡¯t the kind of man to speak without thinking. ¡°When I was younger, my life was full of anger.¡± His voice was measured, but there was something underneath it¡ªsomething old. ¡°I was angry at my lot in life. I wanted to know why. Why was I born into poverty, while others had so much?¡± ¡°Exactly.¡± My frustration bled into my voice. ¡°It was so bad that you were willing to throw yourself into the unknown just for a chance. Why does the system let that happen?¡± Ellison shook his head. ¡°Of course we were willing to take the risk. But you¡¯re missing something, Layton.¡± He turned toward me, his expression sharp. ¡°It wasn¡¯t the system¡¯s fault.¡± My breath caught. ¡°Our situation wasn¡¯t because of some cosmic rulebook that decided who gets what.¡± His eyes flickered with something deeper. ¡°It was people.¡± ¡°Some people use their power to suppress others. That¡¯s what makes life unfair.¡± The weight of his words settled in. Ellison continued. ¡°The system gave us a path forward. It wasn¡¯t perfect. Hell, it wasn¡¯t even good. But it was a path.¡± I let the silence stretch between us. It wasn¡¯t an answer I¡¯d considered before. Life could be unfair. Life could be brutal. I¡¯d already been the cause of some of that brutality. But was the system truly at fault? The existence of mana had created potential for some to become literal gods. But those gods had once been people. Imperfect people. What would happen if men like Richard gained true, unnatural power? The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. I didn¡¯t have to wonder. We already had the answer. Ellison had told me about his world. About Devorah. And about Oliver. Oliver¡ªDevorah¡¯s first great challenger. Ellison said there were whispers among his people. Legends. Stories of a time before Devorah¡¯s rule. A time when Oliver had stood against her. Some still remembered him. Some still called him a just and fair ruler. But in the end, Oliver had lost. And Devorah had won. I swallowed hard. How different would Ellison¡¯s world have been if Oliver had prevailed? My thoughts spiraled, tangled in a mess of morality. Devorah¡¯s followers had believed they were justified. They had thrived under her rule, gaining power, security, dominance. If Oliver had won, they would have lost everything. Would his people have felt just as righteous? Would they have crushed dissent the same way? The world felt like a seesaw, swinging back and forth, refusing to settle. I was desperate for an absolute answer. Some kind of truth. I must¡¯ve drifted too deep, because I barely noticed when a hand rested firmly on my shoulder. Ellison. His grip was steady. Grounding. ¡°Layton.¡± His voice was calm, measured. ¡°This universe is big. Bigger than either of us can really comprehend.¡± I looked up at him. With his furred face and antlers, it was hard to tell his exact age. But right now, he looked like a sage elder. Someone who had seen far too much. ¡°I¡¯ve learned that ¡®fair¡¯ and ¡®unfair¡¯ are complicated,¡± he said. ¡°So are good and bad.¡± Ellison exhaled. ¡°I¡¯m not one to give advice, but¡­¡± His sharp eyes softened. ¡°It looks like maybe you could use some.¡± I nodded, not trusting my voice. ¡°Take things one step at a time,¡± he said simply. ¡°There¡¯s a lot on your mind. But tell me¡­ can you see what¡¯s right in front of you?¡± I blinked. And for the first time in a while¡­ I actually looked. Just trees. Grass. A vast blue sky. It was beautiful. It was peaceful. And I had let fear steal that from me. A tear slipped down my cheek. It was stupid. I felt embarrassed. But I breathed. I let my shoulders relax. ¡°I can,¡± I said softly. Ellison smiled. ¡°Then let¡¯s start there.¡± He turned toward the horizon. And we just sat. It was a while before Mischief and Nick found us. Ellison and I didn¡¯t mind the wait. We sat in comfortable silence as the sun inched across the sky. By the time it started to dip beyond the horizon, our conversation had softened¡ªless existential crisis, more quiet reminiscing. Ellison had asked about my family. I told him about my parents. My father. A high school teacher. Hardworking. Patient. The kind of man who never raised his voice but somehow always got you to listen. My mother. A stay-at-home parent. Gentle but firm. A woman who could cook dinner, help with homework, and read a book all at the same time. Ellison just listened. Occasionally asking a question, nudging me to go deeper. It settled me to talk about my past. Then¡ªa rustle. Nick emerged from the trees. "You¡¯re back." I pushed myself upright. "Learn anything we should be aware of?" Nick cracked his neck. ¡°Oh yeah. One thing¡¯s for sure¡ªthey¡¯ve got a much bigger faction than we do.¡± Ellison shifted his weight, ears flicking toward Nick. ¡°How big? And are they human?¡± ¡°They¡¯re definitely human. At least in the first settlement.¡± Nick plopped onto the large stone we had been using as a seat. ¡°There¡¯s several thousand in the first territory. Then a couple of territories over, there¡¯s another settlement. It¡¯s abandoned. If I had to guess, they likely merged together.¡± That was¡­ a lot of people. Merging seemed reasonable. We had done it multiple times already on a smaller scale. Before I could respond, Mischief appeared out of nowhere. One moment, nothing. The next¡ªhe was just there. I was used to it by now, but it still made my skin crawl. ¡°Did you learn anything interesting, Mischief?¡± I asked as he settled beside me. His voice slid into my head, smooth as ever. "Depends on what you consider interesting." I snorted. "Are they doing anything suspicious, or do they seem normal¡ªat least by human standards?" His amusement flickered through the connection. "You want me to use you as the standard for normal?" I rolled my eyes. "Alright, smart guy, I think you know what I mean." "As far as I could tell, nothing seemed strange. Our territory is a lot busier, though. More people in the streets." That was¡­ interesting. I frowned. More people in the streets? Did that mean they were comfortable? Or just careless? I guess observation could only tell us so much. The real answers would come from getting inside. Nick stretched his arms above his head. ¡°So, how do you want to approach this? Probably shouldn¡¯t just run in shouting ¡®the sky is falling.¡¯¡± I sighed. He had a point. Technically, I wasn¡¯t even sure what I was here to warn them about. I just knew they needed to take the induction seriously. ¡°I haven¡¯t figured that part out yet.¡± I scratched the back of my head. ¡°But¡­ there is one thing.¡± I glanced at Ellison. Then Nick. And finally, Mischief. Nick groaned, running a hand through his ridiculously long hair. ¡°Let me guess¡ªthis is about Mischief being too scary again.¡± Mischief smirked. "I already know." I hesitated. ¡°Look, I know I say it a lot, but there¡¯s no other way to put it. You look dangerous. And that¡¯s not exactly¡­ ideal for first impressions.¡± Mischief¡¯s grin widened. "Are you asking me to stay hidden? Or to spy?" ¡°¡­Both.¡± He let out a slow, deliberate exhale. Then, he bared his teeth in a sharp, unsettling grin. "I like being scary." Nick muttered, ¡°Yeah, no kidding.¡± Mischief tilted his head. "They should be scared." I sighed. At least he was enjoying himself. ¡°Alright. Thank you, Mischief. A true terror.¡± We waited out the night on the outskirts of the territory. Ellison and I sat in companionable silence while Nick and Mischief did one last sweep of the area. The night passed uneventfully. If anything, that was almost more unnerving. A faction this size should have been more active. Guards, workers¡ªsomeone moving. Instead, the land just sat there. Waiting. At first light, we moved. The town came into view just as the sun crested over the horizon. Even from a distance, I could see the contrast between the modern homes and hastily built cabins. The cabins looked rushed. Slapped together with whatever materials they could find. Not like the reinforced, carefully planned buildings Jared had constructed back home. There, every structure had a purpose. Thoughtfully designed. Sturdy. This? This felt¡­ temporary. I tried not to judge. But the differences were hard to ignore. The streets weren¡¯t empty. But they weren¡¯t alive either. People moved¡ªbut with purpose. No idle chatter. No gatherings. Just heads down, shoulders tense. As if they were avoiding notice. As if staying quiet kept them safe. Nick exhaled, scanning the town. "Town this size, you¡¯d expect more talking, or more anything really.." I nodded. Nick was right. This town just felt so off. Everyone kept to themselves, if they were in the streets it wasn¡¯t long. I had entered the town expecting some kind of reaction, especially considering Ellison was with us. People might¡¯ve been surprised by his appearance had they looked up from their feet. As it is, we¡¯re barely an afterthought. Then finally¨Cmovement. A patrol of four men, walking at a purposeful stride toward us. Not rushing or especially hostile, but we are definitely their target. They had seen us immediately. They noticed Nick and me, but their focus was elsewhere. Ellison. As the guards approached us, the feeling in the town shifted. A woman stacking supplies fumbled her grip. A man pulled his coat tighter around himself. A child, playing near a doorway, was hurried inside. The patrol leader was broad-shouldered, late 40s, clean-shaven. He wasn¡¯t a picture of discipline but he was controlled. He stopped a few paces away, eyes locked on Ellison. The hesitation was subtle. But it was there. "Hello strangers, you''re new here." Not a question. I kept my tone calm. "My name is Layton. We just arrived.¡± I shook my head with a smile. ¡°It was a sight for sore eyes to come across more people in this crazy world." I did my best to flash a friendly smile. The group of what I assumed to be some kind of guards quietly assessed our group. ¡°I¡¯m Tom.¡± The man in front pointed his thumb to his chest. ¡°Welcome to our little faction.¡± Tom seemed open minded but guarded. He spoke slowly, controlled. Then one of the younger men started shifting uneasily¡ª "Is¡­ is that a dungeon spawn?" Ellison didn¡¯t react, staying calm as ever. I didn¡¯t let the irritation creep into my voice. It was very unlikely they have had any friendly interactions with anything but other humans since the world changed. "His name is Ellison. He¡¯s not a dungeon monster. He¡¯s with us." Tom, the man who I had pegged as the leader, maintained a calm demeanor just measuring. "Well, Ellison doesn¡¯t look very human." His gaze flicked toward one of his men. The guard shifted his grip on his weapon, uncertain. I wanted to give a sharp answer. But it wasn¡¯t the time. "You¡¯re right. He¡¯s not." I kept my voice even. "But we¡¯re in a weird world. Ellison is my friend, and we¡¯re here peacefully." I emphasized the word. "You probably have questions¨CI¡¯m happy to answer any you have." The youngest guard took a small step back, wary. Tom continued to maintain his calm presence, the young guard looked at him and settled down a bit. His posture wasn¡¯t quite relief, more like a decision to let things play out¡ªfor now. He trusted Tom. "I think Jordan will want to meet you," Tom said finally. "We can take you to him." Nick raised a brow at me. A silent question on his face¨CSeriously? I gave the smallest nod. Why not? "Who is Jordan?" I asked carefully. "Jordan is the faction leader here. We¡¯ve been asked to introduce any newcomers." Tom''s gaze swept over us again. "Especially newcomers like you." "Alright. That seems fair." I figured that this is really what we wanted anyway. Meeting the faction leader could give us a good idea of what we were dealing with. "Lead the way."