Morning came in shades of gray.
The sun had barely crested the treetops, its weak light filtering through the heavy mist that clung to the jungle below. The night's horrors still lingered, wrapped around them like a second skin. Cold, oppressive, unshaken.
Gaius sat against a boulder, rubbing the dried blood from his arms. His wounds had sealed some, the strange energy he'd felt before still thrumming beneath his skin, mending what should have taken days. He tested his grip, rolling his fingers into a fist. The pain was still there, dull but manageable.
His gaze flicked over the others.
Aera sat with her knees drawn up, her head resting against her arms. Her face was unreadable, but her grip on the knife at her hip told him she hadn't truly let her guard down. Darin hunched over, staring at the ground, his face pale, lips dry. Joran lay still, his breath shallow, his body trembling slightly even in sleep.
They had descended far in the night. From here, they were level with the tallest trees, their massive trunks stretching toward the sky like pillars of some forgotten temple. Gaius considered, for a brief moment, how many colosseums would need to be stacked to match such a height. He almost chuckled. Almost. But the weight of the night before still pressed too heavily upon them.
A deep emptiness settled over the group. Their bodies begged for food, for water. Their eyes were hollow, lost.
Then it hit.
A pain unlike anything before—sharp, piercing, inside his skull.
Gaius staggered mid-step, his vision flashing white-hot as if molten iron had been poured into his brain. His knees nearly buckled, but he forced himself to stay upright, his fingers digging into Joran's arm as if anchoring himself to reality.
Darin let out a sharp gasp beside him, nearly dropping the old man. Aera grunted, stumbling forward, her hands flying to her temples as her breath came in ragged pants.
It was an invasion, a forceful grip on their minds, pressing something new into their thoughts.
Words that didn't belong to them.
A voice—cold, detached, neither human nor beast.
"Congratulations on surviving your first day. All your collected points are now accessible for purchasing goods. All necessary instructions on how to proceed will be given shortly."
Gaius clenched his teeth, breathing through the pain. The words rang through his skull, settling, carving themselves into the fabric of his mind like a brand. Then, as suddenly as it had come, the pain dulled. Fading, but leaving something behind.
Something wrong.
His breath was still uneven when he forced himself to straighten, rolling his shoulders, shaking off the remnants of the agony. He turned toward the others.
Darin was kneeling, clutching his head, his face pale as he sucked in desperate breaths. Aera was bracing herself against a tree, her grip white-knuckled against the bark. Joran, unconscious, had not reacted—but his body trembled slightly, as if disturbed by something beyond the waking world.
The jungle remained unchanged. The world had not shifted, had not warped. But something had changed within them.
Darin was the first to speak, his voice hoarse. "What… what was that?"
Aera didn't answer. She simply pressed her fingers to her temple, her eyes dark with something unreadable.
Gaius exhaled through his nose. "I don't know."
But he did. Somehow, he did.
A name. A concept. A presence had settled within him, cold and unnatural, whispering in the back of his mind. Not like the voice that had spoken after his kills—not just a statement of strength gained.
This was an offer.
Gaius' vision flickered, and suddenly, he saw it. Not in the physical world, but within his mind's eye—something waiting in the shadows of his thoughts.
It wasn't just words. It was a list, a presence, something he could almost touch if he reached for it.
His gut twisted.
Gaius had long since learned to distrust gifts.
"Can you see it?" Aera asked, her voice low.
Gaius looked at her. She was breathing heavily, but her eyes were sharp, aware, searching.
"You see it too," he muttered.
Darin wiped sweat from his brow. "I don't—I don't know what I'm seeing, but it's there. It's inside me." He swallowed. "It wasn't there before."
Aera pushed off the tree, shaking out her arms like she was dispelling the remnants of pain.
" It feels like something wants us to use it."
Gaius rolled his jaw. "That doesn't mean we should."
Darin looked between them, uncertainty thick in his face. "But what if we need to? What if there's something in there that can help Joran?"
Gaius glanced down at the old man in his arms. His skin was pale, his breath shallow. The fever hadn't lessened. If anything, it was getting worse.
His fingers flexed.
He didn't trust this. He didn't trust unseen masters pulling strings, offering rewards like a hand outstretched only to tighten around his throat.
But Joran wouldn't last much longer.
Gaius closed his eyes for a brief moment, inhaled, then let his mind reach into the presence within him.
And the Shop opened.
Aera, Darin, and Gaius all stood still, their eyes distant, unfocused—not looking at anything in the world before them, but inward, toward something new. Something foreign.
The Shop.
It wasn't something they saw, not in the way they saw the trees, the river, or the blood-streaked ground. It was felt, impressed upon their minds like an unspoken truth they had always known but never acknowledged.
And within it, a list.
Gaius inhaled sharply. Numbers sat beside each option, cold and unrelenting.
Basic Medical Kit – 100 points.
He clenched his jaw. His gaze flicked toward Joran, the old man's face drawn tight with fever. His breath was shallow, his skin pale. He wouldn't last long like this.
Darin was the first to speak, his voice hoarse. "What… what is this?"
Aera's fingers curled, nails pressing against her palm. "It's real," she murmured. "Whatever it is, it's real."
Darin swallowed, his lips dry. "It—it says we need a hundred points." His voice was growing unsteady. "How many do we have?"
Gaius exhaled, the answer burning in his mind. "I dont have enough."
Aera turned toward him, her expression unreadable. "How many?"
Gaius rolled his shoulders. "I have thirty." He looked at them both, reading their confusion. "How many do you have?"
Darin stiffened. "What, I have 10?"
Aera's eyes narrowed. "Why do you have more?"
Gaius met her gaze, recalling the cold voice after he slayed those eagle looking beasts. "Because I've killed more."
The words dropped like a blade into the space between them.
Aera's expression darkened. Darin paled, shifting uncomfortably.
"You mean—" Darin started, but the realization hit before he could finish.
Gaius nodded. "The system rewards kills." He glanced toward Joran, his voice steady but grim. "We don't have a hundred points. We need a hundred points. That means we need to kill."
Darin flinched. "You're saying we have to hunt those things?"
Aera's lips pressed into a thin line.
Gaius tilted his head slightly, his tone unshaken. "That, or Joran dies."
Darin let out a shaky breath. His fingers curled at his sides, and for a moment, he looked ready to argue. But he didn't.
Because there was nothing to argue.
Aera exhaled, slow and measured. "The river first. We need water before we need points."
The weight of their reality settled over them once more, pressing down like the humid air thick with decay. The jungle stretched beneath them, vast and unrelenting.
Gaius pushed himself up, rolling the stiffness from his shoulders. He let the silence hold for a moment longer before speaking.
"Listen," his voice was rough, hoarse from thirst, but steady. "I've seen men crawl through the sand with their guts spilling from them. I've seen warriors forced to fight with broken limbs, with nothing but their bare hands. They kept moving. Not because they had hope, not because they thought they'd win, but because stopping meant death. And none of us are dead yet."
Aera lifted her head slightly. Darin swallowed hard.
Gaius looked them over, his tone firm but measured. "If you don't want to keep moving, I won't carry you. But if you do, then stand up. Walk."
He gestured toward the jungle stretching below. "The river is waiting. So is whatever else lives down there. We don't get to choose what comes next, but we do get to meet it on our feet."
A long pause.
Then Aera stood, rolling her shoulders as if shaking off the weight of the night.
Darin wiped the sweat from his brow, steadying himself before rising to his feet, his movements sluggish but determined.
A low groan broke the silence.
Joran stirred, pushing himself upright with trembling arms. "Well said…" His voice was rough, tired, but there was still life in it.
Aera moved toward him instinctively, her brows drawn in concern, but he lifted a hand to stop her. "I'll be fine," he said, though the strain in his voice betrayed him. "We all need our strength."
Aera hesitated, her expression tightening. "No, you're not fine," she countered. "I can—"
"Aera." Joran's voice was firm but gentle, cutting through her protest. He let out a slow breath, shaking his head. "You seem kind. I don't know any of you well… but I can manage. For now. Please, let me do this."
Aera's jaw tensed, conflict flickering in her gaze. She wanted to argue, but something in the old man's face made her pause.
Finally, she exhaled and gave a small nod. She wouldn't fight him on this. Not now.
"Let's go," Gaius stern voice cut through.
The descent was slow.
The earth was damp beneath their feet, the air thick with moisture. Each step was an effort, their bodies sluggish with exhaustion. Hunger gnawed at them, their mouths dry, tongues sticking to the roofs of their mouths.
The jungle swallowed them as they reached the lower slopes, the canopy above stretching like a green ocean. The air smelled of damp earth, rotting wood, and something else—something metallic, faint but present.
They didn't speak much.
Aera led, her movements purposeful, but the weight in her eyes had not faded. Darin stayed close to Joran, his face drawn, thoughts unreadable. The boy had taken Tyus' death hard. Perhaps harder than the others. Gaius had noticed the way he looked up to the man, even in the short time they had known each other. Tyus had been a presence—a pillar of strength, even in his gruffness. Now he was gone, torn apart in the dead of night.
Joran struggled the most. His breathing had grown heavier, his steps uneven. Every so often, he paused, leaning against a tree, his face tight with pain. Gaius didn't need to ask if he was alright. The answer was written in the tremor of his limbs.
Still, they pressed forward.
Hours passed. The sun climbed higher, its light barely piercing through the thick canopy. They moved with caution, pausing at every unfamiliar sound, at every shifting shadow in the undergrowth.
Then Joran collapsed.
Darin was the first to reach him, his panic breaking the silence. "Joran!" He knelt, shaking the old man's shoulder, but there was no response. His chest still rose and fell, but faintly, shallow.
Aera knelt beside him, pressing two fingers against the man's throat. The pulse was there, weak but steady. Heat radiated off his skin.
"He's burning up," Aera muttered.
Darin's hands clenched into fists. "We have to do something."
Gaius wiped the sweat from his brow. "We get to the river. Fast."
Darin hesitated. "But—"
"I'll carry him," Gaius said, already moving to hoist Joran over his shoulder. His muscles burned at the weight, but he ignored it. "If I can't, you'll take over."
Darin swallowed hard and nodded.
Aera scanned the treetops, listening. "We shouldn't stop any longer. Let's move."
The urgency settled over them again, a familiar, unspoken fear trailing their every step.
Gaius adjusted his grip, feeling the weight of the old man pressing down on him. His body was already near its limit, but the energy he had taken—whatever it was—kept him standing.
They moved faster now.
No one spoke of the night before.
No one spoke of what still lurked behind them.
The only thing that mattered was the river.
The jungle thickened as they moved, the air growing hotter, heavier. The sun was well above the trees now, though its light barely touched the forest floor. Their world was shadowed, endless green pressing in from all sides. Every breath tasted of damp earth, of sweat, of something else—something rancid that clung to the undergrowth.
Gaius felt the weight of Joran growing heavier with every step. The old man had barely stirred since collapsing, his breath shallow, skin feverish. They couldn't afford to slow down.
The river had to be close.
Aera was ahead, her pace urgent but measured. She was listening—always listening. Darin walked beside Gaius, eyes darting anxiously between the trees, fingers twitching as though itching to grab for a weapon he didn't have.
The jungle was too quiet.
No birds. No insects. No distant howls.
Just the sound of their footsteps, the rustle of disturbed leaves, and the occasional groan of an ancient tree shifting in the breeze.
Something wasn't right.
Gaius had learned long ago that silence was more dangerous than noise.
Aera slowed.
She lifted a hand—a signal.
They stopped.
Gaius adjusted Joran's weight, his muscles protesting, but he kept his gaze forward. Aera's head tilted slightly, her expression unreadable. Then she turned, stepping toward them, voice low.
"We're close," she murmured. "I can hear the water."
Relief flickered through Darin's tired face, but Gaius didn't let his guard drop. The silence still stretched unnaturally around them.
Aera glanced past him, scanning the jungle behind them. "Let's move. Quickly."
They pushed forward.
The trees began to thin, and soon, the distant rush of moving water became clear. Gaius forced his aching legs forward, his breath heavy, his arms numb from the strain of carrying Joran.
Then, the scent hit them.
The sharp tang of iron.
Blood.
Aera stopped first. Gaius nearly walked into her before realizing why.
Before them, just beyond the trees, the river came into view—a wide, rushing current, its surface dappled with early morning light. But something else was there, something sprawled along the banks.
Corpses.
At least three of them, torn apart, their remains barely recognizable.
Darin let out a strangled noise, taking an instinctive step back. Aera's fingers tightened around her knife. Gaius let out a slow breath, steadying himself.
The bodies were fresh.
The blood hadn't yet dried, thick pools of it still soaking into the riverbank. The water lapped gently at the edges of the carnage, swirling crimson where the current met the dead.
Aera crouched down, studying the nearest body—a man, or what was left of one. His torso had been split open, ribcage exposed, his face frozen in a twisted, silent scream.
"Not human," she muttered, poking at the shredded remains of his clothing.
Gaius frowned. "Then what?"
She pointed toward the dead man's hands—longer than they should have been, fingers tipped with something akin to claws. His skin was rough, textured, almost scaled.
Darin swallowed hard. "I don't—what is this place?"
No one answered.
Joran groaned weakly against Gaius' shoulder, and that was enough to push aside the unease.
"We don't have time for this," Gaius said. "Water first. Then we move."
Aera hesitated but nodded. "Agreed."
They approached the river with caution. The jungle felt like it was holding its breath around them, waiting.
Aera knelt first, cupping water into her hands, drinking deep before wiping the sweat from her forehead. Darin followed quickly, dunking his face into the water with a gasping inhale.
Gaius knelt, easing Joran down beside him. He scooped water into his palm, pressing it to the older man's cracked lips.
Joran stirred slightly, his breathing still labored. But he drank.
That was something.
The water was cool, refreshing, cutting through the exhaustion like a blade. Gaius let it wash over his hands, wiping the grime from his face.
Then Aera stiffened.
Her eyes flicked toward the opposite riverbank.
Gaius followed her gaze.
The jungle across the water had shifted. The undergrowth moved.
Something was watching them.
A silhouette just beyond the tree line, barely visible, but there.
Waiting.