The Taken Changed

Chapter One

The Quiet Harvest

They never took the famous.

No politicians vanished.

No celebrities disappeared.

No billionaires woke to empty beds.

Those people were watched too closely.

Instead, the disappearances happened among the quiet machinery of society�"the unnoticed hands that kept everything moving.

Night janitors.

Road workers.

Electric linemen.

Warehouse clerks.

Water plant technicians.

Small mechanics.

Substation operators.

People whose absence might be explained away as tragedy rather than conspiracy.

People who had families.

Families that could disappear with them.

The pattern was always the same.

It happened in the deepest hours of the night, when houses were still and the world had gone silent. Long after televisions went dark. Long after the last porch lights flickered off. In the hour when sleep was deepest and minds wandered furthest from the waking world.

That was when they came.

No doors were kicked in.

No alarms were triggered.

No neighbors heard screams.

The abductors moved like patient surgeons of the dark, entering homes without disturbance. Their work was methodical, practiced, almost clinical. Every member of the household was taken in their sleep�"lifted quietly from their beds before consciousness ever had a chance to surface.

What remained behind looked real enough at first glance.

Bodies lay where the people once had. Faces relaxed, breathing shallow, skin warm to the touch. To anyone who might glance through a window or open a bedroom door, the illusion would hold.

But they were not people.

They were husks.

Perfect outward shells designed to delay discovery just long enough for the final step.

Because the fire always came before morning.

Sometime between three and four a.m., flames would begin to eat through the home. Sometimes it started in the kitchen. Sometimes in the walls. Sometimes deep beneath the structure itself. The cause was never clear�"faulty wiring, gas leaks, electrical shorts.

By the time firefighters arrived, there was never much left to examine.

Just embers.

Collapsed beams.

Ash where a family once lived.

The investigators would write it the same way every time.

House fire. Total loss. Presumed fatalities.

Another quiet tragedy in a world full of them.

But somewhere far away from the burned foundations and grieving neighbors, the stolen families were not dead.

They were simply… processed.

And the harvest had only just begun.

Chapter Two

The Conversion Pods

Consciousness returned slowly.

Not with light.

Not with sound.

But with pressure.

One by one, the abducted woke into a space that had no shape to their eyes. There were no windows. No seams of light. No glow from machines. Only a suffocating darkness so complete it felt solid.

They were standing.

Or at least upright.

Cold metal surrounded them on every side. Barely enough room to move. Barely enough room to breathe without hearing their own breath bounce back at them.

Then the sound began.

A quiet hiss.

It crawled into the chamber from unseen vents, spreading like a whisper through the darkness. The air changed first. Thick. Chemical. Damp with something unfamiliar.

The people inside the pods didn’t know it, but the sound marked the beginning.

The mold had been released.

For several moments the chamber remained silent except for the slow leaking hiss of the system equalizing pressure. No voice spoke to them. No instructions were given. No explanation followed.

Only the slow creeping numbness.

It began near their feet.

A faint tingling at first. Like circulation returning after sitting too long. Then the sensation spread upward, climbing through muscle and bone. Knees weakened. Fingers slowed. Thoughts softened at the edges.

Within minutes the numbness became a deep, irresistible heaviness.

Sleep returned.

Not natural sleep.

System sleep.

And as each person drifted unconscious again, the machinery outside the containers came alive.

Rows upon rows of identical pods stretched across the facility floor like silent coffins standing upright. Hundreds of them. Each one sealed. Each one marked with a dim diagnostic panel glowing softly in the dark laboratory.

The screens displayed the same categories across every unit.

STATUS: Initial Conversion

TIME UNTIL UPDATE: 72:00:00

ATRAFEED LEVEL: 0.03%" increasing

Behind the sealed walls of the pods, the process had already begun.

The mold released into the chamber bonded with the body at the microscopic level. It did not kill the host. It did not consume them.

It replaced them.

Millimeter by millimeter.

Bone first.

The skeletal structure was slowly overwritten by a lattice of artificial DNA frameworks"mechanical scaffolds that mimicked organic chemistry but answered only to the system controlling the pods.

Once the bones carried the framework, the next phase began.

Muscle tissue was gradually dissolved and rewritten into adaptive biological circuitry capable of receiving external instructions. Blood vessels became nutrient channels. Nerve pathways were reorganized into signal lines.

All of it happening slowly enough that the host body remained stable.

Alive.

Sleeping.

Fed continuously through the atrafeed system, a nutrient suspension delivered in microscopic quantities through the bloodstream. The compound itself was synthesized from an unusual source"irradiated insect protein cultures engineered to carry programmable genetic material.

Contaminated roaches.

Efficient.

Expandable.

Endlessly renewable.

As the hours passed, the host body slowly lost its original biological independence. Organ by organ, system by system, control was transferred from the body’s own DNA to the artificial mold now rewriting it.

When the heart phase began, the transformation accelerated.

The natural heart was not removed. It was modified"its tissue reshaped into a hybrid pump capable of circulating both blood and nanostructured nutrient gel required for the later stages.

After that came the final and most delicate step.

The brain.

Rather than destroy it, the system slowly dissolved the surrounding biological support structures while copying the neural pattern into a synthetic lattice grown around it. Memory pathways were preserved. Personality fragments remained intact.

But control moved elsewhere.

The mind became software.

The body became hardware.

And the person became something else entirely.

Outside the pods, a lone scientist moved down the long rows of containers, checking the diagnostic panels one by one. He carried a tablet glowing with identical readouts.

Every time he passed a completed unit, the panel would update with the same message.

SERVER CREATED

He paused occasionally, comparing the new pods to the older ones further down the chamber"those whose conversion cycles had already completed.

Their displays were stable.

No biological indicators.

No heartbeat readings.

Only system status.

The scientist stopped beside one of the freshly filled pods and studied the diagnostic bullet points scrolling across its display.

He read them quietly to himself.

Conversion Process Active

• Skeletal lattice replacement " 3% complete

• Muscle fiber restructuring " 1% complete

• AtraFeed intake calibration " stable

• Mold propagation " increasing

• Heart phase " pending

• Neural capture " pending

Estimated Completion: 168 hours

The scientist nodded once.

Satisfied.

Then he tapped the side of the container gently, almost like someone knocking on a door.

Inside the darkness, the person within slept through the sound.

Outside, the display flickered and updated again.

ATRAFEED LEVEL: 0.05%

The scientist turned and continued walking down the endless rows of pods.

More families had arrived during the night.

More servers to build.

More minds to convert.

And somewhere far beyond the walls of the facility, the world continued on�"unaware that pieces of itself were quietly being rewritten.

One household at a time.

Chapter Three

The Desynchronization

Most pods behaved predictably.

The system had been perfected over countless cycles. Families arrived together, were processed together, and converted together. Their pods were linked through a direct familial synchronization network"a safeguard built into the system’s architecture.

Shared genetic patterns meant shared stability.

If one unit faltered, the others stabilized it. If a signal dropped, the network compensated. Families converted more efficiently when their systems were connected.

That was the theory.

But in Wing Seven, something had gone wrong.

Pod 7"114 refused to stabilize.

Inside it stood a man named Von Vegas.

The system logs repeated the same message over and over again.

RECALIBRATING

SYNC ATTEMPT FAILED

RECALIBRATING

The pod’s outer display flickered as the internal mold struggled to match the conversion rhythm of the other units connected to it.

The other pods in the cluster belonged to his family.

His wife.

His child.

Three pods. One synchronized network.

At least, that had been the intention.

The scientist standing in front of the displays leaned closer, intrigued.

Not alarmed.

Just curious.

The diagnostic feed scrolled across the tablet in his hands.

Family Unit Synchronization: Attempting

Primary Host: Von Vegas

Secondary Hosts: 3

Normally the connections created stability across the units. Shared neurological architecture meant that during the brain conversion phase the systems reinforced each other.

But Von’s pod wasn’t stabilizing.

It was dominating.

Every time the system attempted to synchronize the family network, the father’s pod forced a recalculation. His neural structure was adapting to the artificial lattice faster than predicted.

Not because of unusual DNA.

Not because of rare genetics.

The scientist checked twice.

Nothing about Von Vegas was remarkable.

He had been a highway maintenance worker. No medical anomalies. No special neurological patterns. No extraordinary biological traits.

And yet the system kept adjusting around him.

The readout changed again.

SYNC FAILURE

NETWORK REDISTRIBUTION

The scientist tilted his head slightly as the system began to compensate.

Inside the processing architecture, the linked pods attempted to stabilize the network by redistributing computational load. Normally this would be temporary"small fluctuations during neural capture.

But Von’s conversion kept expanding.

The artificial neural lattice inside his pod required more space than expected. More processing. More storage.

So the system did what it was designed to do.

It adapted.

The other three pods began feeding capacity into the primary host.

Their progress bars slowed.

Then stopped.

On the displays beside Von’s unit, new messages appeared.

SECONDARY UNIT REALLOCATION

His wife’s pod flickered first.

NEURAL CAPTURE INTERRUPTED

Her pod display dimmed.

The scientist watched the numbers change without moving.

The system attempted one final synchronization.

It failed.

Then the redistribution began in earnest.

The children’s pods followed seconds later.

MEMORY ARCHIVE REDIRECTED

HOST STORAGE EXPANSION

Inside the system architecture, the neural patterns that had begun forming within the family units were quietly dissolved and reallocated into Von’s growing lattice.

Their minds had never fully converted.

Their neural structures were still incomplete.

That made them easy to repurpose.

The scientist watched the readouts as the family units slowly faded from the system network.

Their progress indicators dropped to zero.

One by one their pods went dark.

Not with alarms.

Not with errors.

Just quiet removal.

The space they would have occupied was now part of Von Vegas.

Additional storage.

Additional processing capacity.

The scientist stared at the final message appearing on the central display.

PRIMARY HOST CAPACITY EXPANDED

FAMILY UNIT ARCHIVE: ABSORBED

He raised an eyebrow slightly.

“Interesting,” he murmured.

There was no sadness in his voice.

Only detached fascination.

Inside Pod 7"114, Von Vegas slept through the entire event.

His conversion continued uninterrupted.

The artificial lattice surrounding his brain expanded to fill the new capacity being offered by the system. Memory channels widened. Processing pathways multiplied.

The machine had not planned for this outcome.

But it was accepting it.

Outside the pods, the scientist finally made a note on his tablet.

Observation: Family sync architecture may unintentionally prioritize dominant neural structures within shared networks.

He paused.

Then added a final line.

Result: Subject absorbed three auxiliary hosts during conversion.

The scientist walked past the now-dark pods that had once held the rest of the Vegas family.

Their displays no longer showed diagnostic information.

Only blank metal panels.

The facility around him continued operating as if nothing unusual had occurred.

Technicians moved between rows further down the chamber. Diagnostic drones hovered quietly above the aisles. Fresh pods were being prepared in distant wings.

Conversion never stopped.

Still, there were procedures to finish.

Wing Seven had reached capacity.

The scientist moved to the central control console at the end of the chamber and began initiating the final sealing sequence for the newly filled wing.

Heavy doors along the far walls slid slowly into place.

Environmental regulators adjusted pressure.

Temperature stabilized.

The pods dimmed their displays to long-term processing mode.

Final checks appeared across the central screen.

Wing 7 Status: Full

Pod Count: 412

Active Conversions: 409

Server Ready: 3

Anomalies: 1

The scientist glanced once more toward Pod 7"114.

Von Vegas’s unit.

Its display now read:

SERVER CREATION: EXPANDED

The scientist considered flagging the anomaly for review.

Instead, he simply logged it under observational data.

The system would adapt.

It always did.

He pressed the final command.

The massive doors sealing Wing Seven closed with a deep mechanical echo that rolled across the chamber.

Lights dimmed.

Diagnostics entered long-cycle monitoring.

Behind the sealed walls, hundreds of pods continued their silent work.

And inside one of them, the mind of Von Vegas was growing larger than the system had intended.

Far larger.

Chapter Four

Legacy

Von Vegas woke to the feeling of wind on his face.

It was soft. Cool. Real.

For a moment he simply lay there, staring upward. Above him stretched a sky the color of dull steel, heavy clouds pressing low as if rain were waiting for permission to fall.

The air smelled like wet earth and leaves.

He blinked slowly.

Something felt… wrong.

But also strangely right.

His body felt lighter than it should have. Stronger. Clearer. Like every breath reached deeper into his lungs than it ever had before.

Von leaned up onto his elbows.

That was when he noticed the clothes.

They weren’t anything he recognized.

He wore simple high-water pants made from a towel-like material that felt both rough and comfortable at the same time. A sleeveless shirt hung loosely from his shoulders, secured by two small buttons near the neck. On his feet were sandals woven from long strands of dried grass.

He turned his hands over slowly, studying them.

Everything looked normal.

But nothing felt normal.

Von pushed himself to sit upright and looked around.

He was lying in a clearing surrounded by tall forest. Trees rose in every direction, their branches whispering quietly in the wind. The ground was covered with damp grass and scattered leaves.

And he wasn’t alone.

A few feet away, two figures lay sleeping in the grass.

His breath caught.

His wife.

His daughter.

They looked peaceful, resting on their sides as if they had simply fallen asleep during a quiet afternoon.

Relief flooded through him.

“Hey,” Von said softly, rising to his feet.

He stepped over quickly and knelt beside them, smiling in disbelief.

“We’re alright… we’re"”

He placed one hand gently on his wife’s shoulder.

The other on his daughter’s.

The moment his fingers made contact"

They began to shimmer.

At first it was subtle. Like heat rising from asphalt.

Then the surface of their bodies fractured into tiny squares of light.

Von froze.

The pixels spread outward from the points where he was touching them.

Slowly.

Silently.

His daughter’s arm dissolved first, breaking apart into glowing fragments that flowed upward and vanished into the air.

“No… no"”

Von stared in horror, unable to pull his hands away.

His wife’s shoulder followed, unraveling into shimmering particles.

Their bodies weren’t bleeding.

They weren’t collapsing.

They were simply… dissolving.

Von’s vision blurred with panic.

But he forced his eyes open.

Forced himself to watch.

He wouldn’t look away.

He wouldn’t miss their last moments.

The strange thing was"

There was no pain on their faces.

Only peaceful expressions.

As if they had simply drifted into a sleep they would never wake from.

Piece by piece, the rest of them faded away.

The last things left were their faces.

And the small glowing outlines of the places where Von’s hands still touched them.

Then even those vanished.

The clearing was empty again.

Von slowly lowered his hands, staring at them as if they might still hold something.

Anything.

The sky finally broke.

Rain began to fall.

At first it was only a few drops, darkening the grass around him.

Then the rain thickened, soaking through his strange clothing and running down his face.

Von didn’t move.

He clenched his fists and stared at the ground.

That was when he noticed the flicker.

A small pulse of light at the edge of his vision.

He ignored it.

The rain continued falling harder.

The flicker didn’t stop.

It stayed there at the bottom of his sight like a stubborn reflection.

Von shut his eyes.

Still it flickered.

Frustrated, he wiped his face with both hands"but the light remained.

Finally he focused on it.

The moment his attention locked onto the flicker"

Two familiar voices echoed inside his mind.

His wife.

His daughter.

Their voices spoke together in perfect calm.

“Hunter ability acquired.”

“Level up acquired.”

“Skill points granted.”

“Item awarded.”

Von gasped slightly.

Something inside his body shifted.

Strength flowed through his muscles. His senses sharpened. Even the rain striking the ground seemed louder, clearer.

A new line of glowing text appeared in his vision.

FIRST HUNTER ABILITY GRANTED

VOID SPACE STORAGE

Below the words appeared a floating icon shaped like a small treasure chest.

Closed.

Von stared at it.

He didn’t touch it.

Instead he thought about opening it.

The chest instantly materialized in front of him, hovering just above the wet grass.

Von blinked.

The box looked ordinary"old wood reinforced with metal edges.

Rain passed straight through it.

He reached out slowly and lifted the lid.

Inside rested a single weapon.

A dagger.

Its blade was simple and narrow, sharpened along one edge. A small hand guard curved slightly from one side near the base of the blade.

The handle was wrapped in black leather.

The sheath resting beside it was made from beautiful white fox fur.

A label appeared above the weapon.

ITEM NAME: Vegas Legacy

Additional text followed.

ABILITY:

Welcome to the Family

When this blade ends a life, the user absorbs the fallen target and converts them into experience and ability points.

Below that appeared another line.

REQUIREMENT:

While owning this blade, the user may wield no other weapon.

Two final categories flickered beneath it.

Damage: ?

Durability: ?

Growth Potential: Active

Von stared at the dagger for a long moment while rain soaked through his clothes and ran down his face.

He picked it up slowly.

The blade felt perfectly balanced in his hand.

Familiar.

As if it had always belonged there.

Von looked out at the dark forest surrounding the clearing.

Then he whispered the only conclusion that made sense.

“…I’m in a game.”

The rain continued falling.

Von tightened his grip on the dagger.

“…and I’m a Highlander Hunter.”

Chapter Five

The First Direction

Von Vegas didn’t spend long questioning his situation.

Shock was there. Grief too.

But neither of them controlled him.

He had always been the kind of man who dealt with problems by moving forward. Standing still never fixed anything"not broken roads, not broken machines, and not whatever strange reality he now found himself in.

So he compartmentalized.

The pain of losing his wife and daughter went into a place in his mind where it could wait.

Later.

He would deal with it later.

For now, survival came first.

Von tried once more to summon whatever interface had appeared earlier. He focused on the space in front of him, thinking of menus, inventories, maps"anything.

Nothing appeared.

Only one thing responded.

His Void Storage.

The faint icon of the treasure chest flickered at the edge of his vision when he thought about it.

Everything else was silent.

“No map… no stats…” Von muttered.

That meant he would have to do things the old way.

He looked up through the thinning rain and studied the land around him.

The forest floor sloped slightly upward in one direction.

Higher ground meant visibility.

Visibility meant answers.

So he started walking.

Von picked a direction that felt like it climbed the slope and pushed through the dense forest. Wet leaves brushed against his clothes as he moved between tall trees and thick undergrowth.

The woods were alive.

Bird calls echoed above him. Small animals rustled somewhere deep in the brush. Occasionally a branch cracked in the distance, though never close enough for him to see what made the sound.

Von moved carefully.

He avoided obvious animal trails and places where the ground showed heavy traffic. If this place really worked like a game"or something close to one"then the last thing he wanted was to wander straight into something that considered him prey.

The forest was thick.

Too thick.

After a while Von realized something frustrating.

It was nearly impossible to tell if he was still moving in the same direction he had started.

Trees blocked most of the sky. The terrain twisted slightly as he walked. Without landmarks, the forest could easily send someone walking in circles.

Von sighed.

He reached down and unsheathed the dagger.

Vegas Legacy slid smoothly into his hand.

He looked at the blade for a moment.

Then he started practicing.

Small stabs.

Controlled movements.

Forward steps.

Pull back.

Stab again.

He tried different angles as he walked, shifting his grip slightly, testing how the weapon moved in his hand.

Von felt ridiculous.

“Great,” he muttered. “I’m shadowboxing trees.”

But he kept doing it anyway.

If muscle memory existed here, building it now might save his life later.

The dagger felt natural.

Balanced.

Almost eager to move.

Von practiced small thrusts and controlled swings as he continued through the forest, occasionally stopping to adjust his footing or correct his posture.

Hours passed.

The light slowly faded.

The grey sky darkened until the forest floor was painted in deep shadows between the trees.

Von noticed something strange.

He was tired.

But not exhausted.

His body felt like it could keep going for hours if needed.

Still, hunger was starting to creep in.

His stomach growled quietly.

“Yeah,” Von muttered to himself. “Food would be nice.”

That was when he smelled it.

Something cooking.

The scent drifted faintly through the forest air"warm, savory, unmistakable.

Von stopped walking.

His nose lifted slightly.

Someone was nearby.

He sheathed the dagger slowly and moved toward the smell.

The terrain began to slope upward more steeply during the last stretch. The trees thinned slightly as he climbed.

Then he heard something else.

Voices.

Distant movement.

Civilization.

Von slowed his pace.

Careful now.

Very careful.

He stepped quietly through the final stretch of trees until the forest edge began to appear ahead.

Then a voice cut through the darkness.

Sharp.

Alert.

“What's your business here, stranger?”

Von froze.

The voice had come from somewhere he couldn’t see.

Not in front of him.

Not behind him.

Somewhere hidden.

Watching him.

Chapter Six

The Village of the Taken

Von didn’t move.

He didn’t search the trees.

He didn’t try to find the voice.

Instead, he thought of the dagger.

The white fox fur sheath vanished from beneath his shirt as the blade slipped quietly into his Void Storage. The familiar weight disappeared from his side.

Once he felt it was gone, Von slowly raised both hands.

“I have no business with trouble,” he said calmly. “I just want answers… and someone to talk to so I can make sense of what happened. Please.”

For a moment there was only silence.

Then the unseen voice sighed.

A man rose from a kneeling position just a few yards away, emerging from the shadows as if he had grown out of the ground itself.

Von hadn’t seen him there at all.

The man brushed dirt from his knees and studied him briefly.

“Another taken, huh,” he said.

His tone wasn’t surprised.

It was tired.

“Follow me.”

Von stepped behind him.

Almost immediately something strange happened.

It was incredibly difficult to keep his attention on the man.

Every time Von tried to focus on him, his eyes drifted away. To the trees. To the sky. To the ground.

It felt like trying to stare directly at something his mind refused to lock onto.

After a few attempts Von simply gave up.

He looked at the ground instead and followed the man’s footsteps.

They walked for several minutes before wooden walls appeared between the trees.

A gate stood slightly open.

The man pushed it wider and stepped through.

Von followed him into a small settlement built from rough timber and packed earth. Lanterns glowed faintly along dirt paths between simple wooden buildings.

The man spoke as they walked.

“Tom,” he said. “That’s my name.”

Von answered quietly.

“Von.”

Tom nodded.

“I’m taking you to our head person,” he continued. “He’ll answer some of your questions… and get you something to eat.”

Tom paused for a moment before adding,

“I warn you though… he’s like the rest of us.”

Von didn’t ask what that meant.

Instead he looked around.

The people in the village moved slowly. Most wore clothes similar to his own, though slightly better stitched and patched. Their faces carried the same hollow exhaustion.

Some sat near lanterns.

Some spoke quietly in small groups.

Others simply stared at the ground.

No one looked hopeful.

No one looked surprised to see him.

As they reached what Von assumed was the center of town, Tom stopped beside a larger wooden building.

Tom turned and held out a hand.

“Any weapons?”

Von glanced down at himself.

“Just this garbage I’m wearing.”

Tom nodded and stepped forward, giving Von a quick search just to be sure.

Satisfied, Tom turned and knocked once before opening the door.

Inside, a group of people sat around a long wooden table sharing a meal.

A man at the far end looked up.

“They’ve caught more already?” he asked.

His voice carried a strange mixture of curiosity and resignation.

He stood, grabbed a bowl from the table, and gestured toward an empty seat.

Von sat down awkwardly.

Moments later the bowl was placed in front of him.

Basic meat stew.

Steam curled upward from the surface.

The smell alone made Von realize how hungry he really was.

Tom stepped aside and stood near the man who had greeted them.

The man nodded once.

“My name is Ben,” he said.

He rested his hands on the table.

“I know you have a lot of questions.”

Ben gestured to the bowl.

“How about you eat… and I’ll tell you what we’ve figured out so far.”

Von didn’t argue.

The stew was simple but good. Warm broth, small chunks of meat, root vegetables. Nothing fancy, but it tasted like the best meal he had ever eaten.

While Von ate, Ben spoke.

Unfortunately, the information wasn’t much.

“All any of us know,” Ben said, “is that we can’t get out… and we’re inside some kind of game.”

A few people at the table nodded quietly.

“And once you die,” Ben continued, “you don’t come back.”

Von slowed his eating.

Ben leaned back slightly.

“Some folks here have figured out that doing certain things increases abilities. Hunting animals… gathering resources… things like that.”

He paused.

“I’d recommend against it though.”

Von looked up.

Ben continued.

“If an animal manages to kill you… it gets stronger.”

The room fell quiet.

Von lowered his spoon slowly.

Then he asked the only question that made sense.

“So basically…”

He looked around the table.

“…we’re being hunted by Highlander animals?”

Chapter Seven

First Lessons

Ben leaned back slightly and studied Von with a curious expression.

“Highlander?” he asked. “You referring to that show where people cut each other’s heads off to get stronger?”

Von shifted slightly in his seat.

“…Yes.”

Ben looked over at Tom.

Tom shrugged casually.

“Don’t look at me,” he said. “I’m a 2013 kid.”

Ben sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“I suppose that’s one way to describe it.”

He leaned forward again, resting his elbows on the table.

“The thing you need to understand is this,” Ben continued. “You need to get stronger before you can even begin to understand the basics of certain things… and before you can safely leave.”

Von glanced around the room.

“So I’m trapped here now?”

Ben immediately shook his head and raised both hands.

“No, no,” he said quickly. “That’s not what I meant.”

He pointed lightly toward Von.

“What I mean is that right now, as you are, you’d just make something else stronger… and then we’d have to kill it.”

A few people around the table shifted uncomfortably.

Von nodded slowly for him to continue.

Ben took a breath.

“We train the basics here. We help people understand how this world works. The better prepared everyone is, the better chance all of us have.”

He gestured vaguely toward the forest beyond the village walls.

“The animals around the village respawn at the beginning of every year.”

That got Von’s attention.

“If any of them are still alive when the reset happens,” Ben continued, “they come back stronger.”

A murmur spread through the room.

Several of the people sitting nearby looked surprised.

Apparently they were hearing this part for the first time too.

Ben continued calmly.

“So we need constant help culling them before that happens.”

Von wiped the last bit of stew from his bowl and set the spoon down.

“What can you offer,” he asked, “that makes that easier?”

Tom stepped slightly forward.

He made brief respectful eye contact with Ben.

Ben leaned back and gestured for him to speak.

Tom nodded and turned toward Von.

“Basically,” Tom said, “some of us carried over certain basic skills when we got taken. No one knows why.”

He shrugged.

“But those skills let us teach others.”

Von listened carefully.

“If someone trains under a person with a real skill long enough,” Tom continued, “sometimes the system grants a beginner version of it.”

He began counting off on his fingers.

“So we start simple.”

“Fists.”

“Daggers.”

“Swords.”

“Hammers.”

“Then spears and longer weapons.”

Tom spread his hands slightly.

“We need all the help we can get.”

Von felt a sudden heavy pit form in his stomach.

His hand instinctively drifted toward where the dagger normally rested at his side.

Vegas Legacy.

While owning this blade, the user may wield no other weapon.

Von kept his expression neutral.

He said nothing.

Tom didn’t notice.

“We’ll start tomorrow morning,” Tom continued. “Training begins at sunrise.”

He glanced toward a small window.

“Which is about six hours from now.”

Tom pointed to a corner of the building where several bedrolls were already laid out.

“You sleep here tonight.”

Ben stood up from the table.

“Get some rest,” he said.

Then he walked out the door.

Tom followed behind him, pulling the door closed with a quiet thud.

The room fell silent.

Von looked around.

Several of the other people sitting there stared at each other with wide eyes.

Some looked nervous.

Others looked hopeful.

Most simply looked overwhelmed.

Von leaned back slightly and stared at the wooden ceiling.

Tomorrow morning…

Training would begin.

And somehow he would have to learn how to survive in a world where everyone was expected to master every weapon…

Except the one man in the village who couldn’t.

Chapter Eight

The First Lesson

Von woke before everyone else.

The room was still quiet, the other sleepers scattered across bedrolls around the floor. A faint grey light was just beginning to creep through the small wooden window.

Morning was coming.

Von sat up slowly.

For a moment he simply watched the pale light grow.

It reminded him of something.

His wife.

She used to wake up just before the alarm went off every morning"always two minutes early, like clockwork. She would stretch quietly, turn toward him, and whisper that it was almost time to get up.

The memory hit him suddenly.

His eyes began to water.

But just as quickly another memory forced its way in.

Their bodies dissolving.

Pixels drifting away from his hands.

Von wiped his eyes hard with the back of his arm.

“Not now,” he muttered quietly.

He stood up just as footsteps approached the door outside.

The door swung open.

A loud voice filled the room.

“Alright people, day one is over,” the man shouted. “I’m here to help you survive day two.”

The rest of the room began stirring immediately.

Von stepped outside first.

The morning light was brighter now, revealing the village more clearly than he had seen it the night before.

Everything was built from wood.

Wooden houses. Wooden fences. Wooden towers.

Only the base of the outer walls were stone.

The place reminded him strangely of small forward bases he had seen pictures of from Afghanistan. Practical. Defensive. Built to survive.

Off to the left side of the village center he noticed something new.

Training grounds.

Grass had been packed down into wide squares and padded with soft dirt beneath. Wooden weapon racks stood nearby, filled with practice swords, staffs, spears, and other blunt training tools.

The man who had shouted began walking slowly through the group gathering outside.

“Today,” he said loudly, “we’re getting every one of you to level one in hand-to-hand combat.”

He pointed toward a small group of younger people.

“Women and men both.”

Then he gestured toward several children.

“Kids will be learning gathering and crafting.”

Another trainer stepped forward and quietly led the children away toward another part of the village.

The rest followed the man who had woken them.

Soon they learned his name.

Terry.

Terry stepped into the middle of one of the padded grass squares and turned toward them.

“Make a circle around me,” he said. “Close enough to see and hear… but not close enough to get hit.”

Everyone quickly spread out around him.

Von watched carefully.

As soon as he stepped into the circle, Terry’s eyes glowed faintly for just a moment.

Then the familiar voices filled Von’s mind.

His wife.

His daughter.

“Hand-to-hand training accepted.”

Von blinked.

He glanced around.

No one else seemed to react.

Apparently they didn’t hear the same voices.

Terry nodded once when the last person stepped into the invisible circle only he could see.

Then he began demonstrating.

Basic stances.

Foot positioning.

How to keep balance.

Where to place your hands.

How to strike without breaking your own fingers.

He moved slowly at first, explaining every motion.

Then he repeated each movement again and again, showing why each step mattered.

Hours passed.

No one complained.

Everyone watched carefully.

Finally, after Terry finished demonstrating the final form, the familiar voices returned inside Von’s head.

Basic skill learned:

Hand-to-Hand

Level 0 obtained

Von blinked again.

Level zero?

He wondered silently.

How do I get level one?

Terry suddenly looked straight at him.

“Let me guess,” Terry said. “You all just got level zero, right?”

Von shifted awkwardly.

“How do you know?” he asked.

Terry grinned slightly.

“When you learn a new skill, you get a pins-and-needles feeling,” Terry explained. “Like jumping into cold water.”

Everyone around the circle nodded.

Apparently they had felt the same thing.

Terry clapped his hands together once.

“The interesting part,” he continued, “is that lesson took four hours.”

Everyone looked around in surprise.

The sun was already high in the sky.

It was nearly past lunch.

Terry pointed toward the building they had slept in.

“You want to eat,” he said casually, “you gotta get past me.”

The group looked at each other nervously.

Terry pointed at the largest man among them.

“You first.”

The tall man who hadn’t spoken all morning stepped forward.

“Yes sir,” he said respectfully.

Terry didn’t wait.

He exploded forward.

Three strikes hit the man in rapid succession"gut, ribs, liver.

The man doubled over instantly and collapsed to his knees, vomiting onto the grass.

Terry stepped back calmly.

The injured man’s wife rushed forward to help him.

Terry stepped directly into her path.

“Gotta get through me first.”

The woman screamed and tried to push past him.

Terry moved once.

A single clean strike to the side of her head.

She dropped instantly, unconscious.

Silence fell over the training yard.

Then Terry looked back at the rest of them.

“Next.”

One by one they tried.

One by one they fell.

Some lasted seconds.

Some lasted only moments.

Terry dismantled every single one of them without effort.

Soon only two people remained standing.

Terry.

And Von.

Von stepped forward slowly.

He raised his hands into the stance Terry had shown earlier.

Terry smiled slightly.

“Good,” he said. “Good.”

Then he gestured toward Von.

“Now attack.”

Von stepped forward.

He barely had time to move.

Terry’s foot snapped out and kicked Von’s front leg sideways.

Von’s body dropped instantly into an involuntary split.

Before he could react"

Terry spun.

A perfect roundhouse kick smashed into the side of Von’s head.

The world went sideways.

Von collapsed onto the grass.

Darkness began creeping in around the edges of his vision.

As consciousness faded, the familiar voices spoke again inside his mind.

His family.

Endurance increased.

Perception increased.

Hand-to-Hand skill increased.

Then everything went black.

Chapter Nine

The Ones Who Woke

Von was the last to wake.

At first he thought it was still morning, but the light felt wrong. When his eyes adjusted, he realized the sun was gone. The room was lit only by torches and candles hanging from iron brackets along the wooden walls.

He was lying on a narrow bed.

The building around him had the quiet, organized feeling of a hospital. Rows of beds lined the walls. Shelves held cloth bandages, jars of herbs, and bowls of water.

On a small table beside him sat a wooden cup of water and a rough loaf of bread.

Von sat up slowly.

His body felt fine.

Better than fine.

He tore into the bread immediately, drinking the water in long gulps while looking around.

Other people were waking too.

Some leaned against their beds while doctors carefully removed bandages from bruised ribs and swollen faces. Quiet conversations filled the room as healers moved from one patient to the next.

Near the door, Terry sat in a chair.

He wasn’t speaking.

Just watching.

His expression was blank in a way Von couldn’t quite read. It could have been concern.

It could have been anger.

When the doctor finally reached Von, the bread was gone and the water cup was empty.

The doctor gave him a quick once-over, gently pressing along his jaw and ribs.

“At least more than a few are promising,” the doctor murmured.

That was when Von really looked around.

Half the beds were still.

Half the people hadn’t woken up.

Terry heard the doctor’s words and stood up quietly. Without saying anything, he stepped outside.

Through the open doorway Von saw him stop near Ben, who had just arrived with Tom beside him.

They spoke in low voices.

Inside the hospital the doctor took Von’s wrist gently and closed his eyes.

He whispered softly.

“Full heal.”

A warm sensation rushed through Von’s body instantly. Every ache disappeared. The dull fog in his head cleared.

The doctor opened his eyes and smiled.

“Good. Good.”

Von glanced toward the other beds.

“Are they okay?” he asked quietly.

The doctor turned and looked toward the sleepers.

For a moment he didn’t answer.

When he turned back, Von noticed something he hadn’t seen before.

The doctor was sweating heavily.

He forced a small smile.

“I can only do so much,” the doctor admitted. “They’ll be fine… most of the time.”

He hesitated.

“Sometimes people just aren’t receptive to certain abilities. We don’t know why.”

The doctor patted Von’s shoulder and walked toward the door.

Outside, he joined Terry, Ben, and Tom.

The four of them spoke quietly.

Ben looked inside the hospital once, scanning the room.

Then he nodded.

“Well, Terry,” Ben said, “the rest is up to you.”

Inside, several people sat beside beds where loved ones still slept.

Some whispered softly.

Others simply held hands and stared.

After a moment Terry stepped back into the hospital.

He looked around the room slowly.

“Less than half,” he muttered.

He clicked his tongue in mild disappointment.

Then he raised his voice.

“The ones who are awake and still want to get stronger… follow me.”

He gestured toward the door.

“The rest of you will be absorbed into the town of your choosing.”

Seven people stood up.

Seven.

They moved cautiously, glancing at each other before stepping outside with Terry.

Von followed.

Terry led them along a narrow path that curved toward the inside of the village wall.

Every so often they passed a carved stone marker.

Each one bore the same symbol.

A creature with a broad plated back and a tail tipped with heavy spikes.

It looked like the head and spine of a stegosaurus, the plates running down its back until the tail ended in the brutal shape of a thagomizer.

The group exchanged uncertain looks but said nothing.

Eventually they reached a tall wooden tower built just behind the wall.

Terry stopped at the entrance.

There was no door.

The building resembled an open temple more than a fortress.

Above the entrance, the same stegosaurus symbol had been carved deeply into the wood.

Terry turned to them.

“Welcome to the Stegos.”

Inside, the tower rose several floors high. Small rooms lined the walls of each level. Some had simple bedrolls already inside.

Others were empty.

Terry gestured to the floor.

“You sleep down here until you earn a room.”

No one argued.

The seven newcomers stepped inside and sat quietly on the wooden floor, studying the strange new place that would apparently be their home.

Terry stretched once and headed for the stairs.

“Try to sleep,” he said over his shoulder.

“Tomorrow is day three.”

The torches flickered quietly as the room settled into silence.

Von lay back on the wooden floor and watched the shadows dance across the ceiling.

As the flames moved, they reminded him of something.

A memory.

His daughter standing in the backyard on the Fourth of July, waving a sparkler through the dark.

She had laughed and shouted proudly:

“Dad! I can spell your name!”

Von closed his eyes slowly.

The sparkler light faded into darkness.

Chapter Ten

The Blade Problem

Von woke to the smell of bread.

Terry was already moving through the room, handing out small portions of food and water to the seven who had followed him the night before. It was the same simple meal again"bread and water.

No one complained.

Hunger didn’t leave much room for preferences.

But Terry wasn’t alone.

Four other people stood behind him.

They were dressed exactly like him"barefoot, simple cloaks hanging from their shoulders. Their wrists and shins were wrapped tightly in cloth bindings, like fighters who expected to be hit often.

Terry gestured back toward them.

“Behind me are the other trainers of the Stego clan,” he said.

“They’ll give their names later.”

His eyes swept across the seven recruits.

“What I need to know right now,” Terry continued, “is if there’s anything we should know before we begin your day three.”

Von immediately thought of the dagger.

The rule.

While owning this blade, the user may wield no other weapon.

He opened his mouth slightly.

Then closed it.

When it happens… it happens, he decided.

He would deal with it then.

That moment arrived much sooner than he expected.

Terry and three of the trainers stepped aside.

The fourth one stepped forward carrying a rough cloth bag.

He dumped its contents onto a wooden table.

Wooden daggers.

Dozens of them.

“My name is Greg,” the man said. “I’ll be your dagger trainer today.”

He gestured toward the table.

“Form a line and receive a dagger.”

Everyone stepped forward.

Von ended up fourth in line.

When Greg held one out to him, Von reached for it.

The moment his fingers touched the wooden handle"

His hand erupted in an awful itching sensation.

It spread instantly through his palm.

Then it began to burn.

Von clenched his teeth and took the dagger anyway.

He moved into the training circle with the others.

The itching only got worse.

The burning crawled through his palm and up into his wrist.

Without thinking he dropped the dagger.

The moment it hit the ground"

Every trainer in the room groaned loudly.

Then they all dropped to the floor and started doing push-ups.

Von stared in confusion.

The burning in his hand vanished instantly.

“Pick it up,” Terry muttered from the floor.

Von quickly grabbed the dagger again.

The itching returned immediately.

Trying not to show the pain, he shoved the dagger into his belt.

The burning dulled slightly.

Terry stared at him the entire time.

Eventually the trainers finished their push-ups and stood again.

Greg didn’t comment.

He simply waited until everyone had received a dagger.

Then his eyes glowed faintly.

Inside Von’s mind, his family’s voices spoke again.

Dagger skill obtained.

Level 0.

Greg began demonstrating movements.

Grip.

Stance.

Wrist alignment.

Angles of attack.

Defensive positioning.

It was detailed.

Precise.

Hours passed again.

By the time Greg finished explaining the final movement, the familiar voices returned.

Dagger skill increased.

Level 1 obtained.

Everyone reacted the same way.

Surprise.

Excitement.

Greg smiled.

“Alright,” he said casually.

“Who wants to go first?”

Von raised his hand immediately.

Greg glanced toward Terry.

Before he could answer, Terry spoke.

“Save Von for last.”

Greg shrugged.

“Works for me.”

He immediately attacked the person standing beside Von.

The training was far more brutal than Terry’s had been.

Greg used hip throws.

Disarming techniques.

Joint locks.

Quick strikes meant to force mistakes.

Everyone hit the ground repeatedly.

One by one.

Until only Von remained.

Greg looked toward Terry.

Terry nodded slowly.

“Hold your dagger,” Terry said.

Von pulled the wooden dagger from his belt.

The itching came back instantly.

Terry watched closely.

“Just hold it,” he said.

Five seconds passed.

Then ten.

Steam began rising from Von’s palm.

The burning became unbearable.

Von dropped the dagger.

His hand looked normal.

No burns.

No marks.

No one moved to do push-ups.

The trainers simply stared.

Terry walked over and picked up the wooden dagger.

He examined it carefully.

Then he looked at Von’s hand.

Finally he said one thing.

“Come with me.”

Terry led Von into a small back room.

Once Von stepped inside, Terry closed the door behind him.

He held up the wooden dagger.

“Well?”

Von hesitated.

He didn’t know how much to say.

Before he could answer, Terry raised his hand.

“Before you speak,” Terry said calmly, “I have a skill that tells me when someone is lying.”

He leaned back against the wall.

“In the Stegos, we don’t keep secrets.”

His eyes stayed on Von.

“I know that doesn’t mean much to you right now. But being part of any faction here is a good outcome.”

He tapped the wooden dagger.

“Tell me why you can hold this… but not use it.”

Then he added,

“And what else you can’t hold.”

“In exchange,” Terry said, “I’ll answer one question.”

Von thought for a long moment.

Then he told the truth.

When he finished, Terry stared at him silently.

Finally he said,

“Ask your question.”

Von swallowed.

“Can I get my family back?”

For a moment Terry’s face softened.

Just for a moment.

Then it hardened again.

“As far as we know,” Terry said quietly, “no.”

He folded his arms.

“Whatever they did to us… it changed our bodies into something else. We don’t even fully understand what we are now.”

He nodded toward Von.

“The more important question is what we do with you.”

He paused.

“Can you show me the dagger you described?”

Von summoned it.

The white fox fur sheath appeared in his hand.

Terry jumped back instantly.

“That’s inventory summoning,” Terry said.

Von nodded.

Terry cautiously reached toward the dagger.

His fingers passed straight through it.

Terry froze.

“Un-sheathe it,” he said.

Von drew the blade.

The steel gleamed faintly in the torchlight.

Terry rubbed his chin slowly.

“Well,” he muttered.

“At least Greg has a new best friend.”

He looked back at Von.

“Alright.”

“Come with me.”

They walked back out into the training area where the others were still recovering.

Terry spoke loudly.

“Greg.”

Greg looked up.

“Take Von on the speed course tomorrow.”

Greg raised an eyebrow.

Then shrugged.

“Works for me.”

Terry looked at Von.

“Get some sleep.”

“We leave in four hours.”

Chapter Eleven

First Step Beyond the Gate

The next few weeks were rough.

Training never stopped.

The six others who had joined the Stegos with Von were learning multiple skills"some faster than others. A few had already begun going on their first small hunts outside the village walls.

Von noticed something interesting.

Most of them were spreading their training across several weapons.

Spears. Short swords. Hammers. Even fist combat.

But Greg and Von were the only ones focusing entirely on daggers.

At first the skill progression came quickly.

Levels rose steadily.

But when Von reached Dagger Level 9, everything slowed to a crawl.

Hours of practice.

Hundreds of strikes.

Almost no progress.

That was when Greg changed the training.

Instead of practicing movements, he started teaching something else.

How monsters moved.

Where predators struck from.

What kind of creatures were the most dangerous.

What sounds meant attack.

What silence meant danger.

All of this training still happened inside the Stego boundaries.

They never left the protection of the walls.

Until one afternoon.

Greg and Von were practicing disarm techniques when Terry approached them.

“Greg,” Terry said calmly.

“He ready yet?”

Greg glanced at Von.

Then shrugged.

“I guess we’ll know later.”

Terry looked Von up and down.

His clothes were shredded from weeks of training.

Terry nodded toward the supply building.

“Give him the garbs.”

Then he turned.

“Meet me at the Stego gate.”

A short time later Von stood in light leather armor.

Metal plates covered his back and shoulders. The armor was light enough to move easily but sturdy enough to stop teeth or claws.

Greg led him toward the outer wall.

The Stego gate was massive.

A long metal beam held the doors shut.

On both sides of the entrance, dozens of names had been scratched into the wood.

Terry stood beside them.

Von stared at the names.

Terry noticed.

“Those,” Terry said quietly, “are the ones who made it back.”

Greg stood nearby checking a pair of twin daggers Von hadn’t even realized he carried.

Von summoned his own dagger and attached it to his belt.

The metal beam was slowly lifted.

As the gate began to open, Terry stepped directly in front of Von.

“Listen to Greg,” Terry said.

Then he added one more thing.

“Make it back… and you’ll be one of us.”

The gate creaked open.

Immediately a group of hunters walked through.

Von recognized them.

Barely.

They were part of the seven who had arrived with him.

Now they looked exhausted.

Broken.

Sad.

They didn’t even look at him as they passed.

They just walked silently back into the village.

Terry shook his head slowly.

Then he grabbed a hammer and chisel.

Von heard the sharp tapping of metal against wood as Terry began carving new names beside the gate.

Greg smiled slightly.

“Von,” he said calmly.

“Today will determine the rest.”

Then he walked out through the gate.

Von followed.

The moment he stepped beyond the wall, something felt different.

Like stepping into another space entirely.

Almost like a zone change.

The air felt heavier.

The world quieter.

Behind them the gate closed slowly.

Von glanced back.

Hunters stood along the wall watching.

Some nodded.

A silent kind of good luck.

Greg began pointing toward different paths leading away from the wall.

“That one leads to the rock fields,” he said.

“Mostly boars.”

He pointed to another.

“Forest crawlers.”

Another path.

“Bad terrain. Avoid unless necessary.”

Then Greg pointed directly opposite the gate.

A narrow, dark trail.

“Only Terry has ever come back from that path,” Greg said.

“Never go that way.”

The longer Von looked at it, the more goosebumps crawled across his skin.

Greg turned away.

“Come on.”

They took an easier trail.

“This one,” Greg said, “is wolf territory.”

The path was well traveled.

Outside the village walls, the land looked different.

Close to the settlement the terrain was mostly wasteland"rocky ground covered in crab grass and scattered stones.

Beyond that the land slowly shifted into thicker forest and distant mountains.

They walked quietly.

Soon Greg slowed his pace.

Then slower.

Until he was barely moving at all.

Von caught up beside him.

Greg whispered.

“They’re circling us right now.”

Von felt it too.

That uncomfortable feeling of being watched.

“Wait for them to attack,” Greg continued quietly.

“When they do, we stand back-to-back.”

Greg slowly unsheathed his daggers.

Von did the same.

The moment the blade left the sheath"

A loud rustle exploded from the brush.

Then a howl ripped through the forest.

Chapter Twelve

The First Kill

The first wolf wasn’t anything special.

Training had done its work.

When the animal lunged from the brush, Von’s body moved before he even thought about it. Muscle memory took over.

His dagger came up in a fast underhand slash.

The blade cut deep.

So deep it nearly took the wolf’s head off.

The animal’s body still had momentum though. It slammed into Von’s chest as it died. Instead of dodging, Von took the impact and braced his feet.

Better him than both of them being knocked down.

Greg was already moving.

His twin daggers flashed through the air in clean, practiced patterns.

Slash.

Kick.

Deflect.

A wolf lunged and Greg turned its momentum sideways, driving one dagger through its ribs before knocking the body away with a brutal shove.

Another jumped.

Greg pummeled it once in the skull, then finished it with a precise stab beneath the jaw.

Von expected something.

A message.

Experience.

A system notification.

But nothing happened.

Just adrenaline and the chaos of movement.

For a brief moment Von thought he heard something in the back of his mind.

A faint harmony.

Like distant voices singing.

But it vanished instantly.

More wolves rushed in.

One leaped from the side.

Von sidestepped and drove his dagger forward.

Another attacked Greg and was thrown violently aside.

The pack was relentless.

Then one of them behaved differently.

This wolf didn’t leap wildly like the others.

It circled.

Watching.

Waiting.

Suddenly it lunged low.

Its teeth clamped around Von’s thigh.

Von reacted instantly.

He slammed the metal pommel of his dagger down onto the wolf’s skull.

There was a sharp crunch.

The wolf’s teeth had caught on the metal plating of his armor. They hadn’t reached skin.

The animal’s body went limp, still hanging from his leg.

The rest of the fight ended quickly.

Greg occasionally stepped in when a wolf got too close to Von’s blind side.

Soon the last wolf fell.

The clearing grew quiet again.

Greg stood there breathing slightly harder than normal.

“You alright?” he asked.

Von tried to pull the dead wolf off his leg.

It didn’t budge.

“I will be,” Von gasped, “after I get this off me.”

Greg walked over calmly.

He dropped to one knee and pulled a butcher knife from his belt.

With one clean motion he chopped through the wolf’s neck.

The body dropped away.

Greg wiped the blade once and put the knife away.

“We’ll fix the armor later,” he said.

Then he looked around the clearing.

“There’s supposed to be an alpha.”

Greg walked slowly through the bodies, examining each wolf.

Von followed behind him.

“What do you mean?” Von asked.

Greg stopped.

“This isn’t right,” he said quietly.

“Something’s wrong.”

Greg scanned the forest.

“Let’s head back.”

Von nodded.

He sheathed his dagger.

The moment the blade disappeared"

His family’s voices filled his mind.

Pack attack survived. Congratulations.

Observers may be near. Beware.

Dagger Level 10 achieved.

Player Level 2 obtained.

All attributes increased +2

Dagger specialization milestone reached.

Dagger Aspect Unlocked: Weapon Companion

Von blinked.

More words appeared.

Weapon Companion

Once per day your discipline weapon may be deployed as a sentry for a limited time.

Growth mutation detected.

Dream Communion unlocked.

*Additional abilities may develop with higher levels.

Then a whisper followed.

Quieter.

Almost urgent.

His family’s voice again.

“Something with killing intent has set its will against you.”

Then everything vanished.

The voices faded.

The system notifications disappeared.

Suddenly Von felt incredibly tired.

Greg sheathed one of his daggers and glanced back.

“Let’s head back,” Greg said.

Clean Narrative Version of Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

The Stego’s Bite

The walk back felt longer than the trip out.

Probably because Greg kept stopping.

Every few steps he paused, listening. Counting quietly under his breath. Every thirteen seconds he stopped again, scanning the tree line before continuing.

Von didn’t ask why.

When Greg finally stopped for good, they were less than a mile from the wall.

Greg crouched slightly and whispered.

“I can’t shake a feeling.”

He looked back the way they had come.

“So I’m not going back until I do.”

Greg looked at Von.

“You know the way back?”

Von nodded.

Greg reached into his pocket and pulled out a small metal piece"part of an armor plate, scratched and worn.

He pressed it into Von’s hand.

“Give this to Terry,” Greg said.

“Bow when you do.”

Von frowned slightly.

“Don’t stop bowing until Terry forces you to.”

Von opened his mouth to ask something.

But Greg had already turned away.

Greg drew both of his larger daggers.

Then he slipped into the forest.

Within seconds he was gone.

Von stood there alone.

The forest was getting dark.

Too dark.

He started back toward the wall.

When he was close enough to see the outline of the gate, a howl cut through the air.

It lasted longer than any wolf call he had heard before.

Then another answered.

Then another.

Soon there were dozens.

The sound rolled across the land like thunder.

Von’s chest tightened.

Greg.

He wanted to turn back.

But he knew he couldn’t.

He was too tired.

Too weak.

He forced himself to keep walking.

The howling continued until he reached the gate.

The moment he touched the wood, a strange ominous feeling filled his mind.

But before he could think about it"

The gate opened.

Terry stood on the other side.

Terry’s eyes immediately searched behind Von.

“Where’s Greg?”

Von stepped inside.

Then he dropped to one knee.

He bowed.

With his left hand he held up the metal piece Greg had given him.

Terry took it.

“Rise,” Terry said.

Von stayed kneeling.

Terry stared at him for a moment.

Then he chuckled.

“Greg, you douchebag.”

Terry turned and walked away.

Suddenly he began shouting orders.

“Torches!”

“Wake everyone!”

“Training grounds!”

People began moving quickly through the village.

Within minutes the Stegos were gathering.

Terry returned to Von.

Without warning he grabbed Von by the hair.

Then he drove a sharp uppercut into Von’s jaw.

The blow forced Von to his feet.

Von immediately raised his hands into a defensive stance.

Terry nodded.

“Good.”

“He taught you well.”

Then he added quietly.

“Control… and trust.”

Terry gestured forward.

“Follow me.”

They walked into the center of the training grounds.

Dozens of Stegos had gathered.

Men and women stood in rows.

Trainers lined the edges.

Some faces Von recognized.

Others he had never seen before.

They all watched.

Terry brought Von to the center.

Then he raised his voice.

“Brothers and sisters of Stego.”

He lifted the metal plate Greg had sent.

“Greg has welcomed our newest brother.”

Terry looked at Von.

“Von Vegas.”

Then Terry glanced down at the partial wolf head still stuck to Von’s armored thigh.

A grin spread across his face.

“Of the Stegos…”

He paused.

Then finished the title.

“…the Stego’s Bite.”

Chapter Fourteen

The Alpha

After the ceremony, Terry grabbed two trackers who carried themselves like elites.

After congratulating Von�"Stego’s Bite�"they introduced themselves.

Their names were Luke and John.

Luke carried a spear.

John carried a massive sword.

Terry nodded and gestured for Von to come walk with them.

The fatigue was hitting Von harder now. His vision swam slightly and he felt lightheaded.

Terry waited until they were far enough away from the others before speaking.

“Tell me what happened. Quickly.”

Von, still shocked by the urgency, explained everything as fast and clearly as he could.

Luke and John exchanged looks.

They nodded.

“We know where he went, Terry.”

Without hesitation they turned and began heading toward the gate.

Von tried to follow but could barely stand.

Terry looked back at him.

“Choose a room and rest.”

Then Terry followed Luke and John toward the wall.

Von staggered back toward the Stego temple stronghold.

He barely made it up the stairs.

The closest vacant room was enough.

He collapsed.

Darkness came quickly.

But it wasn’t empty.

It was warm.

His wife and daughter were there.

They looked around the room where Von had passed out.

In the dream they gently helped him to the bed.

His daughter looked around excitedly.

“Dad! This place is beautiful! Is this our new home?”

His wife softly removed Von’s boots and armor.

“He can’t speak or move here yet, dear,” she said gently.

“But soon… soon he will.”

Tears filled Von’s eyes.

He couldn’t tell if he was trying to keep them open or if it was because of how sad and happy he felt.

His wife looked at him warmly.

“Von… there is no pain here. And we are happy to see you.”

She reached out and gently wiped his vision clear.

“I’m sorry we caused you to collapse. Your daughter couldn’t wait to see you.”

She smiled.

“Honestly… neither could I.”

His daughter hugged him tightly, resting her head on his neck.

For a moment he smelled the autumn breeze that always clung to her clothes when she ran through leaves as a child.

His wife gently pulled her away.

“We will see him again soon, dear.”

Von couldn’t move.

Not even enough to return the hug.

His voice finally broke free.

“No… please.”

This time the tears came freely.

Von woke to Terry gathering everyone on the ground floor of the temple.

John stood nearby with a massive claw mark tearing across his left ear.

He couldn’t put weight on his right leg.

Luke’s spear had been broken into a short spear, and his neck and chin were heavily wrapped in bandages.

Terry led a drowsy and grumpy healer toward them.

Once the wounded were stabilized, Terry spoke.

“The wolves have Greg.”

Silence fell over the room.

“They are slowly feeding him to the young.”

“The alpha is keeping him alive.”

“They’re in a fortified cave.”

“We barely made it out.”

John and Luke immediately protested.

“You mean you barely made it out while fighting and protecting our escape.”

Terry shook his head.

“The Stegos live together.”

“And survive together.”

He looked around the room.

“The first mistake yesterday was Greg hunting the alpha alone for revenge for his parents.”

“The second mistake…”

His voice hardened.

“They hunted a Stego.”

Terry turned.

“All who are ready. With me.”

They left behind only the bare minimum guards, archers, and wounded.

The rest marched.

Von followed them.

He remembered how cautious Greg had been on this path.

One of the veteran spear instructors walked beside him.

“Joseph, right?” Von asked.

Joseph turned and smiled.

“Yes. What is it?”

Von hesitated, choosing his words carefully.

“The howls last night… when Greg left… it sounded like hundreds.”

Joseph immediately gave a sharp whistle.

Everyone stopped.

Terry approached.

Joseph gestured toward Von.

Von continued.

“We were ambushed before without an alpha.”

“I think they may try it again.”

“But differently.”

Terry’s eyes widened slightly.

Then he began issuing orders rapidly.

“Wedge formation.”

“Four left flank archers.”

“Four right flank archers.”

“Half the tanks forward.”

“One third rear guard.”

“Split the rest along the outer perimeter.”

Then Terry placed Von just behind the rear tank line.

Forty minutes later they heard it.

A man screaming.

Growling.

The cave was ahead.

Terry raised his hand.

“This is where they got us last time.”

“We were lured into the cave and ambushed.”

“Slow approach.”

They moved carefully.

When they were within three hundred feet of the cave entrance�"

A wolf appeared behind the formation.

It began howling.

Then larger wolves sprinted from the cave.

Each carried huge boulders in their mouths.

Archers immediately fired.

Then Terry shouted.

“No! Hit the ones in the rear!”

“They’re guiding the big ones�"they can’t see!”

Too late.

Arrows struck the boulders.

Behind them surged the rest of the pack.

The boulder wolves slammed into the tank line.

Some died instantly.

The boulders shattered jaws or tore their heads apart.

Others staggered but dropped the rocks and were killed.

But the tanks paid the price.

Crushed armor.

Bent metal.

Limited vision.

The wolves swarmed them.

Pulling.

Biting.

Tearing.

Behind them, Terry became a circle of death.

Every palm strike landed on a skull or vital point.

Each strike killed.

Each body flew into another wolf.

Others weren’t so lucky.

Those relying purely on durability were dragged down by sheer numbers.

Then the wolves attacked from behind.

Von snapped out of his stunned state.

He drew his dagger.

The tanks shouted together:

“Together we live!”

The rest answered.

“Together we survive!”

The tanks lunged forward together at the last second, weakening the wolves’ momentum.

Young wolves swarmed from the sides, biting at their legs.

Von cut them down one by one.

The tanks began chanting war cries in rhythm.

They lunged forward in sudden bursts.

Their shield bashes crushed wolf skulls.

Terry began shouting challenges.

The wolves grew confused.

Their coordination broke.

Soon the front line of spearmen and swordsmen formed a wedge with Terry at the point.

They began slowly pushing forward.

The younger wolves were already dying.

The flanking groups rotated constantly, protecting the archers.

At last the outside forces were defeated.

Order returned.

Terry and a handful of elites entered the cave.

The rest were ordered to guard the entrance.

Joseph nudged Von.

“Come on. We’re backup halfway inside.”

Von had no idea how many wolves he had killed.

He had heard no music in his mind.

No humming.

So he sheathed his dagger.

Immediately the system appeared.

Level 4 Obtained

+4 to All Attributes

Dagger Skill Level 11

Mutation Bonus Acquired: Pack Hunter

When fighting with members of your clan, gain attack bonus based on group size.

Von grinned.

Joseph noticed.

“Whatever you see,” Joseph said quietly.

“Do not rush in.”

“I’m serious.”

They heard it before they saw it.

Deep inside the cave�"

The Alpha.

It had two sets of eyes.

Its fangs were as long as swords.

It was the size of a bus.

Its fur was crimson.

Covered in scars.

The most disturbing thing…

Its teeth moved like swords in any direction.

When it turned its head�"

Von saw Greg.

The alpha had impaled him.

Two upper fangs through his shoulders.

Two lower fangs through his thighs.

The wolf leaned its head and drank blood from Greg’s wounds.

Then it cast a small healing spell.

Keeping him alive.

Terry stepped forward.

The alpha spoke directly into their minds.

“Easy meat…”

It yawned.

“This one… like his parents… will be ripped apart.”

“I could do it with a simple yawn, meat.”

The Stegos gripped their weapons.

Von looked down.

A pile nearby.

Greg’s legs.

They had been ripping them off.

Healing him.

And doing it again.

Greg was unconscious.

Tears filled Von’s eyes.

Joseph grabbed his shoulder.

“Watch.”

Terry walked forward.

The alpha began pulling Greg apart again.

Greg woke screaming.

Terry stopped.

Greg looked around.

“Joseph… are you okay?”

Greg looked at Terry.

“I hear you…”

“One shot.”

Joseph slowly removed his armor.

He raised his spear.

Greg whispered weakly.

“Terry… I’m ready.”

The alpha didn’t understand them.

But it noticed Greg’s calm.

It opened its mouth to rip him apart"

joseph's spear moved through the air.

Silent.

Fast.

Greg died instantly.

Joseph walked to collect his spear.

He retrieved it quietly.

The alpha collapsed seconds later.

Terry had never moved.

Terry lifted what remained of Greg.

They returned to the others.

Carrying their dead.

And the head of the Alpha.

The march home was silent.

Chapter Fifteen

The Silent Ambush

The march back was silent and slow.

The weight of the dead was heavier than the bodies themselves. No one spoke. Boots scraped against dirt and rock as the Stegos made their way toward the wall. The sullen atmosphere clung to them like fog. It would not be easy to hide. It would not go unnoticed by the other factions watching from the wilds.

Von took it hardest.

His family had been taken from him already. Now the first brother in arms he had ever known�"Greg�"had died slowly, torn apart by wolves while Von had lived.

Something was trying to surface in his mind.

He could feel it pushing upward from somewhere deep. Something important. Something that needed solving. Not comfort. Not grief.

A problem.

But the thought slipped away before he could grasp it.

The army continued forward.

When the Stego wall finally came into view, Terry slowed.

Something was wrong.

There were no archers.

The torches that normally burned along the wall were out. The only flames visible were a few weak torches near the gate itself.

Terry immediately raised a hand.

“Pull back,” he whispered to the officers beside him. “Wait.”

The order moved quietly through the column.

The soldiers carrying the dead and wounded began shifting toward the tree line, trying to stay hidden in the shadows of the forest. Slowly the army drifted away from the open ground.

But Terry did not move.

He stood watching the wall.

Halfway to the trees, a streak of fire cut across the dark sky.

A fire arrow.

It had been shot from a tree west of the main force.

Joseph reacted instantly.

“Defensive positions!”

The Stegos moved without hesitation.

Armored soldiers turned outward, forming protective rings. Archers shouted orders, dragging the dead together and stacking the bodies into a pyramid to gain elevation. The wounded crowded around the base of the grim structure to brace it and steady the archers above.

Spearmen and swordsmen filled the gaps between formations.

Behind them, the healers uncorked small vials and began drinking a mixture of water and glowing liquid.

The moment the glowing substance appeared, the first arrows came screaming in.

Some struck the healers directly, killing them instantly.

Others landed around them, embedding in the ground and bodies nearby.

The arrows began vibrating violently after impact.

The sound was strange.

Like bees caught in a violent wind.

Von stood in a mixed position just behind the spearmen but in front of the swordsmen.

One of the swordsmen behind him had chosen to wear his shield across his back instead of carrying it forward.

That single decision was the only thing that saved Von’s life.

The swordsman turned to look toward the healers as they were being struck down.

A sharp vibrating whine filled the air.

Then�"

A small explosion.

The front of the swordsman took the blast.

Shrapnel slammed into his armor and flesh.

But the shield on his back stopped the fragments from passing through him.

The force of the explosion hurled him forward.

His body crashed directly into Von.

Von felt his left arm snap just below the elbow as the man slammed into him.

Both of them fell to the ground.

Amid the chaos someone shouted:

“They’re aiming at the potions! No potions!”

The glowing liquid had revealed the healers.

They were slaughtered immediately.

The wounded gathered near them were killed as well.

The body pyramid collapsed on one side as the archers were shredded by explosions.

The entire middle of the formation was annihilated.

Von heard more vibrations.

More screaming.

The world rang like a struck bell.

He tried to push the swordsman off and realized part of the shrapnel had punched through the man’s armor and into Von’s left shoulder.

It took several painful attempts to pull free.

Eventually the metal tore loose.

Von rolled away, gasping.

The arrow bombardment stopped.

Now the real attack began.

Figures emerged from the darkness.

Warriors wearing armor made from wolf fur.

Their helmets ended in curved fangs. Metal ears rose from the sides, tipped with spikes.

They moved strangely.

In each group, one fighter’s eyes glowed red.

Where that warrior pointed, the others moved.

They spoke no words.

Only hand signals.

Whistles.

The Stegos were collapsing.

The attackers trapped elite fighters with nets, then fired normal arrows coated in toxin.

The weaker defenders were simply cut down.

Von struggled to stay upright.

The battlefield moved around him.

Boots struck him.

Weapons clipped his armor.

Someone stepped on his leg.

Then a mace swung wildly and knocked his helmet off.

His left eye refused to open.

Still he forced himself to crawl.

He dragged himself through the dirt toward the nearest darkness.

Slowly.

Painfully.

At last he reached a patch of thick brush that hid him from the torchlight.

From there he could see the final group of Stegos.

And Terry.

Terry had been struck many times.

Blood covered his armor.

It looked like death by a thousand cuts.

The remaining fighters were dying around him.

Eventually only Terry remained.

The attackers closed in.

Spears and shields surrounded him.

The circle grew smaller.

Then Terry shouted:

“Last stand!”

Wind rushed inward toward him like a tunnel.

His wounds did not heal.

His strength did not return.

Instead he dropped into a horse stance.

His hands began to glow.

Blue in one.

Red in the other.

The attackers hesitated.

Then the spears thrust again.

Terry grabbed two of them at once and twisted.

The spear holders were yanked into the shield line.

Before they could recover, Terry seized both men by the throat.

His grip crushed their windpipes instantly.

He dropped their bodies and leapt clear of the circle.

In a blur of motion he sprinted toward the archers.

They barely had time to loose one arrow.

Terry dodged it.

In the same motion he grabbed several of their strange vibrating arrows and drove them into the nearest archer’s chest.

The arrows began to hum.

The others turned to run.

Too late.

Terry was already among them.

His hands moved like blades.

He twisted and struck in impossible angles, shattering knees and dropping archers before they could escape.

Then he leapt away.

The buzzing arrows detonated.

Screams filled the clearing.

Many of the attackers turned in confusion.

Terry charged again.

Toward the group that appeared to be commanding the assault.

Darts shot toward him.

He dodged most.

One struck his right wrist.

Without hesitation Terry formed a knife hand with his left.

The motion was quick.

Clean.

He sliced his own arm off at the elbow.

The blue glow faded with the severed hand.

The red light burning in his remaining fist grew brighter.

Another volley of darts flew.

He dodged again.

Then Terry stopped.

He looked toward the hidden commander and spoke calmly.

“Am I so fierce that I should be ended by darts?”

A large man stepped forward.

He wore no helmet.

Only a cowl made from a strange fur that seemed to swallow the light around it.

Four black diamonds were stitched into the back of the cloak.

He dragged a massive double-headed axe behind him.

His armor was a stitched patchwork of hides from beasts Von had never seen before.

Terry did not move.

He raised his remaining fist.

The towering man approached slowly.

Not cautious.

Not reckless.

Just certain.

When they came within striking distance, Terry watched the man’s weapon hand and stance.

The assassin’s left hand flicked forward.

A hidden blade struck Terry just above the waist.

Terry staggered.

The ability burning inside him faltered under the weight of his wounds.

The axe moved.

One clean swing.

Terry was cut in half.

The top half of his body fell backward.

His glowing fist dimmed.

Flickered once.

Then went out.

Chapter 16

Wade never wanted this.

He never wanted the cult, the death, or the violence.

This was the work of people worse than him.

When he came to this world, he wanted nothing more than to be left alone. The ones who took people and forced them into this world were the true enemy.

Wade no longer wanted answers, closure, or peace.

Destruction was all he wanted.

He figured that if he killed enough people, it would force the abductors to bring more victims into this world. The more people they had to take, the greater the chance they would eventually slip up.

Wade had decided long ago that he would be the one waiting for that mistake.

He was returning from a hunt when his familiar suddenly sent a message through their bond.

The cove was under attack.

The price for Wade’s mental abilities had never been a surprise to him. He would have paid it again without hesitation.

But all the trouble he went through to obtain his demonic, bloodthirsty familiar...

That part had not been worth it.

Wade believed the wolves he had captured and brought to Methose would have been enough protection. Apparently not. The scouting pack had been killed near that stupid safe area.

Once Methose completed another evolution, he was supposed to be able to force safe zones closed. Wade wasn’t sure if that was even true.

Every time Methose evolved, he restarted his levels from the beginning. It was a massive risk every time.

And the food upkeep…

They hunted constantly just to sustain the creature.

Then the feeling returned again.

Ten times stronger.

Wade immediately gave a mental command.

Drop the meat. Double time back to the cove.

By the time they arrived, it was already over.

A few remaining wolves wandered the area, behaving like normal animals. They were feeding on the remains of someone they had killed.

And Methose…

Methose was headless.

Someone had killed Methose.

In another life Wade had been a top profiler. He knew how to control his emotions, how to restrain them.

All the sacrifices.

All the time.

Everything he had done to build this.

The members of Wade’s coven dropped to one knee, bowing both to Wade and to what remained of Methose.

Wade had shared something with Methose that he could never fully explain.

It was the first being in this world he had considered an equal.

Now it was gone.

Without Methose, they could not create more members for the coven.

This would not stand.

Wade spoke to them through the link.

The coven were bodies of long-dead humans, animated when Wade and Methose forced wolf souls into them. They could not enter towns themselves, but Wade could command them through his Mirror Mind ability, which he had shared with his officers.

The attackers had not left long ago.

They had wounded with them.

They would have to move slower on the return.

Wade looked toward one of his officers, a man gifted with powerful illusion abilities.

The officer immediately understood.

He selected four others and moved ahead, their speed enhanced by shadow magic.

Then Wade gave another command.

Archers. Retrieve the Methose bone shard arrows and darts.

Whenever Methose evolved, his previous body would shed, leaving behind materials that could be used to create weapons and chemicals. It was one of his unique abilities.

Those remains had been turned into the bone shard arrows.

Wade mentally gathered the rest of the coven and gave the next order.

The tamed wolves remain here. Guard the cove.

When Wade reached the path the attackers had taken, he confirmed something.

They were wounded.

Perfect.

He moved ahead of them and ensured the illusion unit had prepared the trap correctly.

The illusion would blind the archers on the wall and create a sound barrier so no one inside could hear what was happening.

It would not last forever.

But it would last long enough.

Wade positioned his forces in the forest west of the entrance.

The illusion unit waited.

The spell was cast at the last possible moment�"when the torches of the approaching force would normally have been visible from the wall.

The illusion spread across the battlefield.

Maintaining it strained the casters, but the group shared the burden.

As the Stegos approached the wall, Wade watched through the link.

His original plan had been to wait until they gathered at the gate.

But something better happened.

The enemy leader gave an order.

The entire formation began moving away from the gate and into the open ground.

And the leader kept watching the illusion.

Now or never.

Wade sent the command.

A fire arrow shot into the sky.

Then his voice echoed through the link.

Archers. Use the bone arrows. Aim for any glowing lights.

Those will be the healers.

Then he waited.

The enemy formation had organized itself surprisingly quickly. Wade had to admit he was impressed.

Then he saw it.

The glow.

The bone shard arrows were released.

Wade had never actually used them before. He had only relied on what Methose told him they would do.

The destruction was…

Awe-inspiring.

The chaos they caused was immediate and devastating.

Wade thought briefly about how useful they could have been if they could be reproduced another way.

But that wasn’t possible.

And there were only so many.

Hold the shard arrows, Wade commanded.

That’s all we have.

Use normal arrows now.

Then he gave the final order.

Soldiers"after two volleys, move in.

Dart unit stays back with command.

After the orders passed through the mind link, they were followed without hesitation.

The slaughter began.

Yes, Wade was taking losses�"but the objective was being met. That was all that mattered. Losses could be replaced. Opportunities could not.

The only true setback came from their leader.

When the monk broke through the line and reached the archers, killing several and wasting precious bone shard arrows, Wade felt immediate irritation. Those arrows could not be replaced.

This needed to end.

Quickly.

No mercy.

As Terry dodged the second volley of darts, Wade felt something ripple through the link.

Fear.

Exhaustion.

The illusion unit was nearing its limit.

It was about to fall.

Then Terry spoke.

“Am I so fierce that I should be ended by darts?”

Wade moved.

He stepped forward, dragging his double-headed war axe behind him. With his other hand, he prepared a small blade�"a throwing dagger crafted from one of Methose’s teeth.

The weapon carried a potent weakening effect.

As Wade approached, he made sure his movements were deliberate. Noticeable. He wanted Terry’s attention. Wanted him watching the wrong things.

The wounded monk, barely holding himself together, took the bait.

At the perfect moment, Wade flicked his wrist.

The tooth dagger flew.

It struck.

Immediately, Wade followed through.

He stepped in and swung his axe in a cross-body motion, rising upward in a brutal horizontal arc.

Through the motion of his strike, he felt it.

The illusion shattered.

The battlefield was exposed.

Wade did not hesitate.

Retreat. Take prisoners.

The command moved instantly through the link.

Terry’s lower half of his body finally gave in to gravity and collapsed to the ground.

Chapter 17

Wade had lost nearly half his forces.

He made sure that most of those who survived were his officers.

The illusion vanished like fog wiped from a mirror.

One by one, the mages who had held it for so long began to collapse. What started as migraines quickly turned into seizures… and then strokes.

Wade tsked.

Without a word, he gave a mental command.

Priority�"retrieve Methose’s head.

The search ended too quickly.

Before they could fully recover it, arrows began raining down from the wall.

They struck around them.

Through them.

The wall had not been empty.

Wade heard movement behind him.

The gate force was organizing.

They were preparing to pursue.

Some of the prisoners were struck down by stray arrows as the volleys continued. Their bodies dropped where they stood, forgotten in the chaos.

Wade did not hesitate.

Retreat.

The command snapped through the link.

Wade turned and ran.

His officers closed around him, forming a moving shield against the incoming arrows. For a moment, Wade didn’t even realize what they were doing.

He hadn’t given that order.

They were protecting him on their own.

By the time they reached a safe distance, the force Wade once commanded had been reduced to a mere handful.

He did not stop.

Not once.

Not until the sun had fully set.

Chapter 18

Von was barely able to stay conscious.

Through blurred vision, he watched the enemies who had ambushed them retreating into the distance.

He hoped�"desperately�"that someone was still alive.

As much as his position allowed, he forced himself to look around.

There were survivors.

A few prisoners still lived, but they were under the effects of whatever toxin had been used to capture them. Their bodies twitched, unresponsive, caught somewhere between awareness and paralysis.

Von felt a small sense of relief.

Some of the higher leadership had survived.

Then the arrows stopped.

The gate opened.

Foot soldiers in armor began to slowly walk out.

Something about it felt wrong.

They didn’t rush.

They didn’t call out.

They simply walked.

The swords in their hands were already covered in blood.

Von’s mind struggled to understand what he was seeing.

Then one of them wordlessly gestured toward a body.

Joseph.

Unconscious.

Alive.

The soldiers surrounded him.

A shadow fell over the ground.

Von’s gaze shifted upward slightly.

Smoke.

…Smoke?

From what?

Then he saw it.

Flames.

The top of the Stego temple was burning.

It clicked.

Too late.

A voice spoke from among the soldiers.

Cold. Calculating.

Discussing who among them was the lowest level.

Who would benefit most…

From killing Joseph.

Von couldn’t take it.

The pain.

The fatigue.

He would have welcomed both over what he was witnessing.

The thoughts came back with a vengeance.

Betrayal.

Other factions.

This wasn’t just an ambush.

The Stegos had been targeted from both sides.

Von began to crawl.

Slowly.

Dragging himself deeper into the dense vegetation.

Every movement felt heavier than the last.

His body was shutting down.

He moved until he couldn’t.

Then he collapsed.

His injured eye still wouldn’t open. When he fell, his good eye faced the ground, leaving him in darkness.

Sleep began to pull him under.

But just before it took him�"

He felt it.

Saw it.

Waiting notices.

Chapter 19

Von awoke soaked in rain.

The downpour had not stopped. Water ran over his face, into his clothes, through the dirt beneath him.

But the pain was gone.

The headache had vanished.

His eye opened.

Then both.

For the first time since the battle, his vision was clear.

His clothes were still torn. Still soaked in blood. Still stiff from everything he had survived.

The prompt was still there.

Waiting.

Struggling to pull his attention.

Von ignored it.

Something else called to him first.

His blade.

He felt it.

A pull.

A need.

Von unsheathed the dagger.

The moment it left the sheath, something felt different.

It was sharper.

Longer.

More… alive.

He didn’t question it.

He instinctively knew the prompt was important�"but he needed to be ready before giving it his full attention.

Von whispered,

“Sentry.”

The blade immediately lifted from his hand.

It hovered.

Then began to rotate slowly above him.

A countdown appeared in his mind.

The blade spun faster, adjusting its position, circling him in a controlled orbit. It stabilized above his head, spinning just enough to break the falling rain.

Like a shield.

Like a guardian.

Only then did Von turn his attention to the prompt.

The moment he focused�"

It hit him.

A surge.

Power flooded through his body.

(All attributes +13)

(All active effects enhanced)

His muscles tightened.

His senses sharpened.

Everything felt… clearer.

Stronger.

Then the message continued.

(Congratulations, Von Vegas.)

(You are now the leader of the Stegos faction.)

Von’s expression didn’t change.

But something inside him shifted.

Then�"

(Caution. A debt is in effect.)

(A choice is offered.)

Von didn’t like that.

But the system didn’t wait.

(Option One: Recreate the Stegos in your own ideals.)

(Option Two: The Stegos become an ending faction.)

The rain fell harder.

The blade continued to spin above him, cutting through the downpour.

Von didn’t move.

He didn’t answer.

He thought.

He saw them.

The people of the Stegos.

The training grounds.

The broken bodies.

Greg.

Terry.

Joseph.

Then�"

His wife.

His daughter.

The way they smiled.

The way they disappeared.

The weight of it all pressed down on him.

For a long moment, there was nothing.

Just rain.

Just memory.

Just silence.

Then Von made his choice.

The blade above him stopped.

Chapter 20

Michael watched.

One by one, the reactions came.

Yellow Quittance Adumbrate faction flags were raised and fastened across what had once been Stego territory.

The change was immediate.

Absolute.

Armor was stripped.

Stone was broken down.

Anything metal was gathered, melted, and reforged.

What had been…

Was gone.

What was now stood in its place without hesitation.

Michael’s eyes moved across the other faction leaders.

Shock.

Confusion.

Calculation.

They were all trying to understand what they were witnessing.

There had been two dominant factions.

Quittance Adumbrate.

And the Stegos.

The rest had been half their size.

Now one was gone.

And the other stood uncontested.

So they accepted it.

They had no choice.

Michael, however…

Was not satisfied.

Something was wrong.

He had not received the reward.

No notification.

No confirmation.

Nothing for destroying a rival faction.

Michael’s thoughts slowed.

Focused.

That meant only one thing.

The faction wasn’t truly gone.

Either�"

There was a hidden artifact.

A core.

A mechanic he had not uncovered yet.

Or�"

Someone was still alive.

Michael stopped mid-thought.

His gaze sharpened.

Someone is still alive.

He turned slowly, making sure to meet the eyes of each faction leader present.

“We will take no other factions.”

His voice was calm.

Measured.

Deliberate.

He paused.

Letting the silence stretch just long enough.

Then he continued.

“We all understand what happens if something like this is not finished.”

He didn’t explain.

He didn’t need to.

Michael had already guided them to the conclusion long before this moment. Dozens of conversations. Subtle pushes. Carefully placed concerns.

Sixty moves ago, this outcome had already been decided.

Now they believed it was their idea.

He let them sit in it.

Then he shifted.

The stick.

“Send scouts,” Michael said.

“Find the last of this rabble that would stand against us.”

No one argued.

No one agreed.

The other faction leaders turned and left, already giving orders, already moving to act.

Not because they trusted Michael.

But because action was easier than doubt.

And doubt…

Was dangerous now.

Michael watched them go.

Silent.

Calculating.