Kaizer did not sleep, he could not sleep. He lay in his bedroll with one eye open, listening to the heart of the camp. Fires popped and settled. Someone laughed too loudly, then choked it back. A baby cried for a moment somewhere in the workers’ section before a woman shushed it into silence. Guards shifted positions. Boots scuffed dirt.

  He kept replaying Tomas’s boot connecting with the tailor’s ribs. The camp had rules. Everyone knew them. Hunters, scouts, guards and warriors ate first. This group of people spoke first and decided what was “for the good of the camp”. Everyone else learned to lower their eyes and accept it.

  Kaizer stared at the dark fabric of his tent and tried to convince himself it was normal. Being together was better than dying alone. That mantra seemed to be getting harder and harder to follow. The thought was becoming unsettling. Morning came grey and thin, like the sky itself was tired.

  Kaizer moved through the camp with his spear resting easy in his hand, the bone haft warmed by his grip. His new leather sat better on his shoulders now that he had bled into it and washed it. People nodded when he passed. Some with respect, but more notably, many with empty gaunt politeness. Others seemed to seethe with hate just under the surface.

  He made his way to the ration line and found Tomas waiting there like he owned the space around him. Tomas’s eyes slid over Kaizer’s armour, then to his furred arm and spear. “That went well for you,” Tomas said, voice casual, too casual.

  Kaizer didn’t take the bait. “What do you want.” Tomas grinned. “Straight to it. Good. Come with me.” Kaizer hesitated, then followed. He didn’t trust Tomas, not anymore but refusing to go with him would draw too much attention. It would start a conversation that Kaizer wasn’t yet ready to have. Tomas led him past the main fires, past the loud cluster where Jake was already talking with his hands, and toward the higher ground where the command tents sat like a second camp inside the first. Cloth walls. Better stakes, rope… in fact, better everything.

  A man stood outside one of those tents with his hands behind his back, posture relaxed in a way that made Kaizer’s instincts itch. He was older than Tomas by years, but held himself like someone who had never been told no. Kaizer recognised him immediately, not by his face, but by the way he shifted when he was near. Elira’s father.

  He had never been formally introduced, but Kaizer had watched Elira move when this man entered a space. Not fear exactly. Not obedience but something in between respect and deferment. Similar to how people seemed to defer to Elira herself when she was around.

  “Tomas,” the main said. “This him?” Tomas nodded. “Kaizer, meet Vice Commander Harlan.” Harlan’s eyes ran over Kaizer with a slow, measured assessment. He did not look at Kaizer like a person. He looked at Kaizer like a tool. A weapon that had wandered into his hand. “You did well on your run,” Harlan said. “Rourke’s pleased.”

  Kaizer kept his expression flat. “I did my part, no more, no less.”

  “That’s the right answer,” Harlan replied. “Now we need you to do more for us.” Kaizer waited. Harlan gestured toward the camp below them. “You saw Tomas correct the tailor.” Kaizer’s jaw tightened. “I saw a man get beaten because he did not have material,:

  Harlan gave a small nod, as if Kaizer had confirmed the point. “Kaizer, it’s time for you to understand. Combat classes are what keeps this camp alive. The tutorial wants us to survive. No member of this camp could do so without people like you and me. Without us, everyone would be dead within the day. That is simple reality. That means the people who create the most value are the people who hunt, who kill, who take risks. These are the people that deserve priority.”

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  Kaizers eyes narrowed but he didn’t say anything. He let this man rant. “Look. The truth is, we’re above those people for a reason. This is the structure Rourke is creating in this camp. It might look like we’re treating those people badly, but aren’t we the new nobles of society? Surely you can’t expect earth to be the same when we get back, we’re just taking our rightful place.”

  Kaizer took a small step backwards. “Having priority for pulling your weight is one thing. Treating people like they are less than you is another.” Tomas scoffed. “But they are less.” Kaizer turned his head slowly toward Tomas. “You believe that.” Tomas took a half-step forward, shoulders squaring. “Come on man, you know this is how the world works now. You either accept it, or you end up under a boot.”

  Harlan’s voice remained calm. “This is not cruelty. It is structure. We protect the workers, they are fed, given purpose. In exchange, they serve. Combat classes are going to be the peak in the future because we risk the most. That’s nobility, Kaizer. That’s order.”

  Kaizer felt something cold settle in his chest. “No.” The word came out flat. Certain. Harlan’s expression did not change. “No. I won’t live like that,” Kaizer said. “And I can’t be a part of a camp that believes that either. This is just like slavery with extra steps.” Tomas’s eyes hardened. “You think you’re better than us.”

  Kaizer grip tightened on the spear without meaning to. “It has nothing to do with better. I just think you’re wrong.” An awkward silence stretched between them. It was Harlan who broke the silence first. He let out a slow breath. “You’re strong. That makes you dangerous if you decide to be moral about things.”

  Kaizer did not blink. “That’s a strange way to say it.” Harlan stepped closer to Kaizer, almost too close. Kaizer could smell the cleanliness from the man. He clearly had a source of running water not being shared with the camp. “You have two choices,” Harlan said. “You integrate, like the rest of us, or you leave. We’ll claim you’ve left for a dangerous mission, scouting other encampments and dungeons.”

  Kaizer understood what he was hearing. This was a fall in line or disappear scenario. Tomas watched him like a dog waiting for permission to bite. His cleaver was now in his hands. When had that happened? Kaizer forced his face into calm. “I’ll leave.”

  Harlan nodded once, satisfied. “Good. Pack. Go before midday. We’ll let Rourke know you volunteered.” Kaizer turned without another word and walked away. He did not run. He did not show anger. He walked like a man obeying, because he knew that was the safer option. If they thought he was leaving quietly, they would be slower to act. Kaizer already knew they weren’t going to just let him disappear. They would wait somewhere outside of the camp.

  His tent was still where it had been, small and plain. Kaizer dropped to a knee and began to pack with one hand. Meat scraps. The canteen. His skinning knife. Cloth. He rolled his bedroll tight, tied it off, then paused. He thought of Rourke’s laugh. The slap on the back. The campfire talks where Rourke acted like a tired but decent man trying to keep people alive. Kaizer didn’t want to leave without at least saying something. At the very least, he had been clothed, sheltered and healed by these people.

  Maybe it was foolish or some sense of guilt. Maybe it was the last piece of his old life reaching for a sense of decency. He stood and walked toward the command tents. No one stopped him. Not at first. He passed the edge of the workers’ section and felt eyes on him. Eyes of wariness, watching and still deferring to him. As he neared the command area, Kaizers senses shifted.

  Something was off. Not in the open. It wasn’t visible. It was a pressure in the air, faint but present, a pressure like the hum he had felt coming from Elira’s staff. Kaizer slowed, taking careful steps. He followed the pressure the same way he followed scent trails. Around a storage tent. Past stacked crates. Behind a line of tarp-covered bundles that smelled faintly of dried blood and old sweat.

  He followed a narrow path where grass had been trampled out from use. Kaizer stepped into it and immediately realised why no one ever heard anything from up here. The sound of the camp dulled, muted. Not completely gone, but it was like a ringing in his ears. His breath sounded too loud inside his own skull. Kaizer moved forward, extremely slowly, being careful of any potential traps.

  The path led him behind the command tents, into a section fenced off with rough timber. Not high, or even strong walls. Just enough to show that this was a restricted area. Kaizer entered as stealthily as possible. Inside were cages. Not animal cages. Humans in cages.

  Rusty bars. Ropes. Old chains. A bucket overturned in one corner. The smell hit him like a fist. Rot. Urine. Old blood. Fear that had soaked into wood and iron. People sat inside the cages, unmoving, eyes hollow. Some staring at nothing. Some flinching whenever Kaizer moved. One woman, half naked pressed herself into the back corner like a wounded animal, showing complete fear. A man with a broken nose clutched at the bars with trembling hands, fingers raw and split.

  Kaizer took a step closer and saw it properly. Marks. Bruises, not from monsters. Cuts, deliberate. The kind of wounds that came from boredom. From power. Torture. These people were objects in the eyes of others. Kaizer’s vision narrowed. His ears rang. For a moment he did not breathe. What was it he had been chanting? Being together is better than dying alone. The thought shattered into splinters.

  Kaizer turned his head slowly toward the largest tent at the top of the hill. Rourke’s tent. People had to pay.