Barrett spread his hands wide, palms up, as if presenting the entire miserable, murderous planet to them.

  “This world,” he said, voice echoing faintly off stone and damp earth, “is called Gateway.”

  The word hung in the air.

  No one spoke.

  Pippy leaned forward, eyes bright, like she’d just been told the name of a secret kingdom. Granny’s expression tightened with thought, filing the name away. Maku looked half-asleep, chin propped on his fist, mana orbs lazily circling his fingers. Rei, meanwhile, scanned the cave like she was the only sane person trapped in a room full of lunatics.

  “That’s it?” Rei finally said, breaking the silence. “That’s the big reveal?”

  Barrett tilted his head. “What else would you like to know?”

  “How about why we’re here,” she replied flatly. “Let’s start with that.”

  Barrett smiled—just a little too much. He loved this part. Loved the way people leaned in when they realized he knew something they didn’t.

  “We were chosen,” he said. “Some of us by the system. Others by…certain people.” He paused, letting the weight of it settle. “Different paths. Same destination.”

  Maku yawned loudly. “Cool. Can I go now?”

  Barrett’s eye twitched.

  “Wait—wait,” he snapped. “I’m not done.”

  He drew in a breath and let it out slow. “We’re here to defend humanity. All of humanity.” He gestured vaguely upward, as if pointing beyond the cave, beyond the sky itself. “Gateway is exactly what it sounds like—a gateway world. A choke point. If it falls, everything behind it is at risk.”

  Pippy leaned so far forward she was practically vibrating. “Just…us?” she asked. “That’s it?”

  Granny spoke up, voice steady but edged with concern. “There are others, though. Right?”

  Barrett nodded. “A lot of them. Way stronger than us. And not all from Earth, either.”

  Rei’s eyes sharpened. “Then where are they?”

  “Not here,” Barrett said. “This is just a starter island. First-timers only.”

  Maku perked up slightly. “So…tutorial zone?”

  Barrett pointed at him. “Bingo.”

  Rei crossed her arms. “Then how do we get off it?”

  “The ships,” Barrett said. “Big ones. They leave once every five years.” His grin faded. “Miss them, and we’re screwed.”

  Pippy swallowed. “Screwed how, Mister Donovan?”

  Barrett shrugged. “Wish I knew. All I was told is that if we miss them, it’s very bad and I should definitely NOT miss them.”

  Rei stepped closer. “You know where the ships are?”

  Barrett shook his head.

  “When they leave?”

  “About a year after warp-in.”

  That stopped her. Rei went quiet, staring at nothing, mind racing. “So…still some time.”

  Pippy shifted, clearly holding something back. Barrett noticed immediately.

  “You got something, Pip?”

  She hesitated, then looked up at him. “Why didn’t you tell us this sooner?”

  The question hit harder than a blade.

  Everyone looked at him now. Even Maku.

  Barrett scratched the back of his head, suddenly very aware of how many eyes were on him. “Well, see, uh…haha…”

  Maku didn’t even look up. “He thought it’d be more badass if he stayed mysterious and acted like he had all the answers.”

  Silence.

  All eyes snapped to Barrett.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  His confidence evaporated on the spot. “I’m—uh—I’m gonna check our gear,” he muttered, already moving. “Inventory management. Very important.”

  He fled deeper into the cave before anyone could say another word.

  —

  By unspoken agreement, the group decided they would leave at first light the next day.

  No one argued. Everyone was eager to get out and start looking for the ships.

  Barrett suggested scouting the surrounding area before night fully settled in, and he asked Pippy to come with him. He told himself it was practical, but the truth was simpler. She was still carrying Arthur’s death like a weight in her chest, and sometimes movement was the only thing that kept grief from crushing you flat.

  He left Maku at the cave with Granny and Rei. He suspected that leaving him behind might actually increase the odds of trouble rather than prevent it, but he didn’t have many options.

  Pippy and Barrett followed the river downstream, its constant rush masking the sound of their steps. Mist clung to the water’s surface, rolling low. Grimm perched on Barrett’s shoulder, head swiveling with restless intelligence, occasionally hopping to a branch ahead to scout before returning.

  They walked for nearly an hour in silence.

  Finally, Barrett cleared his throat. “So…uh. How’s your mindset?”

  Pippy didn’t look at him. Her gaze stayed fixed on the riverbank.

  “You don’t have to pretend.”

  Barrett slowed. “Pretend what?”

  Her voice cracked. “That I’m okay.”

  They veered away from the river, deeper into the forest where the air felt heavier, more enclosed. Shadows layered over one another between the trees.

  “I’m full of it,” she whispered.

  Barrett stopped completely.

  Damn it.

  “Pip, come on—”

  “You were right about me,” she said, words spilling now. “From the start. I thought I could just… quote the right advice. Say the right things. Like reading enough books would somehow make me useful.”

  Grimm chirped softly, hopping closer.

  “I’m a fraud,” she sobbed. “And I got him killed.”

  Barrett stepped toward her. She retreated instinctively.

  “Rei was right,” Pippy continued, voice rising. “If I hadn’t forced us to wait—if I hadn’t insisted—Arthur would still be alive!”

  “That’s bullshit,” Barrett said firmly.

  “It’s not!”

  “You took a risk to protect the team,” he shot back. “Same risk Arthur took. That’s not weakness. That’s courage.”

  She shook, breath hitching, and then she broke.

  Barrett closed the distance and wrapped her up in a tight hug. She collapsed against his chest, crying hard enough that it hurt to listen.

  “I’m so stupid,” she choked. “I just need to listen to you from now on.”

  Barrett let out a quiet, bitter laugh. “Kid…trust me, that’s the last thing you should do. You’re not half the fraud I am.”

  She looked up, eyes red and searching. “Mister Donovan?”

  He sighed. “Let me tell you something about myself—”

  CHIRP-CHIRP.

  Grimm’s warning cut sharp through the moment.

  Barrett’s eyes flared faint blue as [Predator’s Mark] snapped into place.

  The truth hit him like a punch.

  Large shapes were moving fast along the river.

  They’d already passed them.

  “They’re heading for the cave,” Barrett muttered.

  Pippy wiped her face. “What?”

  Barrett scanned again. More shapes. Closer.

  Surrounded.

  He gently moved her behind him and drew his machete, blade whispering free.

  “Pip,” he said quietly, settling into a stance, “here’s some simple advice for you.”

  She followed his gaze, fear blooming.

  “Sometimes,” Barrett continued, steadying his breath, “all you can do…is your best.”

  The forest exploded.

  An orc burst through the brush.

  [Orc Warrior — Level 12]

  Another charged from the side.

  [Orc Warrior — Level 12]

  A third circled wide.

  [Orc Warrior — Level 12]

  Barrett’s grip tightened. “You with me?”

  Pippy swallowed hard. Then nodded.

  The first orc rushed him, blade raised. Time thickened as her magic flooded into him—the world slowing just enough.

  Barrett stepped in and cut deep. Once. Twice.

  [You have slain Orc Warrior — Level 12]

  “Good,” Barrett said. “Stay sharp.”

  The second orc raised its axe.

  Pippy darted behind it, trembling fingers brushing its back.

  The creature froze mid-motion.

  Barrett ended it with one clean strike.

  [You have slain Orc Warrior — Level 12]

  The third orc hesitated.

  Fear flickered in its eyes.

  Barrett sheathed his blade and leaned casually against a tree.

  “I won’t always be here,” he said calmly. “This one’s yours.”

  Her eyes widened. “You’re serious?”

  The orc snarled and stepped forward.

  “I—I don’t think I can—”

  “You can,” Barrett said. “Mindset.”

  The orc charged.

  Pippy screamed and raised her hand.

  The air warped.

  The orc locked in place inches from her, muscles straining against invisible restraints. Blood streamed from her nose, and she shook.

  “I can’t—hold—” she gasped, tears now streaming down her face.

  Barrett tensed, every muscle screaming to intervene. His hand edged towards his machete. He watched closer. It wasn’t that she couldn’t hold, it was that she didn’t want to. She knew what holding on longer would do.

  He clenched his jaw, wanting to step in, to carry the burden from her and finish the orc himself. Was it really necessary? Or was he just sharing his burden with her, turning her into a killer just like he had become?

  Barrett swallowed and folded his arms against moving them away from the machete handle.

  It’s do or die, Pip.

  The orc collapsed at her feet.

  [You have slain Orc Warrior — Level 12]

  Barrett caught Pippy as she fell from the exhaustion.

  “You did good,” he whispered, brushing her hair back. “You did real good.”

  She was already unconscious.

  A distant explosion rolled through the forest.

  Smoke rose above the treeline.

  From the direction of the cave.

  Barrett’s chest tightened.

  They were out of time.