—Maku—

  —Earlier that day—

  Maku stifled a yawn and stared at the cave wall, already feeling the absence of Barrett like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch.

  He’d always gravitated toward strange people. Not good or bad, just interesting. And Barrett Donovan was a rare specimen even by Maku’s standards.

  Over the past weeks, Maku had come to realize there were two Barretts. There was the loud, reckless renegade. Barrett Donovan. And then there was something else beneath it. Not weaker. Not softer. Just quieter. A second presence locked in constant tension with the first, like two currents fighting for control of the same river.

  More than anything, Barrett had a dream. A real one. A vision for the man he wanted to become. Maku envied that.

  For as long as he could remember, the world had bored him. People were predictable. Situations dull. He’d become a trickster out of sheer necessity—someone had to stir the pot, add friction, make things interesting. It had earned him plenty of enemies, and more than a few people who wrote him off as a clown.

  Barrett hadn’t.

  Barrett liked him. Played along. Met chaos with chaos. And that alone made him someone Maku wanted to keep around.

  “You’re lucky Barrett hasn’t thrown you out yet, you witch,” Granny muttered as she rummaged through packs, checking straps and supplies with practiced efficiency.

  “He’s smart enough to know he needs me, hag,” Rei shot back without missing a beat. She smiled thinly. “Dangerous world out there.”

  Granny snorted. “Just hope you don’t plan on getting injured.”

  “And if I do?” Rei prodded, leaning into it. “What then—you won’t heal me? Face it, you’re just a walking potion. Last thing anyone needs is an old hag slowing them down.”

  Maku’s ear twitched. He loved being adjacent to drama. Just close enough to feel the heat, but far enough not to get burned. He kept his expression neutral.

  “Why you—”

  The retort died as a low, distant sound rolled through the forest.

  A horn.

  An orc horn.

  Rei and Granny snapped upright, eyes darting to Maku.

  He raised a single finger to his lips. The cave was camouflaged, walls layered in leaves and branches. There was still a chance—

  BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

  The wall shuddered as something heavy slammed into it. Leaves rained down from the canopy. Another impact followed, then another.

  Wood cracked.

  “I think,” Maku said mildly, “they know we’re in here.”

  Granny and Rei both glared at him.

  What would Barrett do? Maku wondered.

  The answer came easily.

  He formed a mana plate beneath his feet and stepped onto it. The construct hummed as it lifted him upward, draining mana faster than he liked. Controlling it took focus—too much, honestly—but Barrett would absolutely do something like this.

  So Maku went higher.

  From above, the scene was grim. Five orcs hacked at the wall, axes rising and falling in brutal rhythm. More broad-shouldered shapes emerged from the treeline. Dark and with big large evil weapons.

  “How’s it look?” Granny called up.

  “Bad,” Maku replied. Then, instinctively, “I’ve spent my entire life in the darkness—”

  Damn it. What was the rest of that line?

  He was still fumbling for the memory when axes suddenly whistled through the air.

  One clipped the edge of his platform.

  Another smashed into it.

  The plate destabilized.

  Maku yelped as gravity reclaimed him and he slammed hard into the ground.

  “Can you stop messing around?!” Rei shouted.

  Everything hurt.

  “Granny,” Maku groaned, wincing, “could you heal me? And—uh—maybe prioritize all future heals on me too?”

  “What?!” Rei snapped.

  “Got it,” Granny said immediately, already moving.

  Rei stared at both of them, mouth hanging open.

  Maku lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling as adrenaline began to bleed into his system. The cracks in the wall widened. Firelight flickered through the gaps. The orcs were close now.

  There were a lot of them, and there was nowhere to run.

  Is this it? Is this how my story ends?

  He shook his head sadly.

  At the damn tutorial island, I really suck.

  The thought didn’t scare him as much as he expected. There was excitement too—a sharp, electric anticipation.

  Still.

  He wished Barrett were here.

  This would’ve been way more fun with him.

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  For the first time, Maku felt a twinge of regret about not officially joining Team Donovan. At the time, he hadn’t known Barrett that well. Didn’t want to look desperate.

  Now?

  Now it almost felt…lonely. He wished Barrett would have just asked him again, so he could reluctantly agree.

  He thrust his hand forward, then slowly curled his fingers into a tight fist, knuckles whitening.

  “I will never be a memory.” He said, voice low and hard.

  “Moron,” Rei snapped, cutting through the moment. “Focus!”

  WHOOSH.

  A roar of heat washed over the cave as fire slammed into the outer wall, wood igniting in an instant.

  Maku pushed himself up, eyes alight.

  Alright, he thought, mana stirring in his palms.

  Guess it’s my turn to make things interesting.

  —Maku—

  —Current Time—

  “Oh. That’s actually a good idea,” Maku said as the flames caught.

  Fire rolled across the crude barricade, heat licking up the walls and filling the cave with smoke. For a brief, hopeful moment, he thought it might be enough—that the orcs would hesitate, recoil, give them space. The blaze would keep them back. Maybe even serve as a signal flare for Barrett.

  That hope lasted all of two seconds.

  The wall buckled inward, and the orcs came through it burning with flames crawling across armor and skin as they roared and barreled forward anyway.

  “So much for that,” Maku muttered.

  “Party time!” he shouted, adrenaline surging as everything inside him snapped into focus.

  A spear lay at his feet. He kicked it up into the air, caught it, and flooded it with mana in one smooth motion. The weapon hummed, glowing faintly as he hurled it forward.

  It punched straight through the first orc’s chest and kept going, blasting through bone and muscle before slamming into the far wall.

  [You have slain Orc Warrior — Level 12]

  Maku cleared his throat. “Next.”

  …Yeah. Not nearly as cool as when he does it.

  The gap closed instantly. Orcs surged into the opening, weapons raised, eyes wild.

  Maku fired off three [Mana Javelins] in quick succession. Pure mana shaped into crude spears fired off at three separate orcs. They struck true, but he felt it immediately: they weren’t strong enough yet. The javelins burned flesh and armor, slowed them, but didn’t drop them.

  This was going to be a close-quarters slog fest.

  He hated close quarters.

  He preferred distance. Preferred standing behind Barrett, raining destruction while someone else soaked up the danger. But there was no room for that here.

  To his right, Rei unleashed short bursts of controlled fire, setting orcs alight and forcing them to stagger as they pushed forward. Unfortunately, not enough to down any.

  Maku recalled his spear in a flash of light and activated [Mana Skin]. A soft glow washed over his body and weapon, forming a shimmering layer just beneath the surface of his skin.

  He stepped into the fray.

  The spear danced in his hands—thrust, pull back, pivot, strike again. He stabbed through gaps in armor, twisted the blade free, spun, blocked, countered.

  [You have slain Orc Warrior — Level 12]

  [You have slain Orc Warrior — Level 12]

  “Fall back.” Maku called. “Slowly.”

  Granny and Rei retreated deeper into the cave, step by careful step.

  Rei threw up a wall of fire at the entrance. It wasn’t enough to stop the orcs, but it slowed them, blinded them, and funneled them inward. It also lit the battlefield in violent orange light. To Maku, it was perfect, and he moved through it like a man possessed.

  A grin crept across his face.

  This was it. This razor’s edge where everything else faded away. Fear, boredom, doubt—all of it burned off until there was only motion, breath, survival.

  He lived for this.

  But the cave was shrinking. With every step back, the walls pressed closer. There was less room to maneuver. Orcs crowded in, forcing him into tighter angles.

  His [Mana Skin] flickered as it absorbed blow after blow. Cuts slipped through. A spear grazed his side. A blade bit into his arm.

  Granny’s healing washed over him in warm pulses, but it was becoming weaker every minute. Slower.

  Damn.

  He didn’t feel regret. Not really. Just a sharp, aching wish.

  I really wanted more adventures with him.

  The back wall loomed.

  They were out of space.

  The orcs pressed harder, relentless as a tide. The wounds stacked up. The healing couldn’t keep pace.

  And then—

  “BAAARRETT! DOOOONOVAN!”

  The shout tore through the cave like thunder.

  A figure burst through the wall of fire, flames peeling away from him as he charged in—machete spinning, eyes wild.

  Barrett Donovan hit the orcs from behind at an unnaturally high speed. The kind of speed that meant Pippy was nearby.

  Steel flashed.

  Three orcs fell almost instantly.

  [You have slain Orc Warrior — Level 12]

  [You have slain Orc Warrior — Level 12]

  [You have slain Orc Warrior — Level 12]

  The remaining orcs spun in confusion, suddenly trapped between two enemies.

  Barrett stepped forward, sunglasses reflecting firelight, grin stretched just a little too wide.

  “I’ve spent too long living in the darkness to fear it,” he said.

  Maku blinked.

  Ah. That was the line, of course!

  Barrett rolled his shoulders, spinning the machete once. “Sorry I’m late,” he added casually. “Traffic was hell.”

  Maku groaned even as relief crashed through him. “You idiot, that’s like three intro lines!”

  Barrett laughed, already moving. “I’ll never—”

  An orc took the chance to go for a killing slash. Barrett sidestepped and lunged forward, blade carving deep.

  “—be a memory.”

  [You have slain Orc Warrior — Level 12]

  Maku shook his head and charged in beside him.

  Together, they tore through what remained.

  Minutes later, the cave fell silent except for heavy breathing and the crackle of dying flames. Bodies littered the ground.

  Maku walked over the carnage and calmly finished off one last twitching orc with a downward thrust.

  [You have slain Orc Warrior — Level 12]

  [LEVEL UP!]

  [Congratulations, you are now Level 11!]

  He looked up at Barrett, breath ragged. “Did you also…?”

  Barrett grinned and gave a slow nod. “Oh yeah. Big time.”

  Maku smirked despite himself.

  Figures.

  —Barrett—

  They burst from the cave into the night, lungs burning, legs heavy, the stink of smoke clinging to them like a second skin. Barrett slowed just long enough to take stock, and his stomach dropped.

  Most of their packs were gone.

  Charred straps. Melted fabric. Blackened scraps scattered across the ground where the fire had eaten through everything they owned.

  Shit.

  He swallowed it down. Leaders didn’t panic. Not out loud.

  “Alright,” he said, forcing steadiness into his voice, “we’re done here. Everyone move—now.”

  They did. All but one.

  “Mister Donovan…”

  Pippy’s voice stopped him cold.

  “What about Arthur?”

  Barrett turned. The body lay where they’d left it, wrapped tight, still, and unbearably small against the scorched stone. Carrying him would slow them. In the dark. With orcs nearby. It was weight they couldn’t afford.

  His jaw clenched. For a heartbeat, he hated the math of it. He wanted to explain that logic to Pippy, but instead he decided he’d rather carry ten times the weight than go that route.

  “Alright,” he said at last, forcing the words out. “I’ll carry—”

  WHOOSH.

  The sound cut him off.

  Fire bloomed.

  Pippy stood there, arm outstretched, magic roaring as the wrapped body caught flame. The fire climbed fast. It was clean, bright, and merciless as it enveloped the last of one of Team Donovan’s bravest.

  “Don’t be stupid,” she said, her voice shaking but fierce. “We don’t have time.”

  Barrett stared, mouth open, shock freezing him in place. Rage flared, then faltered. She met his eyes, daring him to argue.

  He didn’t.

  “We have to go now,” he shouted instead, turning away before the flames could carve the image deeper into him. “Move!”

  Maku and Granny didn’t hesitate. They were already gathering the gear that hadn’t burned.

  Pippy lingered a half-second longer, fists clenched, breath uneven—then an orc horn blared in the distance, low and hungry, snapping the moment apart.

  Barrett thrust Grimm into her arms.

  “Take care of him,” he said sharply. “I can’t watch him and keep us moving. Don’t lose him. Let’s go.”

  He didn’t wait for acknowledgment.

  He turned and ran.

  Didn’t look back. Didn’t check if they followed.

  Once—before all this—Barrett would never have done that. Would have doubted. Would have hesitated and looked over his shoulder to make sure.

  Now?

  He walked, and they followed.

  And the night swallowed them whole.