Barrett sat on a stump like it was a throne, elbows wide, machete resting across his lap. He dragged a cloth along the blade in slow, deliberate strokes.

  To his right, Maku stood with arms crossed, eyes narrowed—quiet, watchful, calculating.

  In front of them, Jason’s two lackeys trembled. One held a bulging sack, the bottom dark with something wet. Both men looked like they were trying very hard not to be sick.

  Barrett didn’t spare them a glance. He kept polishing the steel, the rasp of cloth on metal the loudest sound in the clearing.

  “Take that to Rei,” he said, voice low but steady. “Tell her to set another plate at dinner for Barrett Donovan.”

  They bobbed their heads frantically. “Y-yes. Absolutely.”

  “And let Fred know…” Barrett finally lifted his gaze, shades catching the dim light. “He owes me a finger for every missing cigar.”

  Their faces drained of blood.

  They nodded again.

  “Now get the hell out of here.”

  They didn’t need to be told twice. They bolted into the trees, vanishing down the trail toward camp.

  Barrett watched the undergrowth settle behind them. The forest grew quiet again.

  “How many men does it take to deliver a message?” he asked.

  Maku exhaled beside him. “Come on, man. Let the alpha-dog routine rest for five minutes. I know that wasn’t easy.”

  Barrett kept his eyes on the trees. After a long beat, he nodded. “…It wasn’t.”

  He looked up at Maku. “You think I made the right call?”

  Maku sank down onto the stump beside him. “Everyone keeps saying this isn’t a movie.” He met Barrett’s gaze. “Let’s see how they like it when we play by their rules.”

  Barrett huffed. “A movie, huh?” He tilted his shades down slightly. “Even if it were, we’re not the good guys.”

  Maku threw an arm over his shoulder. “Eh. We’re good enough. Only idiots are ‘good’ to bad people.”

  “And we just…decide who’s good?” Barrett asked, half-serious, half-lost.

  “Get that philosophical crap out of here,” Maku laughed. “We’re not built for that.”

  Barrett snorted. “Right. I’ve got my eyes and my gut. Damn right I can judge who’s good or bad. Only nerds hesitate on that crap.”

  Maku smirked. “Yeah, yeah. ‘If you kill him you’re no better than he is,’ right?” he said in a mocking voice.

  Barrett barked a laugh. “What a load of horseshit. Help the good guys, kill the bad guys. How hard is that?”

  “Oh?” Maku raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you just say we’re not the good guys?”

  Barrett scratched his head, frowning. “Okay, now we’re doing too much thinking.”

  He stood, twirling the machete once before resting it on his shoulder.

  “Let’s go train.”

  —

  Barrett flicked open his notifications as the blue screens stacked in front of him.

  [You have slain a Human — Level 15]

  [LEVEL UP!]

  Congratulations, you are now Level 10.

  [Skill Update Available]

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  [LEVEL 10 – Threshold Reached]

  Skill Selection Available.

  Choose One Skill:

  [1] Predator’s Mark (Shared Skill: Grimm) (Passive/Active) – Grimm tags an enemy. As long as Grimm maintains line of sight, Barrett sees their exact location.

  [2] Bonebreaker Stance (Active) – Barrett roots himself, channeling raw force. His next melee strike deals double damage, ignores armor, and can stagger larger foes.

  [3] Survival Sense (Passive) – Heightened awareness alerts Barrett to traps, hidden enemies, or ambushes within 20 meters.

  [4] Berserker Momentum (Passive) – Continuous hits build momentum, increasing attack speed and damage for as long as the rhythm holds.

  Barrett read each option slowly, lips pursed, nodding like a man trying to look thoughtful.

  Maku leaned over. “Anything good?”

  Barrett chuckled, tapped his choice, and closed the screen. “You could say that.” His grin was pure chaos.

  Maku blinked. “Did you—did you seriously not even think before selecting?”

  Barrett recoiled, scandalized. “I already told you: overthinking is for weenies. A real man decides and moves.”

  Maku rubbed his forehead. “Let me guess…it was the coolest sounding name?”

  Barrett puffed up. “Predator’s Mark.”

  Maku hesitated, then nodded. “Okay…yeah, that does sound badass.”

  “Right?”

  “Right. Now get out of here,” Maku said, waving him off. “Some of us actually use our brains when picking a skill.”

  Barrett strutted away proudly. Grimm chirped in agreement.

  —Tanya—

  She scanned the clearing. Quiet. Still. Practically empty.

  But not quite.

  “Not bad, Lance,” she said as she pivoted, parried a strike from behind, and drove a sharp sidekick into the attacker’s chest. The boy yelped as he slammed into a tree.

  “Ow! You didn’t have to hit so hard!” he whined.

  “Pain’s the best teacher,” she replied, already resetting her stance.

  Lance groaned but pushed himself back up. She respected that about him. He’d complain for half a second, then right back to work. No ego, no excuses. Just trying to improve. He reminded her of someone.

  “What gave me away?” he asked.

  “Your footsteps are still too loud.”

  “Or maybe your hearing’s just cracked because of your level,” he muttered.

  She raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”

  He hesitated.

  “Go ahead,” she said. “[Inspect].”

  He focused, eyes flickering. Then: “Level eight?!”

  She nodded.

  “I thought all of you were getting roided’ up on gems,” Lance said.

  Tanya shrugged. “Never been a fan of shortcuts.”

  Lance grunted. “I wish more adults were like you.”

  She studied him. The boy had changed. The bright, cheerful kid from the first day had dimmed. Now he carried something heavier. It was a mix of anger, confusion, and betrayal.

  “You talking about that guy?” Tanya asked, stretching her arms overhead.

  Lance didn’t answer. He just kicked a pebble hard enough to crack against a tree.

  “I didn’t know him that well,” she said, bracing her back against the trunk as she stretched. “But he’s not that deep or mysterious.”

  Lance’s head snapped up. “He came here knowing more than all of us! He lied to us! You have no idea who he is!”

  Tanya let out a low grunt. “I know exactly who he is. He’s a good man.” She met his eyes. “You may not believe me—and he sure as hell wouldn’t—but it’s true.”

  Lance looked at her, hope flickering through the gloom. “Then how—”

  Footsteps. Fast.

  Tanya lifted a finger to her lips, and both of them dropped low. Lance activated his stealth; they slipped behind the nearest trees.

  Seconds later, two men burst through the clearing running full tilt. Tanya recognized them instantly. Jason’s crew. She never liked that guy. Men with inferiority complexes were the worst. She’d seen plenty in the military.

  These two were terrified. Faces pale, breathing ragged. They sprinted past without even noticing Lance or her, despite being only feet away.

  Tanya watched them go, eyes narrowing.

  Something had scared them badly. And where was Jason? Why wasn’t he with them?

  Whatever was inside that dripping sack one of them carried…she had a feeling she wouldn’t like the answer.

  “What do you think that was about?” Lance whispered.

  Tanya tightened her jaw. “Let’s find out,” she said. “Quietly.”

  Lance nodded, a quick, eager grin flashing across his face.

  —

  They lay in their sleeping spots, staring up at the moon hanging pale and heavy above the treeline.

  “So,” Maku murmured, hands behind his head, “when are we making our move on the camp?”

  Barrett grinned in the dark. “Let ’em sweat a few days.”

  He chuckled low. “Soon they’ll be seeing old Barrett in every damn shadow.”

  “That’s when we strike,” he finished.

  Maku laughed softly and rolled over, settling in.

  Barrett didn’t move. He stayed on his back, eyes fixed on the moon, but his mind kept drifting—unwanted, unwelcome—back to what he’d done earlier. The screams, the look in Jason’s eyes, the moment his blade came down.

  He tried to shake it off. He couldn’t.

  A thought gnawed at him: Had he crossed a line he couldn’t uncross? Had he stained something inside himself for good?

  Chirp.

  He looked to his right.

  Grimm was curled beside him, black feathers fluffed against the cold.

  Chirp-chirp.

  The little bird tilted his head, sensing Barrett’s unease and nudging closer.

  Barrett let out a slow breath. “Don’t worry about me, buddy. You’ve got your own issues, like learning how to actually fly.”

  Grimm puffed proudly, which made Barrett huff a tired laugh.

  Maybe he could carry the weight if he kept reminding himself why he lifted the blade in the first place. There were people depending on him. The kids, the old woman, even that idiot Maku. As much as he would never admit it, he was part of Team Donovan.

  If bearing the darkness meant keeping them safe…

  Maybe that had to be enough.

  Because he knew one thing with absolute certainty:

  His blade wouldn’t stay dry for long.