I kept walking without looking back. Only after I was far enough that they could no longer hear or see me did I finally let out a breath I did not realize I had been holding.

  My hands were shaking. My heartbeat was still racing.

  The entire conversation replayed in my head, and only then did I realize how much of it I had handled on instinct alone. I had reacted, spoken, moved, and postured without actively planning any of it.

  I was not sure why I had been so tense.

  Maybe it was the morning confrontation with Varric. Maybe it was the conversation with Lieutenant Cicero. Or maybe it was because, somewhere in my mind, I had built that moment up into something far larger than it actually was. It had felt like my entire future, and the future of that squad, rested on every word I chose.

  Or perhaps it was the way they watched me.

  As if every sentence, every pause, every movement was being weighed. As if they were waiting to see what kind of man I would turn into after becoming a sergeant. Or maybe it was simply the pressure those four created when they were together.

  There was no denying the presence they carried. All four had menacing physiques, and when you faced them alone in their own environment, no threats needed to be spoken. Their presence alone did the job.

  But maybe that was not entirely a bad thing. If they could still unnerve me after nine months together, I was sure they would have the same effect on anyone else.

  I took a few more deep breaths until my pulse finally slowed.

  Only then did I turn toward the sergeants’ quarters.

  After being discharged from the infirmary, I had been assigned a room there. It was a modest building, one of the few in the fort with two floors. The first floor housed the sergeants, while the upper floor was reserved for lieutenants. I was not sure where the captain stayed. Most likely within the command building itself.

  The quarters were close to the command building and adjacent to the officers’ mess. Close enough to be summoned quickly, far enough to offer a degree of separation.

  As I entered my room, I closed the door behind me and leaned against it for a moment.

  The space was small. A narrow bed pressed against one wall. A simple wooden table with a chair beside it. Nothing decorative. Still, it was more privacy than I had had in a long time.

  During training at Stonegate, we had shared tents. After arriving at the fort, we had slept in a longhall, packed together with the rest of the squad. Noise, movement, and the constant presence of others had become the norm.

  This was different.

  I set the documents down, pulled the chair closer to the table, and lit the mana lamp. Its soft glow filled the room, pushing the shadows back just enough to make the space feel contained.

  I picked up the first booklet.

  Calling it a book was generous. It was barely six pages long.

  My duties as a sergeant.

  I sat down and began reading.

  The first section covered the basics. Things I already knew. When not on the battlefield, I was responsible for the training and readiness of my squad. That included daily drills, combat training, and formation practice. On the battlefield, I was responsible for issuing commands, directing movement, and making on-the-ground decisions.

  Squad discipline also fell under my authority. As I read that section, my frown deepened. It did not just define acceptable behavior on and off the battlefield, but outlined the punishments a sergeant was authorized to impose on the privates under his command.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  For a regular unit, punishment was limited to extra duties, harsher drills, or docked pay. But for a death squad, punishment meant something else entirely. The manual outlined the exact method for channeling mana into the oath enforcement badge to induce pain through the oath itself.

  It was written clinically. As procedure. I was also permitted to order status inspections if I believed they were hiding something, or if I suspected they had gained a skill that could be detrimental to the squad.

  I turned the page.

  Next came inventory requests and budget management. Ensuring the squad was properly supplied with spears, shields, armor, and consumables. That part was straightforward.

  Then I reached the section on pay.

  My own salary was fixed. It had been increased from five mana crystals per year to fifteen.

  The rest of the squad, however, was different.

  Their pay was performance-based. Mana crystals earned through missions would be distributed at my discretion. The higher-ups judged the total reward, but how it was divided fell to the sergeant.

  Another leash.

  One more tool meant to keep them under control.

  I exhaled slowly and turned to the final page.

  Then I froze.

  I read the last section once.

  Then again.

  Then three more times.

  A Royal Army sergeant held a position equivalent to that of a low-ranking royal guard. That meant that while on duty, if we encountered members of the royal family or their personal units, my authority would be equal to that of their lower guards.

  Any member of the royal family may issue orders. Failure to comply constitutes treason.

  I lowered the booklet and stared at the table.

  The royal family was something I had rarely heard about. It was hard to imagine the power of a single family that controlled an entire kingdom, much less what its individual members might be like or what kinds of orders they would give. I also wondered whether the lieutenant’s words about the noble world applied to the royal family as well, or if they lived in their own world with completely different rules.

  But this was not the time to think about that.

  I glanced at the stack of books piled in front of me. Lieutenant Cicero had provided manuals on formation strategies, details on the Royal Army’s structure, and information on important forts across the kingdom. And beyond all of that, I still had to read the detailed background reports on my squadmates.

  I looked at the pile and felt like I was studying for a final examination.

  In this world, this was the first time I was reading not by choice, but out of necessity. The only difference was that failure here would not mean poor grades. It would mean serious injury. Or death.

  Even knowing that, the motivation I had felt after speaking with Lieutenant Cicero was fading. I had made progress today. I had stopped avoiding everything. I had confronted my squadmates. I had read one book.

  That was already more than I had done in the last ten days.

  But I was reaching my limit.

  Still, I forced myself to open one file.

  Varric’s.

  As I turned the pages, I realized there was no secrecy where criminals were concerned. I should have known that already from reading about my authority, but these background reports were exhaustive. Every known detail was recorded.

  Varric had been born in a bandit camp that still operated in the eastern regions of the kingdom. His father had been the leader of that camp before being replaced by Varric himself. He had spent his entire life among bandits and had never even set foot in a city before his capture.

  The group he belonged to followed its own twisted principles. During raids, they did not harm women. They treated banditry as a profession rather than chaos. If a village surrendered and handed over food and resources, the men were still beaten. If the villagers fought back, anyone who took up arms was killed.

  After his capture, Varric attempted to organize the prisoners into a hierarchy. The report suspected he was laying the groundwork for a riot. He was transferred to the fort before anything could come of it.

  On the way to the fort, he nearly beat another prisoner to death for calling out his failure to stage a riot.

  The next section detailed his latest status after the beast tide.

  Class: [Raider Captain]

  Level: 38 / 50

  Mana Cultivation: Tier 2 – 71 / 100

  Mana Nodes: 5 / 7

  Physical Attributes

  Constitution: 75

  Strength: 80

  Agility: 20

  Spiritual Attributes

  Intelligence: 15

  Wisdom: 12

  Willpower: 38

  HP: 750

  HP Regen: 175 per day

  MP: 1060

  MP Regen: 65 per hour

  The three skills in skill section caught my attention.

  His primary class skill, [Relentless Advance (A)] – Level 52, allowed him to continue fighting even after sustaining heavy damage. It was similar to a berserker ability, but not quite the same. He did not lose himself completely. Instead, his emotional state fueled his endurance rather than erasing his judgment.

  That explained a lot.

  The next skill was [Crushing Cleave (A)] – Level 30 allowed him to fight effectively with a polearm or spear while mounted. He was trained for cavalry combat.

  Then there was [Deadhand Toss (UC)] – Level 25.

  It allowed him to coat a throwing knife with a trace of dark affinity, masking its presence and increasing accuracy.

  I exhaled slowly. His other skills were not that impressive, but all of them were focused either on fighting or on running.

  At the end of the report, a few words were highlighted.

  If released, will resume leadership of an armed group within months.

  I closed the file and set it aside.

  I went to bed still thinking about Varric’s background. I was sure that if I had a nightmare that night, it would not be a Shadow Cat killing me, but Varric.