Pain and psychological anxiety. That is what Elena opened her eyes to and felt, as if it were a toxic substance that had settled at the bottom of her consciousness during her absence. There was a single light in the dense darkness, the faint orange glow of the pocket lamp Jake had brought, revealing only the nearest details. They were inside the hollow of the giant dead tree; the place was somewhat narrow, barely fitting the five of them, but it was semi-safe. For now.

  Jake, Sarah, and Shin were asleep, or at least in a sleep-like state, their bodies exhausted to the point of unconsciousness. San was sitting near one of the natural openings in the rotten tree trunk, watching the outside. His back was against the spongy wood, and his eyes were fixed on the darkness enveloping the forest, as if challenging the things that might move within it.

  Elena tried to get up, a slight movement, but the pain piercing her abdomen made her settle for lifting her head a little. The faint moan that escaped her was enough.

  San noticed her. He didn't turn his whole body, just moved his eyes in her direction. "The princess has awoken from her sleep." His voice was flat, devoid of any warmth or real sarcasm. Then he returned his gaze to the opening, as if her being awake was a normal matter not worth excessive attention.

  Elena said, her voice hoarse and dry: "How did I get here?"

  San looked again, this time with a quick glance. "Without joking, your weight wasn't very light." Then he added, as if giving a brief report: "The two groups returned. The monster with the arms and the waxy monster were preoccupied with them. The waxy one threw you. I carried you. Jake found a way to the wall. We climbed. We ran. We ended up here."

  Few words. Dry. Hours of horror condensed into abbreviated sentences.

  Elena was silent for a moment, her green eyes in the faint light grasping the gaps in the story, the unmentioned disasters. Then she said: "You helped me once. And you saved my life the second time." She paused, as if choosing her words carefully in her mind, which was still confused. "No words I say to you will be enough to thank you. Therefore, it will be a debt. I will repay it to you in the future."

  But San was not very interested in her words. To the extent that Elena was taken aback for a moment, surprised by his particular coldness, by how there could be a future in a world that did not guarantee them another minute. He said without turning: "Not all debts need to be repaid." He wasn't speaking to her. He was almost talking to himself. He was thinking of the waxy monster, of that moment when it cut off his head, of how the monster had looked at him after he returned. He was almost certain. It was a smile. A monster with black eyes and a cracked smile had witnessed an impossibility, and remembered it.

  "Either you go to sleep, or you don't make a sound louder than a whisper." San said it with the same coldness and seriousness. No anger, no impatience. Just a statement of their reality: they were prey in a burrow. Any sound might bring the hunters.

  Elena understood the situation without needing more. The usual cold expressions on her face grew colder, drifting towards complete stillness. She sat in her place, her back against the tree wood, her eyes fixed on the darkness of the cave opposite her. Her physical pain was present, but the greater danger was outside the thin wooden walls. And they might be attacked at any moment.

  The hours passed in tense silence. San watched. Elena watched from her corner. The others slept the sleep of the dead, so to speak.

  The pale light of morning appeared, creeping slowly through the cracks in the tree trunk, gradually easing the complete darkness into a gloomy gray shadow. Elena and San were still watching, each from a different opening. Silence still reigned, but it was a different silence now, a silence waiting for the truce to end.

  Jake woke up first, a sudden movement then a pause, remembering where he was. He saw San sitting in almost the same position. He said, his voice still thick with sleep but carrying a sense of embarrassment: "Why didn't you wake me? You stayed like this for hours. That's... unfair to you."

  San did not turn immediately. Then he said, without lifting his eyes from the opening: "Jake, don't think like that. The whole matter is, even if you or someone else was on watch, I wouldn't sleep. And I know that my chances of survival might increase if I am not asleep."

  The answer was practical, cold, and disturbingly convincing. It wasn't a sacrifice, but a calculation.

  Shin woke up, hearing San's last words. He said, rubbing his eyes: "That's logical. But... you have to trust us more, San."

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  This time, San turned. He looked at Shin, then slowly moved his head in a silent nod of agreement. It wasn't agreement about trust, but about the logic of the request. Trust was something else, something he no longer knew if he possessed.

  The group emerged from the hollow of the standing tree, one by one, cautiously. The gray morning light revealed the forest more clearly: twisted black trees, ground covered with rotten leaves and decaying stems, and cold air carrying the smell of dampness and earth. It wasn't beautiful, but at least it wasn't a slaughterhouse.

  Jake led them, following his sense of direction and some of his old knowledge of maps. They were not walking on the open path, but on its sides, concealing themselves behind roots and dead trees. They didn't rest even after hours of walking. Every step, every minute that took them further from the academy, gave them a fragile psychological relief, but at the same time brought them closer to another unknown danger. They were leaving a known hell to enter an unknown maze.

  Then, they heard the sound.

  It wasn't the sound of a monster. It was a mechanical, regular sound. The sound of wooden wheels grinding the earth, mixed with the clatter of metal and the drumming of hooves. The sound of a carriage.

  The group stopped immediately, hiding behind a large tree trunk. The group waited, holding their breath. Then Jake said, with sudden confidence: "I'll go out." Before anyone could object, Jake stepped out onto the slightly open road and shouted with his voice: "Help!"

  The carriage stopped suddenly. The sounds of hooves ceased. In a moment, the guards accompanying the carriage raised their weapons, bows and swords aimed at the source of the sound. Then two men emerged from inside the covered carriage.

  The Supervisor and his deputy. Class C fighters.

  Their demeanor was completely different from the academy fighters. Their armor was more robust, elegant in a practical way, and their weapons were hung in an easily accessible place. Their gazes were a quick and decisive assessment. They recognized Jake and the group that emerged a moment later from behind the trees as "the Lost." Their torn clothes, dirty faces, and Elena's obvious wound – all were signs that needed no explanation.

  After Jake briefly explained the situation – the attack, the death, the escape – they offered them water. Some of the guards became angry, and expressions of displeasure appeared on their faces. More trouble. More expenses. But the Supervisor remained calm. Unaffected. His face was like a rock. This calm, this complete absence of an emotional reaction, made San think. This Supervisor... was never affected. Was it absolute confidence in his own strength and the strength of his group? Or was it long experience that made such disasters seem like daily occurrences in a boring ledger? Or something else?

  The Supervisor finally said, his voice deep and steady: "The presence of dozens of Class E monsters with a Class D monster, and the possibility that the other is Class C... makes the scale balanced. Either a win, or death." He didn't say "victory." He said "win." As if it were a game. Then he looked at the group – at San, Elena, Shin, Jake, Sarah. A final assessing look. "What will you do? The four of you. Your cards are incomplete. If you go to the Kingdom, there is a possibility, however small, that you will be imprisoned. And going to the Guild in your condition... is suicide. Or a very harsh life if you are placed at Rank E adventurer." He paused, as if letting the words settle. "What is your decision?"

  San looked directly into the Supervisor's eyes. They were the color of cold iron. He said: "I will not return." The statement was clear, simple, and devoid of hesitation. "I have no desire to return."

  Jake tensed, and looked at San trying to say something without words. Then he said in a cautious voice: "San... It's the First Group. If they win, it means survival, a better life. Escaping now is nothing but a continuation of torment."

  San remembered the smile of the waxy curse, that hungry curiosity that had fixed on him. He said, without shifting his gaze from the Supervisor: "I said, I will not go."

  The Supervisor looked at his deputy, then back at the group. He said: "Alright." Then he pointed with his hand to a path in the forest. "If you continue straight. Don't go to any crossroads. Just continue in a straight direction. After a journey of more than two days, you will reach the nearest adventurer guild." The instructions were clear, practical, and devoid of any emotion or excessive encouragement. It was just information.

  San thanked the Supervisor with a slight nod of his head. It wasn't gratitude, but an acknowledgment. He looked at Elena. She moved her head slowly in a silent nod of agreement. He looked at Shin. Shin said: "Don't worry. I'm with you. I don't want to return either." His voice was decisive. Then he looked at Sarah.

  Sarah was not speaking. Her eyes were on the ground. Then she raised her head and looked at Jake. The look said everything. Then she stepped forward and stood beside him, holding his arm. The grip was strong, as if she were clinging to a rock in a raging river. San understood the matter now. They were lovers. They wanted to stay together, and return to what they believed was "safety."

  Jake said, looking at San: "I trust the Supervisor's strength. I will go with him." There was an apologetic tone in his voice, but the decision was clear.

  And Sarah went with Jake, holding his arm as if her life depended on it.

  The three remaining – San, Elena, Shin – walked in the straight direction indicated by the Supervisor, moving away from the carriage, the guards, and from Jake and Sarah. Silence enveloped them again, but it was a different silence. More hollow.

  As they walked, San automatically looked at one of the strange plants with purple leaves by the side of the road. Near it was the corpse of a small animal, perhaps some kind of rodent. It had died recently. But there were no obvious wounds. It was just dead. As if life had suddenly stopped in it. San looked away. The small details of the forest constantly reminded them that death here was a normal thing, and sometimes unexplained.

  Night was approaching. Darkness began to creep in at an alarming speed, as if the forest breathed darkness instead of air. They decided to stay in a cave they had come across an hour before nightfall. It was a shallow natural cave in a rocky slope, not deep enough to provide real safety, but better than the open.

  The quiet of the night, filled with the sounds of strange insects and sometimes distant screams, suddenly disappeared with a sound.

  It was a loud, clear, and ominously familiar sound. The sound of a horse galloping. Fast. But not with the speed of flight, but with the speed of a desperate person dragging something heavy.

  Shin was the first to come out of the cave to wave to them, to see who was coming. Then he froze in place.

  One horse. And on it... the Supervisor. He looked different. His armor was deformed, cut in many places. His face was pale, his eyes wide. And he was not alone. Behind him, held somehow, was Jake.

  They came, and the horse stopped at the entrance of the cave. The Supervisor dismounted and brought Jake inside. The faint light of their lamp revealed the shock.

  Jake's right hand... was cut off. The cut was horrifyingly clean, almost from the shoulder. The wound was wrapped in rags torn from the Supervisor's uniform, but blood had saturated them. Jake was in deep psychological shock. His eyes were glassy, staring into emptiness. He does not speak. In his left hand, his only remaining hand, he was holding something. Strands of hair. Some of it light yellow. And some of it black.

  Sarah was absent.