“I know what to do.”

  I stepped into the space between Tom and the old crafter, close enough that the heat of the fire licked at my face. I did not raise my voice; the point will get through better this way, and the camp was already quiet enough.

  “I can leave,” I said.

  A ripple went through the crowd. Not anger this time, but fear. The old crafter opened his mouth, so I lifted a finger and he stopped.

  “I do not mean walk off alone to die stupidly. I mean leave properly. Me. My team, and anyone who is strong enough, fast enough, or simply willing to keep up.”

  I let my gaze sweep the camp, slow and deliberate.

  “We would reach the beacon faster; we would get stronger faster. Honestly there would be no drawback except to our own conscience.”

  The words hung there like a sword of Damocles.

  “You don’t get to pretend that keeping you alive is our duty anymore,” I continued. “This is a migration through hell. And right now you are more dangerous to us than the monsters themselves, all because you can’t pull your own weight.”

  The old crafter’s face went redder; I didn’t think it was possible. “You arrogant—”

  “You almost died today.” I looked directly at him, pushing my will into my aura and stopping it from speaking. “Not because we left, but because you were weak. That root monster smelled it, and it tried to use you as hostages to get to Mary. This is the truth.”

  That landed. People glanced around and at the dark treeline without meaning to.

  “If we leave”, I went on, voice calm and cruel, “we can clear a path, deal with the worst threats and give you some means of respite. That means you get a few days. Maybe a week. Until something else, something smarter, finds you.”

  Tom swallowed. Marcus had stopped carving. Even Marco had gone quiet.

  “So yes,” I said softly. “We could abandon you; we would thrive in this new place. While you would probably die.”

  Silence.

  Then I exhaled.

  “But we don’t want to.”

  Heads lifted.

  “I don’t want to leave people behind because they choose badly on day one. I don’t want to watch you get torn apart because you don’t have the capability of surviving this hellish place; we have many older people and a kid too. I’m not blind to that. But this…” I gestured to all around us. “Is not fine.”

  I gestured to the camp, to the wounded, to the broken palisades.

  “You cannot keep asking us to fight for you and bleed and then complain when the situation gets scary.”

  The old man looked smaller now. Not weak, just tired.

  “So here is the truth,” I said. “You are not staying here. Not anymore. You had three days. Three days of easy levelling. Three days to adapt to a world that doesn’t care if you are old or young, smart or dumb; all will become monster food without power.”

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  Rhea nodded slowly, realisation dawning. Melissa’s lips pressed together.

  “Most of you have levels now,” I continued. “Even those of you with crafting classes, after all the work you did here in the camp and the fighting you went through, I hope you put some of those points into endurance, because we are going to march tomorrow, and it won’t be easy.”

  I pointed towards the forest again.

  “No more camping until the night and no more waiting around for a miracle. We are going to move together, we are going to level everyone up, and we needed to do it since day one, so consider yourself officially behind schedule.”

  Murmurs spread through the crowd.

  “If you cannot keep up,” I said, not unkindly, “you can train, or you can ask for help. I’ll personally power-level you if I need to, but you get stronger. And we do not stop.”

  Tom found his voice. “And if someone collapses?”

  “Then we carry them,” I replied. “And we protect them while they recover.”

  The old crafter looked around at the others. At Alya’s grim nod. Marcus is already testing the weight of his spears. At Marco, jaw tight but no longer angry, I spoke what everyone thought this time.

  “You’re asking us to become… soldiers,” the old crafter said, defeated.

  “I’m asking you to become survivors,” I answered. “You don’t need to fight like us, but you have to be able to at least keep up.”

  The fire crackled. Somewhere, someone started to cry quietly.

  I finished, voice steady. “You can hate me for what I will force you to do, but at least you will be alive to hate me. Rest tonight, because tomorrow at dawn we disband the camp and start the march.”

  No one spoke.

  But when Tom nodded, slow and resolute, the camp nodded with him.

  ────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

  Frederik P.O.V.

  I keep Kyle close, one hand hooked into the back of his jacket, the other resting on his shoulder, like I can anchor him to me if I hold hard enough.

  The firelight throws ugly shadows across the camp. They look like claws on the tents. Every time someone raises their voice, Kyle flinches, just a little, and pretends he didn’t. He thinks I don’t notice.

  I notice everything now.

  When Elias speaks, something in the air changes; Tom doesn’t interrupt him. Marco shuts up, everybody listen. Even the angry old crafter hesitates.

  That tells me everything I need to know.

  Tom is the one we look at.

  Elias is the one everyone listens to.

  I know men like Tom, always trying to keep things together. I’ve also seen that hollow look before. My wife had it after her last rotation. Before the pills. Before the silence. Before the day she decided to end it all.

  Now it’s just me and Kyle.

  And this system… this thing… decided that wasn’t cruel enough.

  I chose Fighter because I was scared.

  Not because I wanted to be brave. Not because I wanted to kill monsters. Because Fighters get to protect the other, I can protect my son. But I didn’t tell anyone. If they knew, they’d start pointing, sending me out. Expecting me to fight.

  I can’t leave my son alone.

  Kyle chose Mage; of course he did. He’s always been like that. Curious. Bright. Always asking how things work. I forbade him from fighting. Made him promise. 'Spells are only for practice,' I said. Monsters are for the adults to deal with, not that his spells could do much.

  Now Elias is saying there won’t be any safe place. No staying back. No camping while the strong ones go ahead.

  We all have to march.

  I feel my stomach drop like I just stepped off a cliff.

  Kyle is six.

  Six.

  He should be worrying about homework and video games and whether his friends like him. Not about monsters and people screaming while they die.

  I look down at him, and he looks up at me, eyes too serious for a face this young.

  “Is it ok, Dad?” he whispers.

  I lie back to him with a smile. “Everything is fine.”

  It’s not.

  I’m level four. Four. I killed one gorg by pure luck with a crossbow. I can’t deal with a twelve-foot monster. I can’t shield him from everything out here.

  But Elias can.

  I don’t know what Elias is. Hero, tyrant or just someone trying to do the right thing? Maybe something in between. But when he talks, people listen, and when the monsters come, they die.

  He said he would help.

  I don’t have the luxury of pride anymore, or fear, or pretending I can handle this alone.

  Kyle presses closer to me, and I feel something in my chest crack.

  Before tomorrow, I will talk with Elias; maybe he can really help me… I’d have to come clean with the truth and deal with the consequences.

  I need to keep my son alive. And if I’d have to sell my soul to the devil to accomplish it, so be it. Because I can’t do it by myself, I really can’t.

  20 chapters ahead!