Del found Elara standing a little apart from the others, her silhouette framed by the flickering firelight. She wasn’t just tired—she was drained. Her shoulders slumped slightly, her hands resting on her hips as she studied the cavern floor, her brow furrowed in thought. Even without speaking, he could tell her mind was still turning over whatever spellwork she had just undone, still calculating, still analysing.

  He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “Are you okay?” His hand came to rest lightly on her arm, and he could feel the faint tension there, the remnants of strain still locked into her muscles.

  She exhaled slowly, tilting her head toward him but not quite looking up. “I just need some rest,” she admitted, her voice quieter than usual. The weight of what she had done pressed into every syllable. Magic always had a cost—he had seen it before, but there was something more to her fatigue this time, something deeper than mere exertion.

  Del hesitated. “That ritual… it took something out of you, didn’t it?”

  Elara let out a soft, tired laugh, shaking her head. “It wasn’t just stopping it. I had to unravel it safely—if I’d just disrupted the circle, we might have ended up dealing with something worse than just the Night Man.” She finally glanced at him, her lips curving into a small, wry smile. “I wasn’t about to let that happen.”

  Something about the way she said it sent a shiver up Del’s spine. Something worse. He didn’t ask what that meant. Maybe he didn’t want to know.

  Instead, he nodded, glancing toward the others before lowering his voice again. “I found some interesting things in my search.”

  That caught her attention. The exhaustion in her eyes didn’t fade, but a spark of interest flickered beneath it. She was tired, but she was still Elara—curiosity ran through her blood.

  “The mage had a lot of magical items on him—rings, a pendant, some nasty-looking artefacts.” Del shrugged. “There’s a chest in his tent, filled with potions and who-knows-what. And a journal…” He shook his head. “I can’t make sense of most of it.”

  Elara arched a brow, intrigue pushing past her weariness. “A journal?”

  Del pulled the letter from his pocket, handing it over. She took it carefully, the parchment crisp beneath her fingers. Her gaze scanned the contents with sharp efficiency, her expression shifting slightly—her tired posture straightened just a fraction, her lips pressing into a firmer line.

  The firelight reflected in her eyes as she murmured, “We need to show this to the elder.”

  Del nodded, tucking the letter back into his pocket. “I know. But let’s get everyone out of here and safely back to the village first.”

  She sighed, rubbing her temples before straightening. “I’m going to see if I can safely retrieve the magic items and check if you missed anything.”

  A knowing smirk tugged at Del’s lips. ‘She’s as treasure-happy as a magpie.’

  “Just don’t set off any traps,” he teased.

  Elara shot him an amused look over her shoulder. “You go see how the others are coming along.” Her voice was dry, but there was warmth behind it. Then, despite her exhaustion, she strode off toward the far side of the cavern, her eyes already scanning for anything worth salvaging.

  Del watched her go for a moment before turning back toward the others. She was tired, but she wasn’t broken. And that, at least, was something.

  Turning back to the group, Del took in the scene. Though exhaustion still hung heavy in the air, the grimness from earlier had been tempered by something brighter. Relief. The weight of their victory, however bloody, had begun to sink in.

  The six unconscious captives had been tended to, their bodies swathed in whatever spare fabric could be found. Someone had smeared feldspar ointment onto their carved wounds—already, the magic-infused salve was working, dulling the worst of the injuries. The scars would likely remain, faint reminders of the horrors they had endured. But at least they would heal.

  Del nodded in approval and made his way to Paolo, who was still seated beside Emily. The flickering fire cast warm hues across her pale face, the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest the only sign of life.

  “How is she?” Del asked, crouching beside him.

  Paolo didn’t look up immediately, his fingers resting lightly over Emily’s hand as if to ground himself. “I suppose ‘comfortable’ is the right word,” he murmured. “She isn’t in pain. As far as I can tell, she’s just sleeping off the drug’s effects.”

  Del gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Once they wake, we’ll move.” He hesitated before adding, “But we can’t carry them up that cliff. They’ll have to manage the climb themselves.”

  Paolo’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “We’ll help them.”

  “We will,” Del agreed before standing and making his way toward Merl, who was overseeing the group, his broad stance firm, a quiet pillar of stability.

  “We need someone to go back to town,” Del said, his tone low but firm. “See if we can get a cart up here. The less we ask of the kidnapped ones, the better.”

  Merl grunted. “Already ahead of you. Sent Sam running back not long ago. The lad’s fast—he’ll be halfway there by now.”

  Del let out a breath. “Good.”

  He shifted, rolling his shoulders. The cavern air was thick, still carrying the lingering scent of burnt ozone, blood, and the damp earth beneath them. His stomach twisted slightly at the memory of the mage’s tent, the untouched meal, and, worst of all, the glass of whatever the hell that had been.

  “There’s food in my pack,” he said at last. “There was some in the tent, but I wouldn’t trust it.”

  Merl arched a brow. “Not hungry for cursed cheese?”

  Del grimaced. “I’d rather eat my own boots.”

  Merl chuckled. “Fair enough.”

  “We should eat, take care of… personal business, and rest while we wait for them to wake.” Del glanced toward the others, noting the quiet exhaustion settling over them all. “We’ll need to be ready to move as soon as they can stand.”

  “Agreed.” Merl gave a sharp nod and began passing along the plan.

  The atmosphere around the fire remained subdued, though the earlier tension had begun to loosen its grip. Conversation came in low, tired murmurs, voices rough with exhaustion but carrying a sense of relief, however muted. Some sat in silence, staring into the flickering embers as if trying to process the night’s events, while others exchanged quiet words—small reassurances, grim reflections, and, in some cases, wry attempts at humour to push back the lingering weight of what they had seen.

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  Merl stretched his arms with a groan, rolling his shoulders as he muttered, “Well, at least it wasn’t demons.”

  Jake let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “Or blood wraiths. That would have been a shitshow.”

  “This was a shitshow” Paolo said. “I just spent an hour tending to people covered in ritual carvings. I’d take a wraith over this mess any day.”

  A few huffs of laughter rippled through the group—not light-hearted, but real, a shared acknowledgment of the insanity they had just lived through.

  Near the fire, one of the rescued villagers shifted restlessly in their sleep, drawing immediate attention—but when they didn’t stir further, the moment passed.

  “We should all be dead,” someone quietly said, their voice flat, but edged with something else. Not quite disbelief. Not quite relief.

  Del exhaled, leaning back against his pack. “Yeah. But we’re not.”

  That, for now, was enough.

  Exhaustion settled deep into Del’s bones, heavier than the weight of his armour, heavier than the battles fought and won. His muscles ached with a dull, relentless throb, his mind felt like it had been wrung dry. Every breath he took felt like it carried the weight of the night’s horrors, lingering like smoke from a dying fire.

  The adrenaline that had kept him moving, thinking, surviving—was gone. And now, the sheer absurdity of it all was catching up to him.

  ‘What the hell am I even doing anymore?’

  He pushed himself to his feet, stretching out stiff limbs before making his way to the far edge of the cavern. A piss break was long overdue, and the last thing he needed was to pass out next to the fire only to wake up really uncomfortable.

  Misty trailed at his side, a quiet presence in the dim light. As he finished and turned to make his way back, she nudged his ankle, her tail flicking toward a darker section of the cavern.

  He frowned. “What?”

  Another nudge.

  Sighing, he followed her lead, stepping carefully over uneven ground. A few paces further along, tucked behind a curve of rock, a shallow pond reflected the flickering firelight in dark, glassy ripples. The surface was still, undisturbed, save for the faintest shimmer of movement beneath the water.

  Del crouched at the edge of the pond, cupping his hands and splashing icy water onto his face. The moment it hit his skin, his breath caught, a sharp inhale rushing through his teeth as the shock bit down to the bone. The cold sank in like a blade, a cruel contrast to the heat of battle still clinging to his skin.

  For a moment, he just stayed there, fingers gripping the damp stone, head bowed as water dripped from his chin. His heartbeat steadied, the deafening drum of adrenaline finally fading, leaving behind only exhaustion.

  He inhaled deeply. The air here was damp, thick with the scent of wet earth and something ancient, something that had existed long before men ever set foot in this cavern. Misty sat nearby, her tail curled around her paws, watching him with that unblinking feline patience, as if she knew what he was thinking before he even thought it.

  ‘I just want to sleep for a week and forget all about fucking wizards and bloody fireballs.’

  The thought was barely more than a flicker passing his mind but it held the weight of truth.

  He scrubbed a hand down his face, palm rasping against the stubble getting out of control on his jaw, then ran damp fingers through his hair. The cold had helped—just enough to clear some of the fog in his head. But it couldn’t wash away the reality of what had just happened. The fight. The ritual. The fact that, for the first time, he had led people into something truly dangerous—and they had followed him.

  He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

  With a weary shake of his head, he kicked a loose rock into the water, watching the ripples distort the reflection of his own face. ‘Do I even recognize myself anymore?’

  Misty let out a small, amused huff through their bond. ‘Tired. Dirty. But still you.’

  Del smirked despite himself. “Could do without the commentary, you know.”

  She flicked an ear, clearly unbothered.

  With a final exhale, Del pushed himself back to his feet, rolling the stiffness from his shoulders before turning back toward the main group.

  The fire was still burning, and for the first time in what felt like hours, he let himself think about sleep.

  The fire still burned low, its embers pulsing in soft waves of orange and gold. The others were quiet, resting as best they could in the aftermath of everything. Del dropped down onto the ground, leaning against a small boulder, allowing his eyes to drift shut for just a moment.

  And, of course, that was when the pinging started again.

  The sharp, familiar chime echoed in his head, shattering whatever brief peace he’d found.

  ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake.’

  ‘Alright, you bloody arse, what do you want now?’

  [You have progressed on your primary Cuvat: Survive. Points added.]

  Well. That was something.

  Another chime.

  [You have learned the skill: Leadership. Try not to get too bossy.]

  A dry chuckle escaped him. ‘Noted.’

  Then, the final message appeared, bringing with it the a smile of satisfaction.

  [Congratulations, you have enough experience to level up. Would you like to level up now?]

  ‘Hell yes,’ he thought immediately, a small grin tugging at his lips.

  His stat sheet unfolded in his mind, neat and structured, glowing with that odd, unnatural clarity that system screens always had. His grin widened. Not one level, but two.

  ‘That’s more like it, Del.’

  Four stat points to spend. He hesitated for only a moment before dropping two into Strength, one into Dexterity, and the last into Intelligence—a balanced spread that made the most sense given everything they’d been through.

  Satisfied, he leaned back again, stretching his legs out in front of him as he felt his body… tense up? Relax? He wasn’t sure what but it felt as though his muscles somehow hardened and loosened all at the same time.

  ‘Weird’ he thought—only to pause as another notification flared in his mind.

  Misty’s stat sheet.

  Level 5.

  Del blinked. ‘That damn moggy is a higher level than me!’

  A laugh bubbled up before he could stop it, the absurdity of it almost a relief.

  He nudged her mentally. ‘Hey, girl, when did you get so big?’

  A purring chuckle rippled through their connection, warm and smug.

  "Newt," came her simple response.

  Right. The fight with the damn beast. While he’d been sitting and talking to Seth, she’d been earning her place.

  ‘Fair enough. Good on you, girl.’

  Satisfied, he scrolled through both their sheets, checking abilities, stats, anything new. Nothing game-breaking, but enough to be pleased with.

  For now, that was enough.

  For now, he could rest.

  Name: Del Axholm

  Level: 4

  Path: Archer

  Health: 36

  Strength: 18

  Dexterity: 18

  Stamina: 18

  Intelligence: 12

  Wisdom: 12

  Mana: 24

  Spirit: 24

  Agility: 22

  Presence: 10

  Animal Companion: Misty; feline

  Skills:

  Archery lvl 3 – Able to use all manner of handheld bows and crossbows

  Woodcraft lvl 3 – Basic survival skills in wooded areas. Can safely make fires and create crude shelters.

  Tracking lvl 2 – Can find and follow obvious tracks or blood trails.

  Traps lvl 1 – Can make basic snares and pit traps.

  Sneak lvl 3 – Able to hide in available cover. Movement increases the risk of being seen or heard.

  Herbalism lvl 2 – Can identify and gather basic herbs.

  Skinning lvl 1 – Can manage to crudely strip the skin from a carcass.

  Leadership lvl 1 - Able to command small groups of up to 20.

  Attacks:

  Bow lvl 3 – Simple Shot.

  Sword lvl 3 – Cut, thrust.

  Dagger lvl 2 – Stab, Slash.

  Special Attacks:

  Bow:

  Sneak attack lvl 1 – Doubles damage

  Master Archer lvl 1 – Cost 1 Stamina: Increased damage and chance of critical hit.

  Dagger:

  Backstab lvl 1 – Double damage.

  Name: Misty

  Level: 5

  Path: Feline Companion

  Health: 42

  Strength: 10

  Dexterity: 19

  Stamina: 15

  Intelligence: 10

  Wisdom: 6

  Mana: 25

  Spirit: 15

  Agility: 24

  Presence: 14

  Skills:

  Charm lvl 3 – Can influence the attitude of someone in eye contact with her.

  Attacks:

  Claw lvl 4 – Attack with front claws.

  Rake lvl 3 – Double rear leg attack.

  Bite lvl 3 – It’s teeth all the way.

  Special Attacks:

  Pounce lvl 4 – Can be used with any or all of the standard attacks. Double damage, with a small chance to cause the target to stumble.

  Sneak Pounce lvl 3 – As above; Triple damage.