“Wake up, Donovan.”

  The voice reached him through layers of sleep, distant at first, then closer.

  Barrett stirred. He felt heavy, sunk deep into rest in a way that almost startled him. Warmth pressed against his skin, the twin suns already high and bright overhead. For a moment, he was disoriented by it. Had he really slept that long?

  The last thing he remembered was stumbling back into camp, wounds burning, adrenaline finally draining away. After that—nothing. They must have hauled him into this wagon at first light and let him sleep through the march.

  He shifted and glanced down at his arm.

  The damage was already knitting itself together, skin pink and tight where gashes had been. Clean. Careful. Granny’s work, without question.

  “Come on, Donovan,” the voice said again, closer now. “Wakey, wakey.”

  Rei.

  “What’s going on…?” he muttered, voice thick with sleep.

  He heard her laugh, soft and amused. “So,” she said, “what exactly were you dreaming about?”

  “Huh?” The word barely left his mouth before the realization hit him.

  Barrett jolted upright, scrambling up in the wagon, and in one quick motion, grabbed for his coat as he turned away from her. Grimm fluttered nearby, chirping cheerfully, entirely unbothered by the sudden movement.

  “Or should I say,” Rei added, unable to resist, “who were you dreaming of?”

  Barrett shook his head, pulling his coat on. “Wouldn’t expect a casual like you to appreciate the science of proper masculine rest and recovery,” he said dryly. He hopped down from the wagon and finally looked at her. “So. What’s up?”

  Rei arched an eyebrow, determined to not let him off so easily. “You expect me to believe you know anything about science?”

  Barrett tied the bandana back over his face. “I’ll have you know I studied under the greatest podcasters of our time.”

  She snorted and turned away. “Walk and talk.”

  Barrett followed her through the camp. They’d stopped for the day, it seemed. Preparations were already underway. Makeshift tents were going up, gear was being unpacked, fires were being coaxed back to life.

  As they passed, villagers from the Central Forest glanced his way. Some nodded respectfully. Others watched with thinly veiled caution. They’d been marching together for over a month now, and still the distance lingered.

  Maybe I’m being an asshole, he thought, not for the first time.

  Ahead, a familiar voice rang out, sharp and relentless.

  “Come on, you lazy bums! Lord Maku expects this done twice as fast!”

  “Wexel,” Barrett said as they drew near, giving the old man a nod.

  Wexel jumped like he’d been struck by lightning. “Imperator Donovan!” he barked, snapping into a crisp salute.

  Barrett groaned, putting on a show of irritation. He hoped it was convincing enough to hide the truth that he enjoyed the title more than he would ever admit, especially with Rei close enough to notice.

  “You’ll be pleased to know camp will be fully set up in moments!” Wexel said proudly. Then he leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “Not easy inspiring this lot, but what can I do?”

  Barrett glanced around with Grimm on his shoulder. The villagers were already erecting a rough perimeter wall. Others dug shallow trenches, marking out latrine sites with surprising organization.

  He smiled to himself, thinking of Maku.

  The man had practically turned camp construction into a doctrine, mapping every tent placement, every line of defense, every necessary inconvenience. There had been grumbling at first, but it hadn’t taken long for people to realize there was method behind the madness.

  Barrett winced at the thought of what this camp might have looked like without him. The villagers weren’t stupid, but he didn’t doubt they’d have ended up bathing and relieving themselves upstream from their own water supply. Order like this didn’t happen by accident.

  “Let’s keep moving,” Rei said gently.

  “One moment,” Barrett replied. He gestured, and Grimm took to the air.

  Through the raven’s eyes, the camp snapped into clarity. Nestled against the edge of a mountain, an immense rock face at their backs. Dense forest all around. And just as he’d suspected there was a large stream nearby, close enough for water without being exposed.

  Maku picked this, Barrett thought. Of course he had. The man was a wizard at logistics, not to mention an actual wizard.

  After a moment, Barrett nodded.

  “Keep them moving, Wexel,” he said. “I’ve got matters to attend to.”

  Wexel slammed a fist to his chest again. “Imperator!”

  Barrett lingered for a moment, watching her move ahead of him. Somewhere along the road they had grown closer. Weeks of marching, fighting, surviving together had smoothed the sharp edges. She no longer felt like an outsider, no longer like someone merely tolerated. She felt…normal. Part of the group.

  He wasn’t sure when that had happened.

  It unsettled him a little. Not because he distrusted her, but because he remembered how easily he’d once trusted her before. How natural it had felt back then too, right up until she had put a knife in him.

  Has she changed? He wondered.

  Then, uncomfortably: Have I?

  Barrett exhaled, shaking the thoughts loose before they could root too deeply, and lengthened his stride to catch up with her.

  —

  Barrett heard the raised voices before he reached the clearing.

  Grimm dipped lower through the trees, wings whispering against the leaves as the raven took in the scene and fed it back to him.

  Wagar was bound to a thick-trunked tree at the center of it all, heavy ropes cinched tight around his chest and arms. He hung there with his head bowed, looking like a beaten brute.

  To one side stood Team Donovan. Granny and Pippy were shoulder to shoulder, the girl still pale and unsteady but upright. A few steps behind them, half-lounging against another tree, Maku watched the gathering like a spectator. His man orbs circulating in his hands. Barrett noticed he could spin and more and more of those things now. His control was improving.

  Across from them stood the newcomers.

  A cluster of what appeared to be guards flanked the woman and her right hand soldier. They wore unfamiliar robes. Dark blue, layered, and loose-fitting, more functional than ceremonial, reminiscent of some urban tech wear Barrett had seen. Each carried a long, double-sided blade, the weapons held with practiced ease that suggested long familiarity rather than show. He instinctively flicked his [Inspect] once.

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  Levels around fifteen for most of them. The woman and her scar-faced right hand man were sixteen.

  Not a threat.

  Grimm landed back on his shoulder.

  “Your Excellence,” Vin was saying, voice clipped and controlled, “we really shouldn’t make any decisions until we confer with the Imperator.”

  “I will not allow this demon to live another moment,” the square-jawed soldier snapped. His hand hovered near his weapon, knuckles white.

  Maku straightened and stepped out from the trees. His tone was calm, but the warning beneath it was unmistakable. “Careful,” he said. “I won’t have you disrespecting my Imperator.”

  “We mean no disrespect to your Imperator,” the woman said carefully. “We seek only justice for the people Wagar has slaughtered.”

  Maku let his spell unravel. The small motes of mana winked out one by one as he closed his hand around his spear. His voice remained calm, but the edge beneath it was unmistakable. “My lady, to steal a kill from my Imperator would be a grave disrespect indeed.”

  Barrett glanced sideways at Rei via Grimm. She caught his look and smiled faintly, amused.

  They stepped into the clearing together.

  —

  The effect was immediate.

  Heads turned. Conversation died. Through Grimm’s eyes, Barrett saw the soldier’s posture tighten, with his feet adjusting and his weight settling, his stance shifting subtly into something more defensive. The woman beside him didn’t react outwardly, but her gaze tracked Barrett with sharp, deliberate focus.

  On the other side of the clearing, Pippy visibly relaxed when she saw him. Granny did too. Maku lifted a hand in a casual wave.

  Vin looked like he’d just been handed a lifeline. “Imperator,” he said quickly. “We have…a situation.”

  Barrett nodded once, acknowledging it, then let his attention drift last to Wagar. The orc still hung limp, but his eyes followed Barrett’s movement with far too much clarity for a man meant to be barely conscious.

  Barrett didn’t bother uncovering his eyes. He simply turned his head toward the soldier and the woman.

  “You want his head,” he said evenly. “For revenge.”

  The soldier nodded. “I suspected you would see reason.”

  “I do,” Barrett replied. His voice hardened. “But I’m also extremely petty, and you tried to steal my kill while I was sleeping.”

  The words came out sharper than he intended. He wasn’t entirely sure why his temper was riding so close to the surface—hunger, exhaustion, maybe the lingering residue of the Blood Oath still scraping at his nerves.

  Whatever the reason, the reaction was immediate.

  Weapons tightened in hands. Stances widened.

  “We meant no offense, Imperator Donovan,” the woman said smoothly, stepping in before it could escalate. “We are grateful for your help.”

  Barrett turned fully toward her now. “Then start by telling me who the hell you people are.”

  The irritation slipped through despite himself. Everyone here seemed to know the rules of this world except him. Baha had promised it would be fun learning as he went. Barrett was starting to think that was a lie.

  The woman glanced briefly at the soldier, then stepped forward.

  “My name is Eidel,” she said. “I am a direct heir of Handomean line, rulers of the world Sinea. This is Zahir, commander of my royal guard.”

  “Sinea?” Barrett scratched his head.

  “Oh—right.” She chuckled softly. “As a fifth-worlder, that probably doesn’t mean much to you.”

  Barrett stepped forward, heat flaring in his chest. “What the hell did you just call me?”

  Zahir moved instantly. The guards fanned out, practiced and efficient, forming a protective arc around Eidel.

  “No,” she said quickly, lifting her hands. “It isn’t an insult.” A pause. “At least, not intentionally.”

  He noticed Pippy looking at him with concern.

  Rei drifted closer to Barrett’s side, curiosity edging out caution. “Sounds like a planetary tier system,” she said. “How does it work?”

  “Sounds more like homework,” Barrett muttered.

  “Press A to skip,” Maku added, earning a short laugh from him.

  “Fifth world?” Vin said, visibly shaken. “I wasn’t aware such a thing even existed.”

  “I suppose you wouldn’t be,” Eidel replied calmly. “Fourth-world perspectives are limited. But I assure you, Fifth worlds exist. These worlds are…fragile. Their connections are weak.”

  Vin nodded, though disbelief still lingered on his face.

  Pippy stepped forward, hands clasped nervously. “Um…Excellence Eidel? If our planet is fifth-tier, does that mean there are four levels above us?”

  Eidel’s expression softened. She looked at the girl the way one might regard something rare and precious, her voice gentle when she answered.

  “Technically five,” Eidel said.

  “How many below?” Rei asked.

  “None,” Zahir said flatly.

  Barrett stepped closer, irritation sharpening into something more focused. “Then tell me,” he said, “what tier are you, who had to be rescued by us ‘lowly’ fifth-worlders?”

  Zahir’s eyes flared. Eidel looked down, her jaw tightening.

  “We’re first-worlders,” she said quietly. “Barely.” Bitterness threaded her voice. “Once inner-first. Before our fall.”

  Barrett snorted. “A humiliated empire clawing for lost glory. Classic.”

  Zahir closed the distance until they were nearly nose to nose. “Mind your tongue.”

  Barrett studied him through [Deadeye Domain]—the thick forearms, heavy shoulders, the scar carved clean across his face. This wasn’t a ceremonial guard.

  He took a slow breath, then nodded once. “That’s a badass scar.”

  Zahir’s mouth twitched. “If you weren’t an ignorant fifth-worlder, you’d know what it means, and why you shouldn’t test me.”

  “If you weren’t an ignorant first-worlder you’d know what these stars and stripes stand for—and why you shouldn’t test me.”

  “Imperator Barrett,” Eidel said, cutting in sharply now. “We don’t have time for this. We need to reach EverGreen.”

  Barrett laughed. “Who says I’m going there?”

  She and Zahir exchanged a glance.

  “You intend to take the ships,” Eidel said slowly.

  “Eventually,” Barrett replied, spreading his arms. “But the fight’s out here. Why hole up in some stuffed city?”

  Eidel nodded slowly, considering his words. “I understand your logic,” she said. “But the compact is broken. The orcs will march on EverGreen eventually, and if they take the city, the ships will never be able to land.”

  There was a brief, uneasy silence. It shattered as Wagar’s harsh, ugly laughter rolled through the clearing.

  “You fools can’t stop what’s coming,” Wagar snarled from where he hung bound to the tree, tusked mouth stretching into a cruel grin. “No matter what you do, the Red Feather himself will come. He will burn your city to ash.”

  The words lingered, thick and poisonous.

  Red Feather, Barrett thought. The name tugged at something familiar.

  “Any relation to Gabul?” he asked.

  For the first time since being tied up, Wagar’s expression faltered. His eyes widened just a fraction before hardening again.

  “Gabul is the Red Feather,” the orc spat. “You ignorant fool. He will destroy you.”

  Barrett barked a laugh, sharp and unrestrained. “Funny. I spanked your boy the last time we met.” He shrugged. “Only reason he’s still breathing is because I had other things to deal with.”

  Wagar’s grin returned, slow and ugly. “Lies,” he said. “You forget. I fought you, human. You are strong.” His eyes gleamed. “But Gabul would crush you like a bug.”

  Barrett was moving before the words finished leaving the orc’s mouth.

  He crossed the distance in a blur, one hand slamming around Wagar’s throat and driving him back into the tree. Bark cracked under the impact.

  “How do I find Gabul?” Barrett muttered, voice low and lethal.

  Wagar coughed, then laughed—wet, broken. “You don’t need to torture me, human,” he rasped. “I’ll gladly send you to him.”

  Barrett’s grip tightened.

  Something inside him shifted.

  Gabul was still out there. Still breathing. Still walking the world after taking Arthur from his team. That imbalance scraped at Barrett’s nerves like a blade. It couldn’t stand. It wouldn’t stand.

  He glanced toward Pippy.

  She met his eyes without flinching. No fear there. No hesitation.

  “Speak,” Barrett growled.

  “He’s in the—”

  The orc’s eyes suddenly went glassy. The words died in his throat as his body sagged, going limp in Barrett’s grip.

  Barrett shook him once. Then harder. He slapped Wagar’s face.

  Nothing.

  “What did you do?” Barrett demanded.

  Through Grimm he saw Eidel watching the orc intently, her eyes darkened, faint runes glimmering beneath the surface.

  “He’s under the effect of my power now,” she said coolly.

  Barrett’s head snapped toward her. “What’s the meaning of this?”

  Dark energy rose around him without conscious effort, coiling close to his skin like a living thing. Leaves stirred at his feet, faint gusts rippling outward as the pressure built.

  Zahir reacted instantly.

  He stepped between Barrett and Eidel, stance deepening, weight settling, hands ready.

  “Imperator Barrett,” Eidel said quickly, stepping in. “This is a waste of time. Let’s return to our discussion. We must secure EverGreen.”

  “Yeah,” Rei added from behind him. “Come on, Donovan.”

  Barrett didn’t respond. He could feel the anger building, heat crawling up his spine. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Maku standing with arms crossed, watching with an unreadable smile.

  Zahir was in front of him, a door that Barrett was about to kick down.

  “Let me talk to that orc,” Barrett tried to suppress his rage, “or I’m running through your entire team.”

  Eidel’s gaze flicked between them all, calculating. Measuring risk.

  “Imperator,” she said carefully, “perhaps we add stakes to a…friendly duel.”

  The energy around Barrett continued to circulate, tightening as his pulse quickened.

  “What are you offering?” he asked, voice low.

  “A duel to first blood, no skills or weapons,” Eidel said. “If we win, Wagar dies—and you help us reach EverGreen.” She glanced at Zahir, who stood tall and unflinching.

  Barrett’s lips curved. “And if I win?”

  “We place ourselves under your command,” she said. “Join your crusade.” A pause. “At least until it’s time to board the ships.”

  Barrett chuckled softly. “Could use some real soldiers.”

  “So we have a deal?” she asked.

  Barrett weighed it for half a heartbeat. The choice was obvious. Either way ended with him putting a foot in Scarface’s ass, but this option came with far more to gain.

  “Deal.”

  The clearing fell silent.

  Barrett straightened and faced Zahir. Neither man spoke. The air between them tightened, charged and expectant, as everyone else instinctively stepped back. Grimm launched from Barrett’s shoulder, wings beating once as he settled on a branch above.

  Barrett drew in a slow breath, then let it out.

  “You want this,” he said quietly.

  Zahir’s mouth twitched with just the barest hint of a smile.

  “Thought so,” Barrett murmured.

  Then he moved.

  Barrett exploded forward, fists snapping out in a blur of straights and hooks, feet cutting sharp angles as he closed the distance, the duel igniting in a storm of motion.