Barrett made his way down to the river, careful to keep well upstream from the camp, for reasons that didn’t need explaining. The water moved steadily there, clear and cold, murmuring over stones worn smooth by time.

  At the bank, he stripped down without ceremony, kicked his boots aside, and tossed his shirt and bandana onto a rock. He dropped to the damp earth and started doing push-ups, palms sinking slightly into the cool soil.

  That’s when he realized the problem.

  He could keep going.

  No burn. No creeping failure. His body moved with mechanical certainty, muscles responding without complaint, without limit. The repetition lost meaning almost immediately.

  He stopped, exhaled sharply, and stared at the ground.

  “KRAA. KRAA.”

  Grimm had abandoned him for a fallen tree nearby, hopping along the bark and watching with obvious interest.

  “Not bad, buddy,” Barrett muttered, pushing himself to his feet.

  He walked over to the tree. It was massive with a thick trunk, waterlogged, and heavy enough that even with his strength, it wasn’t something he could simply muscle off the ground from the center. He adjusted instead, moving to one end, setting his feet, and gripping the rough bark.

  He lifted.

  At first it barely moved. Then, slowly, it rose. Inch by inch, resistance building until the weight finally shifted and one end came free of the ground.

  Barrett held it there, half the tree suspended, the other half still resting in the dirt. He began pressing it upward, chest and shoulders straining now in a way that finally felt honest.

  Up. Down. Up again.

  When the tremor started, when the weight finally fought back, he smiled grimly and began to count.

  “One…two…”

  He kept going, sweat dripping down, body shaking.

  “Nineteen…twenty…”

  He let the tree fall with a heavy thud and stepped back, breathing hard.

  After a brief pause, he bent down again and hauled it up, this time shifting his stance. He lowered into squats, lifting the end of the trunk with his legs, forcing the motion through his hips and thighs instead of his arms. The strain dug deeper this way, slower and more punishing.

  When he finished, he dropped the tree once more and stood there, hands on his knees, chest rising and falling.

  The river kept moving. The forest breathed around him.

  And somewhere in the quiet repetition—between the weight, the breath, and the ache—his thoughts began to loosen. The edge of his frustration dulled. The knot in his chest eased.

  Slowly, without him quite noticing when it happened, his mood lifted.

  His head felt clearer, as if a great wind had blown away the pollution.

  —

  He heard movement in the forest behind him—soft footsteps, deliberate.

  “Oh. Hey, Granny,” Barrett called without turning.

  She laughed lightly as she emerged from the trees. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to you seeing through that bird of yours.”

  “Yeah,” he said with a faint smile. “Me neither.”

  She came closer, close enough that he could feel her presence rather than hear it, the way she always moved, quiet but assured.

  “Well,” she said after a moment, “who knows? Maybe one day we’ll run into a healer who can fix your sight.”

  Barrett blinked, surprised. “You really think so?”

  “Why not?” she replied easily. “My magic tends to get more refined the higher up I go. No reason to assume this is as good as it gets.”

  He nodded slowly. “That’d be…nice.”

  Granny chuckled. “Although,” she added thoughtfully, “the way you look at women…” She paused just long enough to be dangerous. “Might be better if you don’t regain your sight.”

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  “Very funny,” Barrett laughed, shaking his head.

  He bent to grab the fallen tree again, bracing himself for another set.

  “Doing a little workout, are we?” Granny said brightly. “My lucky day, getting to watch such a stallion in action.”

  Barrett snorted. “Find yourself a good corner and enjoy the show.”

  “I think I’ve got a better idea.”

  Before he could respond, she walked around to the opposite end of the tree, climbed up with surprising agility, and plopped herself down on it.

  “There,” she said cheerfully. “Now let’s work, young man. I want to see those muscles earn their keep.”

  “Granny,” Barrett said, half laughing, half alarmed, “you’re scaring me.”

  He lifted anyway, immediately noticing the added weight. Slowly, carefully, he began pressing the tree upward again, arms tightening, breath deepening.

  “One…two…” Granny counted aloud.

  Barrett focused on the rhythm, the sound of the river, the weight in his hands. He lost himself in it until the strain crept in and then settled hard.

  “Hold it,” Granny said suddenly. “Right there. Don’t move.”

  Barrett froze. His muscles screamed almost instantly, the fatigue multiplying.

  “Keep it,” she said calmly. “Not an inch.”

  His arms began to shake.

  “That’s it,” she continued, unrelenting. “Now bring it up—slowly. Just a little.”

  The pain sharpened, trembling through him.

  “Okay,” she said at last. “Break.”

  Barrett let the tree drop and stumbled back, legs unsteady. He collapsed onto the grass, chest heaving, sweat slicking his skin.

  “Granny,” he gasped, “what the hell was that?”

  “Time under tension,” she replied, pleased. “Didn’t think I knew that, did you?”

  Barrett could only laugh weakly, completely spent.

  “My late husband was into bodybuilding,” she went on, sitting beside him. “Everything I know about it, I learned against my will.” She added the last part jokingly.

  Barrett laughed and propped himself up on an elbow. “You still miss him?”

  “Every day,” she said quietly. “He was a police officer. A good man. You would’ve liked him.”

  “I think I would have,” Barrett said.

  “He would’ve liked you too.”

  They sat in silence for a while, the river filling the space between words.

  “How long,” Barrett asked finally, voice low, “until it stops crushing you? Until you can…move on?”

  Granny smiled gently. “You don’t move on,” she said. “You just learn how to carry them differently.”

  Barrett exhaled. “I love vague wisdom as much as the next guy,” he said, “but I need something real.”

  “Then give the grief somewhere to go,” she replied. “Don’t try to smother it. Do something or go somewhere that reminds you of her.”

  “Will that actually help?” He asked, more to himself than to Granny.

  “It will help more than pretending it isn’t there,” she said quietly.

  He sat with that.

  Granny stood and brushed herself off, then leaned down slightly. “The fact that you still miss her,” she said softly, “means it mattered.”

  Barrett rose to his feet and turned away. “I need a minute, Granny.”

  She took a few steps back—then paused. He felt her arms wrap around him from behind, firm and warm. They stayed like that for a moment.

  “Alright,” she said at last, stepping away. “I’m going to check on camp. And don’t forget to wash up in that stream. You smell awful.”

  Barrett snorted. “You held on a long time for someone who claims I stink, Granny.”

  She winked over her shoulder. “Please. Call me Ida.”

  Her laughter followed her back into the trees, leaving Barrett by the river, breathing a little easier than before.

  —

  Barrett eased himself into the water and leaned back, the cold stream wrapping around his skin.

  “Need a minute, pal,” he murmured, and let his [Deadeye Domain] slip away.

  Darkness returned.

  Not a sharp void, but something quieter. Just him, half-submerged in the stream, the cold biting enough to keep him anchored in the moment.

  For a heartbeat, it felt like she was there again. Sitting close beside him in the cave. The memory came with cruel clarity—the warmth, the shared silence, the way simply being near her had once been enough. His chest tightened with longing, his heart reaching for something it already knew was gone.

  She wasn’t there.

  The realization landed heavy. Tears traced slow paths down his face, vanishing into the running water. He didn’t stop them. He thought not only of Rebby, but of Arthur too. Both taken too soon. Both too kind, too young for a world that seemed determined to grind the good ones down first.

  No more excuses.

  If this world was going to keep demanding sacrifices, then he would become something that could answer back. Something strong enough to stand in front of all of them, strong enough that no one else had to be remembered this way.

  Barrett drew in a steadying breath and wiped his eyes.

  Then he opened his stat sheet and, without hesitation, began allocating his free points.

  [Name: Barrett Donovan]

  Race: Human (Earth-Origin)

  Level: 20

  Free Points Available: 0

  Strength: 93 (+70)

  Endurance: 81 (+60)

  Dexterity: 70 (+53)

  Mana: 68 (+51)

  Titles:

  [Red Dot Supremacy] (Red Dot Venom has been fully integrated into your physiology. Your body has adapted beyond normal limits, gaining vastly heightened attributes and near-immunity to most poisons.

  Skills:

  – [Iron Reflex] [Bloodline Ability] (Passive: Detects danger moments before it occurs.)

  – [Blood Oath Stage 1] (Active: While active, Strength and Dexterity are significantly amplified. Emotional intensity is consumed as fuel and are burned away to drive the body beyond its limits.)

  – [Deadeye Domain] (Active: While active, it allows sensory fusion with a bonded entity.)

  Barrett closed his stat sheet and opened the next one.

  A glowing screen flickered into view.

  Choose One Skill:

  [1] Raven’s Reversal (Active) – Instantly swaps positions with Grimm. Can only be activated inside the user and bond’s active domain.

  [2] Momentum Engine (Active) – While active, it increases Endurance. Each kill extends the duration of the Momentum Engine.

  [3] Predator’s Claim (Active) – Marks a single enemy. Gains bonuses in Strength, Endurance, and Dexterity when closing distance, striking, or pursuing the marked target.

  [4] OathBound Presence (Passive/Aura) – Enemies within range feel mounting pressure and hesitation. Weaker foes suffer morale loss; stronger ones feel instinctive threat awareness. The effect translates into temporary attribute lose for enemies, the greater the effect, the more attribute loss enemies suffer.

  When Barrett finished reading them all, he huffed and shook his head.

  The choice was obvious.