Barrett stood at the center of what he guessed was a vast cavern mouth. He couldn’t see it, but sound told its own story. The way his voice echoed back to him, the faint drip of water somewhere far above all suggested a hollow spaciousness that was closer to a theater than a tunnel.

  His head throbbed.

  Trying to orient himself through Rebby’s eyes was proving far harder than he’d imagined. With Grimm, it had felt almost intuitive—an extension of himself—but Grimm had been perched, mostly still, and Barrett had always had his own vision anchoring the world. This was different. Rebby never stopped moving. She circled him in smooth, effortless arcs, changing elevation, angle, distance. The world spun with her.

  He had told her not to stop.

  If he was going to survive like this—fight like this—he couldn’t afford a bond that froze in place for his convenience. The battlefield wouldn’t wait for him to catch up.

  For a fleeting moment, he managed to lock onto himself through her perspective. His body snapped into focus from the outside. It felt awkward and delayed.

  Pain detonated behind his eyes.

  Barrett doubled over, the pressure finally winning. He barely had time to brace himself before his breakfast came up, splattering uselessly against the stone floor.

  Rebby skidded to a halt. “Are you sure you don’t want to rest?” she asked gently, concern threading her voice.

  “We’ve been at this for a week!” Barrett snapped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His voice echoed too loudly in the cavern. “Why can’t I just—do it?”

  “Because it’s new,” Rebby said, steady and calm. “And hard. You’re asking your brain to rewire itself.”

  He straightened slowly, breathing through the nausea. “Keep moving,” he said. “And throw some rocks at me. Or something. I need to focus on doing, not just…existing in my own head.”

  There was a brief pause. Then her tone brightened. “Okay! Let’s try it!”

  Hours bled together after that. Rebby circled, darting and weaving, occasionally hurling small stones without warning. Barrett stumbled, dodged, overcorrected. Sometimes it clicked—just for a second. Other times the vertigo overwhelmed him and he had to drop to his knees, retching or dry heaving until his vision—her vision—stopped tearing at his skull.

  By the time she suggested a break, his clothes were soaked with sweat and his limbs trembled with exhaustion.

  “Let’s get some stew,” Rebby said lightly.

  Barrett wiped his brow and forced himself upright. His thoughts drifted, unbidden, about Baha, Maku, the others, the mission that kept moving forward without him. He was already blind. Already behind. He didn’t have the luxury of patience.

  A low chuckle slipped from his throat.

  “I think I know what’s wrong,” he said.

  “Oh no,” Rebby replied immediately. “I do not like that laugh.”

  “The stakes are too low,” Barrett said, a wild grin tugging at his mouth. “If I’m gonna pull this off, I need to light a real fire under my ass.”

  She laughed despite herself. “Hohoho…I know that look.”

  “We need to go fight some damn spiders.”

  There was a beat of silence.

  “…Okay,” Rebby said slowly. “Didn’t think you’d jump straight to that.”

  Barrett hesitated, some of the mania draining away. “I mean—only if you’re okay with it. I don’t want you risking your neck for my training. But you make it sound like you know how to deal with them.”

  Another pause.

  Then Rebby laughed; it was loud, unrestrained, and just a little unhinged.

  “Let’s go.”

  —

  Barrett stood alone in the clearing, the air damp and heavy with the smell of earth. Somewhere beyond the ring of trees, the forest breathed slowly as if it were waiting patiently. He drew in a long breath and let it out through his nose, steadying himself, then unsheathed his machete inch by inch. The blade whispered as it cleared the scabbard.

  “Damn,” he muttered, watching himself through Rebby’s eyes. From that outside angle, he looked broader somehow. His corded muscle glowed in strips of sunlight, scars catching the light, posture coiled and ready. “I look…juicy.”

  Rebby giggled, her vantage point gliding lazily above him.

  “Are you suuuure you want to do this?”

  “All my life—” Barrett began.

  “Here goes nothin’!” Rebby shouted.

  “Wait, I didn’t get to finish my—”

  The sound cut him off.

  A thousand tiny legs. Scratching. Skittering. That soft, maddening hum that made his skin crawl. His spine tightened as instinct flared hot and sharp. A bead of moisture slid down his cheek.

  Feel the fear.

  The spiders were already close. He didn’t need the system notifications to tell him that.

  Rebby darted upward, her perspective rising into the canopy.

  How the hell does she get up there? The thought barely formed before the first spider lunged.

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  Barrett surged forward, [Blood Rush] igniting through his veins. His machete flashed, cleaving clean through chitin and flesh.

  [You have slain Red Dot Spider — Level 13]

  A laugh burst from his chest, raw and exhilarated. The old feeling bloomed in his core. There was a clarity in battle that he loved. He craved the heat of it, the danger that silenced the voices and memories in his head.

  “Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” he barked.

  The spiders felt slower this time. Predictable. He moved through them like a blade through water, cutting, pivoting, advancing. He threw his head back and roared, the sound tearing out of him and echoing through the trees.

  “Ahh, Barrett,” Rebby called nervously, “that’s just going to call more of them…”

  Barrett’s grin was feral.

  “I’m ready.”

  They came in waves now—more bodies, more angles. Barrett stayed in motion, [Blood Rush] burning bright as he dashed and cut, left then right, spinning through gaps that barely existed. One spider clipped him from the side, its fangs sinking into his leg. Pain flared white. His [Iron Reflex] flared in warning, but there were too many threats for it to be useful.

  “Barrett! Maybe that’s enough?” Rebby shouted.

  He straightened, venom already spreading painfully through his veins like fire, his vision — her vision — blurring at the edges.

  “It’s not,” he said through clenched teeth. “Not nearly enough.”

  He plunged back in.

  Dodge. Slash. Pivot. Another clean kill. Then another.

  [You have slain Red Dot Spider — Level 13]

  [You have slain Red Dot Spider — Level 13]

  Watching himself through Rebby’s eyes was intoxicating—disorienting, yes, but more complete. He could see his own openings, his own momentum. Moves that should’ve been impossible slid into place. He was learning in real time.

  The kills added up.

  But so did the bites.

  Numbness crept in. First his fingers. Then his legs. The venom pooled, heavy and suffocating, dragging him down.

  “Barrett!” Rebby screamed.

  The world tilted.

  He fell forward into darkness.

  —

  “Barrett? Are you there?”

  His eyes fluttered open to black. Stone beneath him. Soft bedding. Pain everywhere, but distant, more manageable compared to before.

  “Rebby?” he croaked.

  “I’m here,” she said, relief and worry tangled together.

  “What…happened?”

  “You,” she said carefully, “took it too far.”

  The memories came rushing back of the clearing, the rush, and the slaughter. A slow smile spread across his face.

  “That was…” he breathed, “…so badass.”

  “You could have died,” Rebby said quietly.

  Was that fear in her voice?

  “Sorry,” he muttered. Then, after a beat, softer, “Yeah. That was dumb.”

  She didn’t answer right away.

  Weeks. That’s how long she’d been nursing him back, feeding him, guarding him, only for him to throw himself right back into the fire.

  “Well,” she said at last, “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

  “Me too.”

  He pulled up his notifications.

  [LEVEL UP!]

  [Congratulations, you are now Level 13!]

  [LEVEL UP!]

  [Congratulations, you are now Level 14!]

  Barrett blinked. “Huh. Two levels.”

  “Have you checked your stats yet?” Rebby asked, voice light again.

  “Not yet.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  He shrugged and did.

  “Rebby…” he said slowly.

  “I know,” she replied, giggling.

  —Lance—

  They kept to the back of the procession, falling naturally into the spaces no one else seemed interested in occupying. Lance stayed close to Tanya’s side, close enough to feel the tension rolling off her. The newcomers were powerful. Lance felt it rolling off them, an invisible pressure brushing against his nerves. A shiver crept down his spine, a wordless warning urging caution with every step forward.

  The group had swollen to nearly fifty by now. They were a strange, mismatched lot: ornate armor beside patched cloaks, ritual braids alongside practical cuts, accents and mannerisms that didn’t quite belong together. Most weren’t hostile. They simply didn’t look at Lance or Tanya at all. Conversations flowed around them, laughter here and there, plans spoken in low voices, as if the two of them were scenery instead of people.

  Lance didn’t mind. He’d always lived comfortably on the edges, unnoticed and unexamined. Back home, he would’ve had a screen in his hands, something to sink into. Here, the world itself was distraction enough. He watched everything with ravenous curiosity. The weapons, the gear, the subtle differences in posture that hinted at wildly different fighting styles. Lance took it all in, hoping to glean something useful, something that would help him survive.

  Tanya, on the other hand, was all coiled alertness. Her gaze flicked constantly, sharp and measuring, tracking every shift in the line, every sudden movement ahead or behind. She walked like a drawn bowstring, ready to snap at the first sign of danger.

  They heard the flip-flops before they saw him.

  Slap. Slap. Slap.

  The sound was so out of place Lance almost laughed.

  The old man from earlier—panama hat, aloha shirt, sunburned grin—sidled up beside them like he’d always been there.

  “Name’s Tony Baha,” he said easily, flashing a warm smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  Tanya turned, instinctively squaring her shoulders. “I’m Tanya. This is Lance.”

  Her gaze locked onto him.

  Tony raised a hand gently, palm out. “Careful with that. Folks around here don’t like being ‘inspected’.”

  “Oh—my apologies,” Tanya said, easing back a fraction.

  “No need!” Tony waved it off, cheerful again. “I’m just here to help you two get acquainted. Think of me as your…chaperone.”

  “Could’ve used you earlier,” Lance muttered under his breath.

  Tony winced, just slightly. “Yeah. Sorry about that.” He paused, gaze drifting forward as if replaying something unpleasant. “We knew the orcs might make a move. I was needed elsewhere. Didn’t expect them to push this deep into our turf so soon.”

  For a moment, the easy confidence slipped. He looked like a man tallying a failure.

  Tanya broke the silence. “Are we the only ones from our group you’ve found?”

  Tony nodded. “So far. Though I did hear…troubling news about a few others.”

  “Who?” Tanya and Lance asked at the same time.

  “Barrett,” Tony said, glancing at them from under the brim of his hat. “Big guy from camp. Him and a few friends.”

  Lance felt his stomach drop.

  “Where did they go?” he asked, his voice tight with urgency.

  “Oh?” Tony’s brow lifted. “You friends of his?”

  “We’re members of Team Donovan,” Lance said.

  Tony stopped walking.

  He studied them both for a long second, expression unreadable. Then he let out a low chuckle that faded almost immediately. “Team Donovan, huh.” His tone shifted. “They went into the central forest.”

  Tanya’s voice hardened. “Can we track them?”

  Tony barked out a laugh. “Hell no. Hell freaking no. I wouldn’t send my worst enemy in there.”

  “What’s there?” Lance asked quietly.

  Tony’s smile vanished. “A monster. Something that doesn’t belong on this island.” He nodded toward the front of the line. “Too strong for any of us. Even the First Worlders up there.”

  They walked on in silence after that, forest sounds closing in around them with wind through leaves, distant calls, and the muted murmur of the group ahead.

  Lance noticed a white falcon circling high above them, its pale wings catching the light as it rode the air in slow, effortless spirals.

  For a brief moment, Lance had the distinct impression that the falcon wasn’t just watching them.

  It was watching him.

  “So,” Tanya finally said, breaking the quiet, “where are we going?”

  Tony sighed. “We’re sweeping the last of the inner warp zones. Looking for survivors.” He glanced back at them. “After that, we head to Evergreen City.”

  “Inner warp zones?” Tanya asked.

  Tony grinned, some of the levity returning. “That’s where the real badasses drop in, like you two,” he said, winking.

  Lance tilted his head. “And what’s at Evergreen City?”

  Tony’s grin widened. “Why, the ships, of course.”