An artificial breeze swept the fresh smell of iron through the air, rustling the brush as I took a brief rest, waiting for the rest of the party to reach the scene of carnage.

  Duskblade led the charge, cutting through the foliage with hurried swipes of his blade. Finally, he spotted me sitting on a rocky throne above a pile of corpses.

  “We heard screaming,” Duskblade said.

  “It wasn't mine.”

  The seasoned warrior scanned the blood-soaked area. “Obviously.”

  “He killed them all with his bare hands,” Tobias said, his legs wobbling as he stepped over torn flesh.

  Bewildered, Oakley ran a palm through his shaggy, matted hair. “You're a C-ranker?”

  “This is insane,” Joel said, rubbing Callum the Fearless' back as he hunched over and puked.

  “We still haven't made camp. Why don't you guys sift through their loot? Cyprus and I will scout ahead for a decent campsite.”

  Grace raised her hand, but Duskblade shook his head.

  I followed him north, moving at a snail's pace as he methodically hacked away at the underbrush, every movement precise and designed to minimize noise.

  No wonder it'd take a month for these guys to clear this place.

  “When you ran off, I thought you panicked and hid. Even I was concerned, too, when that goddamned door locked. But now I realize you truly sensed those monsters and wiped them out in a mere minute.” Duskblade turned and grabbed my shoulders, staring into my eyes.

  Don't touch me, you awkward sonofabitch.

  “You read the situation perfectly, recognizing our declining morale, and took immediate action.”

  I just didn't want to share the XP.

  “You put yourself in a dire situation all for the sake of our comrades,” Duskblade said, voice growing shaky with tears forming in the corner of his eyes.

  Is this bastard about to cry?

  “Eliminating those creatures with such a show of force will convince everyone we have a chance to survive this. You must be exhausted.”

  Not in the slightest.

  I retreated from Duskblade's grasp, fearing it was about to transition into a hug. “It's not that deep. As a devout martial artist, I must constantly challenge myself and overcome impossible situations. From this point forward, I'd like everyone to take on a support role.”

  “What?”

  “I'll take the lead and everyone else will only intervene on my signal,” I said and patted Duskblade on his back as I walked past him.

  “You want us to sit back and watch?”

  “Just handle everything that escapes.”

  Undoubtedly, my demand machine gunned Leighland's pride into Swiss cheese. But after I showed him what I was capable of, he couldn't deny my request.

  “I deny your request.”

  Huh?

  “Such recklessness is going to get you killed and put the rest of us at risk. Together, with your strength, we'll all make it out of here alive.”

  Of course we would survive at his pace, but we'd also be old enough to collect social security by the time we got out. Not only did I need to get back for that inconvenient elf's sake, I also didn't want to find out what would happen if Justice knew it took me a month to complete a single quest. That impatient goddess had nearly deep-fried me for not changing the entire course of a nation within five damned days.

  Duskblade's objection forced my hand. In hindsight, I should've spouted off some bullshit like, “We may have supplies for a month-long stay, but do our comrades have the mental resolve? Tobias and Oakley are mere children!”

  Instead, my frustration got the best of me. “If you don't agree to those terms, I'll tell everyone your real name's Leighland.”

  I watched Duskblade present a slow-mo slideshow of fear, anger, pain, and ultimately defeat. Anyone donning the moniker Duskblade would truly be embarrassed if word got out that their real name was Leighland. A lame name like that couldn’t sit well with a group obsessed with obnoxious titles that they thought sounded cool.

  Duskblade stayed silent, then nodded.

  Even I was impressed by my power play and how quickly it shut him up. Without so much as another word, we returned to the goblin graveyard.

  “The goblins had nothing of value, just cheap iron armor and weapons. Did you find a place for our camp?” Grace asked.

  If everyone wanted to camp so badly, they should've stayed on the surface. I wouldn't have been surprised if they had even brought the ingredients for s'mores.

  “Oh, and this is yours,” Grace said as she handed my short-sword back.

  Joel scratched his chin and stared at my feet as if he were afraid to make eye contact. “Um, it looks like they were all killed in the same manner. You tore out all their throats?”

  “Oh, uh, it's better to practice one technique 30 times than 30 techniques once,” I said.

  “Are we setting up camp or not?” Grace asked, irritated.

  Duskblade clapped his hands together. “Pay attention, we're making a strategic change. Cyprus will take point, and we'll only assist when he signals for it.”

  “What kind of strategy is that?” Grace snapped. “Is this a joke?”

  I stepped forward. “Listen to your leader.”

  “Duskblade, what's going on?” Callum asked, his face still pale from spilling his lunch earlier.

  “You've all seen what Cyprus is capable of. This brush is too dense for a base camp, and we don't know what else could be on this floor. We need to make haste. I don't want to hear any complaints.”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “Ridiculous...” Grace started.

  “Enough, let's move,” Duskblade said, and hauled his stocky armored body off ahead.

  A few hours passed as we traversed deeper into the forest—a forest that seemed precisely designed to hinder our movements. The terrain sloped up and down with impromptu hills and steep declines. Even at a consistent pace through the thicket, guided by the buzzing mossy lights glowing from the sky-high ceiling, it felt like we were making little progress. Sweat streaked down my brow, occasionally stinging my eyes as our trek continued.

  “This is never ending,” Joel said.

  Callum the Fearless rubbed his neck. “Are we lost? What if we get lost in here... That'd be really bad.”

  “Stop embarrassing yourself, we're not lost,” Grace said. “No matter what happens in a dungeon, you head north. That's where the boss always resides.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know, but have you ever seen a dungeon this massive?” Callum replied, worried lines etched across his brow.

  “No, I haven't,” Grace admitted. “But that fact changes nothing.”

  The sheer amount of supplies the adventurers brought in their massive traveler's backpacks weighed them down, getting caught on branches and making the inclines especially challenging. Even Duskblade was running out of steam from mindlessly slashing away at the brush in our path.

  “Everyone stop,” I said, finding myself surprised when everyone actually listened. “Take five, catch your breath, drink some water and eat some trail mix.”

  “Ha, so you're already exhausted too,” Grace said as she dropped her backpack and sat on it.

  I raised my cloth sack of supplies from under my arm. “No, not in the slightest. Because I only brought the essentials.”

  “In a week you'll be begging us to share our rations.” Grace laughed, shaking her head.

  “And Duskblade, watch this.” I stepped ahead of him toward an uncut branch and brushed it aside with my wrist. “Just do that. You're not getting paid for landscaping.”

  The warrior sighed, frustrated and probably wondering if he could talk back without risking me unveiling his true identity.

  This is why I work alone.

  Right now, I didn't care if they liked me. I was sure they'd hold me in higher esteem once this place was cleared and everyone was safely back in Ingcaster. After the quick break, we continued through the forest for another hour. With each step onward, hope dwindled and fatigue mounted.

  “This can't be possible,” Callum huffed, dragging the traveler's pack behind him across the ground by its straps.

  “You always said you were the most athletic out of us. Quit whining,” Grace said between tired breaths.

  Out of the six of them, only Duskblade seemed like he had the most gas in the tank. The rest of the party had reached their physical limit. If I pushed them any further, someone would break. Instead, I clapped my hands together and said, “Good job. We covered enough ground for now. Let's make camp.”

  The party let out a collective sigh of relief and dropped their luggage. I assisted Duskblade with clearing out bushes and roots, carving out a pocket within the labyrinth of a forest for our campsite. Within minutes, three tents were erected, bedrolls were laid out and a small fire was started. Tobias cooked a goblet of porridge and passed out bowls. Dinner stank and tasted worse. It had a chalky mixture that reminded me of gritty toothpaste.

  “This combination of herbs will aid in our recovery,” Oakley said.

  As if that justifies this culinary abomination.

  But everyone ate it without complaints, likely too haunted by the reality that we were trapped with no sign of an exit.

  “Are dungeons always this quiet?” I asked.

  “From what I've read, they vary in size and density,” Oakley chimed in.

  Duskblade laughed, slapping his knee. “I keep forgetting this is your first dungeon.” His laugh vanished, and his voice took on a frigid edge. “Nothing about this place is normal. I've cleared 11 C-rank dungeons and took part in two failed B-rank raids. I've also spoken with A-rank adventurers. Usually, the size of the dungeon correlates with the number of hostiles. This forest is massive, and we've only seen a few dozen goblins.”

  “Professor Galian mentioned something similar before—that density dictates the boss's strength.”

  “What exactly does that mean?” Joel asked, gagging with a mouthful of gruel.

  “According to his theory, every monster's existence is derived from the dungeon's energy. Essentially, the fewer the monsters, the stronger the boss.”

  A fear-fueled silence spread amongst the party. It was like someone had popped a pinata of doom and gloom, which Duskblade quickly noticed. “Sounds like Professor Galian's still full of shit. Doesn't that old man drink his own piss?” he said.

  “It's supposed to help with cultivating magical energy,” Tobias said.

  Oakley threw his hands up, quickly interjecting. “Neither of us follow that teaching... I just wanted to make that clear.”

  Everyone burst into laughter besides me. I was sitting off to the side, dumping the rest of my gruel underneath a rock. It felt right for me to be on the outskirts. Duskblade was truly their leader. He was smarter than his brutish stature suggested. Being able to diffuse their morale from spiraling out was the defining trait of a leader. I belonged alone in my struggle. And after burning the bridge between us, I thought it was wise to keep distance.

  I finished eating and started counting my heartbeat. Time ticked away and our negligible progress bore down on my shoulders like a Mack truck. After counting to 4,900 I noticed everyone had gone to sleep besides Duskblade, who was sitting by the campfire, watching its embers dwindle. With one hand, he waved me over.

  I took a seat across from him, slender curls of smoke trailing up between us.

  “A long time ago, I would've tried to kill you for threatening me. That's the type of man I was.” Duskblade leaned back, unveiled a flask, and twisted its cap off. “Robbing, extortion, and killing. You name it, I've done it.” He took a long swig and wiped his mouth. “I don't know how you know about my past. Not that it matters. I don't deserve mercy or forgiveness.”

  What the fuck are you talking about?! You have +170 karma!

  “Something—no, someone changed me a while back. I've been trying to make up for my transgressions since, but I always knew they'd eventually come due. Before you turn me into the authorities, I'd at least like a chance to explain it to my party first.”

  I dismissed him with a casual wave of my hand, as if I was brushing away an inconsequential annoyance. “I don't care. I just want dibs on the monsters.”

  Duskblade rubbed his grizzled chin, lost in thought. “I see. You're saying it's not about the path I used to walk, but the path I'm currently forging. Thank you, Cyprus. I won't forget this.”

  How did you arrive at that conclusion?

  The warrior stood up and bowed, tears once again forming in the corner of his eyes. “It all started when I met—”

  “Stop. We're good, the sad backstory isn't necessary.” I hoped my dismissal pierced through his thick skull. “Go get some rest.”

  “Understood. Those boys already casted a simple detection spell around the perimeter. So don't worry about keeping watch,” Duskblade said and retreated into his tent.

  Leighland's confession unearthed a nasty thought I would've rather kept suppressed. Could people change? I surely hadn't, even after a literal lifetime of trying. If anything, I'd gotten worse. I could count every person I killed back on Earth on one hand. In less than a week here, I had racked up a higher body count than most mass murderers. How many lives had I extinguished preemptively?

  But that was the maximum extent to my remorse—a brief three seconds of self-reflection. In my previous life, I used to dwell on my actions, sometimes for weeks at a time. Everything here moved too fast. I barely had time to sleep, let alone contemplate right and wrong. I pulled the edge of my cloak into the fire's dimming light, examining the dried blood from the assassins I had fought earlier, feeling nothing. What happened to the guilt?

  I tilted my head up and noticed a thick plume of smoke rising against the mossy ceiling. The source of which couldn't have been more than a few hundred yards to the north. Moving in silence, I grabbed my sheathed sword and cloth sack of supplies before leaving the camp. Free from the party's pace, I made full use of my agility. The surroundings in my peripherals blurred as I became laser focused on the path ahead, gracefully skipping over the branches and footholds.

  At last, a glint of light pierced through a half-wall of bushes, marking the forest's end. Beyond it was an open field of chest-high ruby red grass that sprawled out in every direction, wavering in an artificial wind. Smoke drifted upward in thick, lazy spirals, visibly coming from the center of the field. I activated the Karma’s Gaze and scanned the area, discovering two targets.

  Target: Waimo

  Level: 7

  Karma: -1255

  Additional Data: Elite Goblin Knight

  Additional status information unavailable.

  Target: ???

  Level: ???

  Karma Level: ???

  My blood ran cold. Even if the level 7 was alone, it'd be a tough fight. But being accompanied by something Karma's Gaze couldn't identify… There was no overcoming it, no matter the tactic. Our chances of survival were zero. How could following that damned quest put me in such a position?

  “Stop gawking and come join us already.”

  The voice jolted an icy realization through my body. It was Chaos.