I had three skill points available—two for general skills—and my specialization test to begin.

  Upgrading myself as much as possible before locking in skills was the smart choice. But as I stared at the options, uncertainty gnawed at me. If Alyssa were here, she’d cut through the hesitation, breaking everything down with that sharp, no-nonsense logic of hers. She’d tell me what worked, what didn’t, and probably throw in some snide remark about how I was overthinking again.

  I could handle picking my own attack skills—I knew how I fought. But general skills? That was trickier. Cloaked Appraisal had already paid for itself a dozen times over, but what next? What was actually useful?

  I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. I missed her. More than I wanted to admit. Not just for the advice, but for the presence. The way she had this effortless confidence, like she belonged, like I wasn’t alone in this.

  It was strange—how silence felt louder without her voice filling it. Even now, I could almost hear her, some sarcastic jab waiting on the tip of my tongue, but when I turned to respond, there was nothing.

  And I hated that.

  A part of me wanted to say something—out loud, to no one. Just to break the silence.

  But there was no one left to hear it. Just like before.

  I forced the feeling down and focused on my specialization. Another screen appeared, identical to before.

  Specialization Required for Advancement.

  Choose a path to define your growth. Attributes, skills, and future evolutions will align with your chosen specialization.

  A test will be given.

  Except this time, a single, gut-wrenching word hung below the text—gray and crossed out.

  Hero.

  I stopped breathing.

  No.

  I blinked, as if that would change it. As if I had read it wrong.

  But it was still there. Crossed out. Denied. Gone.

  Like it had never even been an option.

  Just like that, everything broke.

  The word hit harder than any wound I had ever taken. Harder than shattered bones, harder than torn muscles, harder than the weight of exhaustion that had once buried me alive.

  I had bled for this.

  Suffered, fought, endured—to be strong enough to stand between cruelty and the helpless. That was supposed to be the reason. The purpose.

  But what had I done with this second chance?

  I thought back to my old life. The life before this one. The way I had thrown myself between danger and others. The way I had pushed my body past every breaking point, because if I failed, someone else would suffer for it.

  That was who I was. That was the kind of person I had fought to be.

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  And now?

  Now I was the one deciding who lived and who died. Now I was the blade that fell.

  The children in the den—the way their bodies hit the ground, too small, too fragile. I told myself they were monsters. That they would grow into something worse. That I had no choice.

  But hadn’t I?

  Hadn’t there been another way?

  And the villagers. The ones I had saved.

  The ones I hadn’t.

  Had I really saved anyone? Or had I just picked my own convenience, my own priorities, my own justifications and wrapped them in the thin excuse of survival?

  I had told myself I was doing what had to be done. That pain and sacrifice were the price of strength. That I could be the one to bear it, as long as others lived.

  But was that even true anymore?

  Or had I just become a killer because it was easier?

  The system had answered me. It had judged me.

  No.

  No hero. No redemption. No way back.

  Only the path I had already chosen.

  A path paved in blood.

  And now, there was nothing else left.

  I let out a slow breath, but it didn’t steady me. My hands clenched into fists at my sides. My body still ached from my last battle, but the pain was distant—just another reminder of how much I had given, how much I had lost.

  No hero. No redemption.

  The words sat heavy in my chest, a weight I wasn’t sure I could carry. If the system had judged me unworthy, then what was I? Just a killer? A stray dog chasing survival until something stronger put me down?

  I bowed my head, staring at the cracked ground beneath me.

  Had it all been pointless? The pain, the struggle, the choices?

  No.

  My mind drifted to Chloe.

  To the way her voice wavered when she tried to act strong, to the way her small hands clutched mine, holding on like I was the only thing keeping her world from falling apart.

  To the moment I saved her life.

  She was alive because of me.

  Because I chose her.

  Not the system. Not fate. Not some grand prophecy dictating the right and wrong of who should live and who should die.

  Me.

  The system had denied me the right to be a hero.

  But the system wasn’t what saved Chloe.

  I did.

  I inhaled slowly, my grip loosening. My heart still beat. My body still stood. My choices still mattered, whether the system recognized them or not.

  I wasn’t a hero.

  But I was still something.

  And I’d be damned if I let the system decide who I could or couldn’t protect.

  The air around me shifted.

  A cold pulse ran through my veins, as if the world itself had been waiting for my decision. The system screen flickered in front of me, the text trembling, distorting—then reforming into something new.

  Path of the Forsaken

  "You walk a path no hero will tread, bearing the weight of blood and consequence. You are neither savior nor executioner, neither martyr nor monster. The system does not guide you, and the world does not forgive you. You choose who to protect. You choose who must fall. And you will carry those choices alone."

  Confirm selection?

  I stared at the screen, heartbeat steady now.

  There was no illusion of righteousness here. No promise of a higher calling. Just choice—the same choice I had always made, the same one I would keep making.

  I thought of Chloe. Of the villagers who still breathed. Of the ones I had lost.

  The system could keep its judgment.

  I raised my hand and pressed [Confirm].

  Pain lanced through my chest—not a wound, but something deeper, something old and unseen. The world around me shuddered, the weight of my decision settling into my bones.

  The message shifted.

  Path of the Forsaken Selected.

  No guidance will be given. No fate is written for you. The path ahead is yours alone.

  I exhaled.

  No hero. No salvation.

  But I was still here.

  And that had to be enough.