Alexander rolled his shoulders as he set down his pack near the small spring bubbling up in their chosen campsite. The secluded garden grotto was perfect—defensible with only one narrow entrance, fresh water, and enough medicinal pnts nearby to restock their depleted supplies after the Garden Keeper battle.

  "Not bad for a victory camp," he said, surveying the space with satisfaction. His muscles ached pleasantly from exertion, the kind of tiredness that came from success rather than struggle.

  Elijah was already kneeling beside a patient Riva, applying a healing salve to a nasty gash on her forearm. "This should prevent any toxin spread," he said, his voice gentle as he worked. "The Garden Keeper's thorns had some interesting properties."

  "Interesting isn't the word I'd use," Riva winced, though she managed a smile. "But thanks."

  Lyra had disappeared immediately upon arrival, conducting her customary perimeter check. Alexander had noticed she never fully rexed in a new space until she'd personally verified every potential entrance and exit. Now she returned, her small frame emerging from the shadows with silent footsteps.

  "All clear," she reported, dropping her pack and pulling out some basic tools. "I set up a few noise triggers along the approach path. Nothing fancy, but we'll hear anyone coming."

  Valeria was already gathering kindling for a small fire, her movements efficient but her expression distant. She'd been quieter than usual since their victory, observing more than participating.

  As twilight deepened into night, they prepared a meal using some of the edible pnts they'd identified during their time on Floor 5. Alexander added a few precious spices from his inventory—a luxury his team had initially been surprised he'd bothered to pack.

  The fire crackled warmly as they ate, casting dancing shadows across their faces. For once, the constant pressure of the Game seemed temporarily held at bay. Nobody mentioned the kill quota they'd need to fulfill again soon, or the challenges that awaited on Floor 6. Instead, conversation drifted to the day's victory.

  "That vine-whip counter was impressive," Elijah said to Lyra. "How did you know to target the root system instead of the central mass?"

  Lyra shrugged, looking slightly uncomfortable with the praise. "Pnt systems are like circuits. Cut the power source, not the output nodes." She hesitated, then added, "We had to be efficient with pest elimination in the food gardens back in Sector 17."

  It was the first personal detail she'd volunteered about her home. A brief silence followed, everyone recognizing the moment.

  Riva leaned forward, curiosity overcoming caution. "What was it like? Sector 17, I mean. We hear stories in the Worker zones, but..." she trailed off, uncertain if she'd crossed a line.

  Alexander watched Lyra carefully. Her fingers tensed around her bowl, and for a moment he thought she might deflect the question or retreat into silence as she usually did. But something in the night's calm seemed to create an opening.

  "It's not what most corporate zones think," Lyra finally said, eyes on the fire rather than on them. "We're not just scavengers fighting over scraps. We have systems. Community."

  "What kind of systems?" Alexander asked, genuinely curious. The corporate briefings on Unaligned territories painted them as chaotic wastends.

  Lyra seemed to weigh her words carefully. "Resource allocation is community-decided. Weekly council meetings determine priorities. Everyone contributes based on ability, receives based on need." She paused. "Mostly."

  "How do you learn things?" Elijah asked. "Without corporate education centers, I mean."

  A hint of pride crept into Lyra's voice. "Knowledge transfer is practical. Kids apprentice with specialists—mechanics, medics, scavengers. I started technical training at six, working with our community's tech specialist, Tel."

  Alexander noticed she didn't mention her extraordinary abilities, making it sound like standard practice.

  "What about you two?" Lyra asked, deflecting attention. "What's the precious Architect education actually like?"

  It was Alexander's turn to measure his response. "Structured. Intensive. I had combat and strategy training from age seven." He deliberately kept it vague, not mentioning the military academy or specialized instructors.

  "I focused more on medical science and neural systems," Elijah added, carefully avoiding mentioning his special access to restricted research through Helena. "Lots of theoretical knowledge before practical application."

  "That's backward from how we do it," Lyra observed. "We learn by doing from day one. Theory comes ter, if at all."

  "Did you have friends?" Riva asked suddenly. "In Sector 17?"

  A shadow crossed Lyra's face. "Yes," she said simply, and something in her tone made Alexander certain there was pain there. "One close friend. Mira."

  She offered nothing more, and no one pressed.

  "I had training partners," Alexander volunteered, surprising himself. "Not friends exactly. Everything was competition."

  "Even between you two?" Riva gestured between the twins.

  The brothers exchanged a gnce. "We were separated for specialized training at ten," Alexander said. Something in Lyra's expression shifted—recognition, perhaps.

  "That must have been hard," she said quietly.

  "It was," Elijah admitted. "But we found ways to stay connected."

  The conversation flowed more easily after that, moving to lighter topics—favorite training exercises, worst food experiences, ridiculous instructor demands. Alexander noticed they were all carefully navigating around sensitive details while still sharing genuine experiences.

  "You know what's strange?" Elijah said eventually. "Despite completely different backgrounds, we all learned the same basic lesson."

  "What's that?" Riva asked.

  "Resources are limited. Performance is everything. Failure has consequences."

  A thoughtful silence followed. Alexander caught Lyra studying him with an intensity that suggested she was reassessing something.

  "Different prisons, same bars," she finally said.

  "I wouldn't call VitaCore Tower a prison," Alexander countered, though without his usual defensiveness.

  Lyra's lips quirked in what might almost have been a smile. "Of course you wouldn't."

  And somehow, that exchange felt more honest than anything they'd explicitly said all night.

  As the fire burned down to embers, Alexander announced the watch rotation. "I'm changing the schedule. Two-person watches tonight—better coverage."

  He paired himself with Lyra for the second watch, Elijah with Riva for the first, and Valeria with him for the third. It was a small change, but significant—acknowledging that teamwork extended beyond battle.

  As everyone prepared for sleep or watch, Alexander caught Lyra's eye across the dying fire. She gave him a nearly imperceptible nod, a tiny acknowledgment that something had shifted between them all tonight. Not trust, not yet. But perhaps its foundation.

  Tomorrow they would ascend to Floor 6, but tonight, for a few hours, they were just five people sharing a fire in the darkness, finding unexpected common ground.