Madi’s question cut through the silence, pulling Jack’s focus back to her. Her gloved hands fidgeted nervously with the edge of her medkit strap, betraying her unease. “Resurrection node?” she asked cautiously, her voice quiet, hesitant. “You mean, like… a respawn point? Like in video games?”

  Jack snapped his fingers without thinking, his smirk returning - a reflex more than anything. It was sharp, quick, and calculated to disarm. “Exactly,” he said, his tone lighter than it had any right to be. But then, like an old groove worn into his psyche, his voice dropped into the cadence of the role he’d tried so hard to leave behind. “But here’s the catch.” He held up a single finger, his eyes narrowing as if the weight of what he was about to say physically pulled him down. “Resurrection isn’t free. Every time you die and come back, you lose something - a piece of yourself. Energy. Memories. Skills. Experience. You might come back, but not as the same person. And if you die too many times…”

  He trailed off deliberately, letting the silence hang. He felt their eyes on him, the weight of their attention. The part of him that used to lead - no, that used to command - thrived under that gaze. It told him he still had it. That his voice still mattered. But another part of him, the part he was trying to nurture now, hated it. This wasn’t what he wanted anymore. He wanted camaraderie, not followers. Friends, not dependents.

  But when Jessica - the fiery redhead who’d challenged him at every turn - had stared him down earlier, defiant and dismissive after he’d saved their lives, something had snapped. Old habits were harder to kill than monsters, it seemed.

  “What happens?” Madi’s voice was barely a whisper, her eyes wide with uncertainty.

  Jack’s smirk vanished like a candle snuffed out. His gaze went cold, hard as flint, and the words left his mouth before he could temper them. “The dungeon claims you. Permanently.”

  The silence that followed wasn’t just uncomfortable; it was oppressive. Even the faint hum of the veins lining the walls seemed to dim, as if the dungeon itself were pausing to listen. Jack scanned their faces - Madi’s nervous curiosity, Jessica’s tense defiance, Brick’s scowl, Molly’s careful indifference - and felt a pang of guilt. He didn’t want to scare them like this. But maybe they needed to be scared.

  Molly broke the quiet with a low whistle, spinning one of her twin knives between her fingers. “Well, that’s one hell of a raw deal,” she muttered, her tone almost lighthearted, though her expression betrayed her unease.

  Jack shrugged, the motion automatic, the smirk flickering back into place as a shield. “There’s an upside,” he said, his voice slipping into a flippant tone that made even him cringe internally. “Flawless runs - deathless clears - offer far greater rewards. Dungeons like it when you play by their rules and win. But if you lose too often? You’re just another offering to feed its growth.”

  He hated how easy it was to slip into this persona - the authoritative leader, the one with all the answers. He hadn’t come back here to play that part again, yet here he was. And despite his desire to step back, to find something human again, he couldn’t let them charge forward blindly. Not when their failure could get him killed along with them.

  Brick stepped forward, his massive frame filling the already cramped space. His expression darkened, and his grip on his axe tightened. “Feed?” he growled, his voice a low rumble. “What the hell are you saying? You’re telling me these places… eat people?”

  Jack tilted his head, his hand another one of the glowing veins in the wall. He didn’t want to explain this. Didn’t want to be the one to lay it all out for them. But who else was going to do it? “Not eat, exactly,” he said, his voice quieter now, the edges of his irritation softening. “But they grow. Dungeons consume the energy left behind by those who enter. Deaths, failures, fear - all of it feeds them. It’s how they survive, how they evolve.”

  He felt their eyes on him again, felt the way his words hung in the stale air, and he hated it. He wasn’t supposed to care. He wasn’t supposed to want to guide them. But damn it, he also didn’t want them to get themselves killed. Or worse, get him killed.

  Jessica crossed her arms, her patience visibly thinning. “So what? You’re saying dungeons are alive?”

  Jack turned to meet her gaze, his own expression unreadable. The challenge in her eyes sparked something in him - pride? Frustration? Respect? He wasn’t sure. “Not alive like you and me,” he said evenly. “But aware. Think of dungeons like fires - they don’t think or plan, but they consume, spread, and leave nothing but ash in their wake. Dungeons are predators, and we’re the prey.”

  He saw Jessica’s jaw tighten, her fiery defiance blazing even brighter. She didn’t like the idea of being prey any more than he did. Part of him wanted to admire her strength, her refusal to back down. Another part wanted to shake her, to tell her that being a leader wasn’t about looking strong - it was about keeping people alive. But what did he know about that anymore? He’d lost too much to claim any kind of authority on survival.

  Rando let out a nervous laugh, the sound brittle and forced. “Great. So we’re stuck in some Vegas casino that eats people? Fantastic.”

  Jack chuckled, though the sound felt hollow in his chest. “Not a bad comparison,” he said, tilting his head. “Except casinos don’t digest you and spit you out as part of the furniture. And they don’t comp you drinks.”

  Jessica stepped forward again, her eyes narrowing. She wasn’t just angry now - she was probing, searching for something in his words. “Fine,” she said, her voice sharp. “Let’s say we believe you. Where’s this resurrection node? And why didn’t we find it?”

  Jack stopped pacing and turned to face her fully, his smirk fading into something darker. The tension in the air thickened as his old instincts took over, the part of him that couldn’t let go of the leader he used to be. “Because you weren’t supposed to find it,” he said, his voice cold but steady. “Whoever sent you here wanted you to fail.”

  The words hung in the air, final and damning. Jack felt the familiar weight settle on his shoulders again, the burden of being the one who knew too much, who had to say the hard truths. He’d come back to this world to turn over a new leaf, to stop carrying everyone else’s survival on his back. But no matter how hard he tried to let go, it seemed the role wasn’t done with him yet.

  Jack’s statement hit like a thunderclap. The air in the cavern grew heavier, suffused with an almost tangible tension that seemed to press against their lungs. The group exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions a mix of confusion, frustration, and dawning unease. Jessica’s grip tightened around the hilt of her machete, her knuckles whitening as she took a half-step forward. Her body language screamed defiance, but Jack could see the faintest flicker of doubt in her eyes. She wasn’t reckless; she was calculating. He admired that.

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  “What the hell are you talking about?” she asked, her voice firm but not as steady as she’d likely intended. Beneath the hard edge, Jack caught a tremor - small but telling. “Who would send us here to fail?”

  Jack’s lips curled into a grim smile, though it wasn’t one he wore proudly. He hated being the one to break the bad news, but damn it, someone had to. And of course, it had to be him. “I can think of a few reasons,” he said, his tone even but carrying the weight of hard truths. His eyes flicked briefly to her team - Brick, Rando, Molly, even Madi. They all looked to her, leaning on her, waiting for her to make the call. That was a lot of weight for someone her age. And yet, she stood taller under it, like the pressure itself braced her spine.

  “Someone who wants to make sure you don’t walk away with whatever’s at the heart of this dungeon,” Jack continued. “Someone who profits from your failure - maybe literally. Or maybe it’s simpler than that.” He let his voice drop, softer now but no less impactful. “Maybe they just wanted you out of the way.”

  Jessica narrowed her eyes, fixing Jack with a glare meant to deflect his relentless scrutiny. But damn it, he was too perceptive. It was like he could see right through her, past the bravado and into the swirling knot of doubts she’d been wrestling with since they first set foot in this dungeon. She hated how his gaze seemed to pin her in place, like a butterfly on display.

  Her mind churned, running through the possibilities, the questions she didn’t want to ask aloud. Jack’s words were unsettlingly precise, like pieces of a puzzle she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge existed. Dungeons weren’t random, and the thought of this one being deliberately chosen for them gnawed at her insides.

  Her machete felt heavier at her hip, its weight dragging on her confidence. We weren’t even supposed to be here. That bitter truth screamed in her head, but she shoved it deeper, into a corner of her mind she’d hoped to leave untouched. They’d been sent to a dungeon to the north, something far less ominous than this twisted, pulsing labyrinth. Their benefactor had been clear - or so she thought - about its threat level.

  Low-tiered. Manageable. Easy pickings. That’s how it had been sold to her. That’s why she’d agreed. Their first and only dungeon had been just that - predictable, straightforward. Nothing like this. The overconfidence that had come with clearing that place without much trouble had made them reckless, made her reckless.

  Jessica’s lips tightened into a thin line as Jack shifted his weight. His gaze hadn’t moved, hadn’t wavered. He was studying her again, like he could feel her thoughts unspooling. Stop staring, you smug bastard, she thought bitterly. But another part of her - a quieter, more vulnerable part - worried that he already knew. He’d called out every other gap in their strategy, every misstep. Why wouldn’t he see this one too?

  Jack tilted his head slightly, his tone measured. “Confidence,” he said, his voice breaking into her spiraling thoughts. “It’s a dangerous thing in a dungeon like this. Makes people sloppy. Makes them take risks. But if you were sent here…” His eyes narrowed, his smirk fading. “That was probably the point.”

  Jessica stiffened, her heart pounding in her chest. The words hit too close to the truth she was trying to bury. Her throat tightened, the lie she wanted to spin caught in her mouth. She thought of her crew, of how they’d looked to her, trusted her. Admitting the truth now would only make things worse - wouldn’t it?

  Jack’s voice softened, but it cut no less deeply. “So,” he said, his gaze locking onto hers. “Why are you here?”

  The question lingered, and for a moment, she froze. Her fingers brushed the edge of her machete, her grip tightening as she fought to find her footing. She could deflect, lie, deny - but why? He’d see through her anyway. And part of her was so damn tired of carrying this weight alone.

  “We weren’t supposed to be here,” she admitted, her voice quieter than she’d intended. The words felt raw, like they were being dragged out of her. “We were supposed to be at a dungeon to the north.”

  She stopped, the confession hanging in the air like a noose. Her heart thudded painfully as she waited for the inevitable judgment, the scorn she was sure would follow. But instead, Jack just stared at her, his expression unreadable. He didn’t speak, didn’t press, and somehow, that made it worse.

  “Why did you come here, then?” Jack finally asked, his tone calm but laced with an edge she couldn’t quite place.

  Before she could respond, Big Red stepped forward, his massive frame filling the space between them like a shield. His axe rested against his shoulder, and his voice carried the deep, resonant authority that only he could manage. “Because I trust her,” he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. His eyes flicked briefly to Jessica, softening for just a moment before locking onto Jack again. “She hasn’t led us astray so far. I stand by her decisions.”

  Jessica’s breath hitched, her chest tightening as a mix of guilt and gratitude washed over her. She didn’t deserve his trust - not after this - but she wasn’t about to let it go to waste. Big Red’s unwavering loyalty was as much a weight as it was a comfort, and she’d carry it if it killed her.

  Jack’s gaze shifted between the two of them, and for once, he didn’t smirk. He nodded, just slightly, as if acknowledging something he didn’t entirely agree with but respected all the same. “All right,” he said, stepping back. “Let’s hope that trust doesn’t get you all killed.”

  Jessica swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet Jack’s eyes again. This time, though, there was no glare, no defiance - just a quiet resolve. It won’t. I won’t let it.

  Brick broke in with a low growl, his hand tightening on the strap of his rifle. “So you’re saying someone set us up to die?”

  Jack nodded slowly, evenly, his gaze flicking to Brick just long enough to register the man’s growing frustration. “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” he replied. His voice held steady, though he felt an uneasy twist in his chest. Old habits die hard, he thought grimly. Here I am again, laying out the bad news like it’s my damn job.

  His gaze swept over the group again, lingering on each of them just long enough to make them squirm. It wasn’t intentional, but it was effective. That same groove he’d fallen into so many times before - the leader, the one with the answers - felt all too easy to slip back into. He didn’t like it. Didn’t want it. But he also couldn’t let them walk blind into the jaws of this dungeon. Whether he wanted to lead or not, they’d need him to survive.

  “You’re not dead yet,” Jack added, his tone sharpening. “So I’d say you’ve still got a fighting chance. The question is, are you willing to do what it takes to survive?”

  Jessica folded her arms across her chest, her stance hardening again as her jaw set. Her lips parted, and Jack braced himself for another verbal punch, but what she said caught him off guard. “We’re not afraid of hard work,” she said firmly. Her eyes locked onto his, and for a moment, Jack felt like the air between them was charged with more than tension. There was something else - something raw and unspoken. “Tell us what we need to do.”

  He nodded approvingly despite himself. She wasn’t folding. Wasn’t falling apart. She was stepping up, and he could see the resolve burning behind her fiery hair and clenched fists. For a moment, Jack let himself admire her - not just her grit, but the way she held herself, defying fear and doubt alike. Not bad, Red. Not bad at all.

  “Good,” Jack said, his voice softening just a fraction. “Then let’s start with the resurrection node. You need it active if you want any chance of making it out of here alive.”

  Madi stepped forward, her hesitation clear in the way her hands fidgeted with the strap of her medkit. “Where is it?” she asked, her voice uncertain but growing firmer as she pressed. “How do we get there?”

  Jack shifted his gaze to her, letting his expression soften slightly. “You’re the medic, right?” he asked, his tone carrying an edge of approval. He’d seen too many parties fail because they didn’t value their healers. At least this group had that much going for them.

  Madi nodded, her lips pressing into a tight line. “Yeah. I patch people up when they get hurt.”

  Jack’s smirk returned, though this time it carried a flicker of genuine warmth. “Good,” he said. “It’s always good to have a healer on the team. And your role is about to become a lot more important, especially once the node is active. Resurrection takes a toll, even if it doesn’t kill you outright. You’re going to be the one keeping everyone together - literally.”