"Where were you?" Bree said, her voice cutting through the muggy air. "We needed you."

  "I..." Nathan hesitated. "I was out dealing with some personal stuff. Did—"

  "The Tree Wrath. It hit while you were gone." Bree's eyes narrowed, dirt and what looked like dried blood streaked across her cheek. "The people weren't ready to move after having just settled in. It was a disaster."

  Nathan surveyed the damage beyond her shoulder—splintered boards, torn canvas, and worst of all, the makeshift medical tent overflowing with the injured. His throat tightened. "How many?"

  "Twenty dead. A hundred injured. A dozen of them might not make it." Bree's voice remained steady, but her hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists at her sides. "If you had been here—"

  "I'm sorry," Nathan said. "I didn't know it would—"

  "But you knew when someone was going to assassinate you, huh? And why the hell did Derek come storming in earlier from where you were at, a man down and blood all over his guys?”

  Nathan's lips thinned into a tight line. “No, you don’t understand—“

  "You've been saying that a lot lately." Bree took a step closer, lowering her voice. "We need you, Nathan. Not your apologies after the fact. Not your guilt. We need your presence, your decisions, your—" She stopped and shook her head. "There's no point in this. We have news."

  The abrupt change in direction caught him off guard. Nathan perked up. "What kind of news?"

  "Right after you left, we received a message from one of the scouts," she said. "They found the second dungeon. We need to get going."

  "Already?" Nathan glanced back at the damaged camp, the weary survivors. "What about these people? The survivor camp?"

  "It can wait."

  "It can wait?" Nathan's voice rose. "These people are panicking, Bree. They just lost friends, family. They need leadership, stability. We can't just—"

  "We can and we will," Bree cut him off. "The dungeon is our priority. You know what's at stake."

  "I know exactly what's at stake. I'm just saying we spend one day helping these people get back on their feet before we rush off chasing—"

  "Chasing what exactly? Our only chance at survival?" Bree stepped closer. She drew a deep breath, her eyes glistening for a brief moment. "You think I don't care about these people? You think I don't feel each of those deaths like knives in my chest? I held three of them as they died, Nathan. I promised their families I'd keep them safe."

  Her voice dropped to a harsh whisper. "But I can't let my grief cloud what needs to be done. Every decision I make is to keep the majority alive. Every. Single. One. Sometimes that means making choices that hurt.”

  She gestured toward the horizon. "If we don't get to the next circle—“ She swept her arm toward the camp. "Everyone dies. Not twenty. Not a hundred. Everyone."

  "I—"

  "The greatest mercy I can offer these people isn't comfort today, it's survival tomorrow. That's the burden of leadership—seeing the whole board, not just the piece in front of you."

  "By abandoning them when they need us most?"

  "By getting them to the next circle before another pocket or the Harrowed Hand gets to the dungeon before us!"

  Bree's eyes narrowed with sudden suspicion. She raised her right hand, fingers splayed toward Nathan's face. "[Identify]," she whispered, her palm glowing with a soft blue light.

  The light pulsed toward Nathan but seemed to ripple and disperse around him like water against stone. Bree's eyes widened slightly, her expression hardening.

  "Interesting," she muttered. "Very interesting."

  “Did you just try to identify me?” Nathan demanded.

  "Just checking something," she said. ”You're... not what you seem, are you?"

  "I—"

  Bree marched up to him and glared directly into his face. "You want control? I'll give it to you. If you want to be leader, I'll follow along. I already made that offer."

  Nathan's mouth went dry. "I was just offering a suggestion."

  "Of course you were." Her laugh was bitter, sharp. "That's all you do when it doesn't directly concern you. You hide away in the back, avoid the center of attention, even when people need you." She gestured widely at the camp. "But I guess they don't matter, huh? As long as it's not your sister, who cares if a few dozen people die—"

  Nathan's fist connected with Bree's jaw before he even realized he'd thrown the punch. He heard and felt something crack underneath the force of his attack—both in his fingers and in Bree's jaw. Her neck twisted as she absorbed the blow, staggering back a half-step.

  The camp went silent. Weapons were drawn. Bree's men rushed forward, faces hard with anger, but she held up her right hand, stopping them in their tracks. She worked her jaw slowly, rolling her teeth around before spitting a mouthful of blood onto the dirt.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  "You've got one hell of a left hook," she said.

  Nathan stood frozen. "Don't bring up my sister again unless you've found her."

  She snorted, wiping blood from her chin. "You got it, boss."

  Nathan glared daggers at her from the corner of his eye, his hand throbbing in rhythm with his heartbeat.

  She started to walk off. "Meeting's this way. Follow me."

  The new raid party had a number of people Nathan had seen before—along with a few he had never met. There were familiar faces like Derek and a few of his lackeys, as well as some grizzled older fellows mixed in. Nathan didn’t bother to learn their names. As usual, Chad had been invited along. Bree explained the usual spiel, making it sound as if their scouts had done great work when, in reality, they once again had basically no information to go off of beyond what the main quest window had told them.

  Nathan was getting awfully tired of the lack of information.

  Once more, they ventured into the forest. Derek had made it a point to stay on the outskirts of the group, as far away from danger as he could get. Chad, on the other hand, sidled up to Nathan, doing the opposite.

  "How’d the spirit pool stuff go?" Chad asked.

  "Awful. All I found was a crater."

  "Well, that’s not ideal. I can put the word out and see if I can find out more."

  Nathan gave him a half-nod. "Sounds good."

  Chad was quiet for a bit before he nudged Nathan’s shoulder.

  "Everything good, buddy?" Chad said. "You seem a little down in the dumps."

  Nathan was silent for a moment. He dropped his voice to a low tone so no one else would hear.

  "Just had a bad encounter with Bree."

  Chad’s eyebrows shot up. His hands twitched, as if reaching for his weapon.

  "Is she trying to cause trouble? Are we about to get into a fight?"

  "No, I don’t think so. You’re good. It’s just… stuff."

  "Stuff?"

  Like the fact that my sister is alive, and I know it. Like the fact that the Harrowed Hand has offered to help me find her. Like the fact that Bree wants me to take over leadership of the survivor camp.

  It struck Nathan for the first time that, despite how much he relied on Chad, Nathan was probably the worst friend in the history of friends.

  This was why he stuck to farming games in the past. Real people were just… so complicated. Real situations were too overwhelming. Farming games were simple. There was an obvious, intuitive goal: make the most efficient, yet beautiful farm he could. It was an open-ended goal, sure. Perhaps a bit vague. But here’s the thing—there were no stakes. If he failed, no one was going to die. It wasn’t like his parents would be even more disappointed in him than they already were. He didn’t share it online, so there were no friends who would be disappointed.

  Nathan hated the Circles.

  Not just because of the death and pain they caused, but because of what they had done to him personally. They had put him in an impossible situation, one where so many people—God, he’d lost count—were counting on him! The college dropout who used to spend all day doing nothing but grinding turnips in video games.

  The mushroom people, the werewolves, the desert people. And Bree wanted to add even more to his burden? There was only so much he could take. Eventually, he would collapse under the weight—and all of those people would collapse with him. The pressure was almost unbearable.

  His hands shook.

  "Nathan?"

  Nathan grabbed his spiraling mind and shoved it back into the dark corner where it belonged. His thoughts went quiet, and all at once, he felt nothing but the wind against his cheeks and the dirt beneath his shoes.

  "It’s fine, Chad," Nathan said. "I’m fine."

  Chad stopped right then and there. Nathan looked back at him, his face blank.

  Chad stared at him, his eyes squinted in a mystified expression, his frown intense.

  "Nathan, are you sure there’s nothing you need to tell me—?"

  "There it is!"

  Nathan turned around. He sniffed. The smell of decay, of rot, permeated the air. He’d been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed it, but now it was almost unbearable. It was like a thousand rotten eggs had been left to fester in the area ahead. He stepped forward, passing by the rest of the raid party.

  In front of him were dozens of gnarly, twisted trees. Water covered the ground, bubbles seeping up like pus from a wound. Black sap oozed down the trees, and Nathan had the oddest feeling that he wouldn’t want to touch them.

  "Gentlemen," Bree said. "Welcome to the Rotwood Fen."

  Nathan pulled up his main quest menu and glanced at what the system had to say.

  The Rotwood Fen—A steaming, disease-ridden swamp where everything was rotting but somehow still alive. Trees wept black sap, fungal horrors rose from the muck, and stepping in the wrong place might get you dragged under. Somewhere in the decay lay the Blightbloom, a parasitic flower that fed on corruption. Try not to breathe too hard. Or touch anything. Or exist, really.

  Nathan stretched out his hunter's instinct skill. If this was water, then this should be his domain… right?

  To his surprise, he detected absolutely nothing. It was as if the entire swamp was empty. He reached out toward the edge of the water and tapped his finger against the still surface. Ripples spread from where he touched, extending outward and colliding with each other in chaotic patterns.

  "So…" Chad said. "Who wants to go first?"

  "Not me," Derek replied.

  Nathan reached out his hand and let a trickle of ki flow from his fingers. He twisted his wrist, and the water responded in kind. Good. This was his natural element. There was no nonsense here that would prevent him from using the water already present.

  He stepped forward into the water. His foot sank down before hitting solid ground. As it turned out, the water only came up to his ankles.

  "It's not that deep!" he called, turning around. "Let's get moving!"

  Even Bree seemed disgusted as her foot sank into the muck. Nathan was the only one who appeared unfazed.

  He took one step at a time, leading the way through the water.

  In his mind, he could almost hear Bree's voice ringing in his ears. He pushed the thought aside and focused on moving forward.

  As they walked, the water began to rise. At first, it reached their ankles. Then it climbed to their knees. Soon, it was up to their waists.

  "Can someone please tell me they know where we're going?" Chad said. "Because none of these coats are gonna be good now, and the ones at the logistics center really don't match my style—"

  "Chad?" Bree stared at him. "Is it possible for you not to be an insufferable idiot for more than five minutes?"

  Chad blinked at her, surprised. "What?"

  "Bree," Nathan said, turning his head to look at her. "Perhaps there are more important things to worry about?"

  She turned to face him. "Are there? Is there anything you want to discuss, Nathaniel?”

  The way she emphasized his name made it feel less like a word and more like a weapon.

  "Is this really the time?" Nathan asked.

  "It might as well be."

  Nathan was about to respond when he paused.

  There was something… beneath the ground.

  He looked up at Bree. Her eyes were just as wide as his own. "Out of the water!" he shouted.

  Nathan swept himself into a typhoon and launched himself into the trees. He made sure not to make it too flashy—he couldn’t risk his reputation growing any more than it already had. Chad used some kind of skill, slicing his katana through the water to create a dry path to run through.

  A few others weren’t so lucky. One of the older, grizzled adventurers struggled to move. He tried to power through the water, his strength clearing a path—

  But then he went pale and was sucked under the water without a noise.