"Answer us!" the old man yelled. "What were you doing?"

  Nathan squinted at the old man. How had he made it all the way down to the third circle? His eyes caught sight of a particularly angry-looking younger man standing directly behind the old man. Of course, some people would go to any lengths to ensure their family's survival.

  Nathan sighed.

  "I was looking for my sister. I thought I saw her—but it turned out to be nothing."

  Actually, it had turned out to be a trap set by some weird monster associated with the thing that had nearly killed all of them. But Nathan got the feeling that they wouldn’t appreciate the full explanation.

  "I don’t believe you," the old man said.

  "You know what I think?!" a middle-aged woman shouted. "I think he summoned the Tree Wrath!”

  "That’s absurd," Nathan said. "And even if that were true, wouldn’t that mean you’d be in danger just by being near me and accusing me like this?"

  "He’s right! Everybody, back away!" someone yelled.

  "We can take him if we all team up!"

  Nathan’s left eye twitched. He was about to respond when a new voice cut through the chatter like a thunderclap.

  "Quite the entourage you’ve got here, Nathaniel."

  A woman stepped through the crowd, the people parting for her as if by instinct. One man looked up at her in awe, while another instantly dropped to his knees.

  "The Number Seven," the kneeling man muttered.

  Bree crossed her arms and glared at Nathan. "You’ve gotten yourself into a fine amount of trouble."

  "Don’t look at me. I just woke up."

  Bree rolled her eyes and turned to face the crowd. "Let me make something clear," she said, her voice sharp. "Nathaniel here risked life and limb to defend you sacks of shit. If any of you ever pull a stunt like this again, I will personally make your life a living hell. Is that clear?"

  A few flickers of defiance appeared in the crowd, but they were quickly extinguished by her icy stare. Before long, the people began to disperse, scattering to parts unknown.

  Bree sighed. "Sorry about that. They’re just angry and want a scapegoat, that’s all."

  "They should find a different scapegoat, then," Nathan said, dusting himself off. "What do you need?”

  "The first dungeon’s been located. You in?"

  Nathan recalled their informal deal: her continued support to find his sister in exchange for his help. "Of course."

  "We head out at dawn—about an hour from now. Stop by the logistics center to grab some food. We don’t know how big the dungeon is or how long it’ll take to clear." She paused. “Have you ever been in one?”

  "This isn’t my first rodeo."

  "Interesting. You’ve been in a dungeon before? That means you must’ve been one of the lucky hundred to get a Pandora."

  Nathan glared at her. “So what?”

  Bree shook her head and slapped him on the back. "Relax. I won’t go spreading it around. But for your information, it would’ve been easy to lie and say you encountered the dungeon in the wild. Hell, you could’ve said someone else in your party ate a Pandora. Chad’s a tough nut—I could believe he had one."

  "Did you consume a Pandora?" Nathan asked.

  "Nope." She raised an arm and flexed, showing off an admittedly impressive amount of muscle. "This is all natural, baby."

  Nathan stared at her, distinctly unimpressed.

  She couldn’t resist a small laugh. "You’re more stoic than I am. You need to learn to relax, kid."

  "I’m not a kid."

  "Honey, I’m 45. Unless you’re a hell of a lot older than you look, in my eyes, you’ll always be a kid."

  Damn. Credit where credit is due, she looks good for 45.

  "I think I’ll go stop by that logistics center you mentioned."

  Bree motioned with her head. "Can’t miss it—just up the road. They’ll also tell you where we need to meet up."

  Nathan walked off, hands in his pockets. "Thanks."

  "And hey," Bree called after him, "you might want to get some new clothes. We’re not in the desert anymore."

  Nathan stopped by the logistics center as he had intended. It was less of a “center” and more of an occupied building with a bunch of tables with stuff and a guy in the middle of it. Nathan grabbed some food and a small canteen of water—even though there was no real reason to. His eyes flickered over a T-shirt with a graphic from a video game he used to enjoy. It sparked a sense of nostalgia until he realized it was likely looted from a dead person. Suddenly, he had no interest in wearing it.

  Instead, he picked out a thick jacket and a baseball cap. Thankfully, there was a changing room arranged nearby, making it easy for him to get into a new set of clothes.

  He asked around for directions and found the gathering place for the dungeon raid.

  Bree greeted him with a nod before turning her attention back to the crowd. Nathan noticed a few glances directed his way, but as soon as he made eye contact, the onlookers quickly turned away or focused on each other.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Nathan felt a presence at his side and smiled.

  "Chad."

  Chad bumped shoulders with him. "Nathan. Didn’t see you."

  "Honestly, I kinda forgot you existed," Nathan replied.

  Chad rolled his eyes. "Sad."

  The two were about to continue their banter when Bree cleared her throat. The chatter around them died down instantly.

  "All right, gentlemen, ladies," Bree said. "You all know the drill and why you're here. The first dungeon has been located after extensive work by our mages. Our scouts have managed to map out a rough path for us to reach the dungeon and have provided some intel."

  Scouts? Huh, so there are advantages to being part of a big organization like this.

  He was also impressed that all of this had been accomplished in about two days. Bree had managed to forge a coalition in a matter of hours and establish the basics of military discipline. She was like Fuge on steroids. I guess that’s why she’s number seven, he mused.

  Bree crossed her arms. "The path leads through the forest. The scouts didn’t detect any trouble, but I still want everyone to stay on guard. If we arrive and a Tree Wrath triggers, we’re in for a bad time. Additionally, there have been reports of things that go bump in the night—though our scouts couldn’t confirm it. My advice? We’ll proceed with cautious optimism. Hopefully, there’s nothing out there, but we’ll take precautions and move slowly and carefully."

  "What about the dungeon itself?" someone called out from the side.

  "Good question," Bree replied. "We have a rough description from the main quest window. For those who don’t remember, it’s described as the Gloamgrove Catacombs—roots so thick that it’s basically a subterranean jungle. Unfortunately, our scouts weren’t able to penetrate very deep into it."

  There was a beat of silence.

  "So we’re basically going in blind…?" Chad said.

  "Our scouts did the best they could," Bree replied firmly. "I’d prefer more time, but we don’t have it. Every day that passes is another day the Tree Wreath could occur, and every time it does, we lose ground. We cannot waste time. I can’t repeat this enough."

  Her voice was stern and steady, brooking no argument. There were a few murmurs, but none loud enough to be considered a protest.

  She gave a stiff nod. "We move out in five."

  Just as planned, they began to move out. Nobody was in the mood for conversation—except Chad—but Nathan wasn’t interested in engaging. Eventually, even Chad picked up on the lack of enthusiasm and fell silent. The only sound was the rhythmic crunch of their footsteps against the asphalt. Nathan glanced around, estimating their numbers—about ten, maybe fifteen?

  After an hour of walking, they arrived at the site of the old survivor camp. Things had… changed. Many of the buildings had collapsed, overtaken by vines and foliage. Dirt now covered the roads. The few structures still standing looked decrepit and overgrown, straight out of a post-apocalyptic nightmare. It was as though centuries of decay had been compressed into mere hours.

  “Keep moving!” Bree called back, her voice sharp. “We don’t have time to linger. Do you really want to be caught out here after dark?”

  There were a few grumbles, but the group pressed on.

  With every step, the devastation wrought by the trees became more apparent. Crumbling buildings gave way to rubble, and streets faded into nothingness. Eventually, they reached a point where the city seemed to have vanished entirely. Skyscrapers had been reduced to mounds of dirt, replaced by an endless expanse of forest. Oak trees and willows stretched as far as the eye could see.

  They walked for several more hours until the sun reached its zenith. Bree glanced up, then turned to address the group. “We’ll take 20 minutes to rest!” she said.

  At once, the group splintered into smaller factions. Bree’s lieutenants and closest allies gathered around her, quietly discussing strategies and potential threats. The younger members—those like Chad and Nathan who had been picked up along the way—formed their own circle, laughing loudly at some inside joke. A few others lingered on the edges of the encampment, their eyes hollow and distant. Nathan recognized that look—he had seen it in himself during his lowest moments.

  Nathan and Chad kept to themselves. Chad sat on the grass and pulled a sandwich from his inventory, while Nathan began eating the raw fish he had prepared the day before. Chad raised an eyebrow but said nothing, focusing on his own meal.

  “You know, I’ve heard all about you,” one of the younger men said, approaching them.

  Nathan glanced to his right and saw three newcomers—two men and a woman—smirking as they closed in. Their expressions made Nathan uneasy. He averted his gaze and continued eating his fish.

  “You’ve heard of me?” Chad said. “I’m honored!”

  The leader of the trio, a guy named Derek, laughed—a cold, mocking sound. “Yeah, we’ve heard of you. These are my friends,” he said, gesturing to the others. “We were hoping you could show us a thing or two. If you don’t mind.”

  “Afraid I’m in the middle of eating,” Chad said, waving them off. “Go bother someone else.”

  Derek pressed on. “Why? We just want to see the legendary Chad in action.”

  “And I just want to eat,” Chad said.

  Derek’s left eye twitched. He sighed. “You know, me and my friends have been through hell. We survived. That’s why Bree picked us—we proved ourselves when it mattered. But all anyone talks about is you and your mysterious friend over there.” He shot a sharp, knife-like smile at Nathan. “It pisses a guy off, you know?”

  Nathan coughed, drawing their attention. “So that’s what this is about,” he said. “If you’re that desperate for a dick-measuring contest, take it up with your friends. Though I doubt there’s much to see down there.”

  The silence that followed was deafening. Chad’s jaw dropped, his eyes lighting up. A few onlookers raised their eyebrows, while Derek recoiled as if struck. His eyes narrowed, and his hand moved toward his inventory.

  “I’d highly recommend you don’t do that, boy.”

  The voice came from one of the older men—a figure with vacant eyes who had been watching the exchange. His gaze was now locked on Derek.

  “And why shouldn’t I?” Derek snapped.

  “Because by the time you draw your weapon, there’ll already be a hole in your chest. You’re outmatched.”

  Derek froze, his eyes darting between Nathan and the old man. After a tense moment, he lowered his hand and took a step back, his glare lingering on Nathan. He retreated to his group, though he continued to cast occasional glances in Nathan’s direction.

  Nathan ignored him and turned to the old man, giving him a nod of acknowledgment. The man nodded back.

  Nathan's gaze drifted toward the older group sitting around the campfire, set apart from the rest. Even as they walked, the group had stayed together, a tight-knit unit.

  Nathan nudged Chad with his shoulder. "Who's that old guy?"

  "They helped with the evacuation," Chad replied. "I think they’re former veterans from our world. That’s why they get a bit of respect around here."

  Nathan hadn’t known that. The explanation made sense, but still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something off about the man. He frowned, chalking it up to his imagination.

  As they continued walking, a thick mist began to close in around them. At first, it was just a faint haze in the distance, but now Nathan could barely see the front of the caravan where Bree was leading. The fog grew denser, making it difficult to see even his own hand in front of his face.

  While navigating through the mist, Nathan’s foot caught on a root. He stumbled forward, yanking hard to free himself and accidentally ripping the root from the ground. It tumbled in front of him, and Nathan froze.

  Thin lines of purple light pulsed across its surface, and it twitched and writhed like a living thing before finally shattering and going still.

  Nathan’s lips pressed into a thin line as he slowly turned in a circle, scanning their surroundings. A deep sense of unease settled over him.

  Chad glanced back. "Nathan, why’d you stop?"

  "I think we’re here," Nathan said, his voice low.

  The voices of the other party members grew faint, swallowed by the mist.

  "What do you mean?" Chad asked, his tone tense. "What’s here?"

  Nathan clenched his jaw. "The Gloamgrove Catacombs. I think we’re already inside."

  Chad’s face paled. "None of them know—"

  Before he could finish, a panicked shout cut through the air. "What is that thing?!"

  "It’s in the trees! Get out of the way!"

  "Dodge! Dodge! Watch out!"

  A thick, wet squelching sound echoed through the mist, reminiscent of a butcher’s knife slicing through meat. Nathan rushed forward, his shoulders tense.

  Then he saw her.

  The second girl—the one who’d been with Derek.

  Her head was gone.