The entire room stood in stunned silence, eyes fixed on the spectacle, as if hypnotized by the magic unfolding in front of them.

  Within the sphere of light, the dark lines flowed like ink in water, twisting and shifting in a dazzling display of shapes—intricate, complex, and so detailed that one could lose themselves in their endless layers, trying to trace every nook, every curve, every rune and symbol that seemed to pulse with life. Each line seemed to breathe, as if the very essence of the magic was alive, unfolding in a mesmerizing dance.

  Puck held the sphere aloft, his chest swelling with pride, basking in the awestruck gazes of those around him.

  “The younger races,” he began, voice smooth and condescending, “have always been incompetent in the use of magic. So primitive, so rudimentary, so limited in their thinking.” He smiled, savoring the weight of their attention.

  “But the Feyvolken are nothing if not gracious. And so, bear witness to what only my kind can create.”

  His hand moved across the surface of the sphere with surprising tenderness, almost as if he were caressing it. The blue light shimmered under his touch, rippling like water disturbed by a soft breeze.

  The shapes within began to shift, flowing with a sinuous grace, curling and twisting until they solidified into form. Two crossed axes appeared, their edges sharp and gleaming, surrounded by jagged runes that pulsed with an ominous glow, their meaning ancient and veiled in mystery.

  “The Warrior,” Puck announced, voice sharp with pride.

  He moved his hand again, and the shapes shifted, forming a staff beside a sword, crowned with flowing script that seemed to pulse with an ancient rhythm.

  “The Spellblade,” he said, his voice now laced with a hint of satisfaction.

  Again and again, Puck moved his hand over the glowing surface, and each time the black, ink-like substance within it twisted and reshaped, forming new symbols—some familiar, others alien, all equally stunning.

  A staff crossed before a book.

  “The Magus.”

  Two open hands, reaching, grasping as though to choke the very life from something.

  “The Brawler.”

  A bow crossed with a stiletto.

  “The Cutthroat.”

  And with each passing shape, the room seemed to hold its breath.

  Finally, Puck drew his hand across the surface one last time, and the inky lines inside the sphere resumed their dance, a swirling, near-amorphous mass, moving as though it had no form, only potential.

  “These, dear children,” Puck said, his voice heavy with the weight of what he was offering, “are the most valuable of my wares. The Class Markings.”

  “It’s just like in…” Tim began and I cut him off, words still somewhat muffled by the rag and slurred by the crushed bones.

  “Hyeah. Hust lihe inh ahRPGhee”

  Tim didn’t answer back, just crossed his hands behind his head in a show that was equal parts exasperation and boyish giddiness.

  “Holy…” he began.

  “Hyeet” I ended.

  "What do they do?" Mina's voice cut through the quiet awe. I couldn’t see her, probably because of her size, but there was something in her voice—dry, expectant—that told me she already had a good idea.

  Anyone who’d spent time in a game, whether tabletop or digital, or even just skimmed the web, would know where this was headed. And despite everything, a part of me couldn’t help but feel a strange kind of excitement bubbling up.

  After all, RPGs were my favourite type of game. And if ever two things went hand in hand, it was RPGs and Classes.

  “The Markings do what your incompetence and youth prevents you, dear girl. Once branded upon your skin, the markings will draw the aether for you, shape it into the form and function inherent to the Class Marking of your choosing”

  The dark ink swirled, taking the shape of an axe.

  “Those with the Warrior Mark will have their bodies empowered, muscles suffused and engorged with the raw stuff of creation, voices morphed into booming trumpets”.

  The ink twisted into the form of a staff.

  “The Magus will become the very catalyst of their own power, the aether absorbed to become blazing flame or corruscating lightning”.

  Once more it waxed, taking the shape of a stiletto and bow crossed together.

  “The Cutthroat will be a shard of galvanised motion in a world of molasses”.

  The ink returned to its formless state.

  “All this, can be yours, if you have the want to take it and the will to increase the Mark’s potency. As you challenge adversity, as you increase your Rank, the Mark will evolve upon your unworthy flesh, grow and spread, and with it, the wealth of knowledge contained within your chosen Class will be made manifest for you.

  With enough time and effort, The Warrior can become a juggernaut of physicality, where shattering granite with bare hands and battering down fortress walls with no more than their bodies are within the bounds of reality.

  The Magus will become a walking maelstrom, storm, earth and fire made manifest by their very whims

  The Cutthroat may become as nimble as wind’s whisper, as unseen as shadow on a moonless night and as deadly as the finest razor”.

  Puck clapped his hands once, the snapping sound loud and jarring, and the strange, glowing bubble popped out of existence with a soft hiss.

  “That is what all who seek the Feyvolken inevitably gravitate to, young pups. That is what I offer. It was the penultimate truth in what was once my world, and it will inevitably become that in this, what has become our world”.

  Andreas simply held out his hand towards Puck, offering all the Aether Stones he had pilfered.

  “I want it” he said in a voice hoarse with greed and want.

  Despite not being able to see his face, the sheer want and hunger in the power-hungry bastard’s voice painted a picture in my mind. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he was drooling.

  Puck stared at the Aether Stone filled hand and threw his head back in that alien, bird-like trill of a laugh.

  “Silly boy. Even the cheapest Marking will cost at least 100 Aether Stones. You have nowhere near the necessary wealth to afford it”.

  Andreas just stood there, arm still outstretched.

  “But…”

  Puck held one hand up, interrupting him before he could even properly begin.

  “That’s enough. Enough questions and answers. Enough debating and talking. Choose what you wish to purchase, or hold onto the Stones until you have enough for something more substantial” he said with the finality of a headsman's ax.

  Andreas’s shoulders contracted and swelled in that “soon to become violent” way that we gophers knew all too well, and for a moment I almost thought the fool would attempt to yell or strongarm the Fey into acquiescing to his demand.

  Hell, I almost hoped for it. It would solve a lot of problems really quick.

  But, for all his volatility and temper, even Andreas Henderson wasn't stupid enough to attempt such a thing again. Not after what had happened when he’d leveled his gun at Puck.

  “Alright, how do we…”

  "Just call out my name," Puck interrupted, before Andreas could finish. With a flourish and a mock bow, he turned and vanished. It was unceremonious and instant, a far cry from the flair for the dramatic he’d displayed up to this point.

  Whether he'd gone invisible, turned into mist, or simply slipped from our perception, I couldn’t say. All I knew was that the moment he was gone, the amphitheater erupted into chaos.

  Questions flew in all directions. Some about Puck, the Fey, and the spectacle we'd just witnessed. Others about magic, Aether Stones, and Class Markings. A few—more pointed—were about why Andreas hadn’t just taken the damn food.

  I tuned them out, my attention drawn to Tim, emerging from the crowd with a woman at his heels. She was a sight, towering over him—a solid yet slim oak of a woman, head and shoulders taller than Tim.

  At some point, while Puck had been rambling on about Classes, Tim had probably gone to fetch her—Tina Miller.

  When she crouched in front of me, I saw the steel in her gaze. Despite everything—Puck’s strange visit, the tension in the air—she was calm. Collected. As if she had everything under control. And if it were not for the way her heart was hammering in her chest, I would have almost believed her front.

  “Hey dude, Tim called me here, asked if I could have a look at your injury”

  “Thanks, but I’m fine. Just a bad bruise” I muttered back, my collapsed nasal cavity having mended itself enough to allow for only semi-slurred speech. Thankfully, the “downtime” had been enough for the impulse to calm down, even my teeth reverting to their normal shape.

  But I still didn’t want anyone to see me right now.

  There was no logic behind my reticence. Most likely shame of getting bodied so easily and publicly. A desire to stomp to Andreas and put my entire fist through his face, if only to vent years worth of frustrations and fear. A silly thing to worry about, in the grand scheme of things.

  But, in my defense, vampire I may be, I was still an 18 year old guy, complete with the petty, easy to bruise ego of an 18 year old.

  Tina just shook her head.

  “Yeah, sure tough guy, but I saw what happened and no one would be fine after a hit like that”. She extended her hand, grabbing for the rag, but didn’t pull on it.

  “Now common. I know more about fractures and bruises than anyone here, hell, I probably fractured every bone I have at one point or another, so just let me look, alright?”

  Reluctantly I pulled the rag off.

  This woman’s entire vibe was one of pure dogged stubbornness and I knew that trying to keep the “I’m fine” act would only prolong this conversation into an endless back and forth.

  Tina drew a sharp breath through her teeth as I showed her my nose.

  “Uff. Nasty bruise, that one. Alright, now tell me if it hurts” she said as she, with surprising gentleness, cupped either side of my face and began poking and prodding with her thumbs, working her way from my cheeks to the bridge of my nose.

  Only when she touched on the nasal bone itself did I hiss out a gasp, more for show than any real, deep pain. I had to at least play pretend of having been hurt somewhat, or people would wonder why I could take a metal handle to the face and be no worse for wear.

  Humans couldn’t do that.

  Tina just drew her hands back the moment I hissed, in a placating gesture.

  “Yep. Got it. Hurts right there. You’re lucky you know that? Only got some nasty bruising, but I’m not feeling any fractures. A hit like that could have crushed your nasal cavity”.

  “Yeah, that would have been bad” I murmured, trying my best to keep the snark out of my voice as Tina pushed on her knees, rising from her crouch.

  “You might wanna go, Andreas don’t like people talking with his gophers” I murmured.

  “Well, Andreas can go and throat a cactus for all I care. The only reason I ever listened to his…” she did the air quotes “...rules, was because I knew his old man could try and put the brakes on my scholarship if his rotten crotch spawn got me in his crosshairs”.

  I nodded, though she didn’t move, standing her ground as if waiting for something.

  “I’m not saying what I did was the right thing to do, you know? I was just looking out for myself and my sister. Same as anyone would,” she said, her voice steady, unbothered.

  A small chuckle escaped from me. It wasn’t a mocking laugh, more of an acknowledgment. Her tone wasn’t apologetic, wasn’t seeking any kind of forgiveness. It was just flat—honest. No excuses. No justifications.

  The young woman was just calling a spade a spade. She’d done us gophers wrong by not speaking up and she knew it. No sob story. No self justification. None of that mess.

  Pure honesty in a simple statement of fact.

  And I couldn’t help but respect her candor.

  “It is what it is” I answered dryly and gave her a smirk. She shrugged and mirrored it.

  As she turned, one more sentence blurted out before I could stop myself.

  “So what’s changed?”

  Tina crossed her hands behind her mop of short hair and seemed to consider the question for a long second.

  “Everything, no? World’s probably just gone to hell in a handbasket. No more college. No more scholarships. No more need to pretend like Andreas’s words carry any weight”.

  “Well that’s a little bit nihilistic. Maybe the rest of the world’s fine and it’s only our neck of the woods that got screwed”.

  Tina just shook her head without hesitation.

  “Nah. Trouble with having a genius for a sister, is that when she lays down the facts, you really ought to listen. Her guess is that this ain’t an isolated event. And she’s smarter than everyone here put together. So I tend to listen”.

  I huffed and gave her a curt nod. Mina Miller had all but mirrored my own opinion and I was definitely not as smart as her. So if I had been able to see it, she definitely would.

  “See ya around, tough guy” Tina shouted over the growing cacophony of voices and went back towards her twin sister.

  As if on cue, a loud, piercing boom rang out and everyone either screamed or ducked.

  Smoke trailed languidly from the barrel of Andreas’s gun as he held it towards the ceiling.

  “Everyone quiet!!!” he bellowed, ignoring the more than a few descriptive appellatives whispered through clenched teeth.

  “Now listen up. I know everyone wants food and water, but we gotta think about the long game here. We can get food and water from the main school building and…” he glanced towards Mina “... from the mall. Those are easy to get resources. What we need, really need I mean, is to get our hands on some of those Classes. Think about it. Once we get at least one of those, more resources will be easier and easier to gather”.

  I grimaced as Andreas spoke and cussed silently as a few people nodded in acquiescence. More than half were still fuming over having to go hungry for a while longer, but not enough to make a difference. Especially not with Andreas and his crew holding the only guns the group had.

  My immediate hunch was that Andreas was angling to get a Class Marking before anyone else. Then, maybe his goons. And once that happened, and if Puck’s words had been the real deal, his control would be impossible to break.

  He’d become the guardian, provider and tyrant of the group.

  More than anything, it’d ramp up his survival chance by leagues and bounds.

  If my intent to dip the moment I’d get a chance had been an idea before, it had just become a concrete certainty. I had to get out of this soon-to-be nightmare ASAP.

  Still, one problem remained. The fact that Andreas still wanted us to go out during daylight.

  But I now knew how to fix it. The fact that it implied playing on Andreas’s greed for Aether Stones only added a malicious satisfaction to my plan.

  “It’s gonna have to be at night”.

  Andreas stopped mid-sentence and snapped his gaze to me, with more than a few of the other students doing much the same.

  “What was that?”

  “If you want more Aether Stones, it’s gonna have to be during the night. The Goblins were patrolling only in the dark, didn’t see any during day. And the zombies don’t have those stones inside their bodies” I bellowed back, letting my voice carry over the din.

  Mina immediately interjected.

  “The Goblins are those little moss-green people right?”

  I nodded.

  She turned back to Andreas and popped out a black cylinder from her backpack. A monocular.

  “I use this night vision monocular for night-time bird watching. I mean, I used to use it for that, before all this”.

  “Either way, last night when I was on watch duty, I checked the surroundings from the windows and saw a small group passing near the forest”.

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” Lizzie Landon piped up.

  “Because people were already panicking enough and those creatures weren’t coming towards the building” Mina snapped.

  “The important part is that I think he’s right” she continued, pointing at me with the monocular.

  “They got the anatomical traits of nocturnal hunters. Large eyes, yellowish sclera, slitted pupils for better night vision. The discoloration of their skin also suggests damp, dark environments as their base habitat” she meandered for a bit, lost in her own train of thoughts.

  “You said you fought a few, right?” Tina asked from beside her sister.

  “How tough are those things?”

  “Can’t be that tough since the fatass over there got a couple of ‘em” Bill grumbled an insult, punctuated by a few chuckles from Andreas’s other wannabe thugs.

  “They’re about as strong as a grown man. It’s made all the worse since they’re so small. All that strength is compact, if they get their hands around your throat, you won’t be able to pry them off…” I began only to be interrupted by Bill again.

  “Oh, come on. They’re just a bunch of skinny midgets, stop making shit up, you damn gopher” Bill snarled. Seemed the bastard’s ego couldn’t take being ignored.

  “A chimp’s half your size, but it’ll still tear your arm off and beat you to death with it” I interjected, not even bothering to look at Bill.

  Tina’s voice cut his comeback before it even began.

  “I’ve fought wrestlers two heads shorter than me, skinnier than me and almost got beat because I underestimated them. Short, skinny and strong is the worst kind of thing you can fight. They have a low center of gravity, good balance and a wiry strength to them. One mistake and you’ll get locked in an armbar you can’t break out of”.

  Bill was damn near livid as he responded the only way he could.

  “Yeah, whatever”.

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  “Regardless, would it not be better to go on two separate missions? One right now, during daylight to secure food and a second one during night to secure those Aether Stones you want so much?” Mina asked Andreas.

  I answered before the conversation had a chance to go a way that would force me to walk out into the sun.

  “It would and wouldn’t. The reason I was able to take down so many was because I found the Goblins as they were fighting zombies. Whatever these things are, the zombies see them as meat either way.

  So if we go during the night, there’s more of a chance that Goblins and Zombie groups are gonna be fighting. Which gives us more of a chance to slip by unnoticed or attack them while they’re distracted”

  My reasoning was sound, if somewhat assumptive.

  I hadn’t directly lied, the first Goblin group I’d killed had been fighting against a small herd of rotbloods, but truth be told, I had no way of knowing just how much of that had been a purposeful attack from the Goblins or simple coincidence.

  Still, this was the only hand I had to play in trying to avoid going out during the day.

  Mina Miller stood there for long seconds, fingers tapping her chin, pondering.

  “I agree. It’s just an assumption you’re making, maybe it was just coincidence, but it’s the best we have. I’d much prefer it if we did two missions but it’s already late enough that nighttime will catch us by the time we get back, and at that point we’ll be too exhausted from dealing with the zo… rotbloods, as Puck called them, to be able to properly make a retreat if we get attacked by Goblins too.

  It’d be better if we’re fresh, rested and able to retreat if things go south”.

  I couldn’t help but be impressed. She’d deduced that I was just assuming the Goblins' behavior just from context. The girl truly deserved her rep.

  She was frighteningly sharp.

  Her next words added frustrating to the adjectives I’d use to describe Mina Miller.

  “Also, has anyone bothered to check if the big monsters downstairs have any of these Stones in their bodies?”

  I gritted my teeth, watching Andreas quickly signal two of his goons to go downstairs and check.

  Dammit, I’d hoped they’d be too distracted and I could sneak out a bit later and get them.

  “Alright. That settles it then” Andreas piped in.

  “My guys and the gophers are going to head out tonight. Everyone get some rest, we’ll plan this out and by tomorrow morning, everyone’s gonna have all the food and water they…”

  I leaned back into the chair, tuning out his speech.

  The crisis had been averted.

  It took a quarter of an hour for Andreas’s goons to return, sporting a wadded up, red rag, no doubt containing two more Aether Stones.

  I rose from the chair, the sound of it scraping against the floor barely noticeable amidst the chatter around me. The crisis had passed—at least for now. The room was beginning to empty, students breaking into their usual small groups, whispering to one another, already turning their thoughts to whatever came next. And in that fleeting moment, when the room was still, I finally had a chance to do what had been on my mind for hours.

  The stale blood of the Orc corpses downstairs. I was going to feed, even if the blood was cold and stale. There were too many hearts, too much noise and my anger was still pumping hot lead through my veins.

  I needed to feed. It had gone far past “want”.

  Andreas and his band of thugs were already off to the side, no doubt plotting their next move. I could practically hear their words in my head—how they’d use the gophers as nothing more than tools to get their hands on food and Aether Stones. Nothing new there.

  The gophers stood near the back, as always, trying to stay out of the way, separated from the rest. They weren’t part of the crowd, never would be. The students who had any worth were already scattering, lost in their hushed conversations and cliques.

  If there was ever a moment to slip away unnoticed, it was now.

  I waltzed past the doors and down the corridor, unchallenged, until the sound of hurried footsteps rang out behind me. A voice broke the stillness, sharp and urgent.

  “Yo, Gopher. Where do you think you’re going? Gophers are to stay in the back and not move until told to” Bill bellowed out.

  I turned around to see he had followed and was sauntering toward me, sawed-off shotgun held loosely across his shoulder.

  “I got to use the john” I muttered.

  He marched up to me, trying his best to look threatening. The effort was there, but it was hard to take him seriously. After all, he was a good half-head shorter than me.

  And I wasn’t particularly tall to begin with.

  "Sounds like a you problem, Gophers. Back. Of. The. Room.” Each word came out with a bite, his finger poking into me with every punch of his sentence. It was a poor attempt at intimidation, but he seemed to think it would work.

  Not the time.

  If there was ever a moment when those words rang true, it was now.

  The past few hours had shredded my patience, worn down every ounce of self-control I’d managed to hold on to. I could feel it snapping, thread by fragile thread.

  The ever-present fear of Andreas was starting to crack.

  That cautious voice in the back of my reason, the one telling me to keep my vampirism hidden from the over three dozen terrified fools around me, was growing quieter. More distant. It was becoming harder to justify.

  And worst of all, the thirst. The damn thirst gnawed at me, relentless, sharp. It was all-consuming.

  And now, this little twit kept spitting in my face and jabbing at me with his finger.

  “I. Need. To. Use. The….” I started hissing through clenched teeth, strained self-control put in every word. Bill’s open palm cuffing the side of my head stopped me.

  He was livid, eyes narrowed to slits, pupils constricted like pinpricks. The sheer audacity of me talking back to him seemed to physically repulse him, as if my very existence was an offense to his pride.

  “Motherfucker, did I ask for your opin….”

  *WHACK*

  My open hand collided audibly with Bill’s skull.

  His strike had barely shifted my expression.

  Mine, however, took him off his feet and bounced his head against the wall, knocking the prick out instantly. He slid down the wall like a sack of potatoes, shotgun clattering sonorously onto the floorboards, eyes rolled back in their sockets, a trickle of blood slithering down his cheek.

  He wasn’t dead. But he’d be out for at least an hour. And wake up with a mother of a headache.

  For a moment I honestly considered just slaking my thirst on his blood, then hiding the corpse.

  But only a moment.

  No.

  I wasn’t that guy. Never been a saint, but I had rules.

  I could tear Andreas and his crew to shreds. But just because I could, doesn’t mean I should.

  Did they deserve it? Sure.

  Would getting rid of them reduce the possibility of problems in the future? Certainly.

  But I didn’t want that weight on my soul.

  No, I wasn’t gonna be that guy. I wasn't going to be the cliche’d twat that once they got any power, immediately start abusing it.

  Let these bastards dig their own graves.

  By the time Bill would wake up, I would have already fed and been back inside the amphitheater. And there’d be nothing he could do except scowl at me. Andreas’s authority wasn’t enough for public executions.

  Yet.

  Once night fell and we all started our “expeditions” I’d find a moment to dip from the group and go on my own merry way.

  After that, live or die, it’d be up to their own capabilities and skills.

  But not by my hand.

  There was nothing more to be said, no more need for words or wasted energy. I turned on my heel, my back to the unconscious body, and began walking away. The corridor stretched out before me, empty and quiet, and I moved swiftly, quietly—no one around to stop me, slipping past the makeshift barricade, my heart beating faster, the hunger gnawing at my insides, and made my way down the stairs.

  When I reached the main hall, the sight of the two dead orcs greeted me. Their chests had been torn open, ragged wounds still dripping where the Aether Stones had been ripped from their bodies. My fangs slipped out, sharp and hungry, and my hand twisted, reshaping into that grotesque, talon-like claw as I closed the distance.

  The thirst was unbearable now, every step pulling me closer to the source.

  It was grueling, disgusting work, pressing my lips and fangs to the already opened wounds, trying to draw out as much of the Orc’s lukewarm, already coagulating blood as I could, then raking the stringy meat with my claw in order to cover the marks of my feeding.

  All the while keeping my ears focused on picking up any sounds and making sure no one would stumble upon me.

  It did the job in the same way chewing on a nicotine gum would do the job when you craved a smoke.

  It eliminated the “need” but not the “want”.

  For all that it was rancid, lukewarm and coagulating, blood was blood and it still nourished me. But in the back of my head that dark impulse chided and snarled for the act of drinking this soupy rot, when there was so much fresh blood just two floors above me.

  The “need”. Not the “want”.

  Three minutes later, I slipped past the barricade again and made my way into the bathroom, the door creaking softly as I entered. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, my hands already reaching for strips of cloth to clean the dried Orc blood from my skin and mouth.

  There were small mercies to be found—my reflection still remained. For all the stories, all the folklore that claimed otherwise, it seemed that part of the myth was wrong.

  Or maybe it was just silvered mirrors that didn’t show? I didn’t remember exactly. Either way, the fact that I could see myself in that glass was the only thing that mattered.

  For the most part, I was content with the face that stared back at me. The same slightly overweight, shaven-headed, average-looking youth I’d always been. But physical changes, though subtle, were still noticeable if you knew where to look.

  I was paler now—unnaturally so. Not ghostly, but enough that anyone who didn’t know me might assume I had some sort of sickness or, hell, maybe even think I was albino.

  The color had drained from my skin like someone cranking down the saturation. My arms and shoulders were a bit more toned too, fat thinning out and leaving more definition. A change only I could really see, though. Subtle enough that others might miss it, but I knew my body too well to ignore the shift.

  But then there were my eyes.

  It wasn’t the full transformation, nothing as dramatic as ruby-red irises or pitch-black sclera. But something had changed. My pupils had constricted, barely noticeable, maybe by a quarter, but enough to make me uneasy. The irises… they looked like pinpricks, sharper somehow, and when the light hit them right, they had that eerie, feline glow. The kind that made it obvious that something wasn’t quite human anymore.

  That, of all things, was the hardest to hide. It wasn’t obvious at first glance, but I knew if I stared too long into someone’s eyes, they’d notice something off. Some flicker of the “uncanny valley.”

  It was only a matter of time before it gave me away.

  “Maybe I can find some sunglasses or something” I whispered to myself as I rubbed some of the dried blood and dirt from the windowsill onto the bridge of my nose.

  It made for a decently convincing dirty red welt, good enough to hide the fact that the wound Andreas had given me, a wound that normally would have taken weeks to heal, had already almost disappeared.

  Was I a little bit too cautious? Probably.

  But at this point, better safe than sorry was a good mantra to continue going by. After all, I’d only just escaped having to go outside during daylight by the skin of my teeth.

  With a resigned sigh, I left the bathroom and opened the door to the amphitheater, where I’d have to stay and play the role of obedient little gopher for the next few hours.

  Nightfall would come soon, and as soon as I got my bearings, I would leave this lot to do whatever it was they intended on doing.

  “Alright, everyone squad up, half an hour until night” Andreas bellowed out from his perch atop the stage, tapping the glass on his very expensive, gold wristwatch.

  Groaning and muttering muffled cusses, myself and the gophers began getting up from our improvised beds, consisting of bundled up rags for pillows and hardwood floor for mattresses. After hours upon hours of planning, everyone had decided to take a couple of hours of shuteye before the mission began.

  That had been the worst for me. Over two hours of laying on my back, staring at the cracked and flaking ceiling, trying not to listen to the impulse bellowing in the back of my head. Without the rancid Orc blood sloshing in my stomach, I probably would have caved.

  At the very least, I’d discovered something new about my anatomy.

  It’s not that I didn’t need to sleep. I couldn’t sleep.

  At this point, I’d become fairly certain that my stamina was quite literally limitless. And what little soreness I’d felt in my muscles after all that combat and testing of my physical capabilities had vanished after half an hour of standing still.

  “Everything hurts…” Tim mumbled as he cracked his lower back and then, shaking his head, looked towards the spot where Andreas and his goons waited for us.

  I nodded, giving him just enough of my attention to seem polite, but not enough to engage in whatever conversation he was trying to force.

  I liked Tim. He was a good guy, easy to talk to, the kind of person you could call a “bro”. But right now, I didn’t want to make any connections. Not when things were about to take a turn. In a few hours, assuming everything played out the way I expected, an opportunity to slip away would present itself—and I had no intentions of dragging anyone along with me.

  I could’ve convinced myself I was just looking out for him, playing the role of selflessness. I could’ve justified it, told myself I was saving him from the inevitable danger, from the bloodlust that could consume me at any moment.

  I could’ve spun it into some holier-than-thou narrative, something that sounded better than the truth.

  But that wouldn’t have been honest.

  The real reason was simpler. Far simpler. I didn’t want the responsibility of another person relying on me. Not now, not when the world was about to get a lot darker. It was that simple.

  Sink or swim, to each their own.

  The truth, stripped bare and ugly, revealing my flaws for what they were. At least I was honest with myself.

  Trying to be a "good person" was one thing. Succeeding at it was entirely different. And like anyone else, sometimes I failed.

  The group of gophers slowly shuffled itself towards the stage and we began separating into the pre-planed groups.

  Andreas had split the group into three, each with their own task. His team, the first group, was tasked with hunting "Goblins" and securing as many Aether Stones as possible. It was the most straightforward, and likely the most dangerous. Andreas, two of his thugs, and four gophers made up this crew, the ones who’d be dealing with whatever dangers lay in wait outside.

  The second group was smaller, quieter. Two gophers and two of Andreas’s thugs were assigned to infiltrate the nurse’s office and the cafeteria in the main school building. The plan was simple—sneak in, grab whatever supplies they could carry, and rendezvous with the first group to bring everything back to their base.

  And then there was our group, which, to be honest, didn’t even seem like a real group. It was little more than a token effort to appease the loud, restless voices in the crowd demanding the Mall be scouted out. Originally made up of the discarded, the weak, and the wounded, it consisted of me, Tim, two other gophers, and a head-bandaged Bill. The least likely to succeed, the most likely to end up in danger, but here we were.

  The two other gophers with me were in no better shape. We were all walking wounded, each of us carrying some sort of injury that left us less than useful. I’d made sure to exaggerate the effects of Andreas’s hit to my face, playing up how off-balance I was, mostly to avoid having to deal with any more of his “leadership.” As for Tim, he was the scrawniest of the bunch, the one with the least muscle, the kind of guy who could easily be overlooked in a fight.

  And then there was Bill.

  Bill might’ve been part of Andreas’s crew, but he was more of a joke than anything. A loudmouth, standing at five foot two, with a Napoleonic complex that made him think he was some kind of big shot. His only claim to fame in Andreas's group was his daddy’s ties to Mayor Henderson. He wasn’t there because of skill or respect—he was there because of money and connections. Now, he was nothing more than cannon fodder, pushed to our group of “rejects” because of his uselessness.

  What amused me most was that I’d seen Andreas cuff him a few times after he'd recovered and come back to the amphitheater. Whatever Bill had tried to do—maybe report me for knocking him out—had clearly backfired. Andreas’s glare had been particularly venomous when I saw him again. He didn’t like me roughing up one of his own. That much was obvious.

  And it was also his problem as far as I was concerned. I would leave the moment I got my chance, and if Bill decided to get some “vengeance” before that, I’d break both his legs.

  It was pretty clear our group wasn’t expected to succeed, though. Where the gophers of other groups had been given whatever “decent” weapons had been scrounged from the Orcs, my spear-dagger and hatchet included, us four had only been given a metal chair leg each. Even Bill had only been allowed his shitty market-brand sawed-off and twelve shells.

  For all intents and purposes, this group was basically an execution with extra steps. The best outcome was probably assumed to be that we’d get slaughtered by the rotbloods or the monsters and Bill would take that opportunity to get back to the base.

  A token group to silence complaints. Nothing more.

  That was, of course, until Mina and Tina Miller decided to throw a wrench into the whole setup.

  Despite every protest from the other students—Samantha and Andreas chief among them—Mina and Tina had made it clear they were going to help scout the Mall, whether anyone liked it or not. Their stubbornness had been enough to make even the most vocal dissenters fall silent.

  Andreas, ever the control freak, had tried to pull the “vote” stunt again, his usual way of manipulating things in his favor. But Mina had shut him down fast. She’d asked, casually, if anyone other than her knew how to jerry-rig a radio receiver from common household items.

  The whole room had gone quiet. Whether it was a bluff or not, the mere idea of connecting with the outside world—of hearing something, anything, beyond the suffocating wall of mist that surrounded us—had sparked enough curiosity to shift the atmosphere.

  It was a subtle thing, but the change was there. The optimism bias that had been buried under all the fear and exhaustion came creeping back. Most of the students still held out hope that someone, somewhere, would come for them. That help was just waiting on the other side of the mist.

  “Everyone knows their jobs?” Andreas bellowed again.

  A series of nods from his cronies was all the gesture he needed.

  “Then let’s move out”

  The entire group shuffled forward, each step heavy and reluctant, as if prolonging the inevitable for just a moment longer would somehow lessen the weight of what was about to happen. There was no rush, no urgency—just the slow, collective march through the corridor, where the danger waited just beyond.

  I tightened my grip on the chair leg, the rough wood pressing against my palm as I glanced at the rest of the students. None of them met my eyes.

  They were skilled at self-justification, convincing themselves that they were making the "right" choice. Safe inside, away from the dangers lurking outside. But now, as the moment drew closer, guilt crept into their eyes. They couldn’t deny it any longer. They had accepted Andreas’s deal, knowing full well what it meant. They’d stay safe in here, while the rest of us—those of us who had no choice—would be sent into the fire.

  Well, most of us.

  I had no illusions about our role. The gophers—myself included—weren’t meant to survive. We were just meat shields, distractions to keep Andreas’s group safe. We’d be the first line of defense, expendable in the eyes of the ones wielding the real power. The thugs would use those guns on us just as easily as they'd use them on the monsters.

  I rolled my shoulders, feeling the tension in my muscles, and let my eyes wander to the window. The last light of dusk bathed the sky in a red glow, slowly fading into a deep, inky blue.

  Soon enough, I’d get my chance. I’d slip away, disappear into the night, and get back to my own plans—because survival was one thing, but this mess? This wasn’t my fight.