Cade had been walking for hours now, guided by the thin light filtering through the canopy above. The wetlands were quieter now.

  The artificial sun had climbed high in the sky, soft rays scattering across pools of still water and thick stands of cattails. The air smelled of a gross mixture between wet rot and wild mint. For the first time since the Tutorial began, he was truly and utterly alone.

  His right hand gripped a thick heavy stick that was double the length of his forearm. The wood was dense, dark, and smooth to the touch. It wasn’t much, but it was balanced and solid enough to serve as a makeshift club.

  He kept moving southwest, each step sinking slightly into the mud before peeling free with a wet squelch. The path ahead wound through clusters of twisted cypress roots and low ferns. If the group had kept on toward the central lake, that meant they’d head northwest. Cade angled away from that direction. He didn’t want to risk crossing paths with them—not so soon after leaving at least.

  He decided he’d loop around. Head southwest until midday and then cut directly west toward the quadrant’s interior. Toward the dome that had shimmered and enveloped the meeting point between biomes during the descent.

  It was a stupid plan but at least it was his. And strangely, that was enough.

  For the first time since being forced into this new reality, Cade felt light. The weight pressing on his chest for days—Sasesh’s contempt, the others’ worried glances, the constant shame of falling behind—had lifted. The emptiness inside him wasn’t gone, but it felt clearer now. Quieter. Like a festering wound that had finally started to heal.

  He wasn’t fool enough to think this was sustainable. He knew the odds and he likely wouldn’t last long. But at least his failure would be his own. That thought brought him more peace than he’d had since the System took them.

  A sound broke him from his thoughts—a distant hiss, followed by the wet plops of something heavy moving through the shallows.

  Cade froze.

  Through a break in the reeds ahead, he caught a glint of shiny black chitin. A massive beetle, easily the size of a person, was plowing through the mud. Its wedge-shaped head shoved reeds aside creating a trail of crushed vegetation in its wake.

  Cade ducked, lowering his body and holding his breath. The beetle’s shell shimmered in the light. Its legs churned like pistons, the sound of each step vibrating faintly through the water.

  Nope. There was no way he would take that thing on.

  He backtracked carefully, slow and deliberate. Every instinct screamed at him to run, but he forced his breathing steady and quietly slipped away until the noise faded.

  That was the first creature he’d seen this morning and he wanted to stay far away.

  After circling around the beetle’s territory, Cade came into a small clearing lit by a sharp shaft of sunlight. A fallen log stretched across the center. At first, he didn’t notice the creatures covering it—dozens of small, hand-sized lizards sunning themselves in the warmth. Their skin was a muted brown and glistening with moisture. With their bellies pressed flat they blended in with the pale half-rotten wood.

  Cade crouched behind a cluster of vegetation and watched.

  They didn’t move. Not a single twitch.

  It was almost eerie.

  He felt a flicker of opportunity stir in his chest. These were small, probably low-risk. Maybe this was what he needed—something easy. Something he could kill.

  Cade crept closer, careful to keep his steps as soundless as possible. The skink-like creatures didn’t react even when he reached striking distance.

  He grimaced, gripping the club in both hands. Sorry about this, he thought, and swung.

  The impact cracked through the clearing, a dull thud that sent a shiver up his arms. The lizard exploded into pulp and blood. Before he could process it, a faint tone echoed in his ears and a System notification flared across his vision.

  You have defeated [Siltscale Skinklet – Level 1].

  Experience granted.

  Cade blinked it away then swung again and again.

  Some of the skinklets scattered, darting off of the log, but most stayed frozen—motionless and uncomprehending. Cade’s club rose and fell, splattering the log in streaks of red viscera. His pulse hammered. His breath came fast. He didn’t let himself think as he swung until none were left.

  After the last one was pulverized, silence filled the clearing again. The club dripped viscous fluid. Cade wiped it against the grass and glanced at the new System message blinking in his periphery.

  You have defeated 14 [Siltscale Skinklet – Level 1].

  Experience granted.

  He stared for a moment, waiting for the rush that was supposed to come with victory.

  It didn’t.

  He wasn’t proud of it. Beating creatures that couldn’t fight back felt hollow. But for the first time, he had done something. His race might have earned a sliver of experience, not enough to give him a level, but it was more than he’d had before.

  He left the clearing behind and pressed deeper into the swamp.

  Hours passed until he came across another animal. This one was a hulking bison with a humped back and a matted coat the color of dried moss. It was large but had looked harmless enough until a thin wisp of green vapor leaked from the hump on its back. Even from a distance the smell of that green vapor made Cade’s eyes water. He hadn’t hesitated to turn the other way.

  The sun crawled higher as he walked. Every now and then, he checked the direction of the light, making sure he was still heading southwest.

  It wasn’t long until Cade encountered another creature. He couldn’t tell what it was as all he saw was a mud mound the size of a small house that breathed. Not loudly, but enough for the muddy hill itself to rise and fall like something massive was just below lying in wait. He hadn’t waited to see what it was and promptly skirted around, deciding this was a good time to shift and begin heading west.

  Eventually, the trees began to thin, replaced by stretches of ankle-deep water dotted with knuckled roots. Ahead, a massive tree loomed—its trunk gnarled and vast, bark folded in heavy ridges like the skin of an ancient beast. At its base was a dark opening, tall enough for even Bryan to easily stand inside. The entrance tapered upward like an inverted “V,” a natural hollow above the waterline.

  Cade frowned.

  It wasn’t the size of the tree that caught his eye—it was what lay within. Two figures. Human-shaped. Lying still inside the hollow’s shadow.

  He tightened his grip on the club and took a cautious step forward.

  Cade stopped about three meters from the tree’s base, crouching low behind a curtain of hanging moss. The water around his ankles was shallow here, clearer than most of the swamp.

  The hollow in the tree’s base was easily large enough to fit several people. Its interior rose high and tapered like an upside-down wedge. Shafts of sunlight spilled through gaps in the bark.

  Two people lay inside.

  At first glance, they looked like they were sleeping—each on their side, backs turned toward him. One on the left, one on the right. Both were facing the inner curve of the tree wall, almost mirror images of each other. Cade could make out leather armor, travel gear, and boots caked with mud.

  They weren’t moving.

  Cade hesitated. His instincts screamed at him to keep walking—to pretend he hadn’t seen them—but another voice whispered that he should say something. If they woke up and saw him looming nearby, they might attack on reflex.

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  He took a cautious step closer and raised his voice just enough to carry.

  “Hey,” he called softly. “You two okay in there?”

  No response.

  He frowned. Maybe they were asleep. The hollow would make a decent shelter—above the waterline, sheltered from the wind. He could see why they’d picked it. He’d been lucky to have Sasesh’s earth domes before; without them, sleeping out here would be miserable. The thought of laying in ankle-deep water all night made him grimace.

  He tried again. “Hey, you awake?”

  Still nothing. Not a twitch. Not even a shift in breathing.

  Cade’s grip on the club tightened. The silence felt wrong.

  He glanced around the clearing—no movement, no sound of anything approaching—then slowly stepped forward until he stood at the edge of the hollow’s opening. He stayed outside, unwilling to actually go in yet. The air within was still, heavy with a faint, metallic tang he didn’t immediately recognize.

  “Psst,” he whispered. “Hey, come on, wake up.”

  No reaction.

  He reached the club forward and gave the nearest figure’s pair of boots an experimental nudge.

  Nothing.

  He pushed harder, shaking the leg. Still nothing.

  Cade felt a chill creep up his spine. They have to hear me.

  He leaned closer, squinting into the dim light. There was a dark pool beneath the body—at first he thought it was just shadow or trapped water, but the surface didn’t reflect light like water should. It was thicker. Darker.

  Something was wrong.

  He swallowed, then extended the club and prodded the body’s back.

  The form wobbled loosely, then rolled over.

  Cade’s breath caught.

  It was a man in his mid-thirties, his eyes half-open, his face slack. His throat had been slit from ear to ear. A clean-edged deep gash. The pool beneath him wasn’t water. It was blood. Dark, half-coagulated, soaked deep into the hollow’s wooden floor.

  Cade jerked back a step, nearly tripping over his own feet. The air in his chest froze.

  Dead.

  He’s dead.

  He’d seen corpses before at funerals and the one cadaver lab he took in grad school but this was different. This was fresh. He forced down a rising wave of nausea and looked around wildly, scanning the swamp outside for movement. The shadows seemed to press closer. The hum of insects suddenly felt too loud.

  Nothing moved.

  He looked back at the tree. The second body still hadn’t stirred.

  “Shit,” he whispered.

  His heart hammered. What had killed him? A beast? A person? Some sort of magical trap in the hollow?

  After a moment, Cade forced himself to breathe again. If something had killed these two, it wasn’t here now or it would’ve attacked him already.

  Still, he wasn’t about to take chances.

  Keeping one hand tight on his club, he crouched again and peered deeper inside. The man lay sprawled near the left wall, still clutching a weapon—a long-hafted axe with a double head, one side a wedge of metal, the other a sharp spike. The weapon looked heavy, but solid. The man’s armor matched—thick leather reinforced with metal studs. He looked built for melee combat, a frontliner.

  Cade’s stomach turned. Whatever, or whoever did this had slit his throat before he could even swing.

  He turned his attention to the other body on the right side. This one was smaller, a woman by her frame, dressed in lighter armor of flexible leather. An old-fashioned wooden longbow was cradled loosely in her arms. A quiver of arrows rested between her and the tree wall.

  She was lying on her side, facing away. Her chest didn’t rise.

  Cade didn’t want to look. But he had to know.

  He reached the club across the hollow and nudged her shoulder. Nothing. He pushed again, harder. The body shifted, rolling onto its back with a wet sound as it slid through the pooled blood.

  Her throat was cut too.

  Cade flinched, stepping back instinctively. The smell of iron he’d been ignoring hit him full in the face, thick and nauseating. He looked away, forcing air through his teeth.

  “Fucking shit,” he whispered. “What the hell happened to you two?”

  He didn’t see any signs of struggle. Whoever killed them did it cleanly—quickly. Maybe in their sleep. Maybe it was someone they trusted.

  He stared for another long moment before realizing how quiet his mind had gone. Fear had burned away into cold practicality.

  They were dead. And they weren’t using their gear anymore.

  The thought came unbidden, shameful—but logical. His fingers tightened around the club as he stared at the axe, the bow, the armor. All of it was real equipment given by the System. He could survive longer with that gear than without it.

  Still, he hesitated.

  Taking from them felt wrong. But so was dying for lack of it. Desperation gnawed at him louder than the guilt.

  He stepped back out of the hollow and drew a long, shaky breath, forcing the bile down.

  He needed to be smart. If the killer was still nearby, sticking around was suicide. But so was entering the hollow if whatever killed them was inside. If he pulled the bodies out, he could loot them quickly without exposing himself to any potential traps that lay within.

  He looked once more at the two bodies.

  “Sorry,” he murmured. “I don’t know what happened to you. But I’ll make sure your things aren’t wasted.”

  He stepped closer, braced his feet against the slick ground, and reached for the man’s boots.

  The body was stiff. Rigor mortis had set in meaning they died at least a few hours ago but no more than a day or two.

  Cade exhaled slowly and started to pull. It took some coaxing but eventually he was able to pull the man’s body out into the open.

  The leather was soaked through, slick with blood and swamp water, but Cade didn’t let himself hesitate. He crouched and tugged hard, his fingers slipping on the soles until, finally, the first boot came free with a heavy squelch. The body shifted slightly, the arm flopping against the ground.

  The second boot took longer. Rigor mortis had set in deep—the man’s legs locked stiff, the muscles refusing to yield. Cade had to brace a knee against the ground and pull until the leather slid loose.

  He stared down at the man for a long moment after that, chest tight.

  “Sorry,” he said under his breath, and then started on the armor.

  It was heavy—real leather reinforced with bands of metal riveted along the chest and shoulders. Sweat and blood had darkened it nearly black, and it reeked of iron and musk. Cade undid the straps one by one, his movements methodical. He tried not to look at the face. Tried not to think about the fact that the man’s eyes were still half open.

  When he finally pulled the armor free, he wiped the inside with a damp scrap of his own shirt before sliding it on. It was too big across the shoulders, loose around the arms, and a little tight in the midsection where Cade’s belly filled it out more than the man’s muscular frame had.

  Then came the axe.

  It was heavier than he expected. The haft was worn smooth with use, and the head gleamed in the filtered light. One side a broad, brutal blade, the other a tapering spike built to pierce through armor.

  Cade gripped it with both hands and tested the motion.

  The axe dragged him more than he controlled it—its momentum pulling his swing wide, awkward, and off-balance. It was clearly meant to be wielded one-handed by someone stronger, someone with the stats to make it look effortless.

  Unwieldy or not, it was better than a stick.

  He found a leather loop attached to the side of the armor—a weapon holster—and slid the axe into it. It wasn’t perfect, but it kept his hands free.

  Next, the woman.

  Cade pulled her out of the hollow more carefully, unwilling to jostle her the way he had the man. Her smaller frame made her easier to move but Cade still struggled to get her out in the open. After a few minutes of maneuvering he was able to lay her down next to the man.

  Her armor was lighter—cleaner, more flexible, built from layered hides shaped for movement. It looked well-made, but too small for him.

  That, and stripping the man had been unsettling enough. Stripping the woman of her armor felt different. More wrong for some reason.

  Cade stood still for a moment, the thought pressing at the edge of his mind. Was that a double standard? Maybe. But out here, with death still thick in the air, he didn’t have the luxury of debating morals and biases.

  He pushed the thought aside and focused on what he could take without crossing the line—her weapons.

  Her bow was still clutched in her hand. Cade pried it gently from her stiff fingers and laid it aside. The weapon was simple wood with a white wrapping at the center. The quiver at her hip held maybe twenty arrows, each feathered with blue fletching and tipped with triangular metal heads. When he ran a thumb along one, he accidentally drew a bead of blood.

  “Ow! Damn that's sharp,” he muttered while unconsciously bringing his thumb to his mouth.

  He looped the quiver’s strap over his shoulder. It sat awkwardly against the armor, but it would work. He picked up the bow, tested the string’s tension. It felt taut and he could only partially draw it back, but it was better than nothing.

  His father’s archery lessons came back in flashes. His dad had tried to get Cade into bow hunting when he was a teenager but he’d never been a good shot. He knew enough not to shoot himself in the foot and that was about it.

  Finally, he spotted a slim dagger strapped to the outside of the woman’s leg. He hesitated, then unbuckled it and slid it free. The blade was thin but wickedly pointed, the leather sheath smooth from use. He slid it into a side pocket on his new armor where it fit loosely but within reach.

  He took a step back and surveyed the two bodies.

  A quiet shame burned in his chest, but he pushed it down. He couldn’t afford to dwell.

  Cade looked at them both—at the man’s half-open eyes and the woman’s still expression—and spoke softly.

  “I’ll put your things to good use,” he said. “And if I find whoever did this to you, I’ll make sure to make them pay for what they did. I promise.”

  His voice barely carried, swallowed by the swamp’s damp stillness.

  He thought briefly about burying them. But the ground was too wet, too thick with roots and muck. He had no tools and no time to spare. Even dragging them out of the hollow had been exhausting and time consuming. The swamp would claim them soon enough.

  Cade adjusted the axe at his hip, slung the bow over his shoulder, and turned away.

  He didn’t look back.

  Each step through the shallow water felt heavier now, but the weight of the armor, the weapons, even the mud dragging at his boots—it all grounded him. Reminded him he was still moving.

  Still alive.