A minute later Jared, Alex, Nick, Elise and Myself are all gathered around my little fire with Mischief dozing in the background. We all kind of just wait for someone to start the conversation. Finally Jared speaks.
Jared finally breaks the silence. “Okay. This is… strange.”
He glances at Elise, then Nick. “This isn’t just random. There’s gotta be a reason.”
Alex shrugs. “Man, I don’t see the issue. So we weren’t dropped in the same spot—big deal.”
He kicks at the dirt. “Honestly? Sounds like a win. My dad sucked.”
“Yeah, Alex. We get it. Your dad’s an asshole.” I lean forward, lowering my voice. “But that’s not the point.”
The fire crackles. Nobody speaks. I let the silence drag, then finally say, “The point is—why?”
"Why is my dad an asshole? I blame the alcohol and the fact he can't get a girl."
“No Alex." I say, palming my face, holding back a smirk. "Why were you three moved when nobody else was?”
Nick raises his hand before speaking. “Uhh…well, I mean if it helps, both my parents are also terrible.”
“So, dysfunctional parents are the common thread, huh? That’d be a weird sorting system.” I add.
“Huh… That’s a weird pattern. Would the system even track something like that?” Jared rubs his forehead thoughtfully.
Elise shifts where she’s sitting, frowning slightly. “Well that wouldn’t explain why I’m here though.”
“I guess you got along with your parents then Elise?” Jared asked thoughtfully.
Her mouth worked a little as if she had to work the words out. “No, that’s not it… I mean, I never really had parents.”
She glances at the flames, her voice quieter now. “I’m an orphan. My parents died when I was really young. I don't even remember them. I was in a foster home when it happened.”
The group sits with that for a moment. Jared exhales through his nose. “Damn… I didn’t know.”
She gives a half-smile and shrugs. “Yeah, well… the ‘bad parent’ theory was pretty flimsy anyway.”
I lean forward, resting my chin on my fists. “Why were you three moved when nobody else was?” I glance between them, searching their faces.
Elise looked a little older than Alex—probably still in her teens. Pale skin and long brown hair tied back in a ponytail. She wore baggy cargo pants and a hoodie, but it didn’t hide her slim frame. Her green eyes flicked to the fire, thoughtful and distant.
Nick is probably my age and shaves his red hair in a buzz cut. He’s a bit past lean, like a teenager that just hit his growth spurt.
“It’s probably just random. I mean, what if there is a reason anyway? What does that change?”
“Well for starters Alex, we don’t know how long we will be disconnected from the rest of the world.” Jared scratches his chin. “If we can learn more about how the system thinks it can help us locate our families, friends and loved ones.”
A heavy silence follows. Elise’s eyes drop to the fire, her fingers curling tighter around her knees. Alex shifts uncomfortably. Even Nick looks away, his expression shadowed.
Alex stares at his feet. “Yeah that makes sense. I’m not trying to be a dick or anything. I guess I can’t really relate. I’m fine if I never make it back to my dad.”
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Nick snorts, a crooked grin breaking through. “I can second that. Hell, I’ll put it in writing.” Alex’s mouth twitches, his first hint of a smile all night.
“What about you Elise? Is there anyone you are trying to get back to?” An idea slowly forming.
She shrugs arms still hugging her knees. “I just turned 18, so I was about to be free of foster care. So yeah not really.”
“What are you thinking Layton?” Jared’s eyes narrow, clearly noticing the gears turning in my head. I hesitate, piecing it together.
“I don’t know. What if it’s just that simple?” I glance over at the other group of campers. “Nick, Elise and Alex all chose combat oriented classes. Maybe the system just wanted to balance out your group and chose people who wouldn’t mind being moved?”
“Maybe…but then again how would it know if these three felt that way about their current situation?”
Jared had a point. Still something about it seemed right. I felt like I was on the right track but without all the pieces.
“Let’s keep this on our radar. If we can figure out how the system thinks—even just a little—it could give us an edge. Maybe even help us predict what’s coming next.”
We tossed around theories—some serious, others so ridiculous they earned outright laughter. Nick suggested we were chosen by a cosmic game of spin-the-bottle, and even Elise cracked a smile. As the firelight danced around us, the tension eased, and we drifted to lighter topics. Embarrassing high school stories, terrible cafeteria food, celebrity crushes. For the first time since this madness began, it almost felt… normal.
Eventually, we’d find more answers. Whether they’d make things clearer or just raise more questions—I didn’t know. But tonight, under the stars with laughter still echoing in the air, it felt okay to leave it a mystery.
-
The next morning I woke up in high spirits. The night last had gone a long way in relieving some of the tension with Jared. Nick, Alex, Elise and I had stayed up most the night talking and joking. Eventually we just fell asleep around the fire.
The sky’s just beginning to lighten, a pale blue bleeding into the night’s darkness. The mountain’s silhouette looms, untouched by sunlight. I stretch, muscles protesting from a night on the hard ground, and breathe in the crisp morning air, tinged with the faint scent of smoke from last night’s fire.
I have no real goals for the day besides continuing my sword forms. With the knowledge bestowed upon my mind I’ve made what I consider to be incredible progress. My stance feels more natural and the movements less choppy.
My spirit sword is leaning against a log next to where I passed out last night. Even the scabbard is impressive, sleek and dark. I pick it up and soak it in for like the thousandth time. I cock my head as a thought dawns on me.
I realize it’s been a while since I checked on my sword’s progress. With everything that’s happened, I almost forgot it grows with me. If it’s absorbing ambient mana, then maybe it’s evolving alongside my skills…
Curious, I pull up my status and inspect my sword.
[Spirit sword level 18: Spirit weapons absorb ambient mana and grow with the owner, inheriting traits from skills and titles. This spirit sword has gained traits that enhance the quality of summoned barriers. Shielding spells cast by the user will consume less mana while also creating more powerful shields. Enhancements scale with both wisdom and Intelligence stats of the user.]
[Would you like to name your spirit weapon?]
I blink at the screen. The enhancements of my sword sound incredible, by my eyes linger on the second message. Name it?
When I first earned the sword, held it for the first time, it felt like greeting a long lost friend. I had just completed the wave trial, surviving a fight that challenged me. I still remember the feelings I had Facing the Chaos Spawn Champion. Fear.
Not just a slight discomfort. In the moment before the fight the fear threatened to drag me into inaction. I had faced my fear and with the help of Mischief we survived.
But then—the system gifted me my spirit weapon. From that moment on, the fear was... different. Manageable. The fear that once froze me now feels distant, like an echo from another life.
I draw the sword from its sleek black sheath, the light blue metallic blade gleaming softly in the early light. It feels familiar, like an extension of my own arm. With this weapon, I’ve faced Goblins, Trolls, Dire Apes, and Orcs.
Sure, there were nerves before each fight. But the moment my fingers wrapped around this hilt, they melted away—replaced by a calm, steady focus.
And now? As it grows, its natural qualities continue to provide safety in the chaos of a battle. A constant friend whispering peace. The name came to me naturally. Like I had known it was the name from the start.
I close my eyes, letting the name settle. As the word forms on my lips, the morning air feels cooler, crisper. The sword hums softly, almost like a sigh of relief.
[You have named your Spirit Sword: Tranquility.]
The notification vanishes, but the feeling lingers. A calmness. A clarity. As if the sword were always meant to be called this.