Steven didn’t drop onto the ground like before. Instead, the System transported him with surprising care. One moment he was on the cold, rocky beach, the next, he was on the hard floor of the chalet.

The pain flooding him vanished in a heartbeat.

He didn’t feel his injuries healing. The instant he was teleported, it was as if they had never happened.

Steven’s mind spun, and his gut churned with more emotions than he could process, but he quickly sat up and looked around before anything else.

He had to see. He had to make sure.

A crushing weight lifted from Steven’s chest as he saw Margie and Micheal standing near him.

They were alive!

He sank back down and forced himself to breathe.

The emotions kept coming, slamming into his head like fists.

The worry, the crushing dread, the relief positively choking him.

It was too much.

It was far, far too much.

Steven shrank back from it all, his mind beginning to numb as he fled.

But just as he did, a voice spoke into his head, gentle, soft, and full of compassion.

Are you sure you want to go back, Steven?

He lurched, his stomach heaving as he forced himself to stand up.

The others said something, but their words didn’t register.

He shook his head at them and started walking.

Deep breaths. You can do this. Don’t run away from it, not again.

He forced his feet to move, and with every step, the emotions surged.

Face it.

He walked, barely registering his surroundings. He didn’t know how many laps he walked around the room, but slowly, he sifted through his emotions. The overwhelming terror of almost having lost them, the dread he’d felt when they vanished—the crushing helpless feeling of being too weak.

Productive. Do something productive. You can’t run, but you can’t just stew, either.

What could he have done better?

He played the fight in his head, repeating the scene over and over.

His first mistake had been charging the man and leaving Micheal behind.

Closing the distance was the right choice. He’d taken the man apart up close. But he’d been too distracted to protect Micheal.

He’d failed.

He should have started calling Lumbering Tower-Shield as he started running. It would have covered Micheal, leaving Steven to focus on the fight. And Micheal could have peeked from the shield to use his taunt from safety.

No, even before that, he never should have let Micheal get hit in the first place. He’d been careless. He needed to pay attention to his surroundings and remember his Purpose.

His Skills pulsed with the thought. They seemed to be doing that more recently.

After Micheal went down, Steven should have focused on disabling the woman in the fur coat.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

He’d instinctively tried to block the hit coming for Margie, and the woman had blown straight through it.

He needed to beat that instinct out of himself. If it was a strong attack, his first reaction with Hand-Shield should be to redirect and trip, not block outright unless he had no other choice.

Those were achievable goals. He just had to work on them.

This was a good thing if he looked at it from the right angle. He’d been able to make mistakes when they didn’t cost anyone their lives. Now he just had to make sure he didn’t make those mistakes again.

Steven came to a stop, he wasn’t quite at a hundred percent, but he was better.

Margie and Micheal stopped beside him. They hadn’t said anything. They’d simply followed and let him think.

Steven couldn’t express how much that meant to him.

“You okay?” Margie asked, her voice gentle.

He nodded. “Better. I- we have to do better. We can’t afford to make mistakes like those outside this contest.”

Micheal rubbed at his chest. “Agreed.” His face took on a strange cast, but he shook his head before Steven could ask what was wrong. “Let’s go back to our booth and do a little strategizing.”

Margie grunted, and Buford and Noodle padded ahead.

They reached their booth and found a set of chairs waiting for them.

“Thanks, System,” Steven muttered under his breath. At least the thing provided seating. Truly a generous overlord.

“You know, I actually am. Though it doesn’t seem that way from where you’re standing.”

Steven ignored it.

They took their seats, though Noodle climbed on Steven’s lap instead of sitting on the floor like Buford.

Steven laid out what he thought he did wrong in the fight.

The others nodded along with him, and once he finished, Margie spoke.

“I don’t have the experience or the instincts for up close brawling. Maybe if we train enough, I will. But right now, I just don’t have it. I need some way to fight at a range while Buford’s in their face.”

Her face soured. “Since the System took my guns, I need to think of something else. If I had been hurling stones from a sling or something, then we might not have lost. Buford’s a lot harder to hurt than my old self. I shouldn’t have been up close.”

As soon as she finished, Micheal spoke. “I never should have gotten hit. I should have been looking for the pot shot.” He frowned, and his hands balled into fists.

“I’m supposed to support you two and distract the enemy, but I ended up distracting Steven more than anything else. I need to be more slippery, more attention-grabbing. I was just -“ he cut off and shook his head.

After a few seconds of silence, Margie clapped. “Alright, how many points do you have, Steven?”

Steven pulled up the prompt. Points: 5

“5. Huh, so it rounded down in our favor.”

Micheal scowled. “Man, I lost. How much do I owe?”

The man had bet the System would just split and give them and their killers a half point instead of rounding up or down.

“Three nights on dish duty,” Margie said with a grin.

Micheal nodded and smiled. “Right, forgot about what I was actually betting.”

“You don’t seem too torn up over your loss,” Steven pointed out.

“I don’t dislike doing the dishes.” He tapped his temple with two fingers. “Bet something that you don’t actually mind doing. That way, win or lose, you still come out ahead.”

Steven rolled his eyes and tried to send Micheal 4 points.

Nothing happened.

He frowned and tried again—still nothing.

“System?”

“You can only send points to your teammates during the rounds. No In-between round shenanigans.”

“Can I buy an Augment between rounds?”

“Yep.”

He turned his focus to the others. “No sending points between rounds.”

Micheal scowled. “So, either you buy Compass push now, or hold on and transfer in the next round and hope we don’t get wiped again and donate our points to someone else?”

Steven nodded. “Seems so.”

Margie scratched Buford behind the ears, and the dog thumped his leg. He paused and stared at his foot halfway to his ear, as if seeing it for the first time.

The dog slowly lowered his foot and closed his eyes. He looked…thoughtful. Steven hadn’t known a dog could look thoughtful.

“I think holding onto them is stupid,” Margie said. “Too much risk without enough reward. Getting the Augment for Micheal would be swell, but Steven isn’t the worst case. Get the Augment. Then we’ll use it to get more points.”

Micheal nodded. “Agree. As much as I want an Augment, I don’t think it’s worth risking the points. Better to use them now and go into the next round stronger.”

“I was leaning on spending them as well,” Steven said. He stood and turned to face the pirate, who had been quiet behind the table till now.

Despite their loss, Steven felt his excitement begin to rise.

Time to get an Augment.