Chris staggered back to his feet, breath coming in gasps as he tried to keep his legs upright. Each intake of breath stoked the fires raging in his lungs and his muscles almost gave out from the strain of keeping him standing.

There was no time to rest. The gray eyes boring down on him demanded his full attention.

Hurling himself sideways, he felt a torrent of air whip by him as a mass of brown fur passed within inches of his head. Rolling to the side, he leaped to his feet in time to see Zareti’s figure crash into the beast like a rockslide.

Chris urged his battered body to follow suit and his spear impaled the creature by an inch before being stopped cold by thick flesh. That was becoming more of a problem lately. But there was nothing to do but see it through.

He leaped back, avoiding a thrashing limb, and retaliated with a thrust at its rib cage. Zareti did the same on his end, causing the beast to bellow out in rage and stagger away.

They didn't follow. Two weeks spent fighting Blightspawn had taught them the importance of patience.

It stumbled and turned to face them like a caged animal just as an arrow sailed through the air and joined two more in its chest. It let out another pained whimper, and still, they did not charge.

The creature backed away, its gray eyes looking around the clearing wildly. Its body was a mangled mess, and blood gushing out of multiple wounds, soaking the ground in gore.

Not all the wounds were from spear cuts. Many came from claw and bite marks from past encounters with other Blightspawn. Now that damage was taking its toll, and the creature wobbled precariously on its feet.

Its hind legs were the first to give out, followed by the rest of its body. And this time, they charged. Chris aimed his spear at its throat and blood streaked through the air. Then there was silence.

A familiar heat pulsed in his mind before he stumbled back and crumbled to the ground. Another thud opposite him told him Zareti had done the same.

Gazing up at the sky, Chris tried to think of days when he wasn't forced to kill something first thing in the morning. For a while there, the square had been a good distraction. It indulged him into thinking things were still the same. That he was still just a construction manager going about his daily duties.

What he’d been through seemed so vast and complex that he struggled to comprehend it at times. He arrived in a new world, very mysteriously. Found himself caught up in events that led him to build the gathering square, fought a severe case of depression. And by the time it was all over, a group of good people died because of him.

That was a lot for any one person to go through in only a few weeks, and he didn't come out unscathed. He was damaged in a way simple contemplation couldn't fix. It was like the more he thought about it, the wider the cracks grew.

Yet he couldn't help himself. Like a child playing with a scabbed wound, he wanted to see how far he could widen those cracks before everything came apart. To see the limits of his constitution.

That was his life now. Without fail, every night before sleep, he combed through those events like a detective in search of a lead. Trying to find where he’d gone wrong, how he could’ve prevented it, and how to never let it happen again.

He might not have asked to be brought to this world, but everything he’d done since arrival was on him. That was one lesson his father never failed to drill into his skull. He had to take responsibility for his actions.

By the time he was done with his introspections, he was inundated by a stillness deeper than anything he had ever known. To fill that void, he tried to come up with elaborate ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’ until the deeper stillness of sleep took him. In the end, none of it mattered. What mattered was what to do from here on out.

Neither Zareti nor Dante had an answer to that. He had the uncomfortable feeling both men were waiting for him to make that call. The idea never failed to make him laugh. If only Lucas could see him now.

For years, his brother had gone on and on about stepping away from the manual labor camp and taking his rightful place as an office jockey. He’d refused, of course. He wasn’t built for that kind of scene. Yet here he was, forced into a position he’d been running away from for years, and he had no more choice about it than a moth had to a flame.

He wanted to laugh and spew his guts out, it was so depressing. Every marrow in his bones rebelled against the idea of sitting passively and planning while others actively did the work. His father would never find himself in such a position, and he refused to either.

Because of his indecision, they were stuck wandering the forest for close to two weeks. And with each passing day, it became clearer and clearer that Zareti and Dante were far better than him at fighting and general outdoor activities. Every day he was reminded of that fact like hot nails being driven through his heart. His incompetence sickened him.

Chris had always prided himself in being able to do a good day’s hard labor. Whether it be digging trenches from sunup till sundown, or unloading a truck's worth of cement bags, he could do it all. He never forested a day in his life, but he felt like he should be good at it. It should’ve come naturally to him like most things he did on-site, but it never did.

His frustrations kept mounting with each passing day and he knew he couldn't keep it up for much longer. Not only were the Blightspawn growing stronger, they were also increasing in volume. If they stuck around these woods for much longer, they were all going to die.

That was another thing keeping him up at night. Since the outbreak occurred, a new pecking order was being established in the forest. It was none of his business, but the local wildlife was going through something of a genocide.

Anything too big to dig a hole and hide in was being hunted to extinction. Some of the anguished wails he heard at night kept him up until the early hours of morning. No living thing should ever make sounds like that.

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Still, he had his own problems and could do nothing about it. He suspected that theirs hadn’t been the only Blight Gate to have an outbreak that day. There were simply too many Blightspawn running around for a single Gate to account for.

In the best-case scenario, a couple of the local Gates were having a malfunction. While in the worst case… well that didn't warrant thinking about. Devastation on that scale required far more brain cells than he could spare at the moment.

“We can't go on like this,” said a gruff voice to his left.

Chris looked around to see Dante slip into the clearing, silent as a ghost. The old man never made a sound, never left a mark, and could sneak anywhere without notice. To prove that point, they were all wearing Azzari combat gear.

He suspected the set Zareti was wearing came from the General’s tent but didn't bother asking. More impressive than his stealth skills, were his survival skills. To say that he and Zareti would be dead without him would be a severe understatement. The old man could read tracks, navigate the forest like a woodsman, and had a knack for using a bow. Chris was sure he was capable of surviving on his own, yet he chose to stay with them.

“What are you going on about now, old man?” said Zareti, heaving as he climbed to his feet. “We took this thing down easily enough. What’s the fuss about?”

“We can't keep it up,” Dante repeated.

“Dante’s right,” said Chris, groaning as he rose to his feet. “This is my fault. I should have kept us moving instead of letting us spend days wandering around this forest like lost children. My… uh, pride got the better of me. I won't let it happen again.”

Dante’s wrinkled face scrunched up into an odd expression that could’ve passed for understanding or irritation, but he only gave a crisp nod as though that was the end of that. Zareti’s face was a study. He looked equal parts confused, annoyed, and suspicious.

“What are you two talking about?” Zareti asked. “Weren’t we hunting this whole time? I didn't want to say anything, but I’m starting to tire of all this sneaking around. It’s time we hunt the Blightspawn for real.”

Chris limped over to where he’d thrown his rucksack, “The time for hunting us over. We need to get out of this forest today and get as far away as we can before nightfall.”

“Leave!?” Zareti bellowed. “What do you mean we need to leave? Didn't we agree we need to get the Taint?”

“About time,” Dante muttered, unsheathing a knife and moving to cut into the carcass.

“You’re free to stay and do whatever you want if you wish,” Chris said, rummaging through the sack.

“Is that it then? You’re choosing to give up when we’re so close? I expected more from you.”

“You aren't the first to say that and probably won’t be the last,” said Chris, feeling his hand brush against what he was looking for.

He had finally decided on what to do. No more putting it off as though he had better alternatives.

“What about you, old man? Are you happy to just leave after all we’ve been through?” Zareti said, giving the old man a challenging look.

Dante ignored him and Chris took out a scroll made from animal skin. He unfurled it to reveal a simple map with little to no detail on it. He didn't know if it was still unfinished or if all Azzari maps were this empty, but it had just enough information for him to piece a few things together over the last week.

“The way I see it,” Chris began. “We have three choices ahead of us. Though realistically, it's only one.”

“Fine,” said Zareti, standing up with a huff. “I’ll listen to what you have to say, but I’m not promising anything.”

“I’m glad to hear you’re on board,” Chris said dryly before gesturing to the map. “I’ve scoured this map for days now and all I can find are bad to worse options. So far, I’ve held back on saying anything in hopes of stumbling across something better or finding a secure place to hide.”

“Tell us what you found and we’ll take it from there,” Dante said, grunting from the effort of slicing through the carcass.

“Alright, first things first. The Azzari call this region ‘The Heartlands’,” Chris said, making a gesture that took in the whole map. “We are somewhere near the Southern border. About a week’s journey north of us is the Azzari Capital called Naruk. It’s where all the food we were packaging was shipped off to and—”

“Are you planning to send us back there?” Zareti interjected incredulously.

“That’s not what I was going to say. Can you wait until I finish before you cut in?”

“Fine.”

“As I was saying. We have the Azzari Capital to our North, and two outposts flanking us both to our East and West. Traveling to either one is out of the question. I doubt they would welcome us with open arms. Especially after this mess with the Blightspawn.”

“At least we can agree on that,” said Zareti with a nod. “We don't need them anyway.”

“That’s why I said it’s out of the question.”

“What about this Taint?” Dante suddenly asked. “We would survive longer if we had it.”

Chris grimaced before saying, “I’ve thought about that too. Our information on the Taint is vague at best. But the manner of acquisition seems related to killing Blightspawn. We have no details on how many kills are required, what type we should go after, or pretty much anything we could use. The only thing I’m sure about is that the Blightspawn are getting stronger and growing more numerous.”

“You noticed that too?” Dante asked with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s kind of hard not to notice at this point. They haven’t exactly been quiet.”

“What are you two talking about?” said Zareti, looking between them with a frown.

“The Blightspawn,” Chris said, speaking slowly to pronounce each syllable. “There are too many of them for a single Blight Gate to account for. My guess is that all the Blight Gates around us experienced the same outbreak we did. How many is still unclear.”

“That’s great!” said Zaret, standing up in good cheer. “This means we can get more of them without having to search the whole forest. Quickly, tell me which Gate is the closest.”

Chris calmly waited for his outburst to subside before saying, “There are over a dozen Gates on this map. All of which could have experienced an outbreak at the same time we did. What do you think will happen when they finish snacking on the local wildlife?”

Zareti’s face scrunched up in thought. Chris watched him put the pieces together like a teenager trying to grasp the intricacies of algebra. One Blight Gate, lots of Blightspawn. A dozen Blight Gates, lots and lots of Blightspawn. Finally, his eyes went wide as the full scope of their situation dawned on him.

“Raging storms. We need to get out of here.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Unfortunately, the only path open to us is South. The problem with that is there are no details regarding anything outside the Azzari borders. We could be heading to a desert or a volcano for all I know.”

“It doesn't matter, we need to leave. Now!” Zareti said, already shouldering his sack. “Leave that meat behind, old man. You already have us carrying enough food to feed a village.”

“What if there’s no food where we’re going?”

Zareti paused in his rush to think about that, before groaning and saying, “Fine. But we only take as much as we can carry, and then we leave. I don't want to be in this place any longer than I have to.”

Chris tucked the map back into his sack, wondering if he had just doomed them all. There was no helping it though. It was the best plan he could come up with the limited information at his disposal. He wondered if that would be enough to justify two more good men dying because of him.

“Alright, gentleman,” Chris said. “It will only be the three of us from this point onwards. I’ll watch your backs and you two will watch mine and each others’. Let's hope the three of us will be enough for whatever’s waiting for us South.”

“Raging storms, Chris, are you still talking? Take out a knife and cut out some meat, dammit. We need to leave this place.”

Chris sighed before taking out a knife and walking over to the carcass to help the others. ”I guess you got the last laugh after all, Lucas. Even from a world away, you found a way to say ‘I told you so’.”