When I finally stumbled out of the inn, groggy and stiff from sleeping for what felt like an eternity, the sun was already high in the sky. The innkeeper gave me a funny look as I passed, but I was too hungry and disoriented to care. I made my way to the guild hall to report the completion of the quarry job.

The hall was buzzing with its usual energy—guild members crowded around tables, swapping stories and dividing spoils, while others milled about near the job board, scanning for their next big payday. I headed straight to the quest desk, handed over my sheet, and waited for the clerk to confirm.

“You’re Sigvard, right?” she said, her tone carrying a note of surprise as she looked me over.

“That’s me,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “Here to report the quarry job’s done. No miners to save, unfortunately, but the issue’s dealt with. Relic smashed, threat eliminated.”

Her eyebrows rose, and she gave me a look I couldn’t quite read. “One second.” She walked into the back room, leaving me standing there awkwardly.

When she returned, she handed me a small pouch of gold and another notification flashed before my eyes.

Level Up!

You are now Level 9.

I exhaled, feeling the faint rush of energy that came with leveling up. It wasn’t much, but it was something. One step closer to 50.

“Good work,” the clerk said, though her tone was hesitant. I noticed she glanced over her shoulder at another guild member, who was looking at me like I’d just grown a second head.

“What?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“You’ve been gone for two days,” she said plainly.

“Two days?” I blinked. “No, that’s—” Then I stopped. That actually made sense. I felt sore, my muscles still stiff even after all the sleep. The fight in the quarry had pushed me further than I’d ever gone before, and I guess my body had just... shut down.

“You came back from a Level 15 job. Alone,” the clerk continued, lowering her voice slightly. “People noticed. A level 7 surviving a quest like that doesn’t exactly happen often. That’s why you’re getting some looks.”

I glanced around and, sure enough, caught a few guild members throwing glances my way. Most of them weren’t hostile, just curious. I nodded to myself, trying to play it cool, but I could feel the weight of their stares.

After collecting my reward, I didn’t even have time to leave the hall before someone approached me.

“You’re Sigvard, right?”

I turned to see a tall, lanky guy with sandy hair and light armor. He looked like he was in his late twenties, with a friendly smile that I immediately didn’t trust. Behind him stood two others—a burly woman with an enormous axe strapped to her back, and a lean, wiry man with a bow slung across his shoulders.

“Who’s asking?” I said cautiously.

“Name’s Garvin,” the lanky guy said, extending a hand. “This here’s Drea and Malric.” He gestured to the axe-wielding woman and the archer, who both gave me polite nods.

“We’re putting together a group for an escort quest heading east,” Garvin continued. “It’s a milk run—shouldn’t be anything too dangerous. Just guarding a merchant caravan for a couple of days. Word is you’ve got some skills, and we could use another sword.”

I hesitated. I hadn’t worked with anyone else since Sid left, and the idea of joining a group felt... strange. On the one hand, it could be a good way to gain experience and gold without the pressure of doing everything on my own. On the other hand, traveling with a group meant I couldn’t use my corruption. If I suddenly sprouted a shadowy sword or burst into Shadowform, it’d raise too many questions.

“I’ll think about it,” I said.

“Think fast,” Garvin said with a grin. “We’re leaving at first light tomorrow. Pay’s decent, and the route’s usually quiet. No bandits or monsters to worry about. Should be easy coin.”

He patted me on the shoulder and walked off with his companions, leaving me standing there, weighing my options.

The more I thought about it, the more it seemed like a good idea. I wasn’t going to level fast just by skulking around taking low-level solo quests. Sid had said I needed to grow stronger, and working with a group—even for a simple escort—might teach me something I wouldn’t learn on my own.

That evening, I prepared.

First, I pulled my steel sword from the chest at the foot of my bed. It was heavier than the blades I summoned from the Darkness, but reliable. I ran a whetstone along the edge, making sure it was sharp enough to cut through anything that came at me. If I was going to work with a group, I couldn’t rely on my shadow weapons or other abilities. I’d have to fight like any normal adventurer.

Second, I packed supplies. Food, water, a spare cloak, and a small bundle of healing salves. I wasn’t about to go unprepared, even if Garvin claimed the route was “usually quiet.” In my experience, “quiet” just meant the bad stuff hadn’t happened yet.

By the time the sun rose the next day, I was ready. The caravan was waiting just outside the city gates—a pair of wagons loaded with goods, drawn by sturdy draft horses. Garvin, Drea, and Malric were already there, chatting with the merchant and his two drivers.

“Glad you decided to join us,” Garvin said with a grin as I approached.

“Figured I could use the exercise,” I replied, hefting my pack onto one of the wagons.

Drea chuckled. “Stick with us, kid. We’ll make sure you don’t break a sweat.”

Malric just nodded silently, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon like he was expecting trouble at any moment.

The merchant gave us a quick rundown of the route—a straight shot east along a well-traveled road, with a stop at a trading post halfway through. Easy money, just like Garvin had said.

As the wagons started moving, I adjusted the steel sword at my hip and fell in line with the others, keeping pace beside the caravan.

It felt strange, traveling with a group again. But maybe this was what I needed—a chance to see how I stacked up, to learn from others, and to prove that I could hold my own without relying on the Darkness.

The trip east was quiet for the most part, though Garvin made sure it wasn’t boring. He had the kind of personality that couldn’t handle silence for too long—always talking, always moving, always filling the air with some story or observation. If I’d had any doubts about what kind of person he was, they were gone after the first hour of walking.

“So, there I was,” Garvin said for the third time that day, gesturing wildly with his hands. “In the middle of the courtyard, facing down the academy’s champion. The guy was built like an ox—shoulders out to here, arms thicker than my legs. But I wasn’t scared. No, I stared him down, blade in hand, and said, ‘You should’ve stayed home today.’”

Drea groaned, rolling her eyes. “You left out the part where you lost that fight in two moves.”

Garvin waved her off. “Details, details. The point is, I learned from the experience. And next time, I’ll beat him. Guaranteed.”

I chuckled despite myself. It was hard not to find his enthusiasm at least a little endearing, even if half his stories seemed to be heavily embellished.

Over the course of the trip, I got to know the group better—mostly through Garvin’s endless chatter.

Drea, for one, was tough as nails. She had that no-nonsense kind of attitude, the sort of person who could stare down a charging bear and make it think twice. Her humor was sharp and mean, but not so mean that you hated her for it. She’d throw jabs and insults at Garvin, but you could tell there was genuine affection behind it, like an older sibling teasing their bratty little brother.

Then there was Malric. He was the polar opposite of Garvin—stone silent, calm, and always watchful. He rarely said more than a word or two, and even when Garvin tried to drag him into one of his stories, Malric would just give him a flat look and keep staring off into the distance. He carried himself like a statue—always poised, always focused, his bow slung over his shoulder and ready at a moment’s notice.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

And then there was Garvin himself.

It didn’t take long for him to reveal that he was the son of a noble. It wasn’t a boast, necessarily—just something that came up naturally as he talked about his life. His father was apparently a lord of some wealthy estate in the west, which meant Garvin had grown up with the best of everything: the best armor, the best weapons, and the best teachers money could buy.

But what surprised me was that Garvin wasn’t just some spoiled rich kid tagging along for the adventure. He wasn’t weak. In fact, from the way he talked, he’d spent most of his life being trained by experts from all over the world—swordsmen, strategists, knights, and mercenaries. He might’ve had the resources handed to him, but he’d clearly put in the work to use them.

Drea and Malric, as it turned out, had been part of that upbringing. They weren’t just part of his group—they’d been trained their whole lives to guard him. It wasn’t hard to tell. The way they moved, the way they reacted to small noises or shifts in the wind—it all screamed professionalism.

But this trip, Garvin had explained with a grin, was their first adventure without an escort.

“No guards, no knights, no overprotective butlers,” he’d said, puffing out his chest. “Just us, out in the world, proving we can handle ourselves.”

Drea had rolled her eyes. “We’ve been proving we can handle ourselves for years. You’re the one who’s new to this.”

“Semantics,” Garvin had replied, brushing her off.

As we walked, I kept my ears open for more details about their dynamic. Garvin was definitely the leader of the group, if only because he was the loudest and most charismatic. Drea was the muscle, her massive axe making that perfectly clear. And Malric was the scout, always keeping an eye on the horizon.

It wasn’t a bad setup. They worked well together, and even though Garvin was cocky, I got the sense that he genuinely respected Drea and Malric’s skills. It was a little strange, though, to think about the fact that they’d been trained to protect him their whole lives. That kind of loyalty didn’t come cheap—or easily.

Still, I couldn’t help but feel like the dynamic between them was... different from most adventuring groups I’d seen. Garvin wasn’t their employer, exactly. And while he had the makings of a good fighter, I got the impression that he wasn’t nearly as experienced as Drea or Malric.

But they trusted him. And, despite his constant talking, I could see why.

By the end of the first day, I felt like I’d learned a lot about them. They weren’t Sid, sure, but they were solid. And for the first time since he left, I didn’t feel entirely alone.

Still, as night began to fall and the caravan stopped to set up camp, I found myself glancing at my steel sword, reminding myself that I wouldn’t be able to rely on the Darkness with this group. Not unless I wanted to risk questions I wasn’t ready to answer.

I just hoped the trip would stay as quiet as Garvin claimed.

The fire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the trees as the night wrapped around us. The caravan had come to a stop a few hours earlier, the wagons forming a loose semicircle around the clearing to keep the horses penned in and protected. The smell of roasted meat from the merchant’s cook pot mingled with the woodsmoke, and for a while, it was easy to forget that we were out in the middle of nowhere, miles from the safety of the city.

Garvin was sitting cross-legged by the fire, leaning slightly forward with that curious, almost childlike energy he always seemed to have. Drea sat to his left, lazily sharpening her massive axe, the rhythmic scrape of stone against metal filling the pauses in the conversation. Malric was perched just outside the firelight, his back against a tree, bow across his lap, his eyes scanning the darkness. He didn’t seem to care much for socializing, but his presence was steady and reassuring all the same.

Garvin poked at the fire with a stick, sending a burst of sparks swirling into the air. “So,” he said, looking up at me with a grin, “we’ve all been telling stories about ourselves for hours now. Drea’s embarrassing ‘slipped in the mud during training’ tale was a highlight, by the way—thanks for that.”

Drea glared at him, but there was a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“But you,” Garvin continued, pointing the stick at me like it was a weapon, “you’ve been suspiciously quiet. Come on, Sigvard. Tell us about yourself. Where’d you come from? How’d you end up in the guild?”

The question hit harder than I’d expected. I froze for a second, staring into the fire as my mind raced. I couldn’t exactly tell him the truth—that I wasn’t from this world, that I’d woken up in a prison cell with no clue how I’d gotten here, and that I was carrying around a piece of eldritch corruption that could very well consume me one day.

And I definitely couldn’t mention the Darkness.

So, unfortunately, I lied.

“Oh, my past?” I said, leaning back and trying to look casual. “Nothing too exciting, really. Grew up in a small village, way out in the middle of nowhere. Spent most of my time hunting and working odd jobs. Joined the guild because... well, I wanted to see more of the world, I guess. Figured it’d be a good way to make a name for myself.”

Garvin tilted his head, clearly not satisfied with the vague answer. “Hunting, huh? Is that why you picked Ranger?”

I hesitated, the memory of the floating class selection flashing in my mind. I hadn’t exactly "picked" Ranger for any meaningful reason—it had just seemed like the most practical option at the time. But Garvin didn’t need to know that.

“Yeah,” I said quickly, nodding. “I was good with a bow back in the village. Figured it’d carry over into guild work pretty well. Turns out, I was wrong. Ended up better with a sword than anything else.”

Drea raised an eyebrow, pausing in her sharpening. “You don’t strike me as the ‘small village’ type.”

I laughed, scratching the back of my neck. “Guess I cleaned up a bit since then.”

Garvin studied me for a moment, his grin softening into something more thoughtful. “So what made you leave? The village, I mean. Something must’ve happened to make you pack up and head off to join the guild.”

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to hold his gaze. “You know how it is. Small places like that don’t have much to offer. Felt like if I stayed, I’d just... waste away. Wanted something more.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. Back on Earth, that was pretty much how I’d felt—stuck, wasting time, going nowhere. But the way Garvin looked at me, I got the sense he wanted more than vague answers. He wanted a story.

So I gave him one.

“There was this guy,” I said, leaning forward slightly, my voice lowering like I was sharing a secret. “Used to come through the village every few months, selling supplies. Big guy, had all these crazy stories about fighting monsters and traveling across the world. He made it sound like this... grand adventure, you know? Like anything was possible if you were brave enough to go for it. I guess... I wanted that. Or at least, I wanted to try.”

It was a decent lie—just enough truth to make it believable, but vague enough to avoid any real details. Garvin’s grin returned, and he nodded like he completely understood.

“I get that,” he said. “It’s kind of the same for me, honestly. Well, except instead of a wandering merchant, I had a bunch of tutors and bodyguards telling me what to do all the time. But the idea’s the same, right? You want to get out there, make your own story, prove to yourself you can do it.”

“Yeah,” I said, forcing a smile. “Something like that.”

Drea snorted, shaking her head as she went back to her axe. “You’re both hopeless romantics, you know that? The world’s not some grand adventure. It’s dirt, sweat, and blood most of the time.”

“Maybe,” Garvin replied, smirking. “But that’s why we’ve got people like you and Malric to keep us grounded. Right, Malric?”

The archer didn’t respond, his gaze still locked on the darkness beyond the campfire.

Garvin sighed. “Ah, the strong, silent type. What would we do without you?”

The conversation drifted after that, the group settling into an easy rhythm of banter and silence. I stayed quiet, letting them talk while I poked at the fire with a stick.

The lies I’d told hung heavy in my mind, but what else could I have done? They didn’t need to know the truth. Hell, they wouldn’t even believe me if I told them.

For now, it was enough to play the part. To be Sigvard, the former hunter from a small village, just trying to make his way in the world.

But as I stared into the fire, I couldn’t help but wonder how long I could keep the act up.

As the fire crackled and the banter died down, I found myself staring into the flames, my thoughts drifting. Garvin’s questions had stirred something in me—not just the awkwardness of having to fabricate my past, but something deeper. Something I hadn’t thought about before.

Why did Garvin see me as a Ranger?

He’d said it so casually earlier, like it was obvious. Ranger. That was the class I had chosen back in the prison cell when those strange floating words first appeared in my vision. But after the portal, after the Darkness consumed me, my class had changed. I wasn’t a Ranger anymore. I was Shadow.

And yet, when Sid had inspected me that day in the forest, when he had pinned me to that tree and demanded answers, he’d said something strange, too:

“Your class... it’s Shadow. But I only saw it because you allowed me to. Otherwise, I would’ve seen Ranger.”

The memory made me uneasy. Did that mean the system—whatever it was—was hiding my real class from everyone else? Did it automatically cloak the truth unless I willingly revealed it?

That would explain why Garvin, Drea, and Malric hadn’t said anything. They weren’t reacting to me like I was some cursed outlier or abomination. To them, I was just a low-level Ranger with a steel sword and a lot to prove.

I stared down at my hands, flexing my fingers as if I could feel the Darkness stirring beneath my skin. The power was still there, humming faintly like a heartbeat, always present. But for now, it was hidden. Out of sight.

Was the system protecting me? Or was this another cruel twist of the Darkness? A way to blend in, to avoid suspicion until the moment came to strike?

The idea made me shudder.

“Hey.”

Garvin’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I glanced up to see him looking at me from across the fire, a curious expression on his face.

“You alright?” he asked.

I forced a smile, trying to shake off the unease. “Yeah. Just tired.”

“Big day tomorrow,” he said with a grin, leaning back and resting his hands behind his head. “Plenty of time to impress us with those ‘Ranger skills’ you’re keeping hidden.”

I gave a small laugh, though it felt hollow. Ranger skills. Right.

Drea snorted. “Don’t expect too much, Garvin. Not everyone grew up with a tutor hand-feeding them combat drills.”

“Hey, I earned my skills,” Garvin shot back, mock-offended. “Just like Sigvard’s going to prove he earned his.”

I gave another forced laugh and shifted my gaze back to the flames, letting their conversation fade into the background.

Ranger. Shadow. Two sides of a coin I didn’t fully understand.

The Darkness had changed me, there was no denying that. But if the system itself was cloaking that truth, then what was the cost? And more importantly—why?

I clenched my fists, the questions swirling in my head.

I didn’t have answers. Not yet. But I’d find them. One way or another, I’d figure out what the Darkness wanted from me—and what it had already taken.