As Siddharth and his group reached the end of the path, the gathering of faction members murmured reverent words.

"Pranaam, Guruji," one said, bowing deeply, hands pressed together in a respectful Namaste.

Another, younger disciple, eyes shining with awe, spoke softly, "We are blessed, Siddharth-ji, all seven have returned safely. Your strength and guidance have brought them back to us."

"Dhanyavaad, Guru," another added, hands folded at his chest. "Your shakti protects us all."

Siddharth nodded humbly, his expression calm yet acknowledging the faith they placed in him. His gaze scanned the crowd briefly, before locking with Chiara’s. With a nod and a brief smile as a greeting, he motioned for her to follow.

His men, sensing his intentions, quietly stepped back. Each one gave him a respectful bow, dipping their heads slightly in pranaam, and left.

With Chiara close behind him, Siddharth walked toward a small, unassuming cabin at the edge of the compound. The structure was simple, made of mostly wood, yet exuded a sense of purpose. It had been built specifically for these kinds of private meetings—a sanctuary of calm away from the larger gatherings.

As they entered, Chiara silently closed the door behind her, the gentle creak of wood the only sound that broke the quiet. The room was sparse but peaceful, with a low table at its center and two plain wooden chairs on either side.

Siddharth settled into one of the chairs, and Chiara followed suit, sitting across from him.

For a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of the atmosphere palpable. Siddharth’s eyes, though calm, carried a depth that always unsettled her, a quiet intensity that promised the conversation ahead would not be light.

His voice, low and steady, carried the authority of a leader, but there was always something more—something that drew people to him as if he held answers no one else could see.

“We went through the sixth tunnel today,” he said in English, his tone deliberate. “Advanced 360 kilometers until we found another split in the path.”

Chiara frowned, her rational mind immediately calculating the implications. “Another split? How many?”

“Three,” Siddharth replied.

Chiara crossed her hands and rested her chin on them, deep in thought for a moment. “I suppose you turned back at that point?”

“Yes,” he said evenly. “I thought it prudent to explore all seven tunnels first before deciding if we push through this one. After what happened on the seventh path, I would prefer to avoid more unnecessary risks.”

Chiara shuddered slightly, remembering that day. She had been there, after all—the slow, suffocating march toward death, the anxiety and claustrophobia creeping in, the worst sensation she had ever felt.

"Yes, you did well," she said, shaking off the memory. "I’ll cover the fourth and final remaining tunnel tomorrow, then. But I have a hunch that one of those three paths after the sixth is the key."

"I wish you the best," Siddharth said with a respectful nod.

Chiara nodded, though the idea of another split weighed heavily on her mind. How much longer are we going to be stuck in this Oasis?

Siddharth’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Has something happened in the Oasis while I was away? Some of the younger ones had uneasy looks on their faces.”

Chiara let out a deep sigh. One problem after another.

“A newcomer killed Oleg, Nia, and Varun while they were on patrol,” she said quietly.

The room instantly felt colder, the atmosphere shifting as Siddharth’s expression hardened. “How long will they keep killing each other?” His voice dropped, calm but laced with disapproval. “Facing trials in a world that tests them, yet they fight among themselves over petty disputes.” He shook his head. “From your expression, I can tell this newcomer is still alive.”

“Yes, he is,” Chiara responded, her voice quieter now. “Look, Siddharth, the dead won’t come back, but we need talent right now. This person, Alonso, is talented—he—"

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“Chiara,” Siddharth interrupted, his voice low but final. “We’ve talked about this before. Those who kill will face one of two outcomes: either they are put to death in ceremony, or they die by my blade. If he is talented, my swords will judge that, and if he survives, he may live in my place.”

“Siddharth...” Chiara’s voice was soft but determined. “I can guarantee Alonso is on Arjun’s level. I’ll vouch for him, and I’ll take responsibility for the deaths of those three. I’m even willing to offer compensation.”

“Compensation?” Siddharth’s tone grew colder. “The dead cannot be compensated, Chiara. And talent is not an excuse for wanton murder. How many of our men have died paving the way forward, finding the exit from this cursed Oasis? And the people here? Killing each other over scraps of power? If they cannot restrain their lust for blood, they do not deserve to be saved. They will serve as examples for those who follow.”

Chiara leaned back, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to calm herself.

“And what about us, then?” she said, her voice sharp. “Our hands are stained with blood much thicker than his. When Alonso came, he absorbed those three orbs, which means he hadn’t even killed five people before arriving here. He’s a newcomer who knows nothing but fighting and killing—who knows what horrors he faced before he came here? And now we ask him to submit, only to put him to death because he refused? Where is the justice in that? If he deserves death, then what about us?”

Siddharth was silent for a long moment, his gaze locked on her, unwavering. His stillness was unnerving.

“This world is not fair, Chiara,” he said quietly. “No world with humans in it ever will be. Those who come first establish the rules, and those who follow must comply with them. Those with power rule; those without it, obey. Alonso’s stubbornness might have been rewarded in times of war, but in times of peace, he is a murderer sentenced to death. Why? Because of what it means. People know. Word spreads. You saw the gathering outside when I arrived. People demand justice, and Alonso must pay. Rules cannot be broken.”

Chiara sighed heavily, her shoulders tense as she leaned forward. He’s impossible. But she didn’t back down.

“Rules cannot be broken? Then what about Hughes? If we had followed his rules, where would that have left us? Slavery, rape, murder. We fought against that power, Siddharth—you and I. We killed everyone who followed him. We killed because we believed we could create a better society. We killed because, even though we both know what The Tower represents and the need for more humans to face its challenges, we couldn’t tolerate him any longer. Now we are the new rulers of this place, split in two because we’re afraid of becoming what he was. But if we don’t become flexible and make exceptions when necessary, what kind of leaders are we if not tyran—”

“Alonso murdered three men,” Siddharth interrupted, his tone cold. “He murdered three good people who were doing their job as instructed. Ignorance of the law does not exempt one from punishment. We’re replicating the laws of our society as best as we can to maintain order, Chiara. And it’s worked so far. No exceptions will be made.”

“Are you even listening to yourself?” Chiara’s frustration boiled over. “Siddharth, I respect you more than anyone in this godforsaken place we call the Oasis, but we’re serving a bigger purpose here. We need to keep moving forward, not for us, but for humanity. We know nothing of the trials ahead, and we need the best warriors and minds to face them. Alonso is one of them.”

Siddharth’s face darkened. “Leaving Alonso alive will create disharmony in the Oasis, especially in my faction. What am I supposed to say if the killer of three of our people goes unpunished? Is Alonso worth more than all of them? Is he more valuable than an entire faction, Chiara?”

Chiara took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Her voice lowered, more controlled. “No, he’s not. But he might be. Alonso, in just two days, has already reached the maximum stage progress. He swam the lake, survived reaching the outcrop, and he went into the tunnel—"

“He went into the tunnel while we were there?” Siddharth interrupted coldly, making Chiara curse inwardly at her slip.

“Yes. I told him to go and return before you came back,” she said, her face straight, unwavering.

“Chiara,” Siddharth began, his tone softening but still firm. “I acknowledge you as a suitable leader. You are strong, rational, smart, and have good principles. But for this to work,” he paused, his voice dropping an octave, “we must respect each other and the rules we’ve established.”

Chiara was silent for a moment. “I understand, and I apologize. I saw no harm in sending him, but yes, I broke the trust between us. But… The Tower is bigger than both of us, Siddharth. I hate to say it, but the results we need justify the means.”

“If you believe that, then why did we kill Hughes? He was strong, had great potential, and commanded a following of skilled warriors. Why did we bathe the Oasis in blood if the results justify the means?”

“There are limits.”

“And who sets those limits? Us? Then it’s tyranny all over again, Chiara.”

Chiara leaned back, her eyes drifting to the ceiling as she collected her thoughts. “Alright, Siddharth. We can debate this endlessly, but in the end, we are the leaders, and we decide the verdict. I support Alonso and do not wish him to die. That said, I understand the implications this could have, so I acknowledge the need for a punishment, as long as he remains combat-capable. I will also place Alonso as the vanguard on all my expeditions into the tunnel so he can repay the Oasis. That is my decision, Siddharth. Can you agree to it?”

Siddharth remained silent, his eyes fixed on hers, unwavering. A full minute passed before he spoke again. “I will fight Alonso today, at the second half of the sun’s journey. And…” Chiara felt her heart tighten slightly. “I will defeat him, and if he submits to me and shows responsibility and remorse for his actions, I’ll let him live. He’ll also need to make a public apology in front of the entire Oasis. For all future expeditions, yours or mine, he will be the vanguard until we manage to escape the Oasis.”

Without another word, Siddharth stood, walked to the door, and opened it with quiet finality.

He left.