The stars were scattered across the night sky like shards of glass, their faint glow muted by the campfire’s flickering light. We were a day’s journey outside of Redspire, and the city’s fiery unrest felt like a distant memory now.

The others had settled in for the night—Orin was sharpening his blade in practiced, rhythmic strokes; Jessa sat cross-legged near the fire, staring into its depths as if searching for answers; Ryla was on watch, her sharp eyes scanning the dark horizon.

I sat slightly apart from them, leaning against a smooth rock with my dagger resting across my knees. The faint hum of its magic vibrated through my fingertips, a steady reminder of the power it carried—and the responsibility I’d taken on.

For the first time in days, maybe weeks, the silence around me wasn’t filled with the clash of steel or the murmur of tense negotiations. It was calm, still, and for once, I let myself breathe.

I shifted my attention inward, calling up my character sheet with a thought. The familiar translucent interface flickered into view, its runes faintly glowing as the details of my progress unfolded before me.

Character Sheet: Ash

Level: 22

Class: Shadowblade

Primary Skills:

* Shadow Veil: Cloak yourself in shadow, reducing visibility and muffling sound.

* Shadow Step: Instantly teleport a short distance to a shadow within line of sight.

* Phantom Strike: A rapid attack that deals increased damage when attacking from stealth.

Attributes:

* Strength: 14

* Dexterity: 23

* Intelligence: 18

* Charisma: 16

* Endurance: 17

Secondary Skills:

* Persuasion: Enhanced ability to convince others of your point of view.

* Resourcefulness: Find creative solutions to complex problems.

* Silent Movement: Improved ability to traverse terrain without making noise.

Equipment Bonuses:

* Ethereal Dagger: Grants +5 to stealth abilities and passively enhances damage against corrupted enemies.

* Hunter’s Cloak: Increases resistance to ranged attacks and reduces visibility at night.

Status Effects:

* Slight Fatigue: Minor reduction in stamina regeneration.

* Focused: Increased clarity of thought and precision of actions.

I stared at the numbers and descriptions for a long moment, letting them sink in.

I’d come far—farther than I’d ever thought possible when this all began. Each level, each skill, and each piece of equipment told a story of battles fought, allies gained, and lessons learned. But the progress felt... strange. Distant. Like it belonged to someone else.

When I first woke up in this world, the concept of stats and levels had felt alien, almost laughable. A mechanic from a game I barely remembered creating, suddenly dictating the course of my life. Now, those stats were my reality—my survival.

I ran my fingers along the edge of the dagger, its surface cool and smooth despite the faint pulse of energy within. It had saved my life more times than I could count, its magic slicing through threats that should have overwhelmed me.

But I couldn’t help wondering: was I growing stronger, or was the world simply growing heavier?

My eyes flicked to the Persuasion skill, a recent addition that had grown more important with each passing day. It wasn’t the blade or the cloak that had convinced Lady Serin to join us, or turned Darnell into a reluctant ally. It was words. Words that carried weight, that planted seeds of doubt and hope in equal measure.

Yet, as much as I relied on that skill, I couldn’t shake the nagging thought that words might fail me in the end. That I’d reach a point where diplomacy couldn’t save us, and the only choice left would be a bloody one.

I scrolled further, my gaze landing on Endurance and the faint “Slight Fatigue” status effect. It was a small thing, a barely noticeable dip in stamina, but it felt heavier than it should have.

Tired.

The word felt like an anchor, pulling at my thoughts. Tired of fighting, tired of scheming, tired of the weight that came with the title of Chosen One.

The stats didn’t show it, but I could feel the toll this journey was taking. Each battle left a scar—some visible, some not—and I wasn’t sure how many more I could take before they started to add up.

A faint rustle brought me out of my thoughts. I glanced up to see Farron approaching, his bow slung over his shoulder and a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Taking inventory?” he asked, gesturing to the glowing interface in front of me.

“Something like that,” I said, dismissing the screen with a wave. “What are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said, plopping down beside me. “Figured I’d check on you. You’ve been brooding for a while.”

“Not brooding,” I said. “Reflecting.”

“Same thing,” he said with a smirk.

We sat in silence for a moment, the crackling of the fire filling the void between us.

“You know,” Farron said, breaking the quiet, “I’ve seen a lot of people try to lead. Some were good at it, some weren’t. But you’re... different.”

“Different how?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You actually care,” he said simply. “You don’t just look at the big picture—you look at the people in it. That’s rare.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so I didn’t.

Farron nudged me with his elbow. “Hey, don’t let it go to your head. You’ve still got a lot to learn.”

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“Thanks for the pep talk,” I said dryly.

“Anytime,” he replied with a grin.

As he stood and walked back toward the fire, I found myself smiling despite the weight in my chest.

The stats and skills were important—they always would be. But they weren’t what truly mattered.

It was the people.

The allies I’d found. The lives we were trying to save.

They were the real measure of progress.

I glanced at the dagger one last time before tucking it away. Tomorrow would bring another battle, another challenge, another step forward in this impossible war.

For now, I let the quiet envelop me.

For now, I was enough.

The quiet of the night stretched thin as I leaned back against the rock, my thoughts wandering. The warmth of the campfire barely reached me, and the hum of the dagger at my side had faded, leaving an eerie stillness in its wake. I glanced at the sky, the stars scattered like shards of glass, and for a brief moment, I let myself wonder if anyone was staring at those same stars... from home.

A sharp crack from the forest edge broke the silence, and I was on my feet before I could think, the dagger already in hand. The faint hum of Shadow Veil began to tingle at the back of my neck as my eyes darted toward the sound.

“Relax, Ash.” Ryla’s voice drifted over from her position near the edge of camp. Her silhouette emerged from the shadows, bow in hand but relaxed. “Just a fox. Hungry, from the look of it.”

I exhaled, letting the tension bleed from my shoulders. “Guess I’m still a little on edge.”

“You should be,” Ryla said, her sharp gaze scanning the darkness. “This war’s only getting bigger. People will come for you. Some you’ll see coming. Others you won’t.”

I nodded, the weight of her words settling heavily on my shoulders.

As I sat back down, something stirred deep inside me. It wasn’t fear—not exactly—but a strange unease that prickled at the edges of my awareness.

A faint memory from the shrine came back to me. Something the Frostblade elders had said when we were first forging our alliance:

"The Nexuses are not unique to these lands. Others exist, in places far beyond our reach. And where there are Nexuses, there are those who wield their power—like you."

At the time, I’d brushed it off, too focused on the immediate threat of Ecclesion to give it much thought. But now, it echoed in my mind, growing louder with each passing moment.

What if I wasn’t the only one?

The thought felt alien and familiar at the same time. If another traveler had been pulled into this world, like me, then maybe—just maybe—they knew something I didn’t. Something about the Nexuses. Something about how to get home.

I stared into the fire, my mind racing with possibilities.

Would they be an ally? Someone who understood what it felt like to be ripped from their life and thrust into this chaos?

Or would they be something else entirely?

Jessa’s voice broke through my thoughts. “You’re thinking too hard again.”

I looked up to see her standing a few feet away, her arms crossed and a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

“Just trying to make sense of all this,” I said, gesturing vaguely at the world around us. “Have you ever heard of someone like me? Someone who wasn’t from here but ended up... chosen?”

She frowned, the question clearly catching her off guard. “No. But then again, I don’t think anyone fully understands the Nexuses. They’re ancient. Powerful. If they brought you here, maybe they brought others, too.”

The thought sent a shiver down my spine.

Later that night, long after the others had drifted to sleep, I stayed awake, the faint glow of my dagger casting a soft light on the ground. I let my mind wander, imagining what another traveler might be like.

If they’d been here as long as I had—or longer—what would that do to someone?

Would they still want to go home?

Would they still even remember it?

As the fire burned low, a flicker of movement caught my eye. For a split second, I thought I saw a figure standing just beyond the treeline, shrouded in shadow.

I blinked, and it was gone.

The air felt colder suddenly, the quiet pressing in around me like a weight.

A faint voice whispered at the edge of my thoughts, unbidden and unfamiliar.

"You’re not alone, Ash."

The words weren’t comforting. They were a warning.

I gripped the dagger tighter, the hum of its energy rising faintly in response.

Somewhere out there, someone was watching.

Someone who wasn’t a friend.

And for the first time since I’d arrived in this world, I felt truly hunted.

The fire sputtered, and I finally let the dagger’s energy fade.

Sleep didn’t come easily.

But as I drifted off, one thought burned in my mind.

If there was another Chosen out there—another traveler—they might hold the key to everything.

And when we met, I’d be ready.

The uneasy feeling lingered as the camp fell deeper into the quiet hum of the night. Despite my best efforts to rest, sleep remained a distant prospect. My mind churned with thoughts of the figure I thought I’d seen, the whispered words that could’ve been real—or just my exhaustion playing tricks on me.

I stared at the dagger lying beside me, its surface faintly shimmering even in the dim light. For all its power, it felt like little more than a fragile shield against whatever was out there.

When morning came, it brought with it the illusion of normalcy. The sunlight creeping over the horizon bathed the camp in soft gold, casting long shadows across the frost-covered ground.

Jessa was the first to stir, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she checked her gear. “You look like you didn’t sleep,” she said, her voice gruff but laced with concern.

“I didn’t,” I admitted. “Something felt... off last night.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Off how?”

I hesitated. “I don’t know. Like we weren’t alone.”

Jessa studied me for a moment, then glanced toward the treeline. “This war’s stirring up things we don’t understand. Don’t let it get in your head.”

“Easier said than done,” I muttered.

The others were up shortly after, the routine of breaking camp unfolding as it always did. Farron stretched dramatically, letting out a loud yawn. “Another glorious morning. Can’t wait to see what fresh disasters await us today.”

“Hopefully not Ecclesion this time,” Ryla said, though her sharp tone carried a hint of humor.

“Or wolves,” Orin added dryly, adjusting his cloak.

“Wolves I can handle,” Farron said with a grin. “It’s the fanatical empire types that make my head hurt.”

Despite the light banter, I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. Every rustle of the wind through the trees, every distant birdcall, felt heavier somehow, like the world was watching us.

As we walked, the terrain began to shift. The frost-covered plains gave way to rolling hills dotted with patches of dense forest. The path wound between rocky outcroppings, and the air grew colder as we climbed higher into the foothills.

Jessa glanced at me as we walked. “You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?”

I nodded. “What if there’s someone else like me? Another traveler? If they’ve been here longer, they might know something I don’t.”

“That’s a lot of ifs,” Orin said, his voice steady. “And not all of them good. Someone with power like yours could be dangerous. Especially if they’ve aligned themselves with the wrong side.”

“Or if they’ve decided this world is better than wherever they came from,” Ryla added. “Some people don’t want to go back.”

That thought hadn’t occurred to me, and it landed like a stone in my gut.

What if they didn’t want to leave?

What if this other traveler had been here for years—decades—and had built something they weren’t willing to give up?

And what if I was a threat to that?

As the day wore on, we stopped to rest near a small stream, its clear water trickling over smooth stones. The sunlight filtered through the sparse trees, dappling the ground with shifting patterns of light and shadow.

I sat apart from the others, staring into the water as it flowed past. My reflection wavered, distorted by the ripples, and for a moment, I didn’t recognize the face staring back at me.

“You’re brooding again,” Farron said, appearing at my side.

I didn’t respond immediately. Instead, I reached down, letting the cold water wash over my hands.

“You ever feel like we’re just pieces on a board?” I asked finally. “Like we’re being moved around without really knowing why?”

Farron shrugged, plopping down beside me. “Sure. But what’s the alternative? Stand still and let the game pass us by?”

“Maybe,” I said, my voice quiet.

“Look,” Farron said, leaning back on his elbows. “I don’t know what’s out there, or what’s waiting for us. But I do know one thing: if you start doubting yourself now, you’re toast.”

I glanced at him, his grin as infuriating as it was reassuring.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said dryly.

“Anytime,” he replied, clapping me on the shoulder.

As we continued our journey, the unease from the night before began to fade, replaced by a quiet determination.

Whoever—or whatever—was out there, I’d be ready.

And if this other traveler held the key to getting home, I’d find them.

One way or another.

But a small voice in the back of my mind whispered a warning.

Be careful what you wish for.