The evening was alive with the sound of laughter and the clatter of dishes, but I couldn’t shake a feeling of discomfort gnawing at me. Everywhere I turned, people were patting me on the back, raising their cups in my direction, offering thanks for the great feast spread out before them.

"All thanks to you!" they’d shout, faces beaming with joy and admiration. I forced a smile, nodding back, though on the inside I felt out of place, as if the praise they lavished on me was meant for someone else. Sure, I was the one to slay the turtle which was now the star of the feast, but still.

Darya dragged me around from table to table. The air was thick with the smells of roasting turtle meat, seasoned with wild herbs and spices, sizzling over open flames. The meat was tender, practically falling apart as it turned on the spit. The firelight cast flickering shadows across the square.

Some of the villagers called me over to try the stew—a thick broth made from the turtle’s meat and vegetables grown in our own fields. Carrots, parsnips, and wild onions bobbed in the cauldrons, their sweetness blending with the savory broth. One of the women handed me a bowl, beaming with pride as though I had made the stew myself. I thanked her, taking a spoonful, but it felt like a formality. My mind was elsewhere, running back to what laid ahead of me, to the Cube, to the Raiders still to come.

“Another round for the chief,” someone shouted, and the crowd roared in agreement, raising their mugs and cups toward me. I gave a weak wave, trying to seem gracious. The title, the praise—it didn’t feel right.

As I moved past the tables, I caught sight of the smoked turtle meat laid out in thin, dark strips on wooden boards. The smell was mouthwatering, deep and rich, with a hint of the wild herbs that had been used to flavor it. I reached for a piece, chewing it slowly, the flavor strong on my tongue.

Children ran by, laughing, carrying skewers of grilled turtle liver. They shouted my name as they passed, their faces full of glee, and I managed a small smile for them. As the night wore on, the music grew louder, the dancing more frenetic. People twirled and laughed under the flickering torchlight, the joy of the feast filling the square.

“What’s wrong?” Darya asked, her voice soft but laced with concern. “You’ve been distant all night.”

I kept my eyes on the floor, avoiding her gaze. “I’m leaving,” I muttered. “Just before midnight.”

Her posture shifted immediately, tension rippling through her. “The cube? It’s dangerous,” she said, her voice firm as she crossed her arms. “I’m going with you.”

“No, you’re not,” I replied, shaking my head without looking up.

She moved to block my path, her jaw tight with defiance. “You can’t stop me.”

I sighed, finally meeting her eyes. “I know. Which is why I won’t bother trying. I’ll go, and you won’t be able to keep up.”

Her expression softened into a pout, frustration mingling with worry. “But you’ll come back, right? In an hour?”

I gave her a small smile. “That’s the plan.”

Still, something told me this trip into the Cube would be more dangerous than anything I’d faced before. Could I back out? Did I really have to go? I had promised Bob, but what could he do if I refused? Nothing at all.

It was more than just obligation. Something was drawing me toward the Cube, but why? Maybe it held answers—about how I ended up here, and maybe even why.

With the midnight approaching, I slipped away and took a portal to the Nexus. The villagers didn’t need me in the center of it all. They had their feast, the fire, and each other. I was glad they had food to fill their bellies, glad the turtle’s bounty was shared by all. But the praise, the attention—it wasn’t for me.

The Nexus was quiet save for the gentle rustling of the leaves in the planting beds. Out of sight, I dragged a chair up to the roof of the barracks and settled into it, lounging peacefully. Except, I had to sit sideways because of my damned tail. I took my helmet off, brushed my hair back around my two horns with my clawed fingers.

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Things with Darya were moving painfully slow, especially with Bob sticking out of my forehead. As much as I was eager to be rid of him, I wasn’t sure it would make much difference in my already monstrous appearance. Besides, Bob wasn’t so bad. In fact, we’d grown close—almost like friends.

I asked him.

I said.

Bob asked.

I looked at the clock in the status screen to check the time, and movement caught my eye, out by the new trade portal near the warehouses.

A couple of black, ethereal figures draped in tattered, flowing robes emerged from the portal, moving fast and silent. They flew over the ground much like ghosts. Where their faces should have been, there was only hollow blackness that swallowed light. I felt a chill and a sense of dread just looking at them.

* [t3] Wraith [Green]

I sprung to my feet, unholstering my wands in an instant. I was about to unleash a salvo, when I spotted a third, familiar figure flying right behind them. Gregor. He moved with a sense of urgency. He noticed me, but quickly looked away and the three sped up.

Unsure of what to do, I watched them beeline for the newly built tower. One of the wraiths was carrying an object, clutching it close to its body like it was an infant.

I told Bob.

Bob said.

They entered the tower in a hurry, and promptly shut the door, slamming the bar in place on the other side. I didn’t know if I wanted to confront him, or to speak to him after the Cube. I also didn’t want to have anything to do with the wraiths and their faceless gaze.

I replied.

Before I could finish my thought, the door of the tower creaked open, and the two wraiths flew out, the door shutting behind them just as quickly. They paid no attention to me or the surroundings, moving straight for the trade portal and vanishing beyond, back into the swamp.

I said.

***

Luther was ready for war. He had all that was needed. Weapons, armor, and trained soldiers -- well .. mostly trained. Not at all actually, but he had dozens of them. More like eight, seven if you excluded Tim. Tim was useless really, and was only allowed to join because of his brother, Tom.

Luther arrayed his soldiers before him, their faces smudged with food. Some were still eating. Like them, he felt almost nauseous from all the food he ate, and hoped it wouldn’t affect their combat effectiveness.

The Supreme Commander’s provision of a feast was just the sort of encouragement and sustenance the troops needed before tonight’s most vital mission. The festivities were meant to go all through the night, making this a perfect opportunity to slip away. Everyone, and especially Amelia, was too busy to notice.

“Men,” Luther said, walking down the line. “You have survived the boot camp, and now you’ll put those boots to use -- stomping on the bugs. Tonight, we embark upon a perilous mission. Code name Underlord.”

Tom curled his lip in disgust. “Do we really have to go into the basement? It’s, uh... kinda dark and icky there."

"Yes, Sergeant ‘Afraid-of-the-Dark,’ that’s why we have torches. Anyway, we're going in there to—"

Tim raised his arm. "Uh, sir… exactly how big are these roaches?"

"Big enough that you’ll wish you’d brought a bigger club, Private. Now, focus. These things don’t scare easily, and they’re fast. But we're faster. We’ve got the element of surprise—and size. Maybe."

"Sir, do we have any backup? Just in case the roaches have a queen or… something worse?" Lermin asked.

"A queen? No, private. But I’ll tell you this—if we find a queen, we’ll crown her with the sole of our boots. This mission’s simple: go in, clear out the roaches, reclaim the sacred ground. Your task will not be an easy one. These roaches are well-trained, well-equipped, and—quite frankly—gross. They will fight fiercely.”

Tim raised his arm. "Sir, permission to—"

"Denied! You’re going in, boots first. No excuses, no hesitation—this isn't the time for second thoughts. In there, we fight with dignity. And by dignity, I mean screaming and squashing everything that moves."

"Wait, sir, what if they have wings?" Lermin asked.

A flash of fear crossed Luther’s face, breaking his stern image. “...Then run. Just run.”