I was practically sprinting through the palace halls. Being late was one thing I absolutely hated, and while rushing wasn’t going to undo it, it at least felt like I was trying to make up for it. As I approached the enclave the elves occupied, my nerves kicked up a notch. I slipped inside, my breath slightly labored, and found three unfamiliar faces in deep conversation with Isla.

The moment I entered, their attention shifted to me. Isla greeted me with a small, knowing smile, “This is Tiberius,” she introduced, turning to the others.

“Sorry for being late,” I offered, bracing for any signs of annoyance. If they were upset, they hid it well. The two men, eerily similar in appearance, twins maybe? They were shorter than I expected, thinner even than Isla, their lean frames giving them a skeletal appearance. Daggers hung at their hips, confirming my growing theory that knives were the universal accessory in this world.

“Katar and Onas,” Isla said proudly, “the best assassins we have.”

After a quick handshake with the twins, I turned to the last figure in the room. She stood out immediately, not because she was middle-aged, Ok maybe a little because of that, but also because up until now, every elf I’d met was young, ethereal, and beautiful. Even the gaunt twins had an otherworldly edge. This woman carried herself differently, her lined face and sharp gaze speaking of confidence and maybe a touch of superiority.

“Amra is the leader of our group,” Isla explained, “and our healer.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, offering a polite nod.

Amra studied me with a critical eye, her expression unreadable. It wasn’t hostility exactly, more like she was trying to weigh something she couldn’t quite see. Finally, she spoke. “Isla has been unusually generous in her praise of you. She makes you sound like some kind of super mage.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear,” I replied, trying for humor before remembering elves weren’t exactly big on jokes. “I just mean, maybe keep your expectations... reasonable.”

“If we were the type to settle for reasonable expectations,” Amra said flatly, “we’d stay here and enjoy the simple luxury of being alive.”

“I understand the seriousness of this mission, but you can’t expect me to be stoic the entire time,” I said, trying to strike a balance between lightheartedness and frustration.

Amra’s brows furrowed as her gaze locked onto me. “I suppose that would be too much to ask of a human,” she said, her tone dripping with condescension.

A flash of irritation surged through me. “You know,” I shot back, “a leader’s job is to encourage the team and keep morale high, not hand out thinly veiled insults.”

From the side, Isla sighed, her voice dismissive. “I warned you, he likes to be contrarian for the sake of it.”

“That you did,” Amra replied, her tone just as dry.

One of the twins, muttering under his breath, broke the tension. “Can we argue on the road?”

“Yes! Finally, someone gets it,” I said with exaggerated cheer. “The sooner we go, the sooner we get back.”

“Come,” Amra said, her voice flat as she turned toward the corridor.

As we walked to the portal room, I sidled up to Isla, lowering my voice. “What’s her deal? I mean, I know I can be a little abrasive…” I gestured with my hands for emphasis, feeling defensive.

Isla’s expression hardened. “She’s one of the few survivors of the failed expedition. It’s personal for her.”

Ah. That would’ve been useful to know earlier. My stomach churned with guilt, and my mood shifted instantly. “Maybe you could’ve led with that?” I said, my voice quieter now.

She sighed, her tone softening slightly. “While I don’t agree with your approach, she’s taking things too far in the other direction.”

I hesitated before asking, “No offense, but why send her if she’s so emotionally involved?”

Isla shrugged. “She’s old, has a lot of connections, and plenty of pull. When she says she’s going, not many are willing to argue. Plus, it’s not like she’s risking the life of thousands.”

That was encouraging. I wanted to say more, but by then, we’d arrived at the portal chamber. Ten mages stood waiting, their expressions ranging from mildly bored to outright disinterested. My fault, probably.

They didn’t waste time, though, quickly forming a circle and beginning the spell. I watched closely as they channeled energy, weaving it together with precision. The edges of the portal shimmered into existence, glowing faintly before expanding into a stable frame. Soon, the center filled with an image of what lay on the other side.

A dense, shadowy forest.

Wonderful. Just what I needed, more trees.

“How far is the portal exit from us?” I asked, more curious than anything. It was my first time seeing professionals handle portal travel, and I wanted to understand what was actually possible.

“There are no proper roads through the western mountains, so it’s hard to say exactly,” one of the mages replied. I recognized him from the mage tower. One of the nicer ones, though that wasn’t saying much.

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“It’s almost halfway across the continent,” Amra said, cutting in. “That’s why there are ten mages. It’s a huge distance, and there are five of us to move.”

“Please, ladies first,” I said, more out of self-interest than courtesy. I wanted to see if the mages showed signs of strain with each person they sent through.

Amra stepped through first. The mages didn’t even flinch. As the second traveler went through, they still looked composed. By the third, though, I noticed subtle shifts, clenched jaws, a bead of sweat. By the fourth, their grimaces became more pronounced. Not exactly promising. At least now I had an idea of what was possible.

Tentatively, I stepped toward the portal. My gut tightened. The last time I’d gone through one, the pain had been excruciating. While I doubted this would kill me, or worse, leave me powerless, I wasn’t eager to relive that kind of agony.

Bracing myself, I stepped in. The sensation hit instantly, a searing wave ripping through me. I’d prepared for it, but preparation only helped so much. It wasn’t as bad as before, and I managed to stay conscious this time, but I still hit the ground on the other side, screaming.

“What happened?” Amra asked, her tone sharp, maybe even concerned.

“Let’s just say I’m a little allergic to portals,” I muttered, forcing myself upright. The pain was already subsiding, thankfully.

“Any other allergies you’d like to share?” she asked, her eyebrow raised.

“I should be good, thanks for the concern,” I said, letting a bit of sarcasm seep through. No sense in hiding my irritation.

The twins disappeared almost immediately, probably off scouting ahead. That left me standing around with Amra and Isla, which meant one thing: more waiting. My favorite pastime.

I glanced between the two of them. Amra seemed completely disinterested, while Isla, always the more approachable one, stood quietly. The silence stretched. Well, might as well make use of the time.

“So,” I started, trying to break the monotony, “since we’re halfway across the continent now, mind giving me an idea of where exactly we are?”

Amra didn’t even blink, but Isla waved her hand, conjuring a detailed illusion of a map in the air. I leaned closer, intrigued.

Back when I had first arrived, I’d taken an interest in the geography of this place. Unfortunately, maps here weren’t exactly reliable. They didn’t have the tech—or the math, I guessed—to measure longitude properly, so the shapes and sizes of continents varied wildly depending on whoever made the map. It was chaos.

Still, I had pieced together a general sense of the world. The continent we were currently on vaguely resembled Eurasia, though smaller. It even had four seasons and a mix of climates. To the south was a much larger landmass, a blend of South America and Africa that had never split apart. As for the rest of the world, it seemed to be a mix of rumor and fantasy, so the maps beyond were speculative at best.

Isla’s map, though, was detailed, especially for this region. It aligned with what I’d already learned, confirming most of my guesses. She traced a path with her finger, explaining as she went.

“Our destination is up north, following this river. We’ll enter enemy territory in about a day. From there, we’ll start mingling with the locals to avoid suspicion. If anyone asks, we’re mercenaries heading to the capital.”

I nodded. “Makes sense. I assume you have a way to hide the ears?”

Amra’s voice cut in this time, breaking her silence. “Our black rings.” She held up her hand, revealing a slim black band on her finger. “Turn it, and no more pointy ears.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Nice trick. Illusion magic enchant?”

Amra smirked faintly. “A crafter never reveals her secrets.”

I gave her a wry grin but didn’t press. “What about the twins?” I asked, gesturing vaguely to where they had disappeared. “They don’t exactly ‘blend in.’ They’re going to stand out.”

Isla chuckled softly. “They’ll manage. The people here are more concerned about travelers coin than their appearances. Plus, we’re closer to the western edge of the continent, so having non-humans is not that strange”

“Still,” I muttered under my breath, “we’re not exactly subtle.”

The twins eventually returned, leading us to the road they had spotted, a thin line of worn earth cutting through the dry, unyielding land. Heading north, I thought I was prepared for whatever we might find, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.

The desolation of the region was hard to comprehend. Villages, or what was left of them, lay scattered along the road. In some places, only crumbled stone chimneys remained, sticking out of the earth like gravestones. The fields were no better; the once-green crops now stood brown and shriveled, choked by weeds that climbed and clawed over everything. Stalks bent and twisted under their own neglect, and the earth itself seemed drained of life, as if it had given up entirely.

But worse than the broken villages were the people. Refugees clogged the roads, walking in silent, endless lines, faces hollow, shoulders slumped under invisible weights. Families huddled together, carrying whatever they could salvage: a sack of clothes, a bundle of tools, the occasional broken cart piled with their shattered lives. Children clung to parents, their cries barely more than weak whimpers. The elderly lagged behind, some collapsing where they walked, their bodies unable to carry on. No one stopped for them, not even me.

At first, I imagined the cause was a war, armies tearing through the countryside, trampling everything. Or maybe it was some lingering consequence of the elven disaster. But as we pressed on, catching muttered fragments from passing refugees, the truth hit harder than any battle.

“It’s the new king,” a gaunt man told me, clutching his empty flask. “His men came… took everything.”

The king’s wars had devoured this land. Taxes weren’t enough anymore, his armies needed coin, food, and bodies to keep the fighting going. When villages ran dry, soldiers were sent to take what remained. Resistance wasn’t tolerated. I didn’t need to ask what happened to those who refused. The silence of the ruined towns spoke louder than words.

And beneath it all sat a bitter truth: this was my fault.

Not directly, perhaps. It wasn’t my sword that burned these homes, nor my hand that took food from starving families. But this wasn’t a petty feud, nor the result of corrupt kings. A demi-god I’d unleashed had brought chaos to these lands. The goddess had warned me of cataclysmic disasters that I supposedly prevented. but those were distant, abstract threats. Easy to dismiss.

Now the consequences were staring me in the face.

Even if I managed to stop him, what would be left? Famine and disease would spread, and in the power vacuum that followed, anarchy and chaos would tear what remained apart.

Chaos, yes, I was bringing it wherever I went. Until now I fooled myself, that it was against gods, but it seemed the normal people were not spared. Could I help them?

The inconvenient truth was that someone had to take control. Ideally someone who actually wanted to bring positive changes. Without a strong hand to guide these lands, they would spiral further into chaos, cursed to decades of famine and war. I knew enough about power to see it wouldn’t be easy. People would resist, even when faced with the best intentions. It always came to a choice: step aside or make them comply.

Even Rome had its saviors, dictators who’d stepped in during crises and saved the republic. Could I do the same here? Could I make the hard choices to bring order?

No, I wasn’t there yet, but that time was closing in, faster than I cared to admit. I could only deceive myself for so long before it became clear: by standing aside, I was causing more harm than I would by stepping in, even if it meant becoming a dictator, a warlord, or whatever name the world chose to brand me with.