I was disappointed by the fact that my progression plan was being botched by the one that needed to progress. Me.

The others seem to notice my much introverted posture. They silently turned to face the fire and let me do some thinking. I didn’t need to think about anything. I already have a plan. Find a way to kill trapped crocs, then kill crocs until I can hunt rats, then hunt rats for shards. Lots of them.

The conversation continued, covering various topics: different types of monsters, some particularly weird instances, different strategies for survival. I keep listening, paying attention to absorb every piece of information, storing it away for future use, while looking over my shoulder to the instance from time to time. I made sure to tap my lag from time to time. Showing some impatience.

I catch Gareth checking me out from time to time. Others as well. They sometimes exchanged a few glances and either nodded or shook their heads. I could see that it had nothing to do with whatever it was they were talking about. Almost like they were communicating through signs. That’s probably it.

Then, Gareth and Finn seemed to enter a somewhat heated discussion with the three others, and they were obviously talking about me, even if they tried to make me not notice it. They mentioned my instance, the creatures within, the fact it had a dungeon and the fact that I knew all of this.

Would they kill me to make sure no one else hears about it? Will they kidnap me to show them the way there and then kill me? Are they discussing if I would be more useful as bait, as a distraction or if they should use me as a guide before deciding that?

Then they suddenly stopped. Gareth and Finn smirked. The others frowned. Rhys even spit in anger.

They exchanged a few looks and some were nodding to others. They slowly got up and started to come closer while starting to make a semicircle with me at the center. Ok, what the fuck is going on?

I slowly shifted my weight to my legs. Ready to bolt back into the instance. I had to reach there first, only the first one could enter for free. My punctured left leg didn’t like that at all.

Then Gareth looked at every single one of them while nodding and smiling.

Did they really think I was that easy? Not a chance. I slightly changed my grip on the axe while reaching for the handful of sand in my pocket. Still not looking at them directly. Come, I’m ready.

“So, Vincent, it seems you have a knack for surviving and a good head on your shoulders,” Gareth said, a hint of respect in his voice. Smiling.

Huh?

I even stuttered a little, “I… I was just lucky,” I said.

What the hell?

He paused, considering his words. “We’re always looking for new members for our group. We could use someone with your… potential. Care to give it a try to see if we might stick together?”

I gave the best smile I could, a crooked one. “Yeah?… sure.”

I’m quite sure I didn’t look confident at all. I should really pay more attention to how my actions are perceived by people. Not because it matters to me or anything like that, but because now it might actually get me killed.

That plus my legs, especially the one with a hole in it, they are about to give up. Damn it. Sustaining my bootleg horse instance without letting them know what I was doing was tiring as fuck.

Because I sure can’t hold on like this anymore. Screw it. I will just trust them for now.

So, I release the tension from my whole body and the handful of coarse sand in my grasp. If they were faking it, they were quite talented. Talented enough to catch me unprepared now.

Whatever. I don’t think they are that cunning. I sure hope not. It will suck big time if they are acting in order to finish me after I guide them to the rat dungeon.

Then I remember the way they talk to each other and how they approached me. I couldn’t help but give a rueful smile to Gareth, which clearly made the man quite confused, which made me smile for real and that somehow made the man smile as well.

Dude, if I had a gun I would already shoot you all dead, alright?

Well, things could have gone worse. A lot worse. All things considered, it was a rather satisfactory outcome if I say so myself. Now I could probably get some help and maybe even some equipment.

Soon, I will be trapping crocs and killing rats. Not exactly high ambitions, but it will do for now.

As night fell, the fire crackled. It was relaxing. The conversation continued, delving deeper into the intricacies of this transformed world. They were surprisingly open, sharing their hard-won knowledge with a candor that both surprised and pleased me.

If it was some sort of bonding strategy, it was sort of working.

“One thing we’ve figured out about instances,” Gareth said, poking at the fire with a stick, “is that they can be preserved, in a sense.”

“Preserved?” I asked, tilting my head.

“Yes,” Elara explained. “According to the system, if there’s at least one person left to rescue inside, the instance remains stable. It doesn’t dissipate.”

“So, if you rescue everyone it disappears. But if you leave a single person, it remains?” I asked.

“It seems so,” Gareth confirmed. “We never actually tested it.”

“That’s… strategically interesting,” I murmured, my mind already racing with the implications. It meant that instances could be used as a form of… storage. A way to keep people safe, albeit in a frozen state, until they could be properly rescued.

I am quite sure Gareth threw a strange look my way. Better let them do the talking.

“It also means that clearing most instances is a huge undertaking,” Bronwyn added, her scarred face grim. “Even if you know exactly what needs to be done, thanks to information from the System, it takes a lot of time and resources.”

“Spirit shards,” Finn said, sighing. “Lots and lots of spirit shards.”

“Which is a resource we can’t afford to waste,” Gareth said, his voice hardening. “Not yet, at least.”

“We’ve learned that rescuing people is a costly endeavor,” Elara explained. “You have to spend shards to enter the instance, time and effort that could be spent getting shards to deal with the threats inside, and even more shards to bring the rescued people out.”

“And there’s no guarantee that the people you rescue will be… helpful,” Bronwyn added, her tone pragmatic. “They might be injured, traumatized, or just plain useless. You could end up wasting precious shards on rescuing a bunch of burdens.”

A heavy silence fell over the group. The implications of Bronwyn’s words hung in the air. It was clear that they found it unsettling, this new reality. And they wanted to share it with me.

The world had become cruel, in a strange, almost clinical way. Not precisely through open violence, but through cold, calculated logic. The system creates a new environment after its own image.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

And I did my best to not smirk. Oh, it seems there’s hope for this lot.

From the way they treated me I didn’t think they would have such a cute side. Yes, my people, we will exploit the shit out of those instances. And yes, we will keep people within crystals on purpose.

At least I didn’t say this one out loud. Gareth might throw a mug at me or something. He might be thinking the same as me, but he sure seems divided about it. Poor fellow.

“We haven’t seen much violence among survivors so far,” Gareth said, breaking the silence. “But I suspect that will change. As resources become scarcer, and as people become more desperate…”

He trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid. I understood his meaning. In a world where survival was paramount, trust was a luxury few could afford. I am liking this better and better.

More silence. And I waited for the next heavy topic. But end up with something rather bland.

“We believe that instances… weaken those trapped inside,” Elara said, changing the subject. “It’s just a theory, but I don’t think we are wrong.”

“Weakened?” I asked. Somewhat downcast by the change of subject.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “It’s as if being trapped in the crystal drains their strength, their vitality. Like being bedridden for a long time.”

“So, the longer someone is trapped, the worse it is for them?” I asked.

“Exactly,” Gareth said. “We think that anything longer than a month, from our perspective, would be like a whole year trapped inside those crystals. And that can’t be good for your health.”

“The problem is,” Finn said, “not many people are effectively engaging in taking people out of the instances as far as we can tell. Everyone is focused on getting a foothold first, on getting stronger to properly face dungeons and instances. Preferably in that order since gaining resources is more important than spending them at this stage.”

“It’s a vicious cycle,” Gareth said, sighing. “People need to get stronger to rescue others, but they need resources to get stronger. And those resources are often locked behind dangerous instances and dungeons.”

Come on, Gareth, say it: and the more people we free the more people needing shards we will have and the hardest will become to become stronger. It’s only logical, no need to play coy.

The conversation drifted to other topics, equally interesting, but nowhere as stimulating: rumors of powerful artifacts, hidden locations, strange occurrences in the merged landscapes. They spoke of these things with a mix of awe and fear, their voices hushed, as if they were sharing ancient secrets.

Things out of my reach, or our reach as a group, for that matter. Interesting, but ultimately useless, bordering on delusional. Dreaming of greatness while stuck in the mud.

Still, I listened intently, absorbing every word. This group, despite being somewhat reluctant in fully adapting to this new reality, were doing their best. Commendable. But it might not be enough. I chose to say nothing about it, to each its own, for now they are a valuable source of information. They had clearly spent a lot of time and resources figuring out some of the rules of this new world.

I still didn’t trust them. And I am sure they don’t trust me, obviously. But I was beginning to see them as apt survivors, adaptable, sort of like me, although less ‘effective’. And in this dangerous new world, alliances, however tenuous, could mean the difference between life and death. I needed this.

That rat dungeon might be a joke for them. Easy pickings. Shards galore. And I, as a member of the group, even if under ‘probation’, would be eligible for some shards, right? Sure, I will. If they don’t plan to let me lead them there, use me as a porter and then kill me, of course.

As the night deepened and the fire dwindled, the conversation slowed. The group began to settle down for sleep. Some blankets the ground, no tent, no nothing. Not even any kind of alarm system or anything. Pretty much just wrapping themselves in blankets and cloaks. Subpar, to say the least.

I remained awake for a while longer, my mind still racing with thoughts. I now had an understanding, even if somewhat shallow, of the challenges I will face. And I was quite sure that I would be way over my head if I tried to do this alone at a quick pace.

Sure, I could do it alone. But it would probably be much slower. Rather ineffective. Five people, six counting me, tackling monsters and using shards to get information means sixfold the speed, or at least fivefold since I am currently somewhat useless. We can share the information after all.

With enough information I would be able to get stronger. Then I would be able to hunt and explore properly, to find more spirit shards. And then I could pay my debt towards Mark.

The task no longer seemed daunting. Not if I had help. I would use every bit of knowledge, every bit of resourcefulness I possessed, to come up with a suitable plan. And I would rescue at least the guy who pulled me out of there while losing his chance to do so.

Unsurprisingly, sleep eluded me. The flickering fire cast dancing shadows that played tricks on my eyes, and the soft snores of Bronwyn and Finn did little to soothe my restless mind. Receptiveness didn’t equate to trustworthiness.

Their conversation had given me much to consider, a complex web of information about instances, dungeons, and the System. But in the end, it boiled down to three core necessities: sustenance, Spirit shards, and, in my case, healing.

Sustenance. I needed to ensure I had enough food and water to sustain myself, and potentially Mark, if I managed to rescue him. The supplies I had salvaged from the vending machine were a good start, but they wouldn’t last forever. I needed to find a reliable way to get food and water by exploring the overworld or other instances. Perhaps finding the freaking cafeteria.

Spirit shards were the next priority. I needed twenty-five. Five for Mark’s release and another twenty for both of us to exit the instance. I was confident I could handle the rescue by myself without any “gifts”. My plan to navigate through the sewers, use the fire hose to climb the building, and access the office was still sound. But getting out was a different story.

If taking the same path meant I have to go though that rat infested dungeon again. And I don’t know if having Mark with me would make things better or worse. What if twice the people means twice the rats? I don’t know how dungeons really work and they had been a group from the start and never had to deal with this.

Finally, healing. The bite from the giant rat was deep, and it was starting to throb with a dull ache. The bleeding stopped long ago, but the wound was still bothering me. A lot. I carefully examined the wound in the dim light of the fire. The skin around the bite was red and swollen. It wasn’t a good sign. I knew I couldn’t deal with this on my own. It’s infected. I needed help. Shit.

A wave of reluctance washed over me. Showing weakness felt… risky. But I had no other choice. An untreated infection could be fatal in this world, especially without access to proper medical supplies.

My hope is that perhaps one of them had acquired a healing-related “gift” from the System. I didn’t see any sign indicating they did, but it was worth a try. I mean, they are a group, the girl with the staff, Elara, could have some healing stuff going on to help them. It’s only logical.

I can’t risk letting it end this way. It would be too shameful. Can you imagine it?

Vincent, a brave survivor, rescued by the sacrifice of a colleague, faced insurmountable odds alone and trapped four five-meter-long velocicrocs, ultimately leading them to their demise in a tactical, cold and cool manner while preparing to come back to repay the favor he owed the fallen. But never accomplished his task because he died… from an infection… due to a freaking rat bite.

…

Ok, that does it.

“Gareth?”, I asked softly.

“Yes?” Gareth answered calmly with his eyes still closed, appearing to be close to nodding off.

I knew that he was just appearing drowsy. No way they would trust me to not slit their throats while they slept. And leaving someone to stand watch was basic, after all.

Now, it was time to come clean. To tell them I was not in top shape. To tell them I might be a liability as well, one of those people we discussed earlier, the ones not worth investing in, not worth saving.

I took a deep breath. Well, the worst outcome would be me going back into a crystal coffin until some good samaritan, or a delusional person with a hero complex, came to my rescue. And then I would do my best to start from the bottom, to improve… and then I would hunt them down, turn them into crystal statues one by one and throw them in some ocean crevice or maybe an active volcano.

Ok, smile Vincent, be nice, happy thoughts. No thinking of hunting and killing the party that just invited you to tag along as you are gathering the nerve to ask for their help. That’s impolite.

So, I smiled faintly while looking up. Realizing this does make me feel a little awkward. The ‘asking for help’ part, not the ‘hunt them down and kill them’ part.

Gareth still didn’t open his eyes. Perhaps he was thinking I was one of those people who make small talk after a near death experience to cope. Waiting for me to gather my thoughts. How considerate. I can only hope they are as nice as they seem. Or else I will go with the volcano, it’s more challenging and dramatic. The bottom of the ocean seems lackluster.

Another deep breath and I was as ready as I would ever be. I made peace with the outcomes that I could think about. The ball would be on their field now. Their choice.

Truth be told, I wasn’t as calm as I wanted. My knuckles white as I held onto the blanket and waited for whatever fate had in reserve for me. But I don’t think anyone would notice that. The fact I made peace with all possible outcomes I considered doesn’t mean I would be happy about facing it.

To anyone looking, I was just enjoying the breeze. Facing the sky with my eyes closed.

In truth, I lifted my head and closed my eyes to make it easier for him to strike my neck. To let it end quickly and all that, just in case.

Then I got straight to the point.

“Does any of you happen to know how to treat a possibly infected rat bite that was kept hidden for a few hours by an idiot that has trust issues?”