Rox’s expression hardens as he points past me, toward the path leading into the dark and unknown. “Walk away, and never come back!”

“I’m sorry, what—”

“Yes!” Brad rejoices, fists pumping in celebration. He’s finally satisfied, and it shows. But me? No!

I’m baffled, barely keeping it together. “You’re joking, right?”

“You’re out. Go. Now.” Rox’s reply is sharp, final. No room for argument, but I’m sure as hell trying.

“You’re kicking me out… over a sword?” I laugh, disbelieving. “Seriously? I’ll give him another one, and this whole thing is over—”

Rox lifts a finger, cutting me off. He lets out a slow, controlled breath, then glances back—not fully, just enough for me to know he’s bored of me. That’s when Ton, the archer, steps forward. A quick nod between them, and Rox moves aside, his focus now elsewhere.

“What is this?” I ask, gesturing at the sudden shift.

Ton shrugs, like it’s nothing. “You deal with me now.”

And just like that, I’m not worth Rox’s time anymore. Just who the fuck does he think he is? Some untouchable god? This whole thing reeks of arrogance.

But, if there's a bright side to this, it’s that now I have to deal with Ton. He’s an amicable guy, from the little we’ve interacted. Always seemed genuine, level-headed. Maybe I can clear this misunderstanding with him, before it spirals any further.

Composing myself, I say, “It's just a sword, Ton. I... I didn’t know what I was actually doing. In the heat of the moment, I broke it. I swear, it won’t happen again.” I let out a sigh, hoping the sincerity gets through. “Kicking me out over this? It’s...excessive. I know I can do better. Just give me a chance.”

Ton folds his arms, fingers tapping rhythmically along his sleeve as he takes his time processing my plea. The hesitation says it all—it’s not just about the sword. There’s something deeper.

“Alright,” I press, a little more blunt this time. “What did I actually do wrong? There has to be something bigger here. Did I… get someone killed?”

Ton lets out a soft chuckle and waves a hand dismissively. “Oh no, no. You’re not that capable,” he says. “It’s just that... you know what? Let’s take a walk.”

“A walk? What for—” I barely get the words out before he throws an arm over my shoulder, steering me into the darkness behind us.

I try to pull away, but damn, the archer is strong—his grip rivaling even Ron’s. As the shadows thicken around us, I channel mana into my eyes just to see, catching a glimpse of his blank, unreadable expression. After we’re well away from the others, he finally stops, releasing me.

“This is far enough,” Ton mutters, breathing a sigh of relief. “He can’t read us here.”

He must be talking about Rox’s mind-reading ability. I roll my shoulder, rubbing at the soreness his iron grip left behind.

“Anyway,” Ton cracks his knuckles, his neck, then, without warning, pulls a dagger from beneath his cloak. He points it directly at me, his expression hard. “Undress.”

I blink, taken aback, my guard instantly up. “Uh, that’s a bit of a strange request, Ton,” I mutter, unsure of where this is going.

“To survive in this hellhole, you have to do strange things,” he replies, his voice clipped, face far less friendly than I remembered. “Now, undress.”

Is this the same guy? They can’t all be this good at pretending, can they? Or maybe I’ve just lost my touch. Just a few years ago, I could read people like an open book. Then came the bank... dealing with kind-hearted elderly clients every day. Maybe that softened me. Made me worse. I sigh, shaking my head.

“I’m not joking, Colt,” Ton’s voice cuts through my thoughts, sharper now. “Don’t even think about fighting your way out of this. I’m faster and better than you, and you know it.”

I clench my jaw, narrowing my eyes at him. “Of course, I know that,” I say, mulling over Ton’s sudden shift. “I’m just wondering why you need my clothes. They aren’t exactly new, and trust me, they smell worse than they look. They won’t even fit—”

“Your clothes buy you answers,” he cuts me off. “You want to know why you’ve been kicked out? Well, I don’t owe you an explanation. But since you have something I want, let’s call it a fair exchange.”

So, that’s it. My kick out is final. No appeal, no second chance. And this bastard’s using it for his own creepy benefit. Fantastic. This day just keeps getting better.

I stay quiet, the gears turning in my head, but Ton rolls his eyes. “Or,” he adds with a shrug, “I can just knock you out and take them. Up to you.”

His words snap me back to reality. “Alright, let's hear it then.”

I unhook my cloak, wrapping it nice and slowly. “Why am I being kicked out after just one day? You said yourself, ‘I haven’t done anything wrong.’”

He stretches his hand out, gesturing for me to toss the cloak first. Reluctantly, I do, and he shoves it into his small satchel, which swallows up the thick fabric without expanding—catching me off guard.

“I never said that. I said, you haven’t done anything substantially wrong, like getting someone killed,” Ton continues, finally answering. “But you’ve done plenty of screw ups.”

“Like what, exactly?” I ask, though my eyes are still on that satchel, my mind distracted by its bizarre capacity. Must be some sort of system-inventory thing. I’ve to try it out.

“For one, not knowing the basic stuff,” Ton explains with an irritated sigh. “You’ve been fumbling through this tutorial because you didn’t bother paying attention during the overseer’s boring speech. Every mistake? Avoidable. But you didn’t listen—”

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“There was nothing to listen to!” I snap, my voice louder than I intended. “That bastard didn’t say anything useful, just droned on about some class. Is that my fault now?”

Ton raises a brow, unfazed by my outburst. “Then whose fault is it? Certainly not ours.” He pauses, his tone hardening. “And we sure as hell won’t suffer for it any more than we already have.”

“Already have?” I scowl, that bit not making any sense to me. “When did you guys suffer?”

“Shirt and belt,” he demands, sidestepping the question.

“I thought the deal was one piece per answer?”

“You thought wrong, boy. Your question is big. Requires a bigger exchange.”

Of course it does. Except, who does he think he's calling “boy”? We’re the same damn age, leverage or not. I hold back the urge to retort, snickering as I set my satchel and dagger aside, unbuttoning my shirt and loosening the belt. Both items reach his hand, and Ton shoves them into his inventory. But halfway through, he pauses, eyes narrowing as they fix on me.

“You’re not going to like the answer,” Ton says, pulling the belt taut between his hands, as if testing its strength. “But interrupt me, and I’ll have this around your throat.” He does a mock strangle, and I scoff.

“Ton, I’m already not liking any of this,” I say, exhaling. “So go ahead, don’t hold back.”

He shrugs. “When did we suffer at your hands? Plenty of times. Remember that region boss from yesterday? Of course you do. How did we lose to him? Yeah, he was stronger, sure. But we also weren’t prepared. You wanna know why?”

I don’t respond, just stare as he continues.

“We weren’t prepared because some fucking moron named Colt thought it’d be fun to interrupt a crucial strategy meeting—with a bunch of goblins!” His voice escalates. “That was mine and Rox’s first boss defeat ever in this tutorial. Do you know how much effort it took us to get that far? And how much we lost getting knocked back like that?”

His final words come out in a scream, and I blink, trying to process the absurdity. So, you’re telling me that your incompetence is somehow my fault? What the actual fuck?

It wasn’t me who started the damn fight. I wasn’t about to let myself get slaughtered for your cause, but I gave you more than enough time to figure out a plan. And what did you do? Stood there, staring at each other like a bunch of retards.

Honestly, you people deserved that beating. Hell, maybe even more of it.

Ton straightens up, clearly trying to regain some composure. “But,” he says, voice calmer for a split second, “we didn’t hold that against you. You helped the team regain their footing, literally. We even welcomed you in. But then—” his voice rises again, louder, angrier, “you broke that trust by announcing your mana inability to the whole base!”

His grip tightens on the belt, knuckles turning white. “First and foremost, you should’ve confided in your team. Then maybe look elsewhere for help. But no, you did the opposite. You asked around, and to people who actively want to harm us no less! You gave yourself away, tarnishing not only your reputation but ours—our entire team!”

He steps closer, the tension palpable. “Tell me, Colt,” he growls through clenched teeth, “who the fuck does that?”

I bite back my urge to yell at him, screaming internally instead. How the hell was I supposed to know that? And confide in my team? I’d met these people barely an hour ago.

These are supposed to be my mistakes? Frankly, they sound like excuses—lame excuses—to get rid of me.

“Even after all this, Rox was still on your side,” Ton continues, his tone shifting, darker, like he's about to drop some heavy revelation. “But then you stabbed him in the back. You—” He pauses, and for a moment, it feels like he's about to reveal the biggest sin I’ve committed.

But instead, he sighs and tosses the belt into his satchel. “Give me your pants.”

I blink. “What?”

“Your pants,” he repeats, deadpan, completely killing whatever buildup he had.

Cloak, shirt, and belt were one thing, but pants too? Is this guy running some kind of used clothes fetish? Still, I wiggle out of my pants, feeling the unwelcome breeze all around, and toss them straight at Ton’s face.

The bastard catches them smoothly, and greedily stuffs them into his bag.

His tone shifts back to that ominous note as he begins again. “You could’ve done anything, even kicked his dog, and Rox wouldn’t care. But you must never disobey him. And that’s exactly what you did. He told you to stay put with the goblins, but you chased after his orc, killed it, and worse—you triggered a guard’s call. Now every orc out there is looking for you for the next 24 hours. And whoever helps you? They’re risking not just their progress, but their lives. No one’s going to do that. You’re as good as dead. And what’s the point of keeping a disobedient, soon-to-be-dead man on the team?”

“Nothing,” I mutter, feeling the weight of it all sink in, a strange kind of calm settling over me.

Now, it all makes sense. No wonder Rox wants me gone. If he couldn’t handle the orcs himself, how could the others—those low-level plebs—possibly survive being around me now?

Sigh! What the hell have I gotten myself into?

But then, a little voice in my head speaks up: Wait… is this really my fault? No. No, it’s not.

How was I supposed to know I’d trigger a guard’s call? How could I have known about Rox’s sacred “never disobey” rule? Or that asking the damn lanky caster was somehow off-limits? How was I supposed to know not to interrupt their oh-so-important strategy meeting? How was I supposed to know any of this?

How could I have known?

Unless... the overseer had told me. But he didn’t. He deliberately kept me in the dark. Sent me out here blind, and now it’s all blowing up in my face. He’s the one responsible. He’s the one who should be held accountable.

But… can they hold him accountable? Of course not. These guys don’t have that kind of power.

So, who takes the fall? Me!

“You know I caused all this without even realizing, right?” I ask, feeling the knot in my gut twist tighter. “I didn’t mean to screw anyone over. If I’d known sooner, I wouldn’t have done any of it. Doesn’t that count for something? A second chance to set things right?”

“If you’re over level 20, of course,” Ton says with a casual chuckle. “Jagon could’ve dropped you at the base, waited out the timer, and picked you back up, no problem. But since you’re below that… well, you’re on your own. You are…”

“...Expendable,” I mutter, finishing the thought that’s been sinking in for a while. “Just like the last two dozen newbies.”

“Exactly!” Ton snaps his fingers like I’ve finally caught up. His sigh is almost sympathetic, but not quite. “It’s nothing personal, Colt. It’s just how things work here. There are too many players to play favorites. Only the fittest, and the ones who know how to follow the rules, survive. You’re…neither of those, sadly.”

I manage a tired grin. But inside? Oh, I’m rolling my eyes so hard it hurts.

These guys, they’ve made up their minds—kicking me out over someone else’s screw-up, then adding humiliation on top. No, I can’t let that slide. You don’t just get up and decide my fate like that. Not without consequences.

You’ll pay for this, I swear.

“If you’ve got nothing more to ask, feel free to explore the dungeon,” Ton’s voice cuts through my thoughts, casual as ever. “Before you go, though, I’ll need that last piece—your boxers.” He’s got his dagger pointed right at my crotch.

I blink. He wants me to run around naked? This isn’t about leverage, or him going on a power trip anymore. This is personal.

“What would you even do with them? You’re not planning to wear them, are you?” I try to keep my tone level, but seriously?

“Basic supplies cost,” he shoots back, a flash of irritation crossing his face. “Now, come on.”

“You sure you’re not… you know, a little homo?” The words slip out before I can stop myself.

“What?” His eyes narrow.

“I mean, you’re not gonna—what, beat your meat to my scent or something?”

“Fuck off!” he roars, and the next thing I know, his dagger’s flying straight at my face.

The dagger whistles past me, and I barely manage, “Oh, for the love of—” before my feet slip, sending me crashing to the ground. The sting of the fall barely registers as I hear Ton's hand sliding toward another dagger.

No time to think. I snatch my satchel and blade, adrenaline surging as I bolt into the suffocating darkness ahead. My heart pounds as I pray he won’t follow—and to my surprise, he doesn’t.

Risking a glance back, I see Ton, still standing there, grinning and waving like a man sending off an old friend.

“What the hell is he—” The thought’s yanked from my mind as the ground disappears beneath me.

“Shit!” I shout, my stomach lurching as I plummet into the abyss, gravity pulling me down into whatever nightmare lies below.