“Did you orchestrate our meeting?” Alan asked. Ashlyn seemed to sense the tension in him and she gently grabbed his hand.

Rosalyn didn’t react at first. She seemed thoughtful.

Is that how one skirts around such a trait? Thinking everything through to bend the truth?

“Ask your question better,” she finally said making Alan frown further. “I had my people prepare the moment you came into the vicinity of this place. We know who you two are and how long you have spent outside the Sanctuary. The man in the suit you saw has a way of gathering information, so we follow all people of note. You won’t believe how many squander the opportunities the System is giving us… Anyway, ask your question more clearly.”

“Did you make it so we end up here, talking with you, taking part in your plans? Did you influence people, like Walter, to point us in your direction? Do you or any people working with you have any skills to manipulate thoughts or behavior?”

“Alan…” Ashlyn seemed worried, but he had to know. Something was taking control of him and he didn’t like it, but he had to know.

“I did not orchestrate this meeting nor can I manipulate people. I can force people to tell me what I want to know. I have no [Manipulators] or anything similar. One of the two known is dead, killed by one of the gangs when they went crazy. The other was last seen leaving the boundaries of the Sanctuary with you two.”

Alan took a deep breath. “Sorry. I have issues I haven’t dealt with.”

“Don’t we all, man? Listen, I understand why you don’t trust me, and I wouldn’t trust someone like me in your position either. But we both want the same thing—a safe place to come back to after we go fight the horrors outside of this barrier. And the freedom to do so whenever we want, however, we want, without some wannabe dictator sending gangs of idiots all over the place.”

She was very convincing and Alan was sure faking System messages was not possible.

He finally relented and relaxed a bit, taking another sip of the still-cold beer. Were the glasses enchanted too?

“So, what’s the plan?” he asked.

Roselyn smiled. “Simple. The fighting is growing, but most are careful not to involve those unaffiliated. There had been some ‘indoctrinated’ kids but I hear that even the gangs don’t like that and those responsible have been punished. What I propose is to wait it out, see what happens, and when the leader is chosen… kill him.”

“Genius. I am sure no one will think of that!” Alan crossed his arms and leaned back.

“I know. It will be a slaughter. We just have to wait it out and strike true. I have enough people with crazy skills to round up the survivors and possibly overpower the potential winner. Assassination would be better, but harder to pull off in a melee.”

“I don’t know how much our skills will help even if we decide to go along with that. It ain’t much of a plan.” Alan said. It was crazy and risky. He had expected some sort of a grandiose scheme. Not this.

“Look. I don’t want to be the leader. But I don’t want the only safe place to be run by people who have lost their minds to the powers of the System. And people like Cole thrive on lording over others. We already experienced a society like that once, didn’t we? You two are stronger than you think. Few have spent so much time outside of the Sanctuary and lived.”

This is a mess. I just want Emerson to be fine. I owe him.

“We will think about it, I guess,” Alan said. Ashlyn was watching him and nodded.

“Good, I can give you a room, or two…? We are working on showers, but we have some cleansing charms for now.”

“Two rooms. If you get showers, you will have my eternal loyalty,” Ashlyn said and stood up. “Cleansing is all nice and works perfectly, but a shower is heaven.”

Rosalyn laughed and stood up too. She was only a few centimeters shorter than Alan, and her stance made her look both graceful and dangerous. Alan wondered how she fought, considering the variety of non-combat skills she had revealed and the unique class.

“One last thing,” Alan turned toward her, “What was that old woman talking about?”

“Oh, Reba? She is… a strange case in our Sanctuary. A former math teacher and ballet instructor turned into the only [Class Trainer] we know of.”

“[Class Trainer]? That sounds… how would she know so much about classes to be able to train them. We barely have information as it is.” Even the System was offering class guides for dangerous dungeon boss fights! It was preposterous to assume someone might be able to train classes. Or was she able to give people specific classes? The name left a lot of questions.

“She has an intuition for things. She might not know what exactly you can do, but she knows when you do it wrong,” Rosalyn shrugged. “Reba has helped me and a lot of other people a lot. She is partly the reason we are all still sane. If she thinks you are strange, it is because you are.”

“Can I talk to her?”

“You can talk to whoever you want. But first, let’s go find you rooms.”

Rosalyn led the way the way they had come from, through the underground corridor and the cold doors.

“Are those enchanted storage spaces?” Alan asked when they passed by.

“Yes. We were helped by Mr. Muge. The cold enchantment is one of the most researched and advanced in our Sanctuary. We’ve been playing around with the idea of selling it in the World Temple. These two rooms are almost fully covered in a few interconnected enchantments—a feat that has yet to be replicated—which hold the temperature below freezing, allowing us to stockpile food. We never know what will happen next, so it’s good to be prepared.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Alan agreed. The world was unpredictable and their trials never seemed to end. It was only silly that there was so much infighting going on, considering how much danger there was out there. Human nature never changed though.

Rosalyn led them through the kitchen again. Salla was busy at work so they didn’t bother her. Alan dreaded talking with the nice woman, mostly because she would certainly ask about Florence.

At least she has found a nice place. At least it looks nice.

Trust was not something he would ever give lightly. Although in Florence’s case ‘give’ was a wrong choice of a word. He wondered how fast she had leveled with all the people she had messed with and how long she was able to utilize factors outside of straight-up magical emotional manipulation. Maybe from the very start? She had admitted it freely. His high will had been the only reason he even knew about her skills. It had probably taken her mere days to surpass him.

Alan shook his head and focused on the present. She was dead and he had killed her. No use in dwelling upon what was lost. If he wanted to live long he would have to trust people. For now. Until he was strong enough on his own.

Becoming overpowered was taking a long time though, and while he was sure few could beat him, he had to remain careful.

Someone like Thorn or Old Greyheart could probably snap their fingers and wipe out all life here.

It hurt further knowing what distance there was between them and him. He had to get stronger fast. Saving Emerson was a priority for now, but then he would level like crazy and look into that weird ‘Flow’ insight and his skills.

They finally reached one of the annexes to the main building or the ‘wing’ as Rosalyn called it. The rooms were on the second floor which was all made from dark wood. There was a lot of bark left on the support and ceiling beams and the smell of fresh wood made Alan sigh with pleasure.

The doors were also wooden, but carved almost to perfection and fit snuggly into the frame, providing much-needed solitude to those resting inside. The rooms themselves had a small wooden bed frame covered in the strange vegetation he had seen in Walter’s place. There were also nice quilts, although the temperature inside of the barrier remained perfect.

He had noticed some changes in the Forest though. Hopefully, whatever the seasons turned out to be, they wouldn’t be too crazy.

“It’s very generous of you. Thank you.” Ashlyn said. Alan knew she needed rest. They hadn't had time to stop and take a breather for a while now.

Rosalyn waved her off and smiled, “It is not because I am nice. You two are strong and useful and I want to get on your good sides. Hopefully, things will work out.”

Alan enjoyed the woman’s frankness and little by little he started believing that lying was impossible for her. He gave his thanks, winked to Ashlyn, and entered his room.

Shutting the door was almost a religious experience. Alan leaned on it and took a deep breath. The room was small, with only a bed and a stool, but at this moment it looked like the best thing in the world.

His fists clenched and unclenched a few times, trying to release the tension that seemed to permeate every single cell of his body. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths.

In and then out. Come on, man.

He hadn’t been alone in a while. Even now he held back the urge to take the demon out of his inventory, just to have a reason to suppress everything going on and pretend he was fine.

Stupid. How can you let such thoughts get into your head?

This was not like him. This was NOT him. Breaking down and being unable to overcome his own mind? He had spent years where the only thing he was doing was battling and winning over his mind! He was supposed to be free of fear and pain now, free of self-doubt and stupid choices!

His breathing became faster, his hands felt clammy. The borrowed cloak fell from his shoulders as he untied the cord. The beaten-up leather armor over his clothes felt like a straitjacket as he tore at the clasps and threw the pieces one by one on the floor.

Death was close every day. He could almost feel it lurking in the shadows. Every bush in the forest and every corner of the Sanctuary made him want to cover himself with darkness and become the Death that seemed to terrify him now. Was it his death, or the death he would bring?

It had been different on Earth, where salvation wouldn’t come no matter what. Where only money he didn’t have could extend his life and ease the suffering.

Only with his [Monochrome Armor] on he felt safe. The shadows were friendly then, extending their cold tendrils and welcoming him into the black-and-white world. If only he could stay that way.

He felt the mana try to slip his grasp and activate the skill and opened his eyes. His willpower crushed the desire and stopped the activation.

Slowly, his breathing returned to normal and his hands stopped shaking. The cold sweat running down his back made him feel uncomfortable and he took out the cleansing charm. It had lasted longer than Mr. Muge had anticipated. The refreshing light of the [Cleanse] covered him and in an instant, he felt like a new person.

He dressed, leaving the armor on the bed but putting on the cloak, and decided to grab something to drink from the bar. It was an easy enough affair navigating the corridor and going down the stairs, then following the noise. Drinking and games seemed never-ending in this place.

The music was gone though, and so was the strange girl he had wished to speak with. He hadn’t asked Rosalyn about her, although she probably had the answer.

Arley was behind the bar, wiping the unpolished wood with a rag and trying to look like a proper old-timey bartender.

“Hey,” Alan greeted, “Can I get a bottle of the good stuff? I want to take a walk, and gather my thoughts.”

Arley’s eyes flashed with a knowing light and he reached deep behind the counter. It took a few seconds to find what he was searching for, but finally gave Alan a glass bottle wrapped in leather.

“My newest project. Warms the heart and touches the soul,” he said. His mustache twitched.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“No worries man, have a good walk!”

Alan crossed the hall uncaring of some of the gazes that stopped on him. He exited through the main doors and was surprised to find that it was already dark outside. Keeping track of time was becoming more and more difficult with the irregular and much lower need for sleep and lack of clocks.

Back on earth, he had always had his smartphone or wristwatch to depend on. Now even his internal clock seemed to have broken.

Maybe the flow thing will help a bit. Time flows… or does it not? Whatever.

There would be time for the mysteries of the universe, and there would be time for planning Emerson’s rescue. Just killing the chosen leader seemed a bit cliché, with the difference that the killer would inherit the position…

The night air helped him slow down his brain and focus on the pleasurable inhales that made his lungs and body sing in happiness. This seemed to be one of the biggest plusses of the Apocalypse. He was sure in time he would stop appreciating it. It was human nature.

He walked aimlessly, avoiding the populated areas and instead heading towards the still abandoned ruins. In a swirl of shadows, the demon cube appeared in his hand.

He felt the connection form in his mind.

“Hey, Xil.”

“Hello human. What do you interrupt my nap for?” Xil asked.

“I just wanted to chat with you.”

“Oh? Like friends do? Chat away then, Alan. You have earned that much with your recent performance.”

He didn’t know if that was a compliment or not coming from the demon. Still, he chatted about the day, about Mr. Muge, about the Elven Trunk, the beer, and all the trivialities that didn’t seem to matter. The moon hung above and Alan sat on one of the many ruins as he stargazed and spoke.

The demon was an oddly good listener, and Alan was thankful for that.

“So, it has bubbles and they feel nice?” Xil struggled to grasp the concept of soda. Alan couldn’t wait for beer to get there. What he was currently drinking was still not fizzy enough.

“I don’t understand what’s so hard to grasp. Don’t you have any—”

“There is someone here! Careful!” Xil exclaimed.

A second later [Mortal Peril] screamed in his mind.

He barely managed to move to the side before he felt the dagger catch his shoulder, missing the heart it was aimed at.