She was leading me through their newly crafted makeshift camp. Huts in the form and shape of coastal tribes rested spread out. Tepees, huts with thatched roofs, which the burly man, whose name I now knew to be Shadeo, worked on with a smile and a hum that told of his southern roots.

From the number of huts to the number of packs that littered the ground, I assumed there were at least five to seven members missing.

She said this was the communal area as we made our way to a clear opening. This revealed a more extensive area covered with a tarp, and all along the shade, bundles of leaves made for seating areas. It felt safe and open, a nice touch to an otherwise makeshift camp.

She sat, and I took a spot directly opposite her.

The longest is about three years. The most recent, being Alice, is…

At the uttering of that name, at the way her mouth moved and produced the tones and rings that said the word, a sharp black pain pierced the side of my skull. Grabbing at my head and clinching, she rushed in.

What's going on? Are you okay?

Patting her back, I did my best to smile.

I'm okay; it's just a random headache. You wouldn't have any water. I've forgotten the last time I had a drink.

Passing me a gord, I took a long swig, then sat myself back up, as if nothing had happened.

Well, as I was saying. Three years is the longest; the last time we've had a new member was over a year ago. She was really the catalyst for our departure. She really lit a fire under us. Pushed us to move after we had grown complacent with our circumstances.

Producing a long-barreled wooden pipe, she began to smoke. Pushing out smoke from every hole I could see only enhanced her Tribal features.

Her name was Astra, and she was one of the first in their guild. Spending some time alone, glancing over to her scars at the mention of solitude, told the story I had assumed, which she never told.

She didn't have to. The words didn't need oxygen for them to live. In her rough features, her fierce eyes, and those damn scars, I found their story. It had felt like a lifetime ago that I waged war on those scattered lands. Only a few times did I ever witness firsthand what the savages called "battle prizes." Even now, I cringe at the thought.

With a glance, she passed the pipe over.

I could smell Hikibis. A common herb that the darkened race smoked. Light and smoothing numbed the user to pain by cutting off their connections to their nervous system. Dumb and slow, it would make you if you smoked enough. Heavy addicts would soon become a hindrance to society, cast away, and they would become outcasts. Even the savage people had standards.

This wouldn't be my first time.

I accepted the crude pipe respectfully.

Taking in slow and steadied hits. I produced rings of smoke that danced and dragons that moved through them.

Her eyes laughed, and then her mouth joined.

It would be my last time, either.

Hours later, I awakened in her hut.

Looking over, I saw her sprawled out and snoring.

What a damn first impression, I thought as I gathered my clothes and changed.

What the fuck was I doing.

You idiot... You're not even in yet, and you've already complicated matters.

Glancing back over, I caught sight of her whole bareback. How it was marred with cuts and bruises, how the once beautiful supple white skin had become a map of terrain mountainous and off colored.

Those brutes did it on purpose. They saw beauty and wished to destroy it.

A fierce pain filled my chest, enough to harbor tears if not held back. I had just met the woman. But feeling her scars and hearing her soft-lipped lies as we made love...

Well, it was hard not to fall in love. After all, the easiest thing another person can ever do is fall for the other.

Checking myself, rearranging my head, and stealing my heart from its flutterings, I returned to the camp's opening.

Only a few steps later, I reached the joined opening, where the rest were settled around an open flame. They used coarse bark and black trees for their fire, which left a nasty odor, but it also meant that the savages wouldn't get near.

Awkwardly, I stepped forward, found a spot, and sat.

No introductions; they held a conversation as I had made my entrance, and nothing, not even my inclusion, would derail it.

Two days from now. If the seas don't bite, it will be then and no later.

Spoke a man with long, savage hair that ran down his slender back and coiled at the tips like scythes.

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The other woman, the one with the muscular frame and mannish face, replied before anyone else.

You say in two days. Do the birds tell you? Do they dance on the clouds and crest the winds? Do they sing? Are you sure you can trust them?

Then, bringing her head down slightly, her gaze set up on both the flame and the man. Holding both equally, as if they both were one, she said.

Do they tell you about the mainland? Of the guilds and how they are eating one another. How they mimic ouroboros. And how this is all for the system's benefit. So they are so distracted by themselves that they forget that our world is ever-changing and a new evil is just around the bend.

Breathes held the stars hanging dazzling bright behind the piercing jet-black sky. Only the animals hidden under the leaves shades and the fire's crackles as it ate away at its fuel could be heard.

Tension filled as I looked at the faces of downcast men and women. They all appeared hungered, starved to return. We all shared the same fate.

Why?

Why had we been cast out?

Thrown onto a land in which the laws of our nature are corrupted?

The man with the curling locks re-engaged.

I cannot tell you any more than I've already shared. A dream comes when the sleeper least expects it. I've told you all we have been granted a mission. We must return and…

He caught his tongue and lost himself to something. His eyes glazed and yearned for tears, but they had dried out with the sea's salt long ago.

A voice broke in.

From the way I had come, from the darkness, she appeared.

What, you want us to save them. To become the new ushered heroes of the land.

Scoffing, she laughed as the rest of the group awkwardly smiled, not wishing for any glancing words to be voiced their way.

We were spectators, I thought as I fidgeted with a slender piece of bark that I now anxiously scraped between my thumb and finger.

We aren't heroes. We aren't saviors. She said.

Taking time to place her leg on a nearby stump, she bent and looked around at all those who had gathered, who were now enraptured by the warrior who stood firm and proud.

We are the forgotten.

Her words echoed a pain that swept over everyone sitting on the fire's edge. Our eyes shared the same lost look.

Nothing was said for a long while until a new face broke the storm of silence.

Who's the new guy?

Before I could answer, Astra took control once again.

He's the new and last recruit.

Dryly, she left her answer without explanation.

Their looks became those of herds who grew conformed to ill conditions. Who only talked back if talked to.

What a tight ship, I thought as a noise broke the spell of our conversation.

Two figures came from the shrubbery.

One a man with what had become the ubiquitous conformity muscular build. We needed a person with fat and smiles that would shape the place. He moved in, grabbing a branch and holding it away to make room for the one who walked behind him.

Now, her presence, as if an act of the creator, the fire camp crackled in a harmonious tone, sending sparks of orange crackles into the air. Ones that hovered and danced upon a sudden wind, gently floating to the new face.

Her face was small and childish. A set of small almond eyes set between a fine pointed nose and topped with eyebrows that shimmered like waves.

Her figure was petite and pretty, but she was adorned in the clothes that befit her situation; torn and tattered, she still stole the show, regardless of the rags.

From the ocean waves that crashed nature on the rocks, they jutted and would continue to climb for millennia, climbing to the trees that swayed in the calm breeze. A force rocked my soul. Knocking on its ephemeral doors, her presence banged with a might that sent me crashing down within my very self.

Silent, I battled a hidden pain, a struggle that happened only in my mind and deep within my core. The fire blazed on, and the people continued their talks of who and what they weren't. Muted, their lines became whispers distorted and out of place. Around me the world continued to spin, its cogs, those surrounindg the camp, continued to play their role.

It was as if I had been layered out, as if I had been phased from this plane but allowed to spectate through some sinister means. All one big prank played at my expense. Feelings and pain are the most potent curse.

Their mumblings continued, and every once in a while, their glares would turn my way, their words would fall on me, and I would simply nod, not knowing what else to do.

Apparently, that was good enough.

Astra had her hand on my shoulder, grinning as the rest of the group began to accept me for what I was.

Last night wasn't a mistake; somehow, giving in to the moment made for the easiest outcome.

I guess sometimes you could just fuck your way through life.

Black dots appeared throughout my vision as I scrambled back to reality. Losing myself in agony felt like everything these years had tried to teach me to do away with. Yet, I felt more vulnerable now. It was as if my skin had been peeled back, and my underside, the part I protected with my dying breath, was exposed for everything and everyone to freely strike.

Then, how about it? Why don't you introduce yourself?

Blinking wildly, I suddenly realized that not only were those words aimed at me but also at the complete attention of the stragglers called guildies.

Oh, well.

I made an awkward step up and drew close to the flame for everyone to look at me.

The name is…

My name was caught between my tongue and teeth; for some reason, it didn't want to slither out. Something told me this was not the time.

So, on the spot, I thought of a new moniker from a fallen friend.

My name is Ronald. Years ago, I took a nasty fall into the Barren Sea and, for the longest time, simply survived until recently. Finding strength and a guide, I was informed about a group of adventurers wishing to attempt the journey back. So, here I am.

Silence, then a quick question tore through.

Is it true you can use the system?

I thought the elephant in the room had finally entered as I nodded slightly and said.

Yes, but only partially. Small things, nothing like the mainland.

A soft voice came next. The same soft voice that came from a past so long ago that it might as well have been another life.

How?

I have no idea. I triggered an event on the island and, from there, was given small tastes of previous power.

This was the partial truth, but a truth nonetheless.

If any of them had the knack for reading hearts, mine was without a skipped beat.

Well, that's going to be helpful, Shadeo's voice smiled and laughed, easing the growing dread of the night.

More talks commenced—small logistical discussions about resources, supplies, and general direction. It became apparent that this group was putting a lot of faith in luck and blind trust. They wanted it badly, as if chasing a scarce drop, and thought nothing more than risking it all.

Glancing around, I saw our current state. Was it really much of a life to risk? Seeing the rags, the lines of age growing, the lack of purpose, this wasn't living. To live was to prosper and grow; we were stagnant here.

This was nothing.

Out there, I whispered to myself, and only for myself.

I peered into the dark sea that crashed with a power untold.

Out there held everything...