I couldn’t tell you what Rogier’s plan was. He wouldn’t tell us. We asked. I think Jerald knew, but he wouldn’t say anything. We went over more escape plans. Apparently we still should be gathering food and supplies, as well as looking for a way past the wall. I’m genuinely worried. Rogier has a look in his eye that I don’t particularly like. It reminds me of fanatics. The sort of look you may see in the deeply religious or the mentally ill.

It didn’t help that it looked like Rogier was sharpening his training spear. I didn’t think any good would come of that. Ryan tried to re-assure me that it would likely just be used to help us survive outside the camp. We might need to hunt, or defend ourselves, after all.

But Ryan didn’t know what I did. He didn’t see the rage on Rogier’s face earlier. I knew he could be dangerous. All of his combat performances demonstrated it. If he decided to do something drastic, who could stop him? Would he be countered by an equally drastic measure?

I couldn’t say for certain what would happen. But it was well known on Earth how escalation worked. And this seemed like a situation that was bound to escalate. But what could I do? Rogier wouldn’t even tell me what he was going to do. I had nothing to report to Harker. And I didn’t even know if I would want to, even if I did have concrete details. If his plan would actually get us out of here, then I really didn’t want to interfere with that.

Today’s training seemed designed to make up for yesterday's failure. We were at our usual training grounds, but instead of exercising or doing individual drills, we were practicing as a group. We were lined up, and at first Harker had us fighting with invisible enemies. Then, when he deemed us too incompetent to do that, he had us switch to throwing up simple strikes.

We were supposed to “get used to being packed in ass over end” as he so elegantly put it. Apparently we lacked cohesion, experience, and any semblance of competence.

We would rotate the front row every few minutes, while Harker was walking up and down our lines, inspecting our form and throwing out insults, or even the occasional bit of helpful advice.

It was during this time that Rogier made his move. As Harker walked in front of him, he executed a standard thrust. His performance outstripped nearly everyone around him, causing Harker to move on, his time better spent on those who could actually use correction.

He made his way down the line, before turning around and coming back. Once he was within range, about 2 people away, Rogier lunged forwards, spearing the tip of his weapon into Harkers chest with a sickening squelch. Our trainer wasn’t to be underestimated, however. Despite the speed of the sneak attack, he was able to react, jumping backwards far enough that the spear didn’t go through his ribs. It easily popped out of the muscle on his chest, flinging droplets of blood over the ground.

Harkers face was pale, but he quickly set his face into grim resolve. Rogier, on the other hand, was the picture of barely controlled fury. The tall man has his brows furrowed, narrowing his eyes down into slits. His check muscles were bulging, as if he was gritting his teeth. His hang was clenched around the haft of his spear so hard I would be surprised if he didn’t get splinters.

They stood there, eyes locked on each other, our instructor and the best fighter in our class, turned against each other. Blood oozed out of the wound on Harkers chest, darkening his red uniform.

After a few seconds, the standoff broke. Rogier lunged forwards, too impatient to wait for Harker to bleed out. His spear shot towards Harkers head, where he pushed the shaft of his spear into Rogiers, causing the point to go up over his head. Harker responded with a thrust towards Rogiers body. The lean man turned his torso, causing the spear to miss his center mass and scrape against his arm, the thick clothing he wore preventing it from causing anything but the most superficial damage.

Rogier tried to counter thrust, but Harker was already slipping away, effortlessly dodging back away from Rogiers attack. This didn’t deter the tall man. Instead, he stepped forwards, shooting a spearing strike towards Harker’s head, his body snapping out like the strike of a snake.

Harkers spear was there to catch the strike, however, and it was knocked to the side. Harkers kicked hard, impacting Rogiers chest with a blood-curdling thump, sending him sprawling back onto the ground.

Rogier tried to reply, but his spear was knocked out of his hands, rolling away on the dirt. He let out a wet cough, blood speckling his lips and trickling down his chin.

Harker let out a contemptuous snort.

“You’ll need to work a lot harder than that to kill me, son. Being the best of this lot isn’t some great achievement. I hope your broken ribs serve as a lesson. Take him to the healers.” With that, he turned, striding away.

Rogier took the opportunity to scramble for his spear, still lying in the dirt a few feet away. Despite his seemingly grievous chest wound, he moved with surprising speed, grabbing his discarded weapon before whirling around.

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Crouching down, he readied himself. There was something different about him, though. Some focus, or intensity, that he lacked before.

When he shot forwards, the tip of his spear letting out an audible crack, I knew what it was. He has figured out how to use his mana.

His leap easily clear the dozen feet between him and Harker, who, to his credit, had started to whirl around at the sound of the spear.

He wasn’t fast enough, however, and only managed to scour a thin line across Rogiers face. Blood dribbled from his mouth as he stared uncomprehendingly at the spear protruding through his chest.

His hand flashed up, clenched into a fist, and shot into Rogiers jaw, sending him tumbling head over heels with a nasty crack.

Harker didn’t follow up. He kept looking down at the spear in his chest, a remorseful expression on his face.

“I never thought… that… this is how it would end.” After his laborious speech, he collapsed to the ground, breathing growing more and more strained.

None of us thought to help him, shocked as we were from what had happened in front of us.

His breathing gradually faded, the trickle of blood from his mouth slowing. Silver fire started burning from his eyes, a gentle flicker compared to Davinda’s raging flame, and his body gradually turned into ash.

Rogier was still laying on the ground, eyes tightly shut. His face was a mess of blood, and it looked like his jaw was broken completely. His ribs, however, looked far less caved in than before.

He rolled over to his stomach, coughing up a mouthful of blood, before pushing himself to his feet. Standing there, he looked far skinner than I remembered, his faded and dirt red uniform cutting a lonely figure against the tree line. He glanced at the spot Harker had died, before running his eyes over us. He locked onto Jerald, gesturing for him to step forwards. Jerald simply shook his head, face pale from shock. He tried Ryan next, and upon his refusal, turned to me.

His eyes seemed to best asking me a question. Asking if I would be the one to step out and join him. I looked away, unable to meet his eyes. I couldn’t condone the violence. We were in a shitty situation, sure. Hell, one of us had even been murdered for trying to leave it. But it’s not like it had been Harkers fault. He just worked here. Hell, he was trying to prepare us for what we were going to face. There were people responsible for this tragedy, but they weren’t here.

Rogiers eyes only lingered on me for a moment longer, before he looked away, easily reading my refusal from my body language. He swept one last glance over the group, but nobody moved forwards to take his side. Letting out a sigh, he limped away, off into the trees that covered most of the training ground, soon disappearing from view, into the foliage.

We all stood around for a while, unsure of what to do, until Ryan, of all people, took charge.

“We need to report this. If they find out we did nothing after an instructor was killed, it’ll be all of our heads on the chopping block”.

There were a few unhappy murmurs at that, but no real resistance. Nobody else wanted to die for Rogiers sake. Except for one person, that is.

Jerald stepped forwards, an angry look on his face.

“I refused to go run off with Rogier because he killed someone who I didn’t think deserved death. That doesn’t mean that I think he deserves to be killed.”

Ryan furrowed his brow, taking a moment to compose his next words.

“It’s either him or us. You saw what happened. What he did. Either they blame him or us. He’s already running away. Do you want them to come down on us instead? Do you think that it’s possible to keep it a secret regardless? Chances are Rogiers already going to die, whether we report him or not. He probably won’t make it past the wall”.

Jerald clenched his fists at Ryan’s proclamation. He knew what he was hearing was true, it made too much sense not to be, but he really didn’t want to hear it.

He tried to say something, but fumbled it, growling in frustration. He started at Ryan, fists still clenched. It looked like they would come to blows, but eventually, Jerald kicked the ground and stalked off.

“Fine, do as you want”.

Ryan watched him go, shaking his head. He pressed his hands to his temples, walking back to calm down the group.

I was growing increasingly surprised of Ryan’s behavior. First there was him diving onto the construct back in Rivish, and now he took charge of our training group. It was a far cry from some of the spoiled behavior I’d seen from him earlier. I guess he was a merchant, before all of this. It made sense that his people skills were good. Hard to get sales if you came off like a whiny child.

It was hard to believe that Harker was dead. It’s not like I particularly liked him. In fact, I think I may have hated him. He was a hard ass, and at least somewhat complicit in keeping us here against our will. But from the sound of it, he didn’t really want to be here either. He was just doing his job.

I wonder if it would have turned out differently had I told Harker about Rogiers weapon when I had the chance. Harker seemed confident that Rogier was down for the count, and for all honesty didn’t seem particularly bothered by his assassination attempt, at least until it worked. It was possible that Harker would have done nothing in order to “teach him a lesson”, although I couldn’t say for sure.

I found myself hoping that Rogier escaped. If he didn’t then that would be two deaths for nothing, At least if he got out Harkers death was for a reason.

I’m fairly certain I hated this place. Not just the camp. The world as a whole. While there had been moments of brightness shining through, for the most part it had been nothing but misery, and most of it wasn’t even mine.

Ryan had finished calming the group down. There were still agitated, but they didn’t seem as likely to riot or flee as before, which was a good sign. I moved over to join them, as Ryan sent someone to notify the administration (or whatever passed for that around here) of the fight that had just taken place.

I anxiously awaited their arrival. It remained to be seen if they would believe us when we told them what had happened. There were numerous things that could go wrong. Did they even know that Rogier was part of our group? Harker had written all of our names down when he first enlisted us, but I didn’t put a lot of faith in the record keeping system of the Kingdom we were in. If they didn’t care if we lived or died, would they even care to know who was who?

I dreaded on it as I continued to wait for the uncertain resolution.