Zachary frowned as he stood up, murmuring, "I suspected..." He looked around as if looking for something, but nothing was in their immediate vicinity. "No rock to hit. I'll do this then."

He crouched and then leaped forward. He shot forward like an arrow, drawing a surprised yelp from Logan. In great bounds, he quickly reached the edge of the clearing and returned with a smile.

"You guys should check your physical strength. I think Senior Abyss Eye didn't leave us empty-handed."

"Physical strength?" Logan asked. "But I'm still sore all over..." He trailed off as he realized he was not, in fact, still sore all over. He felt invigorated and filled with energy. He hadn't noticed until this moment. He leaped to his feet and started flexing his muscles. He stomped the ground and felt more power in his body. He was much stronger physically than before. He didn't run, though. He didn't see the need to embarrass himself by contrasting himself with Aiken and Zachary.

"Is it the training?" Logan asked as the idea appeared in his head. He turned to Zachary. "Senior Zachary, do you think the training routine we did last night is what increased our strength?"

The others, who were also testing their strength, paused at that question.

Zachary was silent for a moment, but then he nodded. "Yes, I believe so. There's no other plausible reason. Also, I don't think that was simply a training routine. I believe it was a formula personally crafted by Abyss Eye himself."

Logan couldn't believe his ears. He gazed at the sun high in the sky, beating down on them, then at the ground, roughed up from all their training and power testing. The number of astonishing news he had heard in such a brief period was beyond what he had heard throughout his life before this.

First, the truth about Abyss Eye, then the Great Robin War, and now this? A formula created personally by an S-rank?

"Unheard of... Simply unheard of..." Logan was new to his abilities, but everyone had heard of formulas. They were similar to training routines but far more potent. An average formula included techniques to speed up training in a particular aspect, such as physical strength, agility, or reaction speed.

That alone was enough to make any abnormal go crazy. After all, any increase in strength was significant and could determine their life or death. The only alternatives were access to high-level beast meat or an innately growing abnormality, but neither was any easier to attain.

Yet, the better formulas were much more useful. If they were correctly studied and practiced, high-level formulas could strengthen every aspect of strength. Training according to a formula could increase strength, reaction speed, agility, and even control or power. It was unknown how they worked, but they originated from the Spire and were never released to the public.

They were the ultimate tool in any abnormal's arsenal with which they could rapidly increase their strength and, if they were lucky, their Danger Rating.

"It's unlikely that the Spire would give a Camper such a strong formula," Zachary said. "He must have created it himself."

Hollie, silent all this while, spoke in shock while pointing at Eldon. "You... You almost got us all killed!"

"Eldon didn't know what it was," Zachary immediately came to his rescue. "We also joined. He didn't force us. Nobody forced you to join. You joined of your own accord. You can't blame Eldon for that."

"'I take what I want, but give something in return,'" Eldon said. All eyes turned to him. "Is this what he gave us in trade?"

Silence.

"Fucking hell—" Aiken started but was interrupted by a sudden loud beeping that resounded through the clearing. Every one of their Alohad devices was beeping, drawing their attention. They exchanged glances.

Logan activated his device and checked it. A message popped up before him.

"Team request approved.

You have been invited to join the team, "Wilder's Team."

Accept/Reject [4:52 minutes left]"

Logan's eyes widened. "What?!"

Every single one of them stood up, staring at their Seekers.

"It seems," Zachary broke the silence. "That we might not understand Senior Abyss Eye as much as we thought."

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

The Spokesmen of the Camps were housed in personal apartments that were different from regular Campers. They had access to better food and living conditions because they were legendary S-ranks. These apartments were situated within the Guard House for the same reason all other Campers were also housed in the Guard House—to keep them under supervision.

In one of them, a man wandered aimlessly, clawing the walls with his dirty nails. The walls, floor, and furniture were charred, most of the latter turned to ashes. Finger claw marks covered them. The man wandering in the charred apartment was draped in Bone-embroidered robes that were burnt and tattered. His orange hair was singed at the ends, standing in spiky locks on his head. The only item in the room untouched by fire was the scarf around his neck.

As he wandered, slamming into walls here, tripping over himself there, with crimson flames bursting from him now and then, he guarded it closely. Not a single stray tongue of fire went near it, and it was untainted by char. He held it close to him as he walked, sniffing it now and then.

He limped to a corner and slumped, splaying his legs out. He hung his head. Then he raised it, a spark of awareness flickering to life within them but quickly dying out, replaced by the haunting emptiness of madness.

_

A boy skipped lightly into a small house, where a woman in ragged clothes was sewing a cloth with a large needle. He ran up to her and grabbed her knees.

"Mama! Mama! Grandpa Jones said I can join the Legion! The recruiting team is on their way to the capital right now!"

The woman, his mother, stopped her sewing and looked at him with loving but tired eyes. "That's great, Sandy. You're so awesome!" She ruffled his bright hair, speckled with mud from his escapades on the streets.

The boy closed his eyes to enjoy it, but then he ducked and dodged her hand.

"Mama!" he cried, jumping to the side. "I'm not a little boy anymore! I'm going to join the Legion soon!"

His mother laughed and ran after him, leaving the cloth on a nearby table. They ran around, the boy trying to avoid his mother while his mother tried to catch him and subject him to her hair ruffling.

Eventually, the mother grew tired and sat on the ground. When the boy noticed, he stopped running. He came up to her and laid his head in her lap. His mother ran her hands through his hair with a smile as he fell into a deep sleep.

_

The boy and his mother stood at the carriage station, waiting for someone. The boy kept jumping, pulling his mother's hand, and looking around with bright eyes. Ever so often, he would raise his hand and stare as sparks of crimson flames jutted from the tips of his fingers.

"Where's Grandpa Jones?" the boy asked.

"He'll soon be here," his mother replied. "He said he'd be coming. Do you think Grandpa Jones would forget?"

"Nope," said the boy. Grandpa Jones was a retired Legion soldier. He was a hero, and he could not forget to keep his promises.

"Here," his mother said, crouching to his level. "I made this for you." She removed an orange scarf from her neck. It was made from cheap materials, but handmade decorations and embroidery were all over it. It looked like an image of a burning fire, and the more the boy looked at it, the more it looked so much like flames spreading all over a battlefield, burning up grotesque monsters while he hovered above them, looking down imperiously.

"Wow!" the boy said, snatching it from her and holding it to himself. "It's so beautiful! I love it!"

His mother smiled and patted his head.

"How are you doing, my little hero!" An old, gritty voice spoke into the boy's ear as a hand patted his shoulder. His heart rate sped up.

"Grandpa Jones!"

"Hahaha, my boy!" Grandpa Jones hugged the boy before nodding to the woman who bowed to him.

"Grandpa Jones," she began. "Thank you for—"

"No need for that," Grandpa Jones said, leading them to a carriage waiting by the side. "I'm just doing my job. I dream of seeing the world return to what it was before. All I want is to see humanity rule the world once more before I die. You shouldn't thank me for this."

The woman still wanted to talk, but Grandpa Jones spoke, cutting her off.

"Oops, I got in before you!"

"What! You old sneak!"

"Hahahaha!"

The woman smiled and, shaking her head, also entered the carriage. The driver glanced back to ensure they were all in before he snapped the reins, and the two massive horses began their leisurely trot down the cobbled roads.

Inside the carriage, the boy glanced outside the window at the passing scenery, then looked down at his scarf. He gripped it tightly, muttering to himself.

"I'm going to be a hero."

_

Flames.

A sea of flames.

A radius of a hundred meters or more was engulfed with fire, the crackle of burning wood filling the air. Charred bodies could be seen where the fire was less dense, wrinkled, and stiff in death. A wrecked carriage was at the center of the phenomenon. The driver and horses were nowhere to be seen. There were only ashes fluttering about, hardly distinguishable from that of the carriage.

There was another, more recognizable corpse.

A boy knelt before it with hollow eyes. At the epicenter of the flames, he was like the eye of the storm, the flames spreading out from him. He was unharmed by the fire, and he was holding out both hands as if to grasp or touch the corpse before him, but he was still. His hands hovered but did not land.

"Monster..." A shaky old voice came from further away. "You vile monster!"

Grandpa Jones pointed a trembling finger at the boy from a distance. One-half of his body was burned, cooked red like freshly roasted venison. His hand on that side was stiff and crooked. One eye was closed, the skin around it a raw red, with liquid running down his face.

The boy didn't react. He remained there, staring at the burnt corpse.

_

In the apartment, the man with the orange hair shot to his feet, eyes blazing. He staggered to the door, wrapping the scarf tighter around him.

"Get the grand prize... I will... Get the grand prize... And I will... I will... Learn to control... Control...”

His disjointed murmuring grew fainter as he left the apartment, leaving the apartment behind looking like a mutilated corpse.