Zaine glanced toward the corridor Danjuro had walked down, then turned back to me.
"You deserve to know something," he said quietly. "About Danjuro. And our fathers."
I stayed silent, listening.
"Years ago, before the Tower appeared, there was an unmarked anomaly. A hidden quest—one not listed on any system map. My father, Alfred, and General Kudo Koetsu were the only two who made it inside."
"They both came back alive?" I asked.
Zaine nodded. "Yeah. But only one of them got rewarded. The system granted Alfred a skill, E-rank. Not even something powerful. But it was enough to make things spiral."
"Why?" I asked. "What did Danjuro's father get?"
"Nothing," Zaine said bitterly. "No recognition, no skill. Not even a system log of his contribution. Danjuro believes my father rigged the outcome—stole the reward, and the credit."
"He thinks Alfred manipulated the system?"
Zaine's voice was firm. "He thinks Alfred made a choice. Took the reward, let the system write the history, and walked out a hero."
Before I could respond, footsteps echoed back.
Danjuro returned.
"Still telling that story?" he asked coldly, eyes locked on Zaine.
Zaine didn't flinch. "It's not a story. It's what happened."
Danjuro stepped closer. "My father saved Alfred's life in that dungeon. Shielded him through traps, carried him when he was injured. And yet, only Alfred was acknowledged. Promoted. Rewarded."
"No one really understands how the Tower decides anything," I said.
"I understand betrayal," Danjuro snapped. "And I won't follow Zaine, or anyone tied to that legacy."
Zaine's jaw clenched. "Then let's make it simple. When the quest starts—your team against mine."
Danjuro nodded once. "Deal."
Without another word, he walked off into the shadows.
Zaine turned to me, his voice low. "That hidden quest—it changed everything. That's why the Tower's early secrets are dangerous. They're not just about power… they create grudges that last generations."
Before I could respond, a sudden shout rang out across the camp.
"He's a traitor! Samuel's a traitor!"
It wasn't a system message. It was a player—young, panicked—running from the supply tents. "He was signaling someone! I saw the Letter—he was sending messages!"
Zaine didn't hesitate. "Move!"
We burst into a sprint, dodging between tents and wooden training posts as others started to gather. Confusion and murmurs rippled through the camp.
Then I saw him.
Samuel.
Hood up. Cloak tight. A heavy bag strapped across his shoulder. He shoved past a startled guard and sprinted toward the edge of the training zone.
"There!" I shouted.
Samuel glanced back—eyes locking with mine for a second—and then he was gone again, leaping over crates and cutting across the open yard.
Zaine surged forward, faster than I'd seen him move. He drew a short blade from his belt but kept it low.
Samuel reached into his bag and threw down a flash bomb. A pulse of smoke exploded, blinding us for a second.
"Smart," Zaine muttered, coughing. "But not enough."
"There—left! Toward the outer ridge!"
We chased him across the clearing. He tossed another crude mine behind him—just a trap trigger—but Zaine deflected it with his boot.
Finally, we cornered him near the outer perimeter wall. Out of breath, Samuel stood still, eyes wild.
Zaine stepped forward, weapon still drawn but low.
Samuel let out a bitter laugh. "Of course it's you two."
"You sold us out," I said. "To the Howling Rats."
Samuel didn't deny it. "They offered me something none of you ever did. A spot. A real chance. I was tired of being the forgotten one."
"You leaked a hidden quest," Zaine said, voice sharp. "You gave them more than positions. You broke the Tower's balance."
Samuel's eyes flashed. "What balance? Look around. You two are already acting like generals. Danjuro and Zaine, the prodigies. Me? I was always disposable."
"You didn't have to betray everyone to prove yourself," I said.
Samuel looked at me, a mix of anger and regret in his face. "Maybe not. But at least now I get to matter."
Zaine raised his blade—but held it. "You won't be executed here. You'll answer to the council."
Samuel didn't fight back. He just stared off into the forest beyond the wall.
"They'll come for it, you know," he whispered. "The Howling Rats. Now that they know the quest exists."
I looked at Zaine.
"Then we'd better be ready."
Zaine nodded slowly, his jaw tight. "We can't wait for the council. We move for the quest—now. If we don't act first, they will."
As Zaine gave the signal to the guards, a sharp metallic sound cut through the air.
Shhkk.
We turned in unison.
Samuel had somehow pulled a small knife from the lining of his boot. Before anyone could stop him, he buried it in his own throat—quick, brutal, final.
Blood poured down his chest as he dropped to his knees, then collapsed onto the cold ground.
One of the guards cursed under his breath. I stared, stunned, while Zaine's expression turned cold.
"He chose his end," Zaine said flatly. "But the damage's done."
The camp was still, everyone frozen by what had just happened.
Zaine turned toward me.
"We leave at dawn."