The meeting hall's door creaked shut behind Jonas, leaving the team alone in the dim light filtering through the shuttered windows. The scent of aged wood and damp earth filled the air, a stark contrast to the open wilderness they'd grown accustomed to.
Ethan slumped onto a wooden bench, his axe clattering to the floor. "Well, that went better than expected. No one shot or stabbed us, at least."
Lily rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. She ran a hand over the rough-hewn table, her fingers tracing the grooves left by countless knives.
"They're scared of us," she murmured. "Did you see how they clustered together? Like we were carrying some kind of plague."
Victor leaned against the wall, his gaze fixed on the door. "Can you blame them? Who knows what previous visitors did to them, and as the saying goes, you're better off safe than sorry."
His voice was calm, but his fingers tapped a silent rhythm against his thigh—a tell Sam recognised as unease.
AJ, still perched on Lily's shoulder, rippled slightly. "We need to... show them... we're not... a threat... using our actions."
Sam nodded. "Then we start working tomorrow. No complaints. Be ready to stay here for the next few days."
---
Day one.
The morning sun had barely crested the palisade when Hesta thrust a basket of rusted tools into Ethan's arms. Her hands were leathery from years of wrestling with the earth, her fingernails permanently stained with soil.
"You know how to weed without killing the crop?" she asked, her voice as dry as the cracked earth beneath their feet.
Ethan grinned, hefting a hoe like a battle-axe. "How hard can it be?"
Three hours later, his shirt clung to his back with sweat, his muscles screaming as he wrestled with a Bloodfruit vine that seemed determined to strangle his wrist.
"This is worse than the creatures out there," he groaned, yanking at a root that recoiled like a living thing.
Hesta snorted, tossing him a waterskin. "That's Bloodfruit for you. Roots grow like they've got a grudge." She eyed his blistered palms. "Seems like you're not completely useless."
Nearby, Lily worked beside Kira, a wiry teenager with dirt smudged across her freckled nose. The girl's eyes kept darting to AJ, who pulsed contentedly in the shade of a nearby plant.
"You really fought a triceratops herd?" Kira whispered, her voice hushed with awe.
Lily laughed, shaking soil from her gloves. "Fought? No. Ran from? Absolutely." She mimed a frantic sprint, sending Kira into a fit of giggles. Around them, a few of the other gardeners paused, their curiosity piqued.
One of the older women, her arms lined with scars from thorns, edged closer. "You saw one of them horned devils up close?"
Lily nodded, lowering her voice like she was sharing a secret. "Not just saw. Watched one toss a crocodile like it was a ragdoll." She demonstrated with her hands, arcing them through the air. "A few metres up, no problem."
Kira's eyes widened. "No way!"
"Yes way," Ethan chimed in, wiping his brow. "Biggest croc I've ever seen—scaly armour, teeth like knives. That triceratops, though? Lifted it clean off the ground." He jabbed his hoe upward for emphasis.
"Well," the older woman spoke, tossing Lily a handful of seeds, "if you've survived flying crocodiles, I guess you'll manage our weeds."
As they returned to work, Kira leaned closer to Lily. "Tell me about the crocodile again," she whispered. "Did it scream?"
Lily turned and grinned. "Oh, it screamed all right. Like a little girl."
---
Day Two.
Victor spent the morning at the forge, where the grizzled blacksmith, Garret, grudgingly allowed him to pump the bellows.
The man's hands were a map of scars—some old and silvered, others still pink and healing—but his latest burns were fresh, clustered around his wrists like bracelets of blistered skin.
"Your lot," Garret grunted between strikes at a lump of dark, metallic rock, "got any metalworkers?"
Victor shook his head. "We haven't got much of that kind of practical knowledge. Walter was a businessman, so was I, he became a teacher after retirement though, Sam is a scientist of some kind. Ethan a barista, Lily was in school, and AJ was in tech."
Garret paused mid-swing, his hammer hovering over the stone anvil. The metallic rock glowed a dull orange, stubbornly resisting the strikes. For a moment, the only sound was the forge's hungry crackle. Then he let out a dry chuckle.
"Tech." He spat the word like it was a bad taste. "Yeah. My brother was a software engineer. Spent his days staring at screens, making numbers dance." He wiped sweat from his brow with a soot-stained forearm.
"Now?" He jerked his chin toward the palisade. "He's out there somewhere. Never held a hammer, or any tool, in his life. If he's still alive, he'll be struggling like hell."
Victor's grip on the bellows tightened. "We've all got people out there."
Garret nodded and remained silent for a little while as he looked over the ore in front of him. Eventually, he turned and studied Victor, his eyes sharp under bushy brows. "You any good with that knife of yours?"
Victor met his gaze. "Good enough to survive."
A slow nod. Garret turned back to his work, gesturing at the stubborn ore. "Found this about a day's walk east. Heavy as sin, won't melt right. But I know it's got metal in it—just needs the right persuasion."
Victor watched as Garret resumed pounding, each strike sounding out with resounding thuds. The blacksmith's movements were precise despite the crude tools—every blow calculated, every adjustment measured.
There was an art to it, Victor realised, not so different from the patience required for a good strike at an enemy.
"Here." Garret suddenly thrust the hammer toward him. "Your turn. Show me what 'good enough to survive' looks like."
Victor hesitated for a moment before taking the tool. The weight felt foreign in his hands, but the intent was familiar. He brought it down on the ore, the impact vibrating up his arms.
Garret grunted. "Too timid. Metal doesn't respond to kindness."
Victor adjusted his grip, remembering the first time he'd driven his knife into a creature—how the resistance had given way all at once. The next strike rang true, and a hairline fracture appeared in the rock's surface.
For the first time, something like approval flickered in Garret's eyes. "Maybe there's hope for you yet, city boy."
---
Day three.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the settlers gathered around a crackling bonfire in the central square.
The team joined them, keeping to the edges, mindful of their place as newcomers. The fire cast a warm glow over the faces of the settlers, who chatted softly among themselves.
Ethan, always eager to lighten the mood, began sharing stories of their journey. "You should have seen their faces when we saw a Triceratops toss a giant croc a few metres up," he said, chuckling. "I swear Lily's eyes were about to pop out."
A few settlers laughed as Ethan recreated her expression. They grew curious. One of the younger men, his face lit by the fire, asked, "You've seen a lot out there, haven't you? What's the strangest thing you've come across?"
Sam leaned forward, his voice steady. "There's a lot we don't understand yet. We've seen creatures that shouldn't exist—dinosaurs, creatures straight from fantasy novels, even the plants are weird.
But the strangest would have to be an obsidian obelisk. It seemed to radiate a strange energy, and it even attempted to communicate."
An older man named Drel, his hands rough and missing two fingers, nodded thoughtfully. "You've seen an obelisk, then? There's talk of a group called the Obsidian Sect. They're led by a woman named Kael, who found one of those obelisks. They say it gave her knowledge and power."
Lily's eyes widened at the realisation of there being more obelisks. However, she was more curious about the various organisations at this moment. "What other groups are out there?"
A younger woman, her face half-lit by the fire, added, "There's the Iron Vanguard. Mercenaries, or so they say. They'll fight for anyone who pays, but they've got a code. Won't take a job if it goes against their principles."
Sam got the attention of a woman sitting close to him. Liss, Kira's mother, leaned closer to Sam as he spoke quietly. "Do you know anything about the safe zone?"
Liss replied in a not-so-quiet voice, almost as if to ensure the others knew what they were talking about. "The safe zone? There's a few of them. Which one are you talking about?"
Sam did his best to cover up his surprise. "There's one being run by a guy called Richard. Maybe you've heard of it?"
Liss nodded. "No, I don't know about any Richards."
Ethan brought the focus back to their stories. "We've faced some crazy stuff—giant crocodiles, triceratops herds, even a mammoth. But those obelisks... they're something else. The energy they emit really messes with your head after a while."
Victor joined in. "We've seen enough to know that danger lurks everywhere. But we've also seen beauty and wonder."
The settlers listened intently, their curiosity piqued. Drel leaned back, his gaze distant. "The world's a strange place now. Those strange creatures and plants, then there's the groups like the Obsidian Sect and the Iron Vanguard—that's just the beginning. There's talk of others—the Cult of the Shattered Veil, dangerous folk who worship Chaos."
The conversation continued, the settlers sharing their own stories of survival and the strange encounters they'd had.
The team listened, their minds racing with the new information. The world was vast and full of unknowns, but they were one step closer to unravelling its mysteries.
As the night wore on, Jonas, who had been listening silently, stood abruptly. "Enough talk for one night. Dawn comes early, and there's work to be done."
The dismissal was clear, but as they rose and moved to leave, Hesta pressed a cloth-wrapped bundle into Lily's hands—fresh bread, still warm.
As they walked back to the meeting hall, they exchanged glances, the weight of the new information settling over them.
---
Day Four
The meeting hall was bathed in pale dawn light when Sam gathered the others. They sat in a tight circle, their voices hushed as they parsed the information gleaned from the settlers. The scent of Hesta's bread—now reduced to crumbs—lingered in the air.
AJ pulsed softly on the table. "Let's organise what we've learned." His sentences now smoother as he put more effort into communicating quickly and clearly.
The larger factions consist of the Obsidian Sect, led by Kael, who claims the obelisks grant power and knowledge. the Iron Vanguard, a mercenary group with skilled fighters, but their loyalty is for sale. And some kind of cultist group that they didn't know much about.
The local powers are the River Pact, who are a loose alliance of settlements along the eastern waterways. They are trade-focused, but wary of outsiders. The Chainbreakers are a rebel faction supposedly targeting safe zones.
As for the safe zones, there are at least four zones confirmed, all following authoritarian models. Similarly trade freedom for safety, with harsh punishments for dissent.
"Those cultists sound worse than the creatures. At least animals don't carve symbols into their victims," Lily shuddered, recalling Drel's missing fingers.
Victor leaned back, his arms crossed. "There's a few choices. We can continue to tough it out as we have been, or find a way to join one of these organisations."
AJ spoke up. "Talking about the obelisks reminded me of the knowledge you were given Sam. Have you managed to decipher anything related to cultivation?"
Sam hesitated for a moment before speaking. "It's been hard to decipher, and I'm only scratching at the surface, but from what I understand, there seems to be a whole cultivation system with different realms of power."