As soon as Leo stepped back into camp, he felt the wrongness in the air. Most adventurers were sighing in defeat. A few wore raw grief on their faces.
His chest sank. Today's hunt outside had gone badly. Many hadn't returned.
"Come on, Maijessie. We've got things to do—gear to repair, food to restore strength. And… I need to check on a friend."
At Charsi's forge, they paid dearly. Even after trading in their worn whites, repairs cost 400 gold. Weapons were worst—Fallen strength snapped too many of his javelins.
He wanted to feast with his sister to celebrate their reunion. But the atmosphere poisoned everything. Even ale tasted flat.
After forcing down dinner, they tried the barracks for news—only to be barred. Pacing in frustration, they ran into Shike.
When she learned their intent, she checked records. Reinhardt's squad had gone out—but their return was missing.
Dread stabbed Leo's gut. Shike's eyes gleamed sly. She leaned close. "There is one place with detailed records. But it's deep in the barracks. Even I can't just walk in."
He pressed her, begged. She teased and deflected.
At last, gritting his teeth, he bowed his head. "Count me in your debt. If you need me, as long as it doesn't break my principles, I'll help."
Her smile sharpened. She slipped into the shadows. Minutes later, she returned. "Reinhardt's statue has shattered. That means he's gone."
The words crushed him. Leo seized her shoulders, fingers digging in. "No! Not him! Reinhardt—first among us! The strongest! Not him!"
"Hurts, hurts—calm down!" she hissed, eyes watering.
His hands dropped, limp. Head hung. "Sorry. I… lost it. Let's go, Maijessie. I need to be alone."
Later, lying on his cot, memories battered him. Reinhardt—boisterous, brilliant, noble. Always talking about light piercing darkness. Always shouldering hope. And now, gone on the first day.
There was no protagonist. No chosen one. No destiny. Just fragile humans, dying in dirt. Glory and honor turned to dust. Only power mattered. Power to protect. Power to keep his sister alive.
He rose, heart heavy, and found her still meditating by the fire.
"Maijessie. I need to see Akara."
"Brother, whatever you choose, I'll support you." Her voice was soft.
He hurried to Akara's tent. Rogues moved to block him until her voice—gentle, commanding—called, "Let him in."
He entered, her eyes calm, penetrating.
"Welcome, lost warrior. Human rage often comes from anger at their own weakness."
"Why?" His voice broke.
"You are strange. Fire rages inside you enough to drive men mad, yet you remain calm. Why?"
Because I'm not one of you, he thought bitterly. I'm a traveler from another life. Aloud he said, "Lady Akara, they say you see hearts. Please, guide me."
She spoke like scripture. "The eagle pushes its chicks from the cliff. Only in life and death do they learn to fly. Without trial, no hero rises."
"But the Blood Moor's monsters are too strong. So many will die." His words were a confession, his guilt laid bare. He had known this was Nightmare difficulty—and stayed silent to guard his secret.
"Time is the rarest thing. In this moment, we hold humanity's sacrifice, hopes, and future. Victory never comes cheap. Behind every triumph lies uncounted dead. You have taken the first step. I pray you can walk it to the end."
Her words scalded. It wasn't the world he hated—it was himself. He had knowledge no one else possessed. He had kept silent. And now Reinhardt was gone.
No more. He had no choice before. But now—he could act.
"Lady Akara, forgive my boldness. But I ask this: let the Rogue Camp share tactics between squads. Anonymously, under your authority. Consider it my debt."
She smiled gently. The tent seemed to glow with her warmth. "Gladly."
He spilled what he could—observations, tactics, weaknesses of the monsters. Then he bowed and withdrew.
Behind him, Akara murmured, "A new hero grows. May fate favor us again."
But Leo muttered under his breath, "I'm no hero. Just a man trying to live—and maybe do a little good."
He stepped outside—and froze. Damn it, he hadn't bought potions.
"Brother…" Maijessie whispered, peeking from behind. "You didn't buy supplies, did you?"
"Heh. Oops."
She rolled her eyes. "Ten healing, thirty mana. Do we have enough? We don't have much gold left."
He handed her 2100 coins, leaving only 40.
Moments later she returned, smiling. "Lady Akara was touched by you. From now on, we get a ten percent discount on magic items. And here—210 coins left."
"Keep it. Tomorrow we rise early." He marched off, too embarrassed to meet her eyes.
Laughter rang behind him from Rogues who had overheard. He fled faster.
Before dawn, he woke naturally, body aching, instincts unyielding. No alarm needed.
Outside, Maijessie was already meditating, dew on her armor.
"You've been up long?" He tossed her a towel.
She pinched it delicately, sniffed.
"Hey! It's new. Do you think I'm dirty?"
"Mentors say stupidity is contagious," she answered primly, wiping herself.
He clenched his jaw. A good man doesn't argue with his sister. He reached for the towel back.
"Wait. I'll wash it before returning."
Was he the crazy one here?
At the gate, many squads had already left. Amid the crowd, one girl stood out. Small—barely taller than Maijessie, frail-looking, almost malnourished. Pretty, with gentle eyes, a quiet strength that reminded him of Akara.
Her breastplate bore the crossed-axes badge: Barbarian. Yet she looked nothing like one.
She had just been rejected by another team. Still, she bowed politely, smiling with dignity through the sting.
Something stabbed Leo's chest. Was this what Maijessie once endured?
His sister noticed his expression. "Brother… do you like her? I think she seems nice. Gentle. I'd get along with her."
Mortified, he strode past, dragging Maijessie with him.
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