Everyone was on their way to the second fortress. They moved through the Wild Zone in tense silence, descending a steep trail along the cliffs until they reached the lower ledge. At the bottom, a clean jump sent them straight into the cold river waters. Time was working against them—according to Allison and Evangeline, it was vital to activate the second mechanism as soon as possible and occupy the fortress, bringing in civilians to reinforce the position.

Luke walked at a distance, keeping himself slightly removed from the main group. From afar, he watched as Allison led them with ease. She answered questions, gave instructions, listened to advice, delegated tasks. There was a natural flow around her—people moved in small clusters, operating under her quiet authority.

Those closest to her were the same ones from the meeting room earlier—key figures, leaders within the Haven. Their presence beside her formed a kind of informal command circle.

When they finally reached the second fortress, an unspoken hush settled over the group. The structure was imposing, built of dark stone, flanked by symmetrical towers and sharp battlements. Some stood slack-jawed, unable to hide their awe.

"It's identical to Bastion…" someone whispered, staring at the construction with a mix of wonder and reverence.

To many, the sight of the fortress wasn't just architecture. It was a symbol. A concrete doorway between the present and the possibility of returning home. After years trapped in that world, this structure represented a real first step toward leaving. And with that came emotions too complex to name.

Allison climbed a small rise near the entrance and raised her voice to address them all.

"All right, everyone. We don't have much time. You know what to do. Eat. Rest. Prep your tools. Use Meditation to recover mana and stamina. Meet up with your squads, review strategy, and be ready. We go after midnight—gives the others time to arrive by morning."

She paused for emphasis, then added with conviction:

"Dismissed."

People scattered immediately. Groups broke off and moved with practiced efficiency, each heading to their designated zones. Luke remained where he was, watching the others pull tents, pots, tables, and chairs out of their dimensional storage items with practiced ease. It was like watching a city rise from nothing.

While everyone seemed to have a task, he just stood there. Eventually, he made his way toward Allison, who was speaking with Mason.

"What do I do? What's the plan?" he asked.

She didn't even fully turn. "I'll explain later. It would take too long now."

"Right…" Luke muttered, standing awkwardly nearby.

The silence between the three quickly grew uncomfortable. Mason gave him a look—polite but edged.

"We'd appreciate a moment alone," Mason said firmly, but not unkindly. "We have something important to discuss."

Luke nodded. "Sure."

He turned and walked off with no destination in mind, until he spotted a building he recognized—an old house he had once used as a hideout. But as he neared it, he saw people entering, already claiming the space.

"Perfect," he muttered, glancing around.

The camp was coming alive around him. Tents rising, patrol routes being discussed, weapons tested, armor adjusted. Everyone had a role.

Everyone but him.

"Guess I'm the spare part," he mumbled. "No job for me."

Without much thought, Luke wandered toward the fortress entrance.

"Stop!" a voice called out.

It was Quinn, stepping from behind a tree, flanked by a few archers, bows already strung.

"The current mission is clearing alarms around the fortress," he said, with a tone that clearly placed him in charge. "We'd appreciate it if you didn't accidentally trigger one."

"Understood," Luke replied calmly, stepping away and altering his path.

He left the paved stone and entered the treeline, finding a wide moss-covered rock. Sitting down, he closed his eyes and began channeling Meditation, trying to recover some energy.

Behind him, Quinn pointed toward an odd indentation in the earth along the side of the fortress wall.

"Was that hole already there?" he asked, puzzled.

"No," Evangeline replied, approaching casually. "Luke dug it a few days ago."

She walked over and sat beside Luke on the same stone.

"Looks like we're on Team 'Rest and Don't Get in the Way,'" she said with a crooked smile.

"Seems like it," Luke replied.

They sat there in silence for a while, watching the constant movement around the fortress.

"Now that they're sort of going to help us… what was your original plan?" Evangeline asked, turning to him with a curious expression. She pointed at the hole in the ground on the side of the fortress—discreet but noticeable.

"Secret," Luke replied simply, eyes still on the horizon.

"Come on. That plan's gone now. At least feed my curiosity."

"Maybe someday," he said, crossing his arms. "Truth is, my plans usually aren't… let's say… elegant. I play dirty. Which is why I prefer not to share them until the time is right."

She looked again at the tunnel.

"I don't get it. It's just a hole."

"Keep thinking that," Luke said with a half-smile. "By the way… do you know their plan?"

Evangeline met his gaze, raised an eyebrow, and answered with a smirk:

"Secret."

"Fair," he chuckled, the laugh low and effortless.

"But it's nothing fancy. The usual formula: go in and kill things," she added casually.

As they spoke, a few people passed by carrying large pieces of metal. Luke noticed a group setting up what looked like an improvised workshop. The sound of hammers striking steel echoed nearby, while mages conjured controlled flames to light the forges. The air was thick with smoke and the sharp tang of oil.

"Over there they've got weapons scavenged from orcs… and armor from the undead in the wall dungeons," Evangeline commented. "Imagine what else they've collected."

Luke studied the scene more closely, watching the almost choreographed flow of the workers.

"Stealth or brute force?" he asked.

"Bit of both. What about yours?"

"Walk through the front door, trigger every alarm, and stroll casually up to whatever's waiting inside."

Evangeline raised an eyebrow, somewhere between skeptical and amused.

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"Doing that alone? Against whatever's lurking in there? Sounds… risky."

Luke shrugged.

"I plan half… and leave the other half to luck."

They both fell silent for a while, watching the camp unfold around them. People darted from station to station, carrying supplies, coordinating roles, sharpening blades. The air buzzed with purpose. With urgency.

And part of that urgency was his fault—Luke knew it.

His return had reignited Bartholomew's attention on the region, and that meant plans had to accelerate. The rest that should've followed the fall of the Orc Lord had been cut short. Everyone was tired, but there was no room to stop.

Eventually, Evangeline was called over to one of the central tents—a large one that had been set up for leadership strategy meetings. One by one, the core team began gathering inside, discussing roles, routes, and final logistics.

Luke stayed where he was, silently watching it all unfold.

"The feeling of being ignored isn't exactly great," Artemis muttered. "I think I preferred it when it was just us… and the lunatic trapped in the stone."

"I'm not a lunatic!" snapped a male voice, coming from the pendant around Luke's neck, full of barely restrained indignation.

"Sorry. Mr. Shitpants. How could I forget?" Artemis teased, her voice laced with a smirk.

The spirit inside the stone clicked his tongue in irritation.

"I've been gone for months. It's normal for things to shift a bit," Luke said, trying to ease the tension as he addressed Artemis.

"Hey, human," interrupted the voice from the stone. "Why don't you go in there alone?"

"You want me to die?" Luke asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No. I want you to prove you're strong. Kill the metal soldiers. Win the group's respect, crush the weak… and eliminate anyone who disagrees with you."

Luke sighed. "Human society doesn't work like the animal kingdom."

"Also," he added with dry irony, "wasn't your life mission to watch me die in there?"

"My life mission is to see you dead, yes," the stone replied, with unsettling serenity. "But it would be humiliating if that happened against those metal soldiers. They're weaker than I was, right?"

"That depends," Luke said, thoughtful. "Remember what I told you? Rock, paper, scissors. Like fire and water—sometimes the weaker one on paper is still dangerous in practice."

"Don't give me riddles. According to the system, are they weaker or not?"

Luke let out a slow breath. "They are. The Midnight Wardens are weaker than you were."

Honestly, they're even weaker than many of the monsters from the capital… but that doesn't make them any less deadly.

"Then it's settled. I want you to die to something stronger than me. That way, it won't be as embarrassing. But if you die to something weaker? Now that would be pathetic."

Luke frowned. "What kind of twisted logic lets you decide how I'm supposed to die?"

"No one's dying, okay?" Artemis cut in sharply. "If he dies, I lose my source of entertainment."

She crossed her arms—despite being, technically, just a voice.

"Do you know what cable TV is? Internet? Streaming? Yeah. I want to go to Earth, stuff my face with fast food, and binge K-dramas. So how about no cheering for Luke's death, please."

The stone spirit clicked his tongue again, clearly annoyed. "You're unbearable."

"And you shit your pants."

"Greedy woman. Fat—"

"Oh god… here we go again," Luke muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.

"He started it!"

"She started it!"

Without replying, Luke stood and started walking through the forest. The two voices continued bickering behind him—or rather, around his neck—like two kids fighting in the backseat of a long, long car ride.

Sometimes, he thought, it was hard to tell which was worse: the enemies waiting out there… or the spirits who never shut up.

***

By the time night fell, everyone was ready.

A few small campfires burned around the fortress, their soft flames casting flickering shadows across the stone and nearby trees. The sight of that camp—dozens of survivors assembled before the ancient stronghold—might have filled Angelica with pride… or perhaps apprehension.

Luke couldn't be sure. But to him, what mattered was that everyone here, tonight, was about to complete something she had once dreamed of. They were about to close a chapter.

The Haven had been born when Angelica and her brother first set out in search of that fortress. And now, despite all the losses, that legacy lived on.

Luke walked among the scattered groups, studying faces lit by the fire's faint glow. There were five fires burning, strategically placed. At the center of the camp, the command tent was still active—he saw leaders coming and going, checking lists, counting supplies, inspecting gear. Every detail looked like it could mean life or death.

Allison had gone in early and hadn't left since.

He approached one of the smaller fires, where three people sat talking quietly.

"Mind if I sit here?" he asked, stopping at a respectful distance.

"Do what you want," one of them replied without looking up.

Luke sat slowly. The fire's warmth was a comfort, but it didn't melt the tension in his chest.

Truth was, he wasn't just there to rest. He needed to get a sense of what was coming. After all, he was about to march into a deadly place with fifty others—many of whom, he knew, would've gladly seen him dead. Maybe as justice for Angelica. He needed to understand the plan. To be sure no "accidents" happened behind his back.

Still… he doubted they'd do anything like that. These weren't Kruger, or Paul, or the other bastards he'd crossed paths with. These were people from the Haven. People who, despite everything, still had a sense of honor.

He glanced to the side and saw Miriam sharpening her axe with quiet focus. The steady scrape of steel on stone was almost hypnotic.

"So... the plan is just to go in and politely ask the monsters to surrender?" he offered, trying to break the ice.

She looked at him for a moment—just long enough to recognize him—then went back to her work without saying a word.

Luke chose not to mention that if she simply stored the axe in her inventory, it would auto-repair and return sharpened. Maybe this was her hobby. Or maybe it trained some profession-linked skill. Best not to comment.

"I don't like you, skinny," Miriam said suddenly, her voice even and low. "Killing a teammate to save yourself and level up… that's betrayal."

"When Angelica died, I didn't level up," Luke replied calmly. "And you know the context."

She clicked her tongue and ran the stone across the blade one more time.

"We lost good people in that place. Anna. Melina. Victoria. Phillip. Henry... and many more."

For a moment, the silence between them grew heavy. Then she lifted her eyes and met his.

"But you went into the Ant Colony to protect the Haven. You could've run. You could've disappeared into the Wild Zone and lived your quiet little life. But instead, you helped Angelica. You helped all of us. So… for that, I thank you."

She took a slow breath, her gaze sharp but steady.

"But don't think that means you're forgiven. You're not one of us. We won't go after you, but we won't help you either. And I expect the same from you. No allies. No enemies. Just… coexistence. That's how it has to be."

Luke nodded, understanding completely.

"We can't erase the past or pretend nothing happened," he said. "Now... we're just people with the same goal. But if we're lucky, maybe we'll all make it out alive."

Miriam gave a faint smile—cold, but honest.

"Let's hope so."

There were no arguments, no need for long talks or drawn-out debates. The truth was simple: they would never be friends—but they didn't need to be enemies either.

Luke understood that clearly. To them, this was just business. A temporary arrangement, a pact forged not by trust or affinity, but by necessity. And honestly, he preferred it that way.

When the conversation around the fire grew livelier, laughter and voices blending into the night, Luke stood and quietly slipped away. That energy wasn't his. Not tonight.

He walked in silence back to the rock he had rested on earlier. But instead of sitting, he veered into the forest. He needed something more personal. Something to reconnect him to himself.

With a simple motion, he pulled his bow from the inventory. The feel of the wood in his hands was comforting—almost like a silent greeting. He positioned himself between the trees, took a deep breath, and began to practice.

Each arrow found its mark, thudding softly into bark with clean precision. Each impact brought a small, momentary release, as if the weight on his shoulders lessened with every shot. It was almost meditative. He didn't think. He simply let his body move.

After a while, the distant hum of voices reached his ears again.

Luke stored the bow and made his way back to the camp. As he approached, he saw that dinner had begun. Most of the group had gathered around the fires, eating and talking. In the center of it all, a larger table had been set up—Allison and the Haven's leadership sat around it.

Luke didn't join them. Instead, he pulled a sandwich from his storage pendant and ate quietly, eyes fixed on the fortress ahead. His gaze lingered on the stone walls, as if trying to see through them. As if he could feel what waited inside.

When dinner ended, the camp shifted again. People began packing up their gear, breaking down tents, and dousing fires with swift, practiced movements. Everything was done efficiently, methodically—like they needed to stay busy so their thoughts wouldn't catch up.

At the front, the leadership gathered around a makeshift wooden table. Beside it sat a pile of gear, neatly arranged, ready for redistribution.

Allison stepped forward and raised her voice so that all could hear.

"Tonight, you take a major step toward completing the tutorial," she said, her voice firm and steady. "By sunrise, I hope we'll have succeeded in our mission."

There were a few murmurs of approval, some quiet claps, a few nods. But beneath the surface, everyone's eyes carried the same weight—tight with unease, holding back what didn't need to be said aloud.

Once they stepped through the gates of that fortress, there were no guarantees of return.

Not for any of them.

Not even for Luke.

He knew better than anyone what was waiting inside. Because he had already faced it once.

And barely made it out alive.

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