Adam woke to pain.
Not screaming pain. Not the blinding, all-consuming agony he remembered too well. This was dull, heavy, insistent—like his body reminding him it had been pushed far past its limits and was still tallying the cost.
He groaned softly and tried to move.
Something solid pressed against his back. Wood. Rough. A barrel, maybe.
“Easy.”
The voice was deep and steady, close enough that Adam felt the vibration more than heard it. He cracked one eye open, vision swimming as the world resolved in uneven layers of firelight and shadow.
A camp.
The camp.
The ruined campsite lay around him, but the chaos had been… organized. Bodies moved. Supplies moved together away from the blood and puddles. The rain had eased, leaving the air thick with smoke and damp ash.
Adam sucked in a breath and hissed.
His wounds were dressed.
As good as they could be in the situation.
Cloth bindings wrapped his thigh, shoulder, and ribs, layered with strips of hide and moss. Pressure applied where it mattered. Immobilization where it was needed.
“Don’t move yet,” the voice said again.
Adam blinked harder and turned his head.
The orc sat nearby, massive frame folded with surprising care as he worked on tightening a knot in one of the bandages. Up close, Adam could see how young he really was—maybe his mid 20’s with broad shoulders and muscle, yet, the face beneath the beard still carried the sharpness of youth.
Bald head. Thick black beard braided tightly despite everything it had endured. Pale blue eyes that flicked up to meet Adam’s.
“It’s good your awake,” the orc said. Not relief. Just fact.
Adam swallowed. “You… did this?”
“Yes.”
“…Thanks.”
The orc inclined his head once. “You did not die. That mattered. A debt repaid”
Adam exhaled slowly and leaned his head back against the barrel, eyes half-lidded as memory crashed back into him in jagged pieces—fire, blood, children screaming, the drow leader’s eyes as fear finally found him.
The kids.
His head snapped up.
They were there.
All eight of them, huddled together near the fire under a tent, wrapped in scavenged cloaks and blankets. They flinched when Adam moved, then froze, eyes wide and unsure. One of the younger girls clutched a boy’s sleeve with both hands.
They were watching him.
Adam felt something twist in his chest.
“Hey,” he said hoarsely. “Your… your okay. I’m not going to let anything happen.”
A few of them nodded. None spoke.
He noticed the weapons stacked nearby—drow blades, spears, crossbows laid out neatly. The orc’s doing, no doubt.
Adam let out a shaky breath.
I really did that.
A flicker of light pulsed in the lower corner of his vision.
System notification.
Before he could focus on it, the air in front of him rippled.
A new screen forced itself into view—gold-edged, informal, and utterly out of place.
SYSTEM ADMINISTRATOR MESSAGE – PRIORITY
A familiar smirking silhouette leaned against the edge of the interface.
“Well now,” drawled Doc Holliday, tipping an invisible hat. “You do have a knack for leavin’ messes behind you, don’t ya?”
Adam blinked. “Doc?”
“Don’t look so surprised, son. I keep an eye on my investments.” Doc’s grin widened. “Listen close. Before you go levelin’ up any further, you might wanna poke around your system settings.”
Adam frowned. “Why?”
“’Cause yours ain’t like everyone else’s,” Doc said lightly. “You can form parties. Share quests. Help folks grow instead of leavin’ ’em behind. Handy thing, if you’ve got a conscience.”
Adam glanced at the kids.
Doc followed his gaze and hummed. “Yeah. That figures.”
Another window slid in beside the message, glowing brighter than the rest.
LEGENDARY QUEST OFFERED
Quest Name: Find a Place to Belong
Description: The lost cannot remain lost forever. Build, join, or protect a place worth standing for.
Reward: ??? (Legendary)
Failure: Death
Doc tapped the edge of the screen. “No rush. But when you finish that one?” He smiled, sharp and knowing. “You won’t be the same man.”
The message faded.
Adam sat there for a long moment, rain dripping from the barrel beside him.
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
“…That’s not ominous at all,” he muttered.
He cleared the screen and focused inward.
“System. Party settings.”
A new interface unfolded.
PARTY MANAGEMENT – AVAILABLE
Create Party
Invite Members
Share Quests
Adam hesitated for only a second.
“Invite,” he said.
One by one, figures appeared in the list.
PARTY MEMBERS
Adam Commeree – Level 5
Leader
Gorak Stonebound – Level 4
Orc | Profession: Blacksmith
Children:
- Marcus – Level 1
- Lucius – Level 1
- Tiber – Level 1
- Cassian – Level 1
- Galen – Level 1
- Livia – Level 1
- Aurelia – Level 1
- Maris – Level 1
A collective gasp went through the group.
One of the boys—Marcus—looked down at his hands like he expected them to change.
“We’re… in a party?” he whispered.
Adam nodded. “Yeah. Means you get stronger if we work together.”
The orc’s eyes narrowed slightly as he studied the interface only he could see. “…You can share your burden,” he said slowly. Not a question.
“That’s the idea.”
Adam selected Share Quests.
QUEST SHARED: Hunt 10 Forest Creatures (Continuous – Ends at Level 10)
QUEST SHARED: Reach Level 5 – Basic Spell Selection
The System chimed.
Experience flooded in—delayed rewards cascading all at once from the fallen drow.
Adam sucked in a sharp breath as warmth surged through him.
LEVEL UP!
Adam Commeree → Level 5
Screens stacked rapidly.
SKILL PROGRESSION UPDATE
- Stealth: Lv.1 → Lv.4
- Pathfinder: Lv.1 → Lv.5
- Pain Resistance: Lv.1 → Lv.8
- Unarmed Combat: Lv.5 → Lv.9 (Fought higher-level enemies)
Adam let out a low whistle. “Okay. That’s… new.”
A final window opened.
SPELL SELECTION AVAILABLE
Choose One Basic Spell:
- Fireball – High damage, area effect
- Icebolt – Control and slowing
- Earth Bullet – Armor-piercing projectile
- Wind Blade – Precision cutting attack
- Lay on Hands – Restores health through touch
Adam stared at the list.
Fireball was tempting. So was Icebolt.
But he looked down at his bandages, felt the deep ache still humming beneath his skin.
“Lay on Hands,” he said quietly.
The screen flashed.
SPELL LEARNED: LAY ON HANDS (Lv.1)
Channel restorative energy through direct contact.
Without hesitation, Adam placed his glowing hand over the worst of his wounds.
Warmth flooded him.
Not the dull warmth of adrenaline—but deep, soothing relief. Torn muscle knit. Pain ebbed. He moaned softly despite himself, head tipping back as his body let go for the first time since waking.
When he lowered his hand, the bandages were soaked through—not with blood, but faint silver light that faded quickly.
Adam stood.
The children stared at him like he’d just performed a miracle.
“Grab weapons,” he said calmly. “Anything you can carry. We’re not staying here.”
They scrambled to obey.
Adam led them away from the drow camp, away from the ruins of their former homes without saying a word.
He didn’t look back.
Instead, he focused—quietly, deliberately—letting the forest speak to him the way it had begun to earlier. The faint pull in his chest, the subtle sense of slope and shadow, of where the land wanted him to go.
Pathfinder hummed softly in the back of his mind.
Adam adjusted their route by inches rather than steps, guiding them through thicker undergrowth, around rises and shallow ravines, choosing paths where the smoke thinned and the smell of burned flesh faded faster. He kept the children’s eyes forward, away from the worst of it.
Even so, his stomach twisted.
Too late, a voice whispered.
You were too late.
He clenched his jaw and kept walking.
Behind him, the group moved in uneven rhythm.
Marcus walked first among the children, jaw set tight, gripping a short drow spear that dragged slightly against the ground. Lucius carried a small round shield nearly too big for him, knuckles white where he clutched the strap. Tiber and Cassian shared a crude crossbow between them, taking turns carrying it like something fragile.
Galen had claimed a dagger—too large, poorly balanced—but he held it like it mattered.
The girls stayed close together.
Livia carried a sling she’d scavenged, stones clinking softly in her pouch. Aurelia held a narrow blade tucked close to her body, eyes sharp and watchful despite her fear. Maris had no weapon at all—only a stick she’d sharpened into a crude point—but she walked with her chin up, refusing to cry.
Adam noticed all of it.
He always did.
Gorak brought up the rear.
The young orc moved like someone finally allowed to breathe again. He rolled his shoulders as he walked, testing muscles stiff from confinement. In one massive hand, he carried the iron hammer, twirling it occasionally, swinging it in slow, controlled arcs.
Not reckless.
Practicing.
The hammer whistled softly through the damp air before settling again against his shoulder.
The orc looked up, pale blue eyes soft for the first time.
Adam nodded toward the hammer.
Adam stated. “You’re comfortable with that thing.”
Gorak snorted. “Comfortable? No.” He spun it once more, grip adjusting. “Familiar.”
Adam nodded. “Fair.”
They walked in silence for several minutes before Adam spoke again.
“Back there,” he said quietly, eyes forward. “Those drow. They weren’t surprised to see a human.”
“No,” Gorak agreed.
“That normal?”
Gorak’s jaw tightened. “Yes.”
Adam let that sit. “Why?”
“Because humans are weak,” Gorak said bluntly. Then, after a pause, “And because most races want them that way.”
Adam exhaled slowly. “That tracks.”
Gorak continued, voice even. “Dwarves hate orcs because we are born of the mountains but not bound to them. They dig. We endure. They think ownership is strength.”
“And elves?”
Gorak’s pale blue eyes hardened. “Elves hate goblins because goblins multiply without permission. Same reason they hate humans. You grow where you are not invited.”
Adam glanced sideways. “There’s more than one kind of elf, right?”
Gorak nodded. “Three.”
He raised a thick finger. “Drow. You met them.”
Another finger. “High elves. They ignore everything beneath them. If you suffer quietly enough, they may call it ‘balance.’”
A third finger. “Blood elves.”
Adam raised an eyebrow. “Sounds friendly.”
Gorak snorted. “They were cast out. Now they sail the coasts and skies. Pirates. Raiders. Mercenaries. They sell their magic to anyone with coin.”
Adam absorbed that.
“And the drow?” he asked. “What was that… culling thing?”
Gorak slowed slightly, hammer resting against his shoulder. “They hunt lower races before they reach Level 10.”
Adam stopped walking.
The kids froze instinctively.
“Why ten?” Adam asked.
Gorak turned. “Because that is when the System allows you to claim a class. Or when your race can begin the path to ascension at higher levels.”
Adam felt something cold settle in his gut. “So they kill them before—”
“—before they can become more,” Gorak finished. “At Level 25, a race can advance. At 50, refine. At 100, transcend. At 200…” He shrugged. “Only legends.”
Adam swallowed. “And skills?”
“Basic skills cap at ten,” Gorak said. “Unless they are resistances. Those go to twenty.”
Adam flexed his hands slowly. Pain Resistance, eight.
“Classes,” Gorak continued, “are not chosen. They are earned. The System watches how you fight, how you work, how you endure. At Level 10, it offers what you have become.”
“And professions?”
“The same.” Gorak’s voice dropped. “That is why my tribe is dead.”
Adam turned fully now.
“I was Level 4,” Gorak said. “I had fought. I had endured. Then the System spoke.”
His grip tightened on the hammer.
“It offered me Blacksmith.”
Adam’s breath caught. “At four?”
“Yes.” Gorak nodded once. “A rare offering. Early. Because I loved the forge. Because I listened to steel.”
“And they killed your tribe for it,” Adam said quietly.
“They feared what I would become,” Gorak replied. “An orc who builds instead of breaks. They killed them all and beat me when I tried to resist. Then they decided to go to a near by human settlement because one slave wasn’t enough.”
The forest fell silent around them.
Adam looked at the children ahead. At their small backs. Their weapons. Their future.
He nodded once.
“Alright,” he said. “Then we don’t stop at ten. We keep going as far as we can.”
Gorak’s eyes flicked to him, something like respect settling there.
“No,” the orc agreed. “We do not stop.”
They walked on.
And behind them, the smoke of the ruined village finally disappeared into the trees.