The orcs were all gone.

  Not retreating. Not hiding. Gone—reduced to scorched sand, drifting ash, and the faint scent of blood that the ocean breeze struggled to carry away. The battlefield that moments ago had been alive with war cries was now unnervingly empty. Too empty. There had been hundreds, maybe more, and yet the shoreline before us looked as if it had been swept clean by an invisible hand.

  I could feel it in my gut.

  There were more to kill.

  I turned back toward the group, my eyes settling on Desmond. “Desmond.” I said, my voice lower than I intended, “do you see where the rest of the orcs are?”

  Desmond straightened. The casual slouch he’d adopted while catching his breath vanished as he focused. He opened his left eye and deliberately closed his right, the faint glow in his pupil sharpening as his skill activated. The air around him seemed to tense, as if the world itself was being scrutinized.

  He didn’t answer right away.

  His gaze moved slowly across the treeline, sweeping from the scorched forest edge to the distant mountains barely visible through the haze. The silence stretched, broken only by the crackle of dying embers in the sand and the rhythmic crash of waves behind us.

  Finally, he exhaled. “No.” he said. “I don’t see any clusters. No formations. No ambush lines.”

  He paused, squinting harder. “There is one.” he added. “More than five miles out. Moving alone. It’s not one of the ones that was set to rush us—wrong position, wrong intent.”

  “So it’s not coming?” Mei asked.

  Desmond shook his head. “If it is, it’ll take hours. And if it doesn’t... it’s likely reporting.”

  Sosuke stepped forward and drove his sword into the sand with a dull, final thud. The blade sank deep, vibrating slightly before going still. He leaned both hands on the hilt and bowed his head, shoulders rising and falling as he drew in a long, exhausted breath.

  “If this tower wants us to eradicate every orc on this island,” he said, voice steady despite the fatigue, “then so be it.”

  He lifted his head, eyes sharp again. “But not like this. Not without rest.”

  The beach was silent now.

  Not the peaceful kind—more like the aftermath of something violent that had exhausted itself. Smoke drifted lazily from scorched sand. Purple motes from Sosuke’s slash still faded in the air like dying stars.

  We didn’t chase the lone orc Desmond spotted. No one argued when Sosuke said we needed rest.

  A campfire was lit near the treeline, far enough from the shoreline that the wind wouldn’t kill it, close enough that we could still hear the waves. The fire crackled, orange light reflecting off blades and tired eyes.

  For a while, nobody spoke.

  We sat in a loose circle. Sosuke cleaned his sword. Mei leaned against a tree, shadows curled around her ankles like cats. Mary held her book close, as if it were a blanket. Isabella unpacked supplies with quiet efficiency. Alex stared into the flames, poking them with a stick.

  Eli sat apart at first.

  His leg was healed enough to fight, but not enough to forget. He hadn’t looked at Desmond once since we regrouped.

  Desmond noticed. Of course he did.

  He always noticed. Good guys do that.

  Finally, Alex broke the silence. “So,” he said, forcing a grin, “anyone else feel like they just participated in a genocide speedrun?”

  Mary winced. “Alex...”

  “What?” He shrugged. “Coping mechanism.”

  Soto snorted. “Better than crying. Be strong.”

  “That slash...” Alex continued, nodding toward Sosuke, “was insane. Like—illegal levels of power. That's our get out of jail free card!”

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Sosuke didn’t look up. “It wasn’t enough.”

  That made a few heads turn.

  Haruto frowned. “You erased hundreds of orcs in one strike.”

  “And there are still more.” Sosuke replied calmly. “If the tower wants eradication, that's a hard task even for me.”

  Mei clicked her tongue. “You’re always like this. Win decisively, then complain it wasn’t enough.”

  Sosuke glanced at her. “Clean victories keep us alive.”

  She didn’t argue that.

  The fire popped, sending sparks into the air. The warmth finally started to settle into my bones. For the first time since arriving on this floor, my shoulders relaxed. Alex passed around simple rations—bread, dried meat, something warm heated. It wasn’t fancy, but it tasted better than it had any right to. That's his speciality.

  “This is nice.” Soto said quietly. “Better than it has any right to be.”

  “Yeah.” Alex added. “Feels almost normal. Like camping.”

  Isabella nodded. “Normal doesn’t last here. But moments do.”

  That seemed to sit with everyone.

  Desmond cleared his throat.

  It was soft, but the sound cut through the circle. He stood slowly, hunched over, and turned toward Eli.

  “I owe you words.” Desmond said.

  Eli stiffened. His jaw clenched.

  Desmond didn’t look away. “I won’t justify what I did again. I won’t dress it up as strategy or necessity. I forced your body to do something you didn’t consent to.”

  Eli’s hands curled into fists.

  Desmond continued, voice steady but heavy. “I made that choice because I believed it was the only way for both of you to live. That belief doesn’t make it right. It only explains it.”

  The fire crackled louder in the silence.

  “I’m not asking for forgiveness.” Desmond said. “I’m asking you to understand that I will carry that decision with me, whether you forgive me or not.”

  Eli finally spoke. His voice was rough. “You broke my leg.”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  Eli continued, “You used my skill. My body. Like a tool.”

  He nodded once more. “Yes.”

  Eli frowned, “You didn’t even look at me when it happened.”

  Desmond swallowed. “If I had, I might’ve hesitated. And then you would be dead.”

  That landed hard.

  Eli laughed once—short, bitter. “That’s the worst part. You’re most definitely right.”

  He stared into the fire, eyes unfocused. “I’ve been angry because it hurt. Because it scared me. Because I hated feeling used.” He took a shaky breath. “But mostly... because I would’ve done the same thing if our roles were reversed.”

  Desmond’s eyes widened slightly.

  Eli stood, ignoring Mary’s instinctive movement to help him. He walked—slowly, carefully—until he was standing in front of Desmond.

  “I don’t forgive you because it was right.” Eli said. “I forgive you because we’re still here. Both of us.”

  Desmond’s shoulders sagged, like something heavy finally slipped off them.

  “I’m sorry.” he said again. This time, it broke.

  Eli nodded once. “Don’t do it again without telling me first.”

  A weak chuckle rippled through the group.

  Malik wiped his eyes dramatically. W-wow. I-I didn't expect that.”

  Mary smiled, relief softening her features. “I’m glad.”

  Sosuke watched the exchange silently. Then he said, “This is what keeps groups alive. Not power. Trust.”

  Mei hummed. “It's actually power. Don’t get sentimental.”

  “I will.” Sosuke replied. “Because tomorrow, sentiment might be the only thing stopping us from tearing each other apart.”

  The fire burned lower as the night deepened, its flames shrinking into dull orange tongues that barely held back the dark. Sundown had come quietly, the sky bruised with orange and red as the last light bled into the horizon.

  Desmond pushed himself to his feet, stretching his shoulders. “I’ll be right back.”

  I barely looked up. I didn’t know what he was leaving for—probably to relieve himself. The only place with any privacy was toward the shoreline, and none of us exactly had the luxury of conjuring toilets. I nodded without thinking, my attention still on the dying fire.

  He didn’t get far. No more than a hundred feet.

  I turned my head just as the sound hit us.

  Crunch!

  It wasn’t sharp. It was explosive.

  My spine went cold.

  Before my mind could catch up, I felt it—a pressure in the air, a suffocating presence behind me that did not belong to Desmond. It pressed against my instincts, drowning them in dread.

  I turned.

  What I saw erased every thought in my head.

  Eli let out a low, confused groan. “...What?”

  Isabella’s hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide, glassy, already reflecting something she didn’t want to accept. “Oh my God.”

  Malik staggered back a step, clutching his head as if denying sight might undo reality. “You can’t be serious!”

  A massive red foot was planted where Desmond had been standing.

  Crushed beneath it—what was left of him—blood smeared across shattered earth. The ground had split outward from the impact, spiderweb cracks radiating beneath the thing’s weight.

  My gaze dragged upward.

  It was enormous. At least thirty feet tall, its skin a deep, raw crimson that seemed to drink in the firelight. A red orc. Its sheer size should have made it impossible to miss, impossible to approach unnoticed.

  And yet it had.

  There was no way it snuck up on us naturally. No footsteps. No warning. It had to be a skill—some ability that bent perception, suppressed presence, erased sound.

  The world around me washed white.

  The campfire, the ocean, the others—gone. Reduced to nothing. All I could see was the orc lifting its foot, thick blood trailing from it in slow, heavy drops.

  I narrowed my focus until only two things existed. the monster in front of me, and myself.

  My breath steadied. My mana responded.

  “Lightning Bolts.” I said, my voice flat and empty.

  Behind me, black magic circles flared into existence, crackling with intense hateful vengeful brutal and violent energy.

  "Maximum Output."