A group of people wake up in video game world and are forced to work together to survive and find out how to escape.

Chapter 45 Revenge.

~Revenge.~

~Payback.~

~For what he did.~

I don’t remember deciding to move, but my feet are already carrying me forward. Out of the bedroom. Out of the inn. My body moves with certainty, my mind foggy, distant—like I’m watching from behind a thick sheet of glass.

~The castle.~

~He is there.~

~The one who did this to me.~

My hands clench into fists as I step into the empty streets. The world around me feels hollow—the buildings, the torches flickering in the night, the distant voices of people still awake. None of it matters.

~All that matters is getting to him.~

~For revenge.~

~Revenge.~

The word echoes softly in my mind, familiar and distant all at once.

~The man with the potion.~

~The one who took everything from me.~

I move through the streets, my footsteps soundless, my focus razor-sharp. Nothing else matters. Nothing else even feels real.

Then—something familiar.

The shop.

The one we’d stolen cloaks from months ago. The window had been shattered then. It had since been repaired.

Was repaired.

Shatter.

Glass rains down, glinting in the dim torchlight.

I step inside, my fingers closing around the first cloak I see.

Without a second thought, I pull it over my shoulders and slip back into the night.

The castle looms ahead.

I keep moving.

I slip in through the side entrance—just like before.

The castle is quiet at this hour, the torches casting long, flickering shadows along the stone walls. I move without hesitation, my body remembering the path even if my mind feels distant, unfocused.

Through the servant’s area.

Past the empty kitchens.

Down the dim corridors, my footsteps barely making a sound.

I know exactly where I’m going.

The room he was in before.

The man with the potion. The one who did this to me.

~Revenge.~

My fingers tighten around the hilt of the sword at my waist.

I reach the door.

“Artemis, what are you doing?” Shade’s voice slips into my mind, but it feels distant. Muffled.

~Revenge.~

I push the door open, stepping inside.

Empty.

~He’s not here.~

I move forward, my steps steady, relentless. Another door. The room where it happened. Where he stole everything.

I push it open.

Empty.

~Revenge.~

The next door.

I open it, and this one is different. A bedroom. Ornate, but not excessive.

And then—

There.

I see him.

“You’ve returned,” he says, his voice calm—too calm.

I don’t hesitate.

I roll, pushing up into a crouch, and lunge toward him. My body moves on instinct, my hand swinging forward in a sharp, vicious strike.

But before I can land a hit, he raises his hand—

A burst of energy slams into me, I feel it wrap around my limbs like invisible chains. My body locks up mid-motion, my momentum cut short as if I’ve hit a wall.

I can’t move.

He tilts his head, studying me.

“Interesting.”

"No."

~Revenge.~

Dark tendrils burst from me, slamming into him with a force that rattles the entire room. The spell holding me shatters, and I drop free, my limbs mine again.

I leap.

The sword forgotten, I go straight for him with nothing but fury and instinct.

His eyes widen—just for a second—before I hit him, knocking him backward. The impact sends us both crashing into the ornate wooden desk behind him, papers and glass scattering around us.

He grits his teeth, raising a hand again, magic swirling at his fingertips—

Not this time.

The tendrils lash out again, wrapping around his wrist, yanking it down before he can cast.

I slam my fist into his face.

Again.

And again.

And again.

~Revenge. Revenge. Revenge.~

Each strike lands harder than the last, my knuckles stinging, skin splitting, but I don’t stop.

~Make him pay.~

"ARTEMIS, STOP!" Shade’s voice shouts through my mind, cutting through the haze like a blade.

I freeze.

My chest heaves, my hands trembling.

Blood.

It’s on my hands, smeared across my knuckles, dripping onto the floor.

My breath catches, my stomach twisting violently as I look down.

His face—barely recognizable. Swollen, bleeding, one eye already shut from the swelling, his breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps.

Oh god.

What did I do?

"I—I’m sorry." The words fall from my lips, but they feel hollow, useless.

Then I run.

I don’t think—I just move.

The shadows rise around me, swallowing me whole as I slip through the walls, past guards who don’t even notice me. The castle blurs past, twisting corridors melting into nothing as I flee.

I feel sick.

My stomach twists violently, my hands still shaking, still—coated in his blood.

What happened?

Why did I do that?

I collapse onto the cold stone, my back pressing against the damp wall of the alley. My hands are still shaking as I stare at them, the blood smeared across my knuckles, drying in dark streaks.

What did I do?

The anger, the rage—it had consumed me, drowned out everything else. I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t myself.

I dig my fingers into my hair, squeezing my eyes shut. I can still feel it—the way my fists hit him, over and over, how I didn’t stop, how I wanted to keep going.

I feel sick. My stomach twists, and for a second, I think I might actually throw up.

“Artemis." Shade's voice is quieter now, cautious.

I swallow hard, opening my eyes again.

There’s no taking it back. No undoing what I just did.

I’m not okay.

“What’s wrong with me?"

The question burns in my mind, searing through every thought, every breath.

There’s no excuse. That wasn’t Shade. That wasn’t some outside force controlling me.

It was me.

I wanted to hurt him. I wanted revenge.

And I liked it.

My stomach churns at the realization, my hands clenching into fists, the dried blood cracking against my skin.

Director Varcen’s voice echoes in my mind.

“Your skills are heavily lacking."

"But… your rage."

I shake my head violently, trying to push the memory away, but it clings to me.

He saw it in me. That side of me.

The part that—if I let it—could become just like the Knight.

I press my forehead against my knees, breathing unsteady.

"I’m not like him."

But tonight, for the first time, I’m not sure if that’s true.

"I… I'm not."

But the words feel hollow.

I grip my arms tightly, my nails digging into my skin as if I can force myself to stay in control, to be in control. But I wasn’t, was I?

I lost myself back there.

I let the anger take over, let it drown out reason, let it turn me into someone else.

No—not someone else.

Me.

I did that.

I almost killed him.

A shudder runs through me. My breathing is ragged, uneven. I squeeze my eyes shut, but all I can see is the look on his face, the blood, the way my body moved on its own, driven by something ugly inside me.

How did I let it get this far? How did I—

I swallow hard.

No.

I can’t let this happen again. I won’t.

But I don’t even know how to stop it.

“It’s going to be okay,” Shade says.

“Just stop.” I grit my teeth. “This is what you wanted, right? For me to be a monster? You made it clear you wanted me to kill. Happy now?!”

He’s silent for a moment.

Then, softer than I expect, he says, “Artemis, it’s not your fault. It was a mistake.”

“A mistake?!” My voice shakes with something between anger and despair.

A mistake is—

I suck in a breath, trying to force the words out, but they get caught in my throat.

“A mistake is simple. A mistake was getting caught sneaking into the castle. A mistake is trusting the wrong person.”

“This?”

“This was something else.”

I don’t even remember walking back to the inn.

All I remember is standing at the sink, hands under the freezing water, scrubbing harder and harder like I could wash it away.

But no matter how much I scrub, the feeling doesn’t leave. The phantom sensation, the weight of the tendrils lashing out, the sheer rage that had drowned out everything else—it’s still there, crawling under my skin.

I grip the edges of the sink, staring at my reflection in the cracked mirror above it.

My face is pale, my eyes hollow.

Who the hell am I turning into?

Eventually, after what feels like hours of staring at my hands, the exhaustion finally wins. I collapse onto the bed, letting sleep drag me under.

But it’s not peaceful.

Not even close.

I’m back in that place. The twisted version of the meadow.

And then I hear it.

A whisper.

No… not one. Many.

A chorus of voices, rising and falling like the wind, calling my name.

“Alex.”

The meadow stretches endlessly before me, but it’s wrong.

That same eerie purple grass shifts beneath my feet, moving as though it’s breathing. The sky, that deep, unsettling red, makes the air feel thick—heavy. Like something is pressing down on me, watching me.

And I know what’s coming.

I’ve been here before.

A shiver crawls up my spine as I force myself to turn around.

And there it is.

The twisted version of me.

Standing just a few paces away, head tilted, lips curled into a knowing smile.

It doesn’t move. Just watches.

My mind flashes back to what Shade had told me the last time I woke up from this nightmare.

“He’s trying to contact you,” he had said, his tone unusually serious. “Lure you to him. To free him.”

A chill runs through me even now as I remember what came next.

“A creature like me, but much more powerful. Infinitely so,” Shade’s voice had been dark, edged with a weight I wasn’t used to hearing from him. “He was imprisoned long, long ago. He wants you to free him so he can return to his rule… and his destruction.”

I had almost forgotten.

With everything that had happened—being captured, escaping, losing myself—I had almost forgotten.

But now, he is back.

Why now?

The twisted version of me smiles wider.

And takes a step forward.

As the evil Artemis moves closer, her form begins to shift.

The long hair shortens. The curves fade. The dress twists into something simpler, rougher—my clothes.

And then I’m staring at Alex.

Or… some version of me.

The same face I see in reflections, the same build, but wrong. His expression isn’t neutral or tired or determined like mine usually is.

It’s smirking.

Like he knows something I don’t.

I take a step back, clenching my fists. “Just leave me alone. I know what you are, and I’m not interested in freeing you.”

The twisted version of me tilts his head, still smirking. He doesn’t stop moving forward.

One step.

Then another.

The air around me feels heavier, pressing against my chest like an invisible weight.

“You say that,” he says, voice smooth and mocking, “but we both know that’s not true.”

“It felt good, didn’t it, Alex?”

The twisted version of me takes another slow step forward, his smirk widening.

“Letting loose,” he murmurs. “Punishing him.”

I feel my stomach twist.

I shake my head, stepping back. “No. That’s not—”

“You can lie to yourself all you want,” he interrupts smoothly. “But I know the truth.”

His eyes gleam, sharp and knowing. “You liked it. The power. The control. The way he couldn’t stop you.”

I grit my teeth. “Shut up.”

He chuckles. “Oh, but I’m right, aren’t I?”

My hands tremble at my sides. My chest feels tight.

Because…

For just a moment, when I’d attacked him…

It did feel good.

“You did that to me, didn’t you?” I say, my voice low.

The twisted version of myself smirks, tilting his head. “I had nothing to do with that, believe me or don’t.” His voice is smooth, calm, like he’s speaking an obvious truth. “You chose it. Just like you’ll choose to come to me in the Nexus.”

I shake my head, taking another step back. “No. I’m not coming to you. I’m never coming to you.”

He chuckles, dark and knowing. “You will.” His eyes gleam with something dangerous. “Because you need to.”

I clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms. “I don’t need anything from you.”

“Oh, but you do.” He gestures lazily toward me. “You felt it, didn’t you? The way it burned through you? The way it made you stronger?”

I shake my head again, more forcefully this time, trying to block out his words.

He just smiles.

“You’re already on your way.”

“What are you talking about?” I demand, my voice sharper than I intend.

The twisted version of me—of Alex—tilts his head, watching me like he’s amused by my confusion. “You think this was a one-time thing?” He chuckles, a low, knowing sound. “The rage. The power. It’s already part of you.”

I shake my head, stepping back. “No. That wasn’t me. I—I that’s not who I am.”

His smirk widens. “That’s what you think.” He takes a slow step toward me, the sky behind him seeming to darken. “Tell me, do you even remember the moment you decided to attack him? That instant where your thoughts shifted from doubt to certainty?”

I swallow hard, my stomach twisting.

“You don’t, do you?” His eyes gleam, something predatory in them. “Because it wasn’t a decision at all. It was instinct. It was natural.”

I clench my fists. “Shut up.”

“You liked it,” he repeats, voice smooth as silk. “The thrill. The power. The way he couldn’t stop you.”

“Shut up,” I say again, my voice shaking now.

“You wanted to keep going.”

I don’t realize I’ve moved until my hand is around his throat, gripping tight.

He just laughs.

I yank my hand back like I’ve been burned, stumbling a step away. My breath comes fast and uneven, my fingers still curled like they’re expecting to tighten again.

No. No, no, no.

I look at him, at me, and he’s still smiling.

“You see?” he murmurs, rubbing his neck like he’s amused rather than affected. “It’s already there. You didn’t even think—you just acted.”

I shake my head, backing up farther. “That’s not—I didn’t mean—”

“Oh, but you did.” He tilts his head, his smile widening. “And that’s why you’ll come to me in the Nexus.”

“You don’t know anything about me!” I shout angrily.

His eyes gleam. “I know everything about you, Alex. Or should I say… Artemis still?”

A cold shiver runs down my spine at the way he says my name, like it’s a secret he’s always known. Like he knows things about me even I don’t.

I open my mouth to say something—anything—but before I can, everything around me shatters like glass.

And I wake up.

“You told me he isn’t able to see in my head,” I say to Shade, my voice sharp as I sit up, my body still tense from the dream.

Shade is quiet for a moment before responding. “He can’t—not fully,” he says, his tone careful.

“Then how did he know?” I demand. My hands are shaking, and I clench them into fists to try and steady myself.

Shade exhales slowly. “I don’t know,” he admits, and that alone makes my blood run cold. “He shouldn’t have been able to. But…” He hesitates.

“But what?” I press.

“But you have been thinking about it,” he says. “A lot. About the Nexus. About who you are. You’ve been uncertain, spiraling, and that kind of doubt… it’s like a beacon to something like him.”

I shake my head, frustrated. “You said he can only grasp what I project outward. I haven’t projected anything—”

“Haven’t you?” Shade cuts in. “You lost control last night. You let your emotions take over. You acted on them.” His voice isn’t accusing, just… stating fact.

I swallow hard, my throat dry. “So you’re saying I invited him in?”

“No,” Shade says firmly. “Not fully. But you gave him an opening. And now he’s going to use it.”

I rub a hand over my face, trying to push back the exhaustion, the fear clawing at my chest. “So what do I do?”

Shade is quiet again, then finally says, “You fight it. You stay in control. And no matter what, Artemis—you do not go to him.”

I nod, swallowing hard. “I won’t,” I say, more to myself than to him.

I can’t.

I glance over at the chair, at the cloak I’d grabbed last night before heading to the castle. It sits there like a reminder—a weight pressing down on my chest.

I just need to forget it.

Forget the way it felt, the way my body had moved without hesitation, like something else had taken the reins. Forget the raw, unfiltered rage that had consumed me. Forget the moment I realized what I’d done.

But forgetting isn’t that easy.

I squeeze my eyes shut, inhaling slowly, forcing my heartbeat to steady. It’s over. I stopped. I walked away. That has to count for something… right?

Right?

I swallow hard and force myself to stand, shoving the cloak to the floor. It doesn’t matter. It’s just a piece of cloth. A remnant of a mistake I refuse to make again.

I just need to move forward. Keep going. Before I lose myself again.

I sigh, rolling my shoulders as I glance toward the window. The early morning light filters through, casting soft, golden streaks across the floor. Time to get going.

I push away everything lingering in my mind—the dream, the night before, the weight of what I’d done. It doesn’t matter right now. What matters is moving forward.

I grab my boots, pulling them on quickly, before glancing at the chair again. The cloak still lies crumpled on the floor where I left it. For a second, I consider just leaving it there, but I know Kaida or one of the others would ask questions. So, with a frustrated sigh, I scoop it up and toss it onto the chair.

I take one last breath, steadying myself. Then I head for the door.

The inn is quiet this early in the morning. A few patrons linger at the tables, nursing drinks from the night before or quietly eating breakfast. The scent of fresh bread and something sizzling drifts through the air, but I barely notice it.

I take a seat at the farthest table, leaning back slightly as I watch the stairs. The others should be waking up soon. They have to.

My fingers tap against the wood absentmindedly. I need to act normal—like nothing happened. Like I didn’t lose control, like I didn’t almost—

I exhale sharply, shaking the thought away. Dwelling on it won’t change anything.

For now, I just wait.

Just focus on today.

Stock up on food and potions. Get better gear.

That’s all that matters right now. Not last night, not the dream, not the sick feeling still lingering in my chest. Just today.

I tighten my hands into fists and force myself to breathe evenly. Everything needs to go back to normal. I need to act like myself—like nothing’s changed.

The others will be down soon, and when they are, I need to be ready.

Not too long later, the others wake up one by one, groggy but slowly shaking off sleep. We eat together, but the conversation is minimal—just the usual morning grumbles and Veyron complaining about how awful the beds are.

I focus on my food, keeping my head down, barely listening. Just act normal. Just another day.

Once we’re done, we head out into the city, the cool morning air hitting my face as we step into the streets. The marketplace should have everything we need—food, potions, gear. Essentials.

I glance at the others as we walk. They’re chatting idly, Veyron teasing Kaida about something, Hrothgar already scanning the area for the best shops, Lorien walking just a little behind me. I don’t know if it’s intentional, but I feel the weight of his gaze.

Just focus. One thing at a time. Get what we need. Then, we move forward.

“So what are we thinking gear-wise?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady and normal. “New weapons, armor, what?”

Hrothgar strokes his beard, already deep in thought. “Armor wouldn’t be a bad idea. We’ve been relying too much on luck and dodging. If we’re heading to the Nexus, we’ll need actual protection.”

Kaida grins, nudging Veyron. “Yeah, some of us aren’t as quick on their feet as they think.”

Veyron rolls his eyes. “I don’t need armor. Weighs me down.”

“Maybe,” Lorien chimes in, “but if we’re fighting more than just bandits and low-level creatures, we need better gear. Even you, Veyron.”

Veyron groans dramatically. “Fine. I’ll consider it.”

I exhale, glancing around at the bustling market ahead. “Alright. Weapons, armor, and we’ll need enough potions to last us, since who knows what’s waiting for us out there.”

The others nod, and we make our way into the marketplace.

“Right there—armor shop,” Kaida says, pointing toward a sturdy-looking building with iron reinforcements on the doors. A large sign above the entrance reads “Durik’s Smithy”, with the faint scent of molten metal and burnt leather wafting from inside.

“Alright, let’s see what we can get,” Hrothgar says, already making his way toward the door.

Inside, the heat from the forge is immediate, the air thick with the scent of worked steel and sweat. Various sets of armor line the walls—leather, chainmail, plated breastplates, and even a few sets of full suits displayed like trophies. A large, broad-shouldered man with soot-stained hands is hammering away at a glowing piece of metal, barely glancing up as we enter.

“Looking to buy?” he grunts, setting his work down and wiping his forehead with a thick, scarred hand.

“Depends what you’ve got,” Lorien says, stepping forward to examine a display of reinforced leather armor.

Hrothgar, meanwhile, eyes a set of heavy plate with interest. “We need protection, but we still have to move in it. No point if it slows us down too much.”

Veyron scoffs. “Yeah, yeah, I don’t need armor, we already went over this.”

Kaida smirks. “We’ll see about that.”

I glance at the options, feeling a little lost. Before, when I had the game’s benefits, I barely needed armor—I relied on speed and my skills. But now? Now I have to think realistically.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Alright, let’s figure out what’s actually useful and not just flashy. We’re not trying to look impressive, we’re trying to survive.”

The blacksmith crosses his arms, watching us with an amused expression. “Survive what, exactly?”

Kaida grins. “Oh, you know. Just your average, everyday death-defying adventure.”

The blacksmith chuckles. “Then let’s get you outfitted properly.”

“For you two,” the blacksmith says, nodding toward Kaida and Veyron, “I’m thinking something lightweight—agile, flexible, won’t slow you down at all.”

“Perfect,” Veyron says with a smirk, already eyeing a dark leather chest piece with reinforced stitching. “Gotta keep my mobility.”

The blacksmith then turns his gaze to Hrothgar, rubbing his chin. “You, though, need something strong but not too heavy. Can’t have you moving like a rock in the middle of a fight.”

Hrothgar grunts, folding his arms. “Long as it holds up, I don’t care what it looks like.”

Then the blacksmith’s gaze lands on me and Lorien, standing just behind the others. “And you two… something in between. Durable, but not restrictive. You both need to move and take a hit when it comes.”

I nod slowly, fingers brushing against the fabric of my current outfit. Before, I hadn’t really worried about armor—I had speed, enhanced reflexes, and the advantages the game gave me. Now? Now I actually have to think about protection.

The blacksmith sizes us up one more time before running a hand over his beard, considering. “For everything you’re asking… full sets of armor, properly fitted, decent quality—not top-tier, but nothing that’ll fall apart on you…” He taps a gauntlet against the wooden counter, thinking.

“Let’s say… 1,200 gold total.”

Kaida nearly chokes. “Twelve hundred?!”

Veyron crosses his arms. “That’s more than some of the missions pay.”

The blacksmith shrugs. “You want to stay alive, don’t you? Could go cheaper, but then you’ll be patching it up after every fight. Could go more expensive, but something tells me you’re not the ‘waste money on fancy-looking gear’ type.”

I glance at the others. We’ve got a little over 4,000 total—it’s a lot, but we also need potions, food, and anything else we might need before heading to the Nexus.

Lorien meets my eyes, reading my hesitation. “It’s an investment. If we can’t survive what’s ahead, the money won’t matter anyway.”

Hrothgar nods. “Better to spend now than regret it later.”

I exhale slowly. “Alright. Twelve hundred. We’ll take it.”

“If you’re looking for weapons, my brother’s shop is nearby,” the blacksmith says, gesturing down the street.

I glance at the others. The armor’s already a big purchase, but if we’re doing this, we might as well do it right. “Let’s check out the weapons next.“

We finish up with the blacksmith, handing over the gold, and then make our way toward the weapon shop.

The outfit I have now isn’t too different from the one the guard had given me, but it’s definitely stronger. There’s chainmail beneath the fabric now, adding real protection without weighing me down too much. The shoulder armor feels sturdy but not restrictive, and the metal bracers on my arms make me feel like I can actually take a hit without breaking something.

The others seem to like their choices too. Kaida’s in a fitted leather set that won’t slow her down, and Veyron’s got something similar—though he made a point to complain about how “a real rogue doesn’t get hit in the first place.” Hrothgar, on the other hand, looks like a walking fortress, his armor thick and reinforced.

Lorien tests the fit of his own gear, adjusting the buckles as he moves. It’s somewhere between mine and Hrothgar’s—built for mobility but strong enough to take a real hit. He catches me looking and gives a small nod, like he approves of the choice.

“Alright,” I say, rolling my shoulders to get used to the feel. “Weapons next.”

Kaida grins. “Now we’re talking.”

We leave the armor shop and head down the street toward the blacksmith’s brother’s place, the weight of the new gear settling over us. We’re getting closer. One step at a time.

“This feels a bit like a scam,” I mutter as we walk. “How many stories have you heard about families in real life all recommending each other after setting something up?”

Veyron smirks. “Oh, I saw a story about a family that would set up road spikes, then have a tow truck just happen to drive by and ‘help’—only to bring them to a mechanic who was also in on it. Classic.”

Kaida snickers. “That’s kind of genius, honestly.”

Hrothgar shakes his head. “And illegal.”

“Look,” I sigh. “As long as the weapons are good and the price is fair, I don’t care if they’re cousins, brothers, or some kind of scam artist dynasty. We need this stuff.”

Veyron shrugs. “Fair enough. But if they try to sell us a third shop after this, I’m walking out.”

We turn the corner, and sure enough, there’s the blacksmith’s brother’s shop—marked with a heavy iron sign and the unmistakable clang of metal being worked inside. Here we go.

“We’re looking for some improved weapons,” Hrothgar says.

“Alright,” the blacksmith replies, giving us a quick once-over before focusing on Hrothgar.

“Looking for improvements on the same thing or something else?” he asks, his voice gruff but not unkind.

“Same weapons as we have,” Hrothgar replies.

The blacksmith nods, rubbing his chin. “So an axe for you then. You’re a big guy—I think I have something perfect.”

He turns, moving toward a rack at the back of the shop. A moment later, he pulls down a massive axe, the metal head reinforced with a dark, polished steel. The edge gleams under the forge light, wickedly sharp, a thick handle on the end.

“This,” the blacksmith says, hefting it like it weighs nothing, “was forged for power. Heavier than what you’re probably used to, but that just means it’ll hit even harder.” He flips it around, offering it to Hrothgar. “Give it a swing.”

Hrothgar takes the axe, testing its weight in his hands before stepping back and giving it a controlled arc through the air. The sound of the blade slicing through nothing is solid—powerful. He nods in approval. “Good balance.”

The blacksmith grins. “Told you.”

Veyron leans against the counter, watching with interest. “Alright, alright. What about for the rest of us?”

The blacksmith chuckles, clearly enjoying himself. “One thing at a time, kid.” He turns back toward the rest of us, his eyes scanning over Kaida, Veyron, Lorien, and me.

“Alright. Who’s next?”

Kaida steps forward before Veyron can, practically bouncing on her heels.

“Got any staffs!?” she asks excitedly.

The blacksmith chuckles, shaking his head slightly at her enthusiasm. “Hmmm… I think I might have one. We don’t get many magic users at this place, but…”

He turns to a different section of the shop, rummaging through a collection of weapons. After a few moments, he pulls out a staff made of dark wood, reinforced with bands of silver metal. The head of it is shaped like twisting branches, holding a faintly glowing crystal at its center.

“This should allow you to do more before becoming exhausted, as well as boosting your magic in general,” he explains, handing it to her.

Kaida takes it eagerly, her fingers running over the smooth wood and metal in awe. She lifts it slightly, and the crystal flickers, reacting to her energy. “Ohhh, I like this,” she says, grinning.

“Figured you would,” the blacksmith says with a smirk. “It’s not just for show, either. That crystal channels energy better than most, so your spells should hit harder and last longer.”

Kaida nods quickly. “Sold!”

Veyron crosses his arms. “Great. Now can I go?”

The blacksmith laughs. “Alright, alright, what’s your weapon of choice?”

Veyron pulls out one of his daggers, flipping it in his hand. “Looking for something a little… sharper.”

The man smirks, eyeing Veyron with a knowing look. “Ah, a rogue through and through. You want something sharper, huh? Maybe something a little faster?”

Veyron twirls his dagger between his fingers before flipping it into a reverse grip. “Something that cuts clean and doesn’t slow me down.”

The blacksmith nods, turning to a locked chest behind the counter. He pulls out a key and unlocks it, revealing an assortment of finely crafted blades, each with a distinct design. He picks up a pair of sleek, curved daggers, the metal dark with a faint shimmer, almost like they’re absorbing the light around them.

“These are made from voidsteel,” he explains, holding them up for Veyron to inspect. “Lighter than your standard blade, but they’ll cut through armor like butter if you hit the right spot. And they don’t reflect light, so they won’t give away your position in the dark.”

Veyron’s smirk widens as he takes the daggers, testing the weight in his hands. He flicks one upward, catches it effortlessly, then swipes the air in a smooth motion.

“Oh yeah,” he says, grinning. “These’ll do nicely.”

The blacksmith chuckles. “Figured they’d suit you.”

Veyron spins the daggers once more before sheathing them at his sides. “Alright, how much?”

“250 each for the daggers,” the blacksmith says, crossing his arms.

Veyron whistles low. “Not cheap.”

Kaida elbows him. “We have the gold, just get them.”

Veyron sighs dramatically before tossing a pouch onto the counter. “Fine, fine. But they better live up to the hype.”

The blacksmith chuckles, taking the gold and tucking it away. “They will. Just don’t go losing them in someone’s ribs.”

Veyron grins. “No promises.”

With that settled, the blacksmith turns his attention to Lorien. “And you—spearman, right? Looking to upgrade?”

The blacksmith nods and steps into the back, rummaging through a few racks of weapons before returning with a spear. The shaft is reinforced with dark steel, and the blade at the end gleams unnaturally, faint runes carved along its edge.

“This one’s built for durability and precision,” the blacksmith explains, handing it to Lorien. “Lighter than your average spear, but the enchantment on the blade means it’ll cut deeper than it should. Should be a solid upgrade from whatever you’re using now.”

Lorien takes it, giving it a few quick spins before testing the weight in his grip. His expression stays calm, but I can tell he’s satisfied. “How much?”

“500.”

Lorien nods and hands over the gold without hesitation. He clearly thinks it’s worth it.

With his weapon sorted, the blacksmith looks at me. “And you? What’s your pick?”

“You don’t have a weapon currently, it seems,” the blacksmith observes, his sharp eyes scanning me.

I glance down, remembering the sword I’d dropped back in the castle. The weight of it in my hands, the way I lost control… my stomach twists.

“I, uh… I’m not sure, really,” I admit, shifting uncomfortably. “I’m not exactly a good fighter.”

“Hmmm,” he murmurs, rubbing his chin as he studies me. “Not a good fighter, huh? But you still need something, don’t you?”

I hesitate. Do I? Without the game’s enhancements, I’m weaker, slower—just a normal person again. But that doesn’t mean I can do nothing. I have to fight somehow.

“I guess so,” I say finally.

“Alright,” the blacksmith says, turning and walking toward a rack of weapons. “Let’s find something that suits you.”

“How’s your aim?” he asks, glancing at me as he sets a couple of weapons on the counter.

I hesitate. “I’m not sure,” I admit. It’s the truth—I haven’t fired anything since becoming Alex again, and without the game’s assistance, who knows if I’m even half as good as I used to be?

The blacksmith studies me for a moment before nodding. He turns, rummaging through a rack of weapons before pulling out two options—a short sword and a crossbow.

“These might suit you,” he says, setting them down. “Short sword for when things get close, crossbow for when you need range. It’s simple, reliable. Nothing fancy, but it’ll get the job done.”

I pick up the crossbow, weighing it in my hands. It feels solid, familiar in some ways, but foreign in others. It’s not my bow—not even close—but maybe it’s the next best thing.

The short sword, though… I’m less sure. I think back to that night in the castle, the way I lost control. My grip tightens around the hilt, and I quickly set it back down.

“Crossbow feels right,” I say finally. “Not sure about the sword.”

The blacksmith nods. “Crossbow’s a good choice. Just be mindful of reload time. You want to keep a backup, though. Something small?”

I hesitate. “Like what?”

He smirks and reaches under the counter, pulling out a compact dagger. “Just in case,” he says.

I think back to when I’d lost the bow temporarily in fights. I certainly could’ve used a backup. A crossbow is great, but if someone closes the distance before I can reload, I’m screwed. The dagger makes sense.

“Okay,” I say, nodding. “How much for both of these, the axe for him, and the staff for her?”

The blacksmith strokes his chin, eyeing the weapons. “Let’s see… The crossbow and dagger together, I’ll give you for 300. The axe, that’s a hefty piece of work—400. And the staff, well, enchanted gear isn’t cheap, so that’s 500. Total comes to 1,200 gold.”

Kaida lets out a low whistle. “Yeesh. That’s a chunk of what we’ve got left.”

“We’ve still got plenty,” Hrothgar says, crossing his arms. “And if we’re heading for the Nexus, we need the best gear we can get. No point holding back now.”

Veyron smirks. “You sure about that? I was kind of enjoying being rich for once.”

I roll my eyes. “You stole most of it, Veyron.”

He grins. “And?”

I shake my head, turning back to the blacksmith. “Alright. We’ll take them.”

The blacksmith hands me a small quiver for the bolts, and I fasten it to my belt. I’ve never actually thought about it before, but I’ve never once run out of arrows with my bow. It’s great—I’m glad the game doesn’t account for that. The last thing I need is to be mid-fight and suddenly defenseless because I forgot to buy ammo.

Kaida slings her new staff over her back, grinning. “Alright, next stop—rations and potions. Anything else we need?”

“Camping gear,” Hrothgar says. “If we’re heading for the Nexus, there’s no guarantee we’ll have a safe place to rest. Extra blankets, fire starters, maybe even a tent.”

“Extra bandages too,” Lorien adds. “Potions are good, but having a backup never hurts.”

Veyron stretches his arms behind his head. “And maybe something fun. This is probably our last real shopping trip before we run off to risk our lives. A good meal, some extra wine—”

I give him a flat look. “Not happening.”

He sighs dramatically. “You’re no fun.”

I shake my head, turning toward the door. “Let’s just focus on what we actually need before we start blowing the rest of our gold.”

We step back into the bustling streets, the weight of the new weapons settling in. Fully equipped, fully stocked—this is the last stop before we leave. The last bit of normal before everything changes.

After stopping by a few more stores and getting everything we need we finally take a moment to count what’s left.

Veyron dumps the remaining gold onto the table at the inn, casually sifting through the coins. “Alright, let’s see… after armor, weapons, supplies, and everything else… we’ve got about 850 gold left.”

Kaida whistles. “That’s still a decent amount.”

Hrothgar nods. “Enough to handle emergencies if we need to, but we should be careful. No telling how long we’ll be out there or if we’ll even have a chance to restock before reaching the Nexus.”

Lorien leans back, arms crossed. “Then we make it last.”

I stare at the pile of coins, feeling the weight of everything we’ve done just to get to this point. Every mission, every risk, everything that’s happened since we got here—it’s all led to this.

“Alright,” I say finally, exhaling. “This is it. We’re as ready as we’re gonna be. We leave at dawn.”

Kaida groans, flopping dramatically onto the table. “Ugh, that’s so boring! Come on, we’ve been running around nonstop for days. We finally have time to breathe, and you just want to sit here and do nothing?”

I sigh, shaking my head. “We need to be at full strength for tomorrow. This isn’t just another mission, Kaida. The Nexus could be worse than anything we’ve faced so far. Even with new gear, we don’t know what we’re walking into.”

Veyron stretches, leaning back in his chair. “She’s not wrong, though. We could at least do something fun before we leave.”

Kaida immediately perks up, sitting upright. “See?! Veyron gets it!”

Hrothgar shrugs. “Depends on what ‘something fun’ is. Last time, it turned into a whole festival.”

Kaida grins. “That was amazing, you’re just jealous you missed it.”

I rub my temples. “Alright, fine. But nothing crazy. Just… something small.”

Kaida claps her hands together. “Perfect! I know just the thing.”

I narrow my eyes. “Should I be worried?”

She grins wider. “Always.”

“Listen, I’m still tired from all of that running from prison, so why don’t you four have fun while I rest?” I say, leaning back against the chair.

Kaida pouts instantly. “Lame.”

“Necessary,” I counter, crossing my arms. “Go have your fun. I’ll be here actually recovering from, y’know, nearly dying.”

Lorien watches me carefully but doesn’t argue. “I’ll stay,” he says simply.

Kaida groans, throwing her hands in the air. “Ugh! Fine, whatever. The rest of us will go. Your loss.”

Veyron smirks, already standing up. “Less competition for me. Let’s go.”

Hrothgar shrugs, following as Kaida drags him off, muttering something about “no appreciation for excitement.”

Lorien and I sit in silence for a moment before he speaks. “You really okay?”

I sigh, rubbing my eyes. “Yeah. Just tired.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push it either.

Great, us alone. Not exactly what I had planned, I think, shifting slightly in my seat.

“Now’s the time to tell him,” Shade says.

I swallow, my fingers tapping against the table. He’s right—I know he’s right—but that doesn’t make it any easier.

Lorien watches me, his usual calm expression in place, but I can tell he’s waiting for me to say something.

I take a slow breath. “Lorien, I… need to talk to you about something.”

His gaze sharpens slightly, his full attention now locked onto me. “Alright,” he says simply.

I hesitate, my mind racing. How do I even begin this?

End of chapter 45.

Almost there.