Sid POV

  “It’s getting late; we should’ve left hours ago.” Rohan checked his watch, his palms balled into fists. Rohan walked with short, stiff strides, refusing to relax his hips. He looked like a man trying to keep a very precarious lid on a boiling pot, sweating more than the weather warranted.

  The morning training was a calculated ruse. While Varun pulled Rohan away to train his new visual skills, Sid sparred with Pallavi and briefed her on the plan to take down George. He also showed her the Veil of the Mind’s Eye and recruited her to help level it, feeding her the same cover story about the spider cave mutation.

  His goal was to study the effects of repeated exposure on a single target, specifically if the target gained some resistance to the skill. It didn’t. Pallavi remained sharp, but utterly clueless as to his actual position despite repeated use.

  He could see her frustration as she stalked the training ground, knowing he was nearby but unable to pin him down. It was a solid half-hour of cat-and-mouse before she finally adapted enough to land a hit on his invisible form.

  “Training keeps us prepared. It’ll encode skills into your muscle memory. More importantly, it keeps you alive.” Varun’s voice dropped a fraction, a steely glint showing in his eyes.

  They had been on a forced march for four hours, eating in shifts without breaking stride. Sid kept their halts rare and under ten minutes. He was pushing them hard, intent on building their endurance.

  Most of the monsters around here were weaker than the team, relying entirely on ambushes that Sid usually spotted. Only one creature got the drop on them. The Stone-spine Badger. It attacked from underground, bypassing Sid’s vision and striking from the only angle he couldn’t monitor.

  Just because it got the drop on them didn’t mean that it did any significant damage. Pallavi and Varun reacted on instinct, cutting it down before it could do any actual damage. Better yet, the creature dropped its signature skill, Tremor Sense. This wasn’t just a tracking ability for following footsteps; it could reveal hidden geography, like basements and caves. It was a dream ability for any scout or spy.

  Tremor Sense would pair well with his Echo Sense and Predator’s Awareness, maybe even evolving into the elusive Spatial Awareness skill. Skills belonging to mind, space, and time affinities were in the restricted category of skills, controlled by powerful organizations.

  He doubted the Institute even possessed such a crystal, and if they did, the price of access would be total servitude. Even the most powerful organisations would need assurances and blood oaths before they hand over such crystals. The knowledge of creating those skills was even more guarded than the skills themselves. All he had were unconfirmed theories on ways to achieve Spatial Awareness.

  He couldn’t afford to test the theory. His skill slots were a finite resource, and absorbing Tremor Sense would consume his last remaining vacancy. It was a stark reminder of humanity’s disadvantage.

  Manaborn races gained more slots as they evolved. The blessed races were born with extra skill slots and innate traits. Humans, however, were stuck at the bottom of the food chain, alongside feral goblins and mindless undead.

  “I get it. Training matters,” said Rohan, his words coming out with difficulty. “But we could’ve trained after reaching the camp. Why’d we have to train next to an enemy camp?”

  Sid didn’t bother turning around; he kept his eyes forward, setting the pace. “Because the moment we walk into our camp, we’ll be drowning in questions. I wasn’t willing to sacrifice today’s training for a debriefing.”

  Sid treated the camp like enemy territory. He wouldn’t set foot inside without briefing his team first. He pulled Varun and Pallavi aside to align their stories and enforce a strict blackout on their powers. No showing off, no training. He wasn’t about to give the spies watching them an easy way to gauge their strength.

  “About that?” asked Varun, his words sounding rehearsed. “Are we sharing everything with the camp? The skill crystal cave? Skill evolutions?”

  Sid had staged the prompt. He preferred a group discussion over an awkward intervention with Rohan. Varun and Pallavi already knew the script, but Sid played along because he refused to let Rohan feel like he was being ostracized just because his departure from the team was imminent.

  “No, we’re not.” Sid looked over his shoulder. “Tell them about the army, but omit the rest. They don’t need to know about the crystal cave or skill evolutions or our current skills.”

  “But the spare crystals...” Rohan hesitated. “We aren’t giving them to the camp?”

  “You remember Tony, don’t you?” Sid held Rohan’s gaze for a beat. “You heard the threat. We’re walking back into a hostile environment. I intend to use those crystals as bargaining chips.”

  “I know, Sid. But we could try the truth. Aditi might help us,” Rohan said, taking a steadying breath. “And if she can’t? Do you really think a few crystals will make the Kurishingals forget about revenge?”

  Sid stopped dead. He turned around, his voice dropping. “I’m not giving the crystals to Tony. I’m giving them to his enemies. We’re buying you protection for when we’re gone.”

  Rohan looked at the others, the realization washing over him as he saw their faces. “You already told them?”

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  Sid nodded.

  “We’re going to miss you.” Pallavi pulled Rohan into a quick hug.

  Varun didn’t look amused. “Don’t go planting death flags.”

  “Why is everyone acting so sentimental?” Sid looked from Rohan to the rest of the team. “They’ve known the news since yesterday. Think of it as him moving to a different company. It’s not like we’ll never see him again.”

  “You think I’m John Cena?” Varun waved his hand in front of his face, mimicking the wrestler’s taunt. “Enough with the death flags.”

  Rohan turned to Varun. “You’ve been praying for this for months, haven’t you?”

  Varun forced a smile. The expression was playful, but his eyes were somber. “You are one of the few truly good people I know,” he said, before masking the sentiment with a jab. “Shame you were such a lousy manager. Always nagging. Don’t go getting sentimental on me.”

  Rohan smiled back. “Let’s get going, guys. We’re wasting daylight.”

  “And he’s back,” Varun announced, his grin finally widening into something real.

  An outline of a fence covered in pale white cloth became visible to Sid in the distance. He raised his fist, prompting the team to stop.

  “I see the camp.” Sid’s voice shifted, adopting the sharp, flat tone he reserved for battle. “Varun and I will check it out.”

  “What about us?” Rohan’s question came out tight, urgency leaking into his voice as he shifted his weight restlessly from leg to leg.

  “Stay here. We didn’t exactly leave on good terms, so I’m not walking us all into a trap.” Sid glanced between them. “Varun will come get you once we confirm it’s safe.”

  “Fine,” Pallavi said, irritated at being sidelined again.

  Rohan didn’t argue. He nodded and moved to lean against the nearest tree, looking relieved to stop moving.

  “Keep your heads down if anyone passes by.” Sid left the warning hanging in the air as he and Varun slipped away toward the perimeter.

  Varun matched Sid’s pace. “Did anyone spot us yet?”

  “I don’t think so,” Sid checked his blind spot one last time. “But don’t take chances. Stay out of sight and sneak in behind me.”

  Varun nodded. He was already turning toward the nearest tree when Sid gripped his shoulder to stop him.

  “Hold on to these.” Sid pressed the spare crystals into Varun’s hand, entrusting him with Fog Sprint and Tremor Sense.

  Large dungeon camps typically extorted an entry fee: crystals, materials, or weapons. Since this group lacked the crafters to process raw monster parts, the cost would be crystals or weapons. Sid refused to burn crystals on a toll. He would pay with weapons. Weapons he could steal back later, if required. A consumed crystal was lost forever.

  Varun stowed the crystals in his pack. “Anything else?”

  Sid paused, his gaze distant as he ran through the infiltration plan. “Be careful at the gate; climb as high as you can before crossing. Once you’re in, you can drop down, but stay high in the branches while you tail me. I don’t think they have the discipline to watch the vertical angles inside the camp.”

  Varun nodded. In a blur of motion, he flashed to the nearest tree and disappeared from view.

  Sid walked toward the camp, but the smell reached him before the visuals did—a rank, unforgettable stench that plagued every dungeon camp, even the military ones. Latrines.

  He squinted at the figures toiling in the muck, digging pits and burying waste. He realized with a start that he needed to speak to them. It wasn’t the work that drew his attention, but their identity. These were George’s group, and they had clearly fallen to the bottom of the pecking order.

  There was at least one silver lining. George’s grip on the camp was weak. His men were on latrine duty, a job assigned only to outcasts or those being punished. If George’s men were shoveling filth, it meant George wasn’t calling the shots.

  He spotted a familiar face among those shovelling filth—the man he’d fought alongside against the goblins, the same one he’d tipped with a skill crystal before leaving. The man offered a subtle nod of recognition, and Sid smiled back. He filed that interaction away. If Naga refused to help him neutralize George, this guard was a viable Plan B.

  “Stop,” a bald man blocked the path. He wore a white spider-silk sash that looked suspiciously like the fabric used for the latrine curtains. The sash draped awkwardly over his chest, looking like a cheap accessory from a bachelorette party. “State your business.”

  Sid swallowed hard, stifling a laugh. “I’m Sid, from the scouting team. I’m here to see Naga.”

  A second guard, tall and lean and sporting a matching sash, flipped through a notebook. He scanned a page, then looked up with a raised eyebrow. “I don’t see a ‘Sid’ listed with the scouts.”

  “I left before you started keeping records.” Sid kept his tone neutral. “Just get Naga.”

  “You can’t just demand an audience with the Camp Leader,” the tall man said, tilting his chin up to look down at Sid. “He’s a busy man.”

  Sid ignored the attitude. The guard had confirmed what mattered: Naga was still running the show.

  “I’ve been here five days,” the bald man stated, his tone heavy with suspicion. “I helped build this camp from the ground up, and I’ve never seen you before.”

  “I left six days ago,” Sid said, his voice resigned.

  “How convenient,” the lean man sneered, stepping into Sid’s personal space.

  Sid recognized the song and dance; he was just surprised that the corruption had taken root so quickly. He took a step back, raising a placating hand. “Look, I need to see someone in charge. What do you need from me to make that happen?”

  “We could inform the Leader of the Garrison,” the bald man drawled, his eyes drifting to Sid’s backpack. “But these things take time.”

  “They’re fishing for a bribe.” The voice came from behind Sid. It was his acquaintance with George’s crew, the same man who had fought alongside him during the goblin raid. He stepped forward, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Sid to stare down the two men in sashes.

  “‘Leader of the Garrison’?” Sid asked, glancing at him.

  “That’s what the Scout Leader makes us call the guards now. New uniforms, too.” The man gestured at the ridiculous silk sashes. “Naga had it simple with Internal and External Security.”

  Sid absorbed the intel. If the Scout Leader could force these cosmetic changes on a pragmatist like Naga, he held significant power in the camp.

  The lean man with the sash glared at Sid’s acquaintance. “Get back to the latrines. This doesn’t concern you.” He spun back to Sid, his palm extended. “Everyone pays a toll for entry. Half your skill crystals.”

  Sid handed over his backpack without hesitation. “I don’t have any.”

  The bald guard scoffed. “You spent five days in the wild and came back with nothing? Do you take us for fools? Hand them over, or we'll strip-search you right here.”

  “What’s going on here?” A man stepped out from the camp entrance. He wore the same sash, but the authority in his voice made the two guards flinch. Sid noted the reaction. Was this the Garrison Leader?

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