The carriage reeked of tension and expensive perfume—Heather’s signature scent so overpowering that it felt like an industrial air freshener gone rogue. In the cramped, magically cooled compartment, it was pure claustrophobia. I pressed my back against the plush velvet cushion as far from everyone else as I could, wondering how many modern-day health inspectors would shut this thing down if they’d only smelled it.

  "For the last time," Nick said, breaking the silence that had settled over us, "we need to know what The Wish actually does before making any decisions."

  Andy's jaw tightened. I could see the muscle flexing beneath his skin, that familiar tell when he was about to say something particularly insufferable.

  "It's obvious what it does," he replied, his voice smooth and practiced. "It grants a wish. And since Will has proven himself incapable of making good decisions, it should be held by someone who understands responsibility." His eyes locked onto mine. "Someone like me."

  I didn't bother responding. The Wish sat safely in my Inventory Box, and my newly upgraded abilities gave me confidence I hadn't felt in years. Three skill points well spent.

  "I'm not discussing this again until we reach the shrine," I said, watching the countryside roll past the window. Fields of golden wheat gave way to coastal cliffs, the ocean a distant glimmer on the horizon. "Let's see what the shrine tells us first."

  Heather snorted, her perfect blonde curls bouncing as she shook her head. "You're such a buzzkill, Will. Disguise yourself as a corpse next time—it’d be an upgrade."

  Jesse and Andy laughed, while Patrick managed an uncomfortable smile. Nick just stared out the window, clearly done with all of us.

  [Skill activated: Enhanced Perception]

  The notification flashed in my vision as I studied them all, noting every detail. Andy's fingers twitching near his sword. Heather's eyes darting to Jesse in silent communication. Patrick's nervous swallowing. They were planning something—something beyond their usual bullying.

  "One hour to the shrine," announced the driver from outside.

  One hour. Then we'd know what The Wish could do. And one way or another, things would change forever.

  The carriage slowed to a stop an hour later, the wheels crunching on gravel. Through the window, I could see the shrine—a simple circular wall with stone statues visible within. The sound of waves crashing against the cliffs provided a rhythmic backdrop. The sun disappeared at the edge of the ocean, but I could see lights coming from the shrine—a real-life postcard setting, if your postcards came from a far away enchanted land.

  "We're here, Heroes," called the driver.

  Andy was the first out, stretching dramatically. "We'll take it from here," he told the driver, flipping him a gold coin. "No need to wait. We'll make our own way back."

  The driver seemed uncertain. "The priest suggested I remain—"

  "I said we're good," Andy cut in, his friendly tone barely masking the threat beneath. The driver flinched and then quickly nodded. With a flick of his wrist, he quickly sent the carriage back towards the gravel road. I was suddenly reminded of how Andy also insisted the priest not come with us.

  What was the reason he gave? Oh yes- The Heroes wish to enjoy the comradeship of their success alone. By the time I realized the priest wasn’t coming, everyone was waiting for me to get inside the carriage. Even though I definitely wanted him along, I couldn’t come up with a good reason for the priest needing to join us.

  Well at least not a reason which didn’t point out the dysfunctionality of this party.

  Oh hey guys, I don’t trust you and want the priest to join us in case you try to force me go back to Earth.

  “Yep, really feeling the comradeship,” I muttered, glancing past the archway entrance into the shrine.

  I stepped through the archway into the circular shrine, the sea breeze suddenly cut off by the stone walls surrounding us. The space opened before me, far more impressive than it had appeared from outside. The floor was polished marble, worn smooth by centuries of time, with intricate patterns spiraling toward the central altar.

  But what caught my eye were the statues. Twelve of them, arranged in a perfect circle around the altar, each carved from a different stone. Some gleamed like obsidian, others had the warm hue of sandstone or the cold glitter of marble veined with silver. Along the walls were glowing crystals to show the beautiful craftmanship before us.

  I recalled the history the priests gave us days after we arrived in this world. Every three hundred years a Demon King rose up and Heroes were summoned from another world to defeat it. Could these be statues of the Heroes three hundred years ago? Or maybe even statues of the very first Heroes summoned.

  I moved closer to one—a warrior with a great axe held high, his face frozen in a battle cry. His armor was unlike anything I'd seen in Elska, with swirling patterns I couldn't recognize. The next statue showed a female mage in robes, her hands cupped before her with what looked like flames dancing between her fingers.

  "Who are they supposed to be?" I asked, more to myself than anyone else.

  Jesse shrugged as she passed me. "People long dead."

  I studied the face of a cleric, his stone robes flowing around him as if caught in wind, a symbol I didn't recognize emblazoned on his chest. His expression was serene, hands outstretched in blessing. Nothing about him seemed familiar, nothing that connected to the Church of Divine Light or any other religion I'd encountered in our three years here.

  [Skill activated: Enhanced Perception]

  The notification blinked in my vision as I noticed tiny inscriptions at the base of each statue. The lettering was worn, almost illegible, and in a script I'd never seen before. When magically transported here, we could read and write the Elska language even though we were foreigners. This was the first time I saw writing I couldn’t interpret.

  "Hey, check this out," I called, crouching to examine the writing more closely.

  No one responded. When I looked up, I saw the others had already gathered at the altar in the center—a simple stone pedestal with a shallow bowl carved into its top. Andy stood directly across from me, his arms crossed, watching me with an intensity that made my skin crawl.

  "Enough sightseeing, Will," he called, his voice echoing against the stone walls. "Let's get this over with."

  I straightened, glancing once more at the statues. Whoever these heroes had been, whatever great deeds they'd accomplished, their identities were lost to time. Just nameless figures carved in stone, forgotten despite their apparent importance.

  And I was willing to bet every gold coin I had, they were a much better group of friends compared to the bunch I was stuck with. It would have been nice fighting along with the real deal. Maybe when I left the kingdom, I’d find a group of adventurers I could really bond with.

  "Fine," I said, making my way to the altar. The shrine suddenly felt smaller with all of us gathered around it, the statues like silent witnesses to whatever was about to unfold.

  "Show us The Wish," Andy demanded, his eyes never leaving my face. I hesitated for only a second before pulling out a orb glowing with bright light. It wasn’t like before, the orb was shining so brightly you couldn’t even look directly at it.

  Everyone winced as they raised their hands to cover their eyes. As everyone’s eyes adjusted, I tensed, waiting for Andy’s hands to suddenly rush forward and make a grab for what I was holding. Instead though, his hands moved away and my shoulders relaxed.

  I really should have paid attention to how one hand reached for a sword hilt.

  ***

  Andy's hand closed around Fire-Friend's hilt, his mind suddenly crystal clear. The moment had come. Will stood there, staring stupidly at the glowing orb in his palm, completely oblivious to the danger. The fool had always been too trusting, too weak.

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  With practiced fluidity, Andy drew his longsword in one smooth motion. Fire-Friend erupted in crimson flame as it cleared the scabbard, ancient runes flaring to life along its length. The familiar heat washed over his face as he brought the blade high overhead, muscles tensing with delicious anticipation.

  "Goodbye, Will," Andy whispered, the words lost beneath the sword's hungry roar as it descended.

  Will's eyes widened just as the flaming blade connected. There was the moment of impact, then a wet thud as the sword cleaved through flesh and bone, severing Will's left hand at the wrist. The Wish tumbled from lifeless fingers, rolling across the marble floor.

  The follow-through was perfect, just as Andy had trained thousands of times. Fire-Friend continued its arc, slashing deep across Will's torso. The blade seared flesh as it cut, leaving a blackened, smoking gash from shoulder to hip. The scent of burned meat filled the shrine.

  Will's body crumpled, his eyes already vacant and staring, life extinguished in that single, perfect strike. The flames had cauterized the flesh, leaving no blood spilling on the floor. A good thing since a pool of blood would have been hard to clean up at the shrine.

  Andy stepped back, admiring his handiwork. The attack had been flawless—efficient, quick, merciful even. Will never stood a chance.

  "Andy!" Nick's voice broke the silence, horror and disbelief mingling in that single syllable. "What the hell?!"

  Andy placed his boot firmly on The Wish, which had rolled to a stop near his feet. The orb's glow was annoyingly bright beneath his heel, being at the shrine must be the reason for its change in brilliance.

  "Stay back," he warned, pressing down harder. "One more step and I'll crush it."

  Nick froze, his face contorted with rage and shock. "You've lost your mind! You killed him! You just murdered Will!"

  Patrick stood frozen, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. He hadn't drawn his weapon, hadn't moved at all since Andy's sword had fallen. Just stood there, useless as always.

  Heather was already kneeling beside Will's body, her hands moving efficiently through his clothing and gear. Jesse joined her, both women working with practiced coordination, searching for valuables.

  "Nothing," Heather announced after a moment, disappointment evident in her tone. She held up a short sword and a small hand crossbow. "Just these."

  "He must have everything else in his Inventory Box," Jesse added, sitting back on her heels with a frustrated sigh.

  "Patrick," Andy commanded, giving Fire-Friend a twirl before pointing it at the useless carcass. "Take his body to the cliffs. Toss it into the ocean."

  Patrick blinked rapidly, still staring at Will's corpse. "I... what?"

  "You heard me," Andy said, his voice hardening. "We can't leave evidence here. The ocean will take care of it." When Patrick still hesitated, Andy's eyes narrowed. "Now."

  Finally, Patrick moved, approaching Will's body with visible reluctance. He hoisted the limp form over his shoulder, grimacing at the charred wound across the torso. The severed hand remained on the floor, fingers still curled around nothing.

  "And take that too," Andy ordered, pointing at the severed hand.

  Nick had drawn his sword, the enchanted blade glowing with a faint blue light. "You're insane," he spat, eyes darting between Andy and The Wish beneath his boot. "This wasn't the plan. None of this was the plan!"

  Andy kept his posture relaxed, confident. "I did what had to be done," he explained, watching Patrick shuffle toward the shrine's exit with his grim burden. "Think about it, Nick. Will was unstable. Unpredictable. What if he used The Wish to force us all back to Earth against our will?"

  "That's your justification for murder?" Nick's knuckles whitened around his sword hilt.

  "It's not murder. It's protecting our future," Andy countered smoothly. "Will would have ruined everything we've built here. Everything we are." He gestured around them. "In this world, we're gods among men. Back home? We're nothing."

  Nick's jaw clenched. "I want to go home."

  "And you can," Andy said, his voice softening. He lifted his boot slightly, allowing The Wish to roll a few inches toward Nick. "I'll let you take it. You can go home if that's what you really want."

  Hope flashed across Nick's face, but suspicion quickly followed. "Why would you let me?"

  "Because I'm not the villain here." Andy smiled, spreading his hands in a gesture of openness. "But there's one condition. You wait until we're well away from the shrine before you use it. I won't risk Heather or Jesse being accidentally pulled back with you."

  Nick's eyes narrowed. "How do I know you won't just kill me too once I take it?"

  Andy chuckled, sounding at ease despite a sword pointed at him. "If I wanted you dead, you'd be on the floor next to Will. I respect you, Nick. Always have." He took a step back from The Wish. "Take it. But not until after Patrick returns and we're ready to leave. Deal?"

  Nick hesitated, his gaze flicking to Heather and Jesse, who had ceased their looting to watch the exchange.

  “Nick honey, calm down,” Heather said with a sweet smile.

  “Remember we’re the Heroes here. We’re only doing what’s right.”

  ***

  I hate how Heather saved me.

  Well saving me was a big overstatement. Just that she inadvertently gave me the idea which saved my life.

  Disguise yourself as a corpse next time—it’d be an upgrade.

  It was another one of Heather’s typical insults. Only this time it had flashed through my mind as Andy’s sword had risen up, flames dancing against steel.

  When I increased my Intelligence stat, I noticed I could think faster than before. Monster attacks were suddenly easier to deal with because my brain was able to come up with a plan in ten seconds instead of a full minute. It was one of the reasons I made it my second highest stat.

  In the moment I saw Andy’s sword rising up in the air, I had three seconds. It definitely wasn’t four seconds. And in three seconds Heather’s words came to mind and I went with it. I used my Disguise Self ability, which was just upgraded, to make my body appear as a corpse.

  If everyone wasn’t half blinded by the miniature sun in my hands, they would have noticed my body stepping back just barely avoiding the sword tip. The same couldn’t be said for my hand.

  "Why, Will?" Patrick muttered as he lumbered toward the cliff, my body slung over his shoulder like a sack of grain. "Why couldn't you just give him The Wish?"

  The pain in my left arm was excruciating, a white-hot agony where my hand used to be. I bit my tongue to keep from screaming, focusing on maintaining my disguise. The illusion was perfect—a corpse with a charred gash across its torso, eyes fixed and unseeing. But beneath the illusion, I was very much alive, and in more pain than I'd ever experienced.

  I should have been withering on the floor screaming right after Andy cut my hand off. Maybe it was thanks to investing in Constitution and Intelligence stats, but by some miracle I was able to keep this charade going.

  "Andy's not a bad guy," Patrick continued, his voice trembling slightly. "He... he just understands what needs to be done. Sometimes tough decisions have to be made."

  I could feel his armor digging into my stomach as he carried me, each step jostling the cauterized stump of my wrist. Blood was seeping through the burned flesh now, dripping down my arm and onto Patrick's back. If he noticed, he didn't say anything.

  "We couldn't risk going back," he said, as if explaining something to a child. "Earth isn't for us anymore. We're somebody here. And Andy was worried you'd make us all go back."

  The sound of waves grew louder as Patrick approached the cliffs. Salt spray carried on the wind, stinging my wounds. A crescent moon illuminated our destination. I could barely think through the pain, but I knew I needed to stay perfectly still, to keep the disguise active.

  "I'm sorry it had to be like this," Patrick whispered. "But Andy's right. He's always right."

  His voice cracked, and I realized he was crying. The mighty warrior, reduced to tears while carrying the 'corpse' of someone he helped murder. The irony might have made me laugh if I weren't in so much agony.

  "It's just like with Elane," he continued, and my heart nearly stopped. "I didn't want to do it. She was nice to me, you know? But she knew too much. Andy said she'd tell everyone about the Five Sigil dungeon entrance we found and how his sword could open it. About what was inside."

  I honestly didn’t think anything could distract me from the pain. No this wasn’t a distraction, this was a nightmare. I didn’t want to hear this.

  We'd reached the edge of the cliff. Patrick set me down gently on the rocky ground, and I caught my first glimpse of the sheer drop to the churning ocean below. I must be going into shock because I couldn’t concentrate on the fear of being thrown over. All I could think of was his confession.

  "I made it quick," Patrick said, his voice barely audible over the crashing waves. "Wrapped her in my cloak afterward. Buried her proper, at least. Andy wanted to just leave her, but I couldn't do that."

  "I'll do the same for you," he said, kneeling beside me. "Wrap you up proper before—”

  “—WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?”

  I was standing up, I was screaming, and I just blew my cover. But I didn’t care.

  I couldn't control myself anymore. The pain, the betrayal, the horrific confession—it all exploded inside me.

  "HOW COULD YOU KILL HER?" I screamed, my fingers digging into Patrick's armor as I lunged at him. My illusion was still active; a mangled corpse with a smoking chest wound was now upright, grabbing at him with one hand while my stump arm dripped blood. "ELANE TRUSTED YOU! SHE WAS YOUR FRIEND!"

  Patrick's eyes bulged with terror. His mouth opened in a silent scream as he scrambled backward.

  "You're—you're dead!" he gasped, his face draining of color. "Will is dead!"

  "YOU MURDERED HER!" I continued, my voice raw with rage. The disguise made my words seem to come from nowhere, a ghostly accusation from a corpse that shouldn't be moving. "WHY? BECAUSE ANDY TOLD YOU TO? BECAUSE SHE KNEW ABOUT SOME STUPID DUNGEON?"

  Patrick's hands came up defensively as he pushed me away with surprising force. I stumbled but kept my footing, advancing on him again.

  "Stay back!" he cried, retreating further. "Please! I didn't want to—I never meant—"

  His next step found nothing but air.

  For one heartbeat, Patrick's expression shifted from terror to confusion. Then realization dawned as he began to tip backward. His arms windmilled frantically, grasping for anything to hold onto.

  Our eyes met in that final moment—his filled with shock and regret, mine hidden behind the illusion of death. His mouth formed words I couldn't hear over the roaring ocean below.

  Then he was gone.

  I stood at the cliff's edge, staring at the empty space where Patrick had been just seconds before. The wind whipped around me, carrying the sound of waves crashing against the rocks far below. My disguise flickered as my concentration wavered, patches of my true appearance showing through the illusion of the corpse.

  The pain in my left wrist pulsed with each beat of my heart. Blood dripped from the stump, leaving dark spots on the rocky ground. I should bandage it, stop the bleeding, use a healing potion but I couldn't move. I just stared at that empty space, replaying Patrick's terrible confession.

  The fall wouldn’t kill him, I was certain of it. He was the party’s tank for crying out loud. I once saw him get hit point blank by a dragon’s fire breath. But I really hoped the fall hurt. Especially considering the asshole just stole my hand.