Ding! Congratulations! Your soul core has been upgraded.

  Calculating…

  General Rank upgraded.

  Strength upgraded.

  Constitution upgraded.

  New Stats:

  Subject: Zach Walker

  Race: Human (Earth)

  Class: Mage, Rogue

  Merged Class: Undergoing calculations

  General Rank: F4

  Constitution: F3

  Magic: F2

  Mana: F3

  Speed: F3

  Strength: F2

  It was hard to breathe or even register what was happening around me. The excruciating pain made me wince, and before I knew it, I was on the ground, staring up at the sky through the tree canopies.

  The full moon hung above, seeming to gaze directly at me. It was hard to look away, but I had to check.

  I twisted my head and saw the wound.

  Half of my forearm was gone.

  A jaguar fang was embedded in the torn flesh—just the sight of it made the pain worse.

  "Zach? Are you—" Elk's question died on his lips when he saw my wound.

  A second later, the sound of fireballs hurling through the air and swords clashing filled my ears. The noise overwhelmed my senses, a cold shiver running down my spine as my eyes fought to stay open.

  Then, I felt it—flesh moving, throbbing, inch by inch reconstructing itself. Each fragment of regrown muscle brought a fresh wave of pain. I wanted to scream but clenched my teeth, keeping my eyes shut.

  They kept attacking Mary’s shield until, suddenly, the pain was gone.

  I raised my arm—it was completely healed. Not even a scar remained.

  I rolled onto my side and sat up. My companions lay on the ground, panting.

  How many skills and attacks had they thrown at Mary?

  She looked the most drained of them all, barely able to catch her breath.

  "Thank you, guys," I said, moving closer. "I know you're all exhausted, but we need to get moving. We can’t rest in these woods anymore."

  They looked up at me, exhaustion heavy in their eyes, but no one protested.

  Our plan to sleep and prepare for the dungeon dive the next day was officially shot to hell.

  "Give us a minute," Elk finally said, swallowing hard as he pulled a canteen from his inventory. He passed it around, sharing with everyone as we waited.

  Less than a minute later, they were all up and ready to go.

  "I’ll scout ahead while invisible. Their illusions are good, but there’s this blue thread that’s easy to spot. We’ll avoid them at all costs. If one of these vermin has a couple of competitors under its control, we’d be in for an infernal fight."

  I felt the need to explain everything on my mind, leaving no room for questioning.

  They all seemed healed and well. If the healing shield had worked on me, it had certainly cured anything they suffered after fighting the trees and the necromancers.

  "I’ll head in this direction.” I pointed northwest, “keep your eyes up. I’ll break invisibility when we need to turn and occasionally to make sure you don’t lose track of me."

  They nodded, and I started moving through the woods.

  Even invisible, it was hard to shake the tension.

  First, it was the Kobolds, then bigger kobolds, then invisible jaguars. Yeah, I could see the difficulty ramping up. But the necromancers were on a whole other level—more durable, more intelligent, and trickier to spot. These weren’t simple fights like the ones we’d had the past few days or even against bosses.

  I had to stay aware of every step I took. There was no other way.

  After half an hour of walking straight with the others following my lead, I spotted the first blue thread hanging from a tree a few steps to my right.

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  Looking up into the canopy, it was clear—one of the giant cockroaches was up there, lurking, waiting to strike. Its glistening exoskeleton shimmered under the moonlight.

  I hate cockroaches, I thought, turning left and reappearing to signal the way to my companions.

  I kept glancing back, making sure the necromancer hadn’t spotted them.

  We trailed through the woods for hours, avoiding necromancers here and there.

  They weren’t swarming the jungle, but they seemed to work in pairs. Another clue that kept our path secure was spotting dead animals and trees scattered across the landscape. It wasn’t uncommon to find carcasses in the past few days, but today, they were likely being used to fuel the necromancers' magic.

  With every hundred steps we took, the forest thinned, and the monsters' presence dwindled. The slope grew steeper, and I could see on the map that we were approaching what we assumed was a dungeon.

  We were tired, yeah, but at least we’d gained a few hours over Max and his party, who had spent the whole night sleeping.

  Looking back— besides the beach shard drop— I hadn’t felt drained after using a spell, but after the third hour, my body started to protest. Exhaustion crept in—not the kind that made my knees buckle, but something else.

  With each invisible step, my heart felt heavier and heavier.

  I assumed it had to do with the core the system always referenced. Even if a skill had no mana cost, using it for too long would eventually take its toll, no matter how simple the spell was.

  It was a relief when we finally emerged from the forest onto a rocky hill.

  A fifty-foot stretch of open ground separated the forest’s edge from the base of the hill, littered with rocks of various sizes.

  I called my companions to wait while I checked if any of the rocks had a blue string connecting them. I probably walked half a mile in each direction before finally returning and collapsing onto the ground, breathing in relief for the first time in hours.

  As I scanned the surroundings, the moon hid behind the forest canopies, leaving us in near darkness. The only reason we could see anything was Elk’s fireball lighting the way.

  "Let’s not make a bonfire tonight," Mary suggested, and everyone agreed.

  We stared at the forest edge for a few minutes, imagining what was happening inside.

  How many people would be turned into puppets for literal insects? Or worse—would they wear them as flesh suits like the first one we killed?

  Just the memory made me sick.

  "Let’s try to rest, though. We’re really close," I said, my voice weaker than I expected.

  "You first, mate. You look like you’re about to collapse," Elk interjected as I got up to take the first watch.

  "What do you mean?" I asked, standing—only for my knees to give out. I would’ve hit the ground hard if Tress hadn’t caught me in time.

  "You look like a ghost, dude," Mary added. "For the love of god, sleep first."

  "Do I?" I looked at Tress as she gently lowered me to sit on the ground.

  She grimaced, nodding in a way that tried to soften just how bad I actually looked.

  I wanted to argue, but before I could, I was already asleep.

  I had no idea how long I slept, but when I opened my eyes, the sun was already up, stinging my sight. I raised a hand to my forehead and sat up abruptly.

  "Hey, relax. Everything’s fine." Mary raised both hands with a smile. "You’re fine. We’re fine," she added as I scanned our surroundings.

  Damn, I hadn’t realized I was this on edge.

  "Hey, mate. How’re you feeling?" Elk asked. He was sitting on a rock a few feet away, chewing on what looked like a piece of meat—but it didn’t look like jerky. Before I could ask, I noticed the dead jaguar lying near his feet.

  "You went into the forest?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  "Nah, it came our way. Mary heard it." Elk shrugged, taking another bite.

  "It could’ve been a necromancer."

  "It’s dead, isn’t it?" Elk arched an eyebrow and kicked the beast’s corpse. I couldn’t argue with that.

  The beast had been cleaned, its meat cut, and by the looks of it, cooked over a bonfire just a couple of feet away from me.

  The smell was phenomenal. Fat dripped into the flames, sizzling and releasing a smoky aroma that reminded me of a Brazilian barbecue—except I doubted they ate their version of jaguars.

  "Want some?" Mary asked. "We bought this pan at the market and used the beast’s fat to fry it. Don’t worry, we’re still saving up credits for something useful." She spoke as if she expected me to protest.

  Maybe it was my upbringing, but I always believed every coin counted. I was never a spender.

  Back on the streets, while some of my friends drowned their reality in alcohol or cheap drugs, I spent my time searching for the best hideouts to stash whatever little money I had.

  That was one of the reasons I got out.

  But I wasn’t about to be mad because they bought a pan.

  I’d be mad if they didn’t share with me—and obviously, they did.

  "Take care, it’s hot," Mary said, moving a piece of meat to the edge of the pan.

  It bounced on my palm, but I eventually managed to hold it and take a bite.

  It lacked spices, but the fat in the meat made up for it.

  "And this other smell?" I asked, my nostrils overwhelmed by something intoxicating.

  "It was a bit expensive, not gonna lie. But it was worth it," she said apologetically.

  But the moment she handed me a cup filled with hot coffee and I took my first sip, I forgot about everything else.

  For a few seconds, I was back home.

  With my eyes closed, I could almost picture the walls of my tiny apartment.

  A rush of emotion hit me when I thought about what might’ve happened to it, but I wasn’t gonna let that ruin the day.

  We were close to the dungeon, weren’t we?

  I opened my map and saw that we were practically on top of the rectangular shape marking its location. We’d moved the whole way toward it.

  My eyes drifted to the side until I found the group I assumed was Max’s.

  Something was off.

  Instead of nine people, there were only eight now.

  Did the necromancer get one of them?

  I wasn’t particularly happy that someone had died, but I was definitely relieved that our task in nearly two and a half days just got a little easier.

  With that in mind, I pushed myself up and walked toward Tress, who stood near the edge of the slope.

  "You look better," she said, looking at me, her stoic mask intact.

  "Thanks," I replied, taking another sip.

  "Strange drink, this one of yours." She pointed at the cup, and I shrugged.

  "It’s great. Better than Vermilion Paste," I joked.

  For a fraction of a second, she looked offended.

  "You humans are always joking, aren’t you?" she asked, though there was no anger in her tone.

  "Look."

  She pointed toward the horizon, then down at the base of the slope.

  As I followed her gaze, my grip on the mug grew weaker.

  "Damn."