Chương 57: Chapter 58: The march

Morning crept in quietly, light filtering through the canopy in pale shafts that painted the ground in soft gold and shadows. I woke before the sun fully claimed the sky. For a few heartbeats I lay still, listening. Footsteps. Murmurs. The low scrape of wood on dirt. People were already moving. Not everyone had stayed up late around the fire like we had. I had been reluctant at first.

Yet somewhere between the jokes, the arguments about classes, the half-serious debates about the system and the way the tutorial worked, something had eased. Getting to know my teammate more has been a far more enjoyable experience than I would have thought. And my curse had been quiet; that alone made the night a gift. I got up from the bedroll and moved outside, stretching. The cool forest air greeted me, helping remove the last traces of sleep.

Thinking back on it, I understood why that particular group had come together. None of them were without scars. Jerome was still using jokes to hide his trauma. Alya carried with her a great anger for something that clearly happened to her back on Earth. Melissa hid hers behind the need to control. Quinn laughed, but there was a sharpness beneath it, the kind that comes from having to constantly look over your shoulder.

Of everybody, he, I believe, was the one who suffered the most; his search for power was clearly dictated by a deep-rooted fear. But who was I to be able to judge one's motives? I hid mine like them. Among the things that made us band together, there was something that was easy to notice: between the stories and the questions asked, we realised that we had no anchors back on Earth. No, we were the ones that looked only forward, for one reason or another; maybe that was the reason we adapted better than the others.

Some still talked about finding their family or loved ones, about getting back to something that no longer existed. My companions didn't waste time on that. Their eyes only looked forward. A flutter of movement caught my attention. I turned to the side and noticed a woman staring at me. She looked away a beat too late. Then I noticed somebody else staring, then another. Ah. I glanced down at myself. Bare chest. Bare feet. No discomfort at all, despite the cool air brushing my skin.

My stats had quietly taken care of that. I hadn't even noticed. Quinn was right. I'd been treating my body like an accessory to my magic. That wasn't smart. Despite never investing in physical stats, except for the potions, I wasn't fragile by any means. I lifted a hand in a lazy wave towards one of the onlookers. The young archivist, if memory served. She turned red and fled behind a nearby tent. That solved that.

My shirt hung from a branch nearby, clean and mended; the tears were stitched so neatly they were almost invisible. Selene's work. I pulled it on, flexed once, satisfied, and made a mental note to thank her again. Clothes were becoming a problem. They were one of the many resources we lacked. The river helped, but there was only so much rinsing that could be done without soap. The people were already starting to smell. I yawned, then went looking for Tom before my curse decided I should.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. I found him near the edge of the camp, talking with Gilbert, the old crafter from last night. The two of them were bent over a rough wooden cart while others rolled barrels into place. The cart was ugly, all raw planks and thick pegs, but solid in a strange way; it made my arcane sense itch. Reinforcements. Simple skills woven into the wood during its creation. I could tell it was crude but effective.

Gilbert wiped sweat from his brow.

"I'm telling you, it'll hold." Tom crossed his arms, sceptical.

"It's hand-pulled."

"Yeah, do you see any horses around? We got stats, and I've worked with wood for fifty years," Gilbert snapped back, chin lifting.

"You think I'd build something that breaks on the first bump?" Tom tapped the side of a barrel; it was full of water.

"Ok, but how much weight can it carry? These aren't light." Gilbert snorted.

"With the bindings we added? Two thousand pounds, easy." Tom whistled low. So did I, internally. For something built with hatchets as the most modern tools, that was impressive. If this tutorial were about settlement-building instead of murder, the crafters would've been kings.

"Morning", I said, stepping closer. Both men turned.

"Elias", Tom greeted. While the old man just grunted.

"How long until we can go?" I asked him. He looked at me; for a moment I thought he was about to salute me like a military officer, then he relaxed a bit.

"We'll be ready as soon as the tents come down."

"Good," I said.

"I'll pack mine; I want to take advantage of as much daylight as we can."

"I am afraid that it won't be daylight stopping us from proceeding, but you're right; it's better to move earlier than later." While Tom finished speaking, Gilbert grumbled something I didn't quite get.

"Problems?" I asked the old crafter. He looked startled for a moment, then just said it.

"Nothing, let's get everyone moving. If I have to die, I want to be done with it before lunch." Then he turned around and went to do his own thing. I let him, and after Tom grimaced at me, I went back to my tent. After a few minutes, I shoved everything into the backpack. I hated the thing. It dragged at my shoulders and threw me off my balance. In a fight, it was a liability. I'd need a solution. For now, the cart would do. Around me, the camp was waking in earnest. The tents are coming down.

Fires being stamped out. People were out and about, moving with nervous energy. The dread hit me then. A sharp, familiar pressure behind my chest. I exhaled through it and moved. I looked around and saw that Quinn was in the middle of dismantling his tent with the enthusiasm only a teenager made to do chores could have.

"You know," I said, catching a pole before it fell, "those are meant to come apart." Quinn grinned.

"It knows what it did." We worked side by side for a minute, and he filled the silence without effort.

"I talked with Frederick quite a bit yesterday. The man's got potential," he said, his voice low but excited.

"Real potential. Strike amplifier skills. Skin-hardening. And a trait that boosts physical performance across the board. That's a nasty combo if he manages to use it right."

"If", I echoed. Quinn shrugged.

"Spine's the problem. But that can be fixed." I hoped he was right. Power was only useful if you could bring yourself to use it. We finished in a jiffy and moved on. Rhea and Melissa had pitched their tents side by side, which in hindsight explained the chaos. Poles were everywhere. The canvas twisted like a defeated flag. Rhea looked up as we approached, hair wild, hands full of rope.

"Don't judge."

"I wasn't going to," I lied, grabbing a stake before it stabbed someone. Quinn drifted over to help Melissa, immediately finding an incredible interest in packing tents that left her blinking and Rhea quietly chuckling. The camp buzzed around us. I went to help where I could, and after less than half an hour, everyone was in the clearing, ready to depart. There was a cart full of water barrels and a couple of carcasses of game, enough for a couple of days at least, if the meat didn't spoil first.

The more physical fighters put their backpacks in the cart, the more I do too. While two crafters, both men and both having invested in strength quite a bit, got the short end of the stick and were selected for pull duty, there would be a rotation, though, gender equality and all that. I and Tom made sure that everyone was in the right place, and then I nodded to the scouts; Quinn, Marcus and Phil moved into the forest ahead of us. It will be the duty of the main group to cover the sides and the rear.

After giving a last glance at the people, I took point; there was no way I was going to give a speech or any kind of nonsense.

"Let's go! Stay sharp, and shout if you see a monster. You know your roles." As the group started moving into the forest, we started hearing roaring sounds far in the distance. I grinned. Good, I had many ideas to test thanks to my chat with the girls yesterday, and everybody here needed some training. Today will be interesting.