It had been several days since my visit to the prison, and Ten was slowly starting to adapt. The ragged prisoner garb was gone, replaced by something more dignified, thanks to Cordelia’s efforts. She was now clothed in a short robe, a deep blue that contrasted sharply against her rough past. The fabric clung to her small frame, emphasizing her delicate legs, and for the first time in a long while, she looked almost... normal. It was a small step, but it was progress. The robe was a symbol, one of transformation, marking her journey from prisoner to something else. Something better.

  But even with the change in attire, some things hadn't shifted. The chains around Ten's ankles—heavy, cold, unyielding—remained. They were a constant reminder of the life she had been forced into, a life that refused to release its grip on her. Cordelia had tried, many times, to convince Ten to remove them. She argued that the chains were unnecessary, but Ten insisted. They helped her focus on her Strength Manipulation. The weight kept her grounded, tethered to something she could control. I could understand that reasoning, but a part of me couldn’t help but wonder—how long would it take for her to feel truly free?

  I looked down at the last waxing bronze coins in my wallet. It was still there, the familiar metallic bitterness in my mouth, and I hated it. Hated the way it reminded me of how much further I had to go before I reached a real solution. Two coins. Two days left before hunger would begin to claw at me, sharp and relentless, threatening to strip away everything I had worked for.

  V, seated across from me, still shot me the same bewildered look every time I ate one of those coins. His expression was a mix of confusion and judgment. He couldn’t fathom why I didn’t just ask for help, why I didn’t go to the authorities, the ones with resources to spare. But V didn’t understand. How could he? He didn’t know the feeling of being tethered to a power you couldn’t access fully, of trying to keep your soul from being eaten alive while your stomach begged for sustenance. For me, food wasn’t just fuel. It was a reminder that I had no choice but to continue walking the path I had set out on. But hunger was a brutal thing, and the price I had to pay for what I had was becoming clearer by the minute.

  I was losing track of time, and that only made everything feel worse. Fractal’s absence was weighing heavily on me. She was still at the academy, and I couldn’t just pull her out. It was necessary, after all. Spirit Beasts needed time to grow independent from their bonded partners. It was a rule. A rule that I had no choice but to obey. But every day felt like an eternity without her, and the silence in the barracks only added to the pressure. I could hear the ticking of the clock, echoing in the empty spaces. It was the quiet that got to me, more than anything.

  The only connection I had with her now was the skillcube I had sent to her room. It was the only way I could reach her—through that object, a token of progress. The thought of her learning, growing stronger in her own way, gave me a little comfort, but it wasn’t enough. She would be ready when the time came. But until then, the silence stretched on, a constant reminder of how much I was carrying on my own.

  And then there was Ten. I had chosen her to be my Adjutant, to help me, to stand by me. But I was beginning to realize that she needed more than just help—she needed healing. And so did I. We were both broken in different ways, trying to find a way to move forward, but we couldn’t do it alone. Neither of us had the luxury of being whole.

  I had slaughtered and killed twenty-seven people. Twenty-seven. Just like they had done to many before. Just like the one who butchered and ate those children. I wasn’t different from them. I wasn’t better. I was culling a field of monsters in order to preserve the harvest.

  I had a therapist assigned to me, someone I was supposed to speak to after each mission like that. And I had. I’d spoken to her a lot. She had been patient with me, guiding me through the aftermath. She said it was a brutal and necessary trial, one that I was free to discuss as often as I needed. To be an executioner—she said it like that—was no small thing. It’s a weight I carry, she told me. But it’s also part of the responsibility I had now. A Walker’s burden.

  Yet, as I sat with that weight, I couldn’t help but compare it to Ten’s. To her trauma. To what she had endured. Her suffering wasn’t just about the physical pain she had been subjected to, it was in her mind. The mental scars. The isolation. And here I was, focusing so much on my own pain, my own trauma from those kills. How selfish am I? How could I even begin to compare what I had been through to what she had lived for years, alone, branded, discarded?

  I killed twenty-seven people, but I did it for what I thought was necessary—for the greater good. For the survival of others. But Ten? Ten didn’t have the luxury of choosing. Her pain wasn’t a decision; it was a life she was born into, a life she never asked for.

  I had a purpose behind my trauma. But she didn’t. She was just surviving. Day by day. It made me sick to think about how easily I could justify my actions, when she had never had the same luxury of choices, of self-determination.

  Maybe I was still trying to convince myself that I wasn’t a monster. Maybe I was still trying to convince myself that I was doing the right thing. But I couldn’t shake the guilt, the realization that I was not the only one suffering. I wasn’t the only one who carried scars, who carried trauma.

  And in that moment, it became clearer than ever: I wasn’t the only one who needed healing.

  Alexander Juliut Duarte

  Walker #SSS-Z-5939

  Duty Assigned: Caravan Crossing

  Escort a medicine caravan from Marr to the Dunehollow Duchy. Stipend is two waxing bronze coins per day, with a reward of 17 waning silver coins on completion.

  Bonus Reward: Death skillcube, Smoke skillcube, Dimension skillcube, Blood skillcube, Venom skillcube.

  The notification hit me like a splash of cold water, and I stared at the screen, trying to absorb the weight of the words. A simple task, but the reward was anything but. The bonus skillcubes were tempting—Death, Smoke, Blood, Venom, Dimension. I couldn't help but feel the allure of what they could offer.

  V's voice broke through the tension. “So, who has the Venom mana, boss?”

  I paused, letting the question settle. “Fractal,” I replied quietly, feeling a knot in my chest. “Being this far from her... it's hard. She’s off at the academy, and I know it's important, but I can’t help but feel disconnected. She’s out there, learning, growing, and here I am, alone. It's... hard.”

  V nodded, his usual grin absent as he took that in. But he was quick to follow up with another question, turning his attention to Ten. “I assume Ten here has Death?”

  I shook my head, cutting in before anyone else could speak. “No, that’s Cordelia. She’s the one with Death mana.”

  Cordelia nodded, her gaze shifting toward Ten. “You, on the other hand,” she said, pointing at Ten, “You have Smoke or Blood. Which one is it?”

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Ten hesitated, and for a long moment, it seemed like she wasn’t going to answer. Then, her voice barely above a whisper, she finally spoke. “I have Blood.”

  There was a weight to her words, a sense of finality in them, like she was accepting a part of herself she hadn’t fully come to terms with. Her power, her past, all of it wrapped up in those two words.

  I glanced around at the team, each of us carrying different burdens, different powers, and now, it seemed, we were all united in some strange way. We were each connected by the forces we controlled, the responsibilities we had, and the struggles we were facing.

  With the notification still glowing in front of me, I knew that this was more than just an assignment. It was a test, a chance to unite the team, to take on something bigger than ourselves. And together, we would face whatever came next.

  ***

  The caravan consisted of seven mana-fueled carts, each glowing faintly with the hum of energy running through them. In the center, a cart was reserved specifically for us, a luxury in the otherwise utilitarian procession. Behind that, a guard's cart trailed, a clear indication that security was a consideration, though I couldn’t help but question why I was here protecting such an innocuous thing.

  The caravan was just a simple transport of medicine, wasn’t it? No, it was more than that. The guard’s cart and the presence of our team indicated that there was something lurking just beyond the surface.

  "Because, you're here to eliminate an Other threat," Cordelia’s voice came through clearly, cutting through my thoughts like a blade. Her words were sharp, always so matter-of-fact.

  I sighed heavily, a weight settling in my chest. "I really dislike when you do that..."

  She didn't need to ask what I meant. She knew. She always knew.

  "Yes. Quit having such loud thoughts," she retorted, an edge to her voice. "We've been over this."

  It was true. I had been trying to control the noise in my mind, to keep my thoughts guarded. But it was difficult when everything felt like it was crashing in on me—the pressure of being a Walker, the weight of the team’s expectations, and now the uncertainty of why I was here in the first place. Sure, the mission was simple enough on paper, but Cordelia’s cold reminder echoed in my mind: eliminate an Other threat.

  What threat could this caravan really face? A band of thieves? A pack of monsters? Or perhaps something far darker? The looming question gnawed at me.

  I glanced at the convoy again, the guards on alert, their eyes constantly scanning the horizon. The mana-powered carts rolled along steadily, their wheels gliding smoothly over the uneven terrain, but my gaze kept drifting, searching for something that wasn’t there yet.

  I tried to push the thoughts away, to focus on the present. We were here, and we had a job to do. But it wasn’t easy to forget the questions that lingered in the back of my mind, and it certainly wasn’t easy to ignore the unsettling feeling that something was wrong.

  “We should make it to the Dunehollow Duchy by the twelfth nightfall,” Cordelia said, her voice softer now, though still carrying an underlying tension. “Keep your wits about you. You know how these things go.”

  I nodded, trying to steady my racing heart. Tonight, we would face whatever awaited us on the road ahead, and I would be ready. Whatever threat loomed over this simple caravan—whatever had drawn us here—I would face it head-on.

  The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a warm golden hue over the camp as we set up for the evening. The caravan had been relatively quiet during the day, save for the occasional clink of the carts and the steady hum of the wheels moving over the rough terrain. Now, as the camp settled into a quieter rhythm, we had time to unwind. Cordelia and V were engaged in a poker game, the sounds of cards shuffling and chips clinking punctuating the quiet.

  I sat to the side, reading a book I had brought along—an old, worn volume that had become a comfort to me over the past few weeks. It wasn’t the kind of book that held grand epics or vast histories; no, it was something smaller, more personal. A collection of essays, of reflections, meant to provoke thought and contemplation. I was still trying to make sense of the path I’d chosen, and sometimes I found comfort in the words of others who had been lost in thought long before me.

  While I immersed myself in the text, I couldn’t help but glance up now and then to see how the others were faring. V, as usual, was the most animated. His arms were spread wide as he exaggerated his poker moves, his usual sarcasm and jokes flitting in and out of the conversation. "You can’t win with that hand, Cordelia. Even I know that."

  Cordelia, however, remained unflustered. Her eyes glinted with a mix of mischief and calculation, and it was clear that she wasn’t just playing the cards. She was playing V. Every time he glanced away for just a second, she'd shift her cards with the precision of someone who’d mastered the art of subtlety. V, in his usual style, didn't catch on. "Sure, sure. You can think that."

  Meanwhile, Ten remained distant, her head bowed as she walked through the grass, her bare feet barely touching the earth. She moved with a grace that was foreign to me, like she was walking a path of her own that no one could tread beside her. She had always been reserved, and even though we were traveling together, she seemed to find comfort in being apart from the group. As the others engaged in their game, Ten ran, slowly at first, feeling the coolness of the grass beneath her soles. It was her form of solitude, her way of staying grounded, and I respected that.

  I had learned not to force her into anything she wasn’t ready for. She didn’t speak much, and while the others had begun to open up in their own ways, Ten remained largely silent, reflecting more than participating. She didn’t join in the games. No dice, no cards for her. Her quiet was a constant presence, one that I had come to appreciate.

  V, on the other hand, seemed to be fascinated by her. He would watch her from the corner of his eye, clearly intrigued by how much she kept to herself. But rather than question her or try to draw her in, he seemed content to leave her to her own devices—at least for now.

  Every once in a while, I’d glance up from my book, my eyes following the movement of Ten as she ran freely in the open. She would stop, pick up a flower or a stone, and study it as if it held some deeper meaning. Her actions were simple, yet they held a weight to them that spoke volumes. I couldn’t help but feel that she was slowly discovering herself in the small moments, even though she didn’t share her thoughts with the rest of us.

  As the night deepened, V broke the quiet once more, his voice loud and amused. “Alright, Cordelia, you’ve cheated your way through this game long enough. Let’s see you try to win fair and square for once.”

  Cordelia raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smile. “I don’t win fair and square, V. That’s not how I play.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re making it too easy for me,” V replied, throwing down his cards with a dramatic flourish. “I’m out. If you can’t at least try to lose, then we’re done here.”

  Cordelia chuckled, her expression unreadable as she casually scooped up the winnings. “You did sign up for this, remember?”

  I could sense the camaraderie in the air, even if it was wrapped in the familiar edge of playful banter. I’d never been part of a team like this before—one where the lines between personal and professional blurred just enough to make the journey feel a little less lonely. There was a strange sense of connection among us, even though each of us had our own personal burdens to carry.

  With Ten still lost in her world of solitude, and Cordelia and V settling into the rhythm of their game, I returned to my book, though my mind wasn’t quite focused on the text anymore. I had thought that being a Walker, having this responsibility, would be a constant battle against the outside world. But in this moment, I realized that the battle wasn’t just out there. It was within. With the people I was traveling with. With myself.

  For the first time in a long while, I felt something I hadn’t experienced in days—something close to peace.

  To make up for it, have another shoutout from me. This is a much lighter story than mine, and is a great pallete cleanser.