Doc woke with a heaviness in his chest that had nothing to do with physical pain. The memory of his encounter with the Sylvans lingered—their ethereal presence, their urgent warning, and most importantly, his promise to neutralize whatever horror lurked in that ancient temple.

  Fish nudged his hand with her cold nose. She'd grown so much in such a short time, her midnight fur now rippling with subtle violet patterns as she sensed his discomfort. Her amber eyes studied him with an intelligence that went beyond animal instinct.

  "I'm fine," Doc murmured, scratching behind her ears. "Just processing."

  "Your cortisol levels are elevated 22% above baseline," Lux noted through their neural link. "Sleep patterns indicated REM disruption consistent with stress response."

  Doc sighed, sitting up on his bedroll. "Wouldn't you be stressed? We fought fungal zombies yesterday. Now I'm supposed to track down whatever's creating them and destroy it."

  Fish settled beside him, her massive form now taking up a significant portion of the tent. The weight of her against his leg was oddly comforting.

  "Assessment of your current mental state suggests tactical planning would provide stress reduction through increased perceived control," Lux offered.

  "Good idea. Let's think this through." Doc rubbed his face. "Temple run. Fungal monster. What's our approach?"

  "Initial tactical analysis indicates solo operation would minimize risk of companion infection," Lux began. "However, this increases personal danger significantly."

  Doc nodded. "And bringing others means risking them becoming mid-battle enemies if those spores hit them."

  "Correct. Unless preventative measures against spore inhalation can be implemented."

  Doc's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Like a breathing apparatus? Something to filter the air..."

  "Affirmative. Preliminary designs could be fabricated using available materials." Lux paused. "Additionally, Carl's improvised launcher demonstrated effectiveness against the fungal core."

  "His new class might be useful here," Doc mused.

  "However," Lux continued, "current intelligence on target location, entity capabilities, and environmental hazards remains insufficient for optimal planning."

  Doc reached for his boots. "We need reconnaissance first. Scout the temple, assess the threat, then develop countermeasures."

  "That approach has highest probability of success."

  "And I should probably talk to the others," Doc added, pulling on his weapons. "They know this world better than we do. Might have insights about the temple we wouldn't think of."

  Fish rose to her feet as Doc prepared to exit the tent, her movements fluid and silent despite her size. The morning light filtered through the canvas, casting everything in a warm glow that belied the danger waiting in the forest.

  "One more thing," Doc said, pausing at the tent flap. "If this temple has a way out of the Hollow Vale like the Sylvans suggested..."

  "It would provide the escape route you promised Mazoga and the others," Lux finished.

  "Exactly." Doc pushed the tent flap aside, stepping out into the morning air. "Let's get to work."

  Doc stepped out of his tent into the crisp morning air, stretching muscles still sore from yesterday's battle. To his surprise, Mazoga, Kesh, and Carl stood nearby, clearly waiting for him. Fish padded silently at his side, her massive form drawing a few appreciative glances from the others.

  "Morning," Doc said, noting their unusual expressions. Mazoga's tusked face wore an uncharacteristic look of solemnity, while Kesh's amber eyes studied him with newfound intensity. Carl simply looked excited, bouncing slightly on his heels. "Something on my face?"

  Kesh's lips curved into a slight smile, but Mazoga shook her head, her broad shoulders squaring.

  "I wanted to thank you properly," she said, her usually commanding voice softened. "That's twice now you've saved us. First from the bandits, now from whatever those... things were."

  The sincerity in her voice caught Doc off-guard. A peculiar warmth spread through his chest—unfamiliar but not unwelcome. In his years of scientific exploration, gratitude was rarely part of the equation. It was always just him and Lux, documenting anomalies, collecting data, moving on. The genuine appreciation in Mazoga's eyes triggered something he'd nearly forgotten existed.

  "I just did what anyone would do," Doc replied, suddenly conscious of Fish leaning against his leg.

  Kesh let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "What anyone would do? Let me see if I have this right." He held up a hand, ticking off fingers. "You fought off fungal-infected bandits. Then you somehow communicated with Sylvans—creatures most people consider myths. You traded with them, obtained alchemical ingredients worth more than this entire camp, worked with Ironha to create a cure that shouldn't have been possible at her level, then administered it to everyone regardless of their status or usefulness." He dropped his hand, eyebrows raised. "Did I miss anything?"

  Doc shifted uncomfortably. "You would have done the same for me."

  The three exchanged glances, a silent conversation passing between them that clearly communicated their collective disbelief. None of them contradicted him aloud, however.

  "What's your plan now?" Carl asked, mercifully changing the subject. His fingers twitched with nervous energy, a habit Doc had noticed whenever the young engineer was excited about something.

  Doc sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I made a deal with the Sylvans. They provided the cure ingredients in exchange for my promise to destroy whatever's generating these fungal entities."

  "The temple," Kesh said quietly.

  Doc nodded. "According to them, the bandits disturbed something ancient in a temple deep in the Vale. The Sylvans called it a 'Cordyshamble'—some kind of parasitic fungus engineered to recycle ambient mana from corpses. But it evolved, became self-replicating. Now it's infecting magical beings and using their abilities."

  "And you agreed to stop it?" Mazoga's expression was unreadable.

  "Yes. The Sylvans said there might be another benefit, too." Doc hesitated, watching their reactions carefully. "They mentioned the temple might contain a passage—a way out of the Hollow Vale."

  "A way out?" Carl's eyes widened. "That would change everything."

  "It would," Mazoga agreed, her voice thoughtful. "But getting there won't be easy. And what you're describing sounds like a suicide mission."

  "I know," Doc admitted. "That's why I need to scout it first. Gather intelligence, develop countermeasures against the spores."

  "You're not going alone," Kesh stated flatly.

  "The spores—" Doc began.

  "We'll figure something out," Mazoga interrupted. "You've saved us twice. We're not letting you walk into that temple alone."

  Doc felt a sudden tightness in his throat at Mazoga's words. Her declaration—"We're not letting you walk into that temple alone"—hit him with unexpected force. In his years of exploration, he'd grown accustomed to solitary missions, with only Lux and his equipment for company. The concept of others risking themselves on his behalf was... unfamiliar.

  "I appreciate that," he said quietly, meeting Mazoga's determined gaze. "More than you know."

  He cleared his throat, pivoting toward Carl to regain his composure. "Speaking of not going alone—that weapon you improvised during the attack. The launcher. Could we make more of those?"

  Carl's face lit up immediately, his previous nervousness replaced with undisguised pride. "You mean my Flamebolt Launcher?" He straightened his shoulders, glasses slipping slightly down his nose. "It's—well, it's not perfect yet, but it worked! The alchemical ignition component needs refinement, and the trigger mechanism jammed twice, but—" He caught himself rambling and adjusted his glasses. "Sorry. Yes. It's because of my new class. Arcanite Engineer lets me see connections between magical components and mechanical principles that shouldn't—I mean, that don't usually work together."

  "Can you make more?" Doc pressed.

  "Oh! Yes, definitely." Carl nodded enthusiastically. "We have most of the materials around camp. Dulric can help with the metal components. His Scrapshaper skill would be perfect for the ignition housing."

  "Good. We'll probably need several," Doc said. "And we'll need to design some kind of breathing apparatus too."

  Mazoga and Kesh exchanged confused glances.

  "Some kind of what?" Kesh asked, brow furrowed.

  "Breathing apparatus," Doc repeated, then noted their blank expressions. "Sorry—a device that filters air. Covers your nose and mouth to prevent the spores from getting in."

  "Like a mask?" Mazoga offered.

  "Exactly, but with filtration capabilities," Doc nodded. "Lux, do we have a blueprint for something like that in the database? Something we could fabricate with local materials?" Doc subvocalized.

  "Affirmative," Lux responded through their neural link. "Several designs are available that could be adapted to current resource constraints."

  "Is there something I can write on?" Doc asked, looking around. "Paper, parchment—anything?"

  "Storage tent," Mazoga replied, gesturing toward the eastern side of camp. "Edda keeps inventory there."

  The group made their way across the camp, passing villagers engaged in various repair tasks. Despite yesterday's attack, people seemed more determined than frightened, working with renewed purpose. Doc noticed several nodding respectfully as he passed, a few even offering quiet thanks.

  At the storage tent, they found Edda and Marron deep in conversation over a spread of inventory lists. Both looked up as the group entered.

  "Doc," Edda acknowledged with a nod. "What can we help you with?"

  Before Doc could answer, Carl darted past them into the tent. "He needs writing materials!" the young engineer called back, disappearing among the crates and barrels.

  "How are the villagers holding up?" Doc asked while they waited.

  Marron stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Better than expected. The children were terrified during the attack, of course."

  "But your presence seems to calm them," Edda added, her shrewd eyes studying Doc. "Especially with that magnificent beast of yours. The little ones have been asking if they can pet her."

  Doc glanced down at Fish, who sat regally beside him. "She's gentler than she looks."

  Carl emerged from the tent, arms laden with several sheets of parchment, a stick of charcoal, and what appeared to be a ruler fashioned from a straight piece of wood. "Here!" he announced breathlessly, spreading the materials on a nearby table.

  Doc nodded his thanks and positioned himself over the parchment. "Lux, guide me through this."

  As Lux relayed specifications through their neural link, Doc's hand moved across the parchment with practiced precision. Behind him, the others watched in silent fascination.

  "What class did he say he was again?" Marron whispered to Mazoga.

  "He didn't," she replied quietly. "And I've stopped asking."

  "Look at those measurements," Carl murmured. "That's not just a Blueprint skill. Those are exact calculations."

  Doc finished the design with a few final strokes, then stepped back. "Carl, take a look. Can we make this with what we have?"

  Carl approached the table, adjusting his glasses as he leaned over the parchment. His eyes widened progressively as he absorbed the details. The blueprint showed a form-fitting mask with dual filtration chambers, complete with cross-sectional views and material specifications. Notes in Doc's precise handwriting indicated potential substitutions for unavailable components.

  "This is..." Carl's voice trailed off as his fingers hovered reverently over the drawing. "I've never seen draftsmanship like this. The proportional scaling, the material stress calculations, the airflow dynamics..." He looked up at Doc with newfound awe. "You've accounted for things I wouldn't have even considered."

  "But can you build it?" Doc pressed.

  Carl nodded slowly, still staring at the blueprint. "I'll need to check our supplies, but... yes. Yes, I think I can."

  Doc nodded his head and turned to Carl. "Go see what materials you can find. Focus on the filtration components first—we'll need something that can trap microscopic spores."

  "Right away!" Carl clutched the blueprint with reverent care and hurried off, already muttering calculations under his breath.

  Doc turned back to Kesh and Mazoga. "I need to scout the temple first. The Sylvans were clear about the danger, but we need more specific information before mounting a full assault."

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  "And where exactly is this forest temple?" Mazoga asked, crossing her arms.

  "The Sylvans provided directions," Doc replied, pulling a small device from his belt that resembled a compass. Lux had already mapped the coordinates based on the Sylvans' telepathic information. "It's about half a day's journey northeast from here. I should be able to make it there and back within a day."

  Mazoga and Kesh exchanged a glance, some unspoken communication passing between them before they both nodded.

  "I'm coming with you," Kesh stated firmly, his amber eyes resolute. "It's a scouting mission, and that's what Hunters do best. My skills will help us avoid detection and identify potential threats."

  Doc considered this briefly. Fish nudged his hand, as if offering her own opinion on the matter.

  "Fair point," Doc conceded. "Having a Hunter along makes tactical sense."

  Kesh looked over at Mazoga. "Anyone else we should bring?"

  Mazoga's brow furrowed in thought. "I considered Calen. The boy knows these woods better than most."

  She shook her head after a moment's reflection. "But he's been through enough already. After everything with the bandits and yesterday's attack, he deserves some rest."

  "Agreed," Doc said. "He's earned a break."

  "Just scouting, then?" Mazoga confirmed, her expression serious. "You and Kesh scout the temple, identify what we're dealing with, then return to make a plan to attack?"

  "Exactly," Doc nodded. "No engagement unless absolutely necessary. We observe, document, and retreat. Once we understand what we're facing, we can develop countermeasures against both the entity and its spores."

  "Good." Mazoga clasped Doc's forearm in a warrior's grip. "Be careful out there. The Vale is dangerous enough without parasitic fungi in the mix."

  "We'll be back before nightfall," Kesh assured her.

  "See that you are," Mazoga replied, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Or I'll come looking for you myself."

  With their plan established, Doc and Kesh began gathering supplies for the scouting mission. Fish followed Doc closely, her amber eyes watchful as he checked his weapons and equipment.

  "How much water should we bring?" Kesh asked, filling a waterskin from the camp's reserve.

  "Enough for the day," Doc replied, adjusting his explorer suit's settings to optimize for forest movement. "We'll travel light and fast."

  Kesh nodded, slinging a compact bow across his back and securing a quiver of arrows at his hip. "These are silence-tipped," he explained, noticing Doc's glance. "No sound on impact. Useful for not alerting other threats in the area."

  Doc raised an eyebrow, impressed by the hunter's foresight. "Smart."

  Within twenty minutes, they were ready to depart. Doc gave final instructions to Carl about the breathing apparatus and checked in with Ironha about the remaining cure supplies. Fish paced restlessly at the gate, clearly eager to begin their journey.

  As they prepared to leave, Doc felt a strange mixture of anticipation and unease. Whatever waited for them at that temple, it was unlike anything he'd encountered before—even on this bizarre world.

  Doc and Kesh moved through the forest with practiced efficiency, Fish gliding like a shadow between them. They maintained a steady pace without conversation, each step calculated to minimize sound and disturbance.

  "Northeast bearing confirmed," Lux reported through Doc's neural link. "Maintaining optimal route through lowest detection zones."

  Doc navigated using Lux's guidance while Kesh read the forest itself—noting broken twigs, disturbed moss, and subtle changes in wildlife behavior. The hunter's amber eyes constantly scanned their surroundings, his movements fluid and nearly soundless.

  Three hours into their journey, Kesh suddenly raised his hand in a sharp halt signal. Doc froze instantly.

  "Down," Kesh whispered, dropping to a crouch.

  Doc followed suit, his suit's sensors registering nothing unusual. "What is it?"

  Instead of answering, Kesh pointed to a patch of disturbed soil twenty meters ahead. To Doc's eyes, it looked identical to the surrounding forest floor.

  "Burrower nest," Kesh explained, his voice barely audible. "Nasty things. Sense vibration. Territory marked by those pale mushrooms."

  Doc looked closer and noticed tiny white mushrooms in a rough circular pattern that he'd completely missed.

  "Good catch," he acknowledged. "How do we proceed?"

  Kesh pointed to their right. "Wide berth. Step exactly where I step."

  They detoured carefully around the invisible threat, Fish following their exact path with uncanny precision. Once clear, they resumed their pace.

  "Lux, mark that location on our return route," Doc subvocalized.

  "Already logged," Lux confirmed. "Interesting that our sensors didn't detect the nest. Possible subsonic or magical concealment."

  By midday, the terrain began to change. The forest grew denser, older. Massive trees towered overhead, their canopies filtering sunlight into dappled patterns. The air felt different too—heavier, charged with something Doc's suit registered as elevated particulate matter.

  "We're getting close," Kesh murmured, examining a twisted tree trunk. "The forest is... wrong here."

  Doc scanned ahead. "Define 'wrong.'"

  "Trees growing at unnatural angles. Absence of bird calls. Soil too rich yet nothing small grows." Kesh gestured to the forest floor. "Everything is either dead or overgrown. No balance."

  After another kilometer, Lux's alert pinged in Doc's mind. "Target location ahead, approximately 300 meters. Recommend elevated observation position."

  They found a suitable ridge overlooking a shallow valley. The ancient temple sat nestled among massive trees, its stone structure partially reclaimed by vegetation. Once-elegant archways and columns now stood broken and vine-covered. A central dome remained mostly intact, though a massive crack split its eastern face.

  Doc activated his suit's optical enhancement, zooming in on the structure while Kesh used a small spyglass from his pack.

  "Extensive infestation," Doc noted clinically, though his stomach turned at what he saw.

  The temple grounds crawled with corrupted life. Former bandits moved with jerky, puppet-like motions, their chests bulging with fungal growths that pulsed beneath torn clothing. Forest creatures—deer, wolves, and other animals Doc couldn't identify—showed similar corruption, with tendrils of pale growth erupting from their bodies.

  "They're guarding it," Kesh observed. "Or being drawn to it. Hard to tell."

  Doc zoomed in further on the central dome. "The infection appears most concentrated there. See how the growth patterns all lead inward?"

  Through the crack in the dome, Doc glimpsed something pulsing with sickly light. Whatever lay at the heart of the temple was generating waves of spores visible even to the naked eye—ghostly clouds that drifted outward before dissipating.

  "There's a pattern to their movement," Doc said. "The infected seem to patrol specific routes, almost like they're... tending something."

  "Or feeding it," Kesh added grimly. "I count at least thirty infected. Mix of bandits and forest creatures."

  "Forty-seven distinct entities," Lux corrected through Doc's neural link. "Plus unquantifiable fungal mass."

  Fish growled softly, her hackles rising as she stared at the temple. Doc placed a calming hand on her neck.

  "We need to observe a full patrol cycle," Doc said, settling into position. "Let's see if there are any gaps we can exploit."

  Kesh nodded, his expression grim. "This won't be a simple fight. Even with your weapons and class."

  "No," Doc agreed, watching as a former bandit with fungal tendrils erupting from his eye sockets shambled past a broken column. "This will be a slaughter—one way or another."

  Doc and Kesh maintained their current position, watching the shambling movements of the fungal-infected creatures for nearly an hour. Fish lay beside them, her body tense and alert despite her stillness.

  "I can't discern any pattern to their patrol routes," Doc muttered, his enhanced vision tracking several infected bandits as they lurched between crumbling columns. "They're moving almost randomly."

  Kesh nodded, lowering his spyglass. "No defensive formation. No sentry positions. Not even basic territorial boundaries." The hunter's brow furrowed. "It's unlike any predator behavior I've seen."

  "Because they're not predators anymore," Doc replied. "They're extensions of whatever's controlling them from inside."

  As the afternoon shadows lengthened, Doc checked the time. "We should head back soon. Daylight's burning, and I don't want to navigate these woods after dark."

  "Agreed. I've seen enough to—" Kesh stopped mid-sentence, his body going rigid.

  Below them, every infected creature had frozen in place. The sudden cessation of movement sent a chill down Doc's spine. Dozens of fungal-corrupted bodies stood motionless, as if listening to some inaudible command.

  "What the hell?" Doc whispered.

  Fish's growl deepened, the fur along her spine standing on end.

  Then, with horrifying synchronicity, every infected head turned toward the eastern edge of the clearing. Without warning, they surged forward as one mass—bandits, animals, all moving with singular purpose.

  "There," Kesh pointed. "Something entered their territory."

  Doc adjusted his vision, focusing on the target of the swarm. Three sleek, dark shapes darted between trees—Gloomclaw Panthers, like the ones they'd encountered on the water run. The predators moved with lethal grace, clearly hunting in their natural formation.

  The panthers noticed the approaching horde and shifted to defensive positions. The lead panther lashed out with incredible speed, decapitating the nearest infected bandit with a single swipe of its claws.

  "They're fighting back," Doc observed.

  The panthers dispatched four more infected with brutal efficiency, but the sheer number of attackers overwhelmed them. One panther went down beneath a pile of writhing bodies. The second managed to kill three more before fungal tendrils punctured its hide. The third and largest tried to escape, leaping over the swarm—only to be snatched mid-air by an infected wolf that had climbed a nearby tree.

  "Good gods," Kesh breathed.

  Doc watched in clinical horror as pale filaments erupted from the fallen panthers' bodies. Within minutes, the sleek predators rose again, now jerking with the same puppet-like movements as the other infected.

  "Lux, full spectrum scan of the area," Doc subvocalized. "Focus on air composition."

  "Scanning," Lux replied. After a moment: "Analysis complete. Detecting high concentration of fungal spores suspended in air. Microscopic particulates maintain viability even at 300 meters from source. Concentration increases exponentially closer to temple center."

  "The air itself is contaminated," Doc realized. "The entire area is saturated with spores."

  "What is it?" Kesh asked, noting Doc's expression.

  "The breathing masks aren't just a precaution—they're essential," Doc explained. "The air around the temple is filled with spores. Invisible to the naked eye, but everywhere. One breath would be enough to begin infection."

  Kesh's eyes widened. "And they use swarm tactics. Perfect coordination. They sensed those panthers immediately."

  "Anything that moves becomes a target," Doc agreed. "No stealth approach will work against that level of awareness."

  "This changes our strategy completely," Kesh said, already backing away from the ridge.

  Doc took one last look at the temple. The infected panthers now joined the patrol, their once-graceful movements corrupted into grotesque parodies.

  "Let's get back to camp," he said grimly. "We need those masks. And a lot more firepower."

  Doc and Kesh made their way back to camp as twilight descended, moving with practiced efficiency through the darkening forest. Fish led the way, her enhanced senses detecting threats long before they materialized. They arrived at the eastern gate just as the last rays of sunlight disappeared behind the trees.

  Mazoga was waiting for them, arms crossed and expression tense.

  "You cut it close," she said, eyeing the darkness behind them.

  "We needed to observe a full patrol cycle," Doc replied, his voice clinical and detached. "The situation is worse than we anticipated."

  They gathered in the command tent—a repurposed bandit structure that now served as their strategic headquarters. Doc spread a rough map on the central table while Kesh described what they'd witnessed. Mazoga's expression grew increasingly grim as they detailed the coordinated swarm behavior and the rapid infection of the panthers.

  "So there's no way to sneak in?" she asked when they finished.

  Doc shook his head. "Negative. The entire area is saturated with airborne spores, and the infected entities operate with perfect coordination. They detect any movement within their perimeter and respond as a unified force."

  "We'll have to go in directly," Doc added. "Face them head-on."

  Mazoga stared at Doc as if he'd suggested they fly to the moon. "Head-on? Against forty-seven infected creatures that move as one unit?"

  Doc didn't notice her incredulous expression. He was busy communicating with Lux.

  "Lux, what weapons do we have available that could neutralize multiple targets simultaneously?" he subvocalized.

  "Scanning available blueprints," Lux replied through their neural link. "Most effective option: thermal detonation array with fifty-meter radius. Alternate: sonic disruptor with biological tissue fragmentation capability. Third option: nanite dispersal cloud with targeted pathogen programming."

  "We don't have the components for any of those," Doc muttered. "Maybe if we could get back to the ship, but that's at least a four-day journey each way."

  "Calculating alternatives using locally available materials," Lux continued. "Options include: primitive explosive devices, chemical accelerants, pressurized flame projectors..."

  As Lux listed possibilities, Doc's mind raced through what they knew about the fungal entity. The infected moved as one organism. They attacked en masse. And most importantly—they were highly susceptible to fire. The bandits they'd fought at the camp had burned quickly, their fungal components acting as accelerants.

  "Fire," Doc said suddenly, interrupting Mazoga mid-sentence. "We need a fire-based weapon. Something with explosive properties."

  "Doc?" Mazoga waved a hand in front of his face. "Are you still with us?"

  Doc blinked, focusing on her concerned expression. "Sorry. I was considering our options. The fungal infected are vulnerable to fire, and they use swarm tactics. If we could lure them into a concentrated area..."

  "You want to use them against themselves," Kesh said, understanding dawning on his face.

  "Precisely." Doc nodded. "We need a weapon that can deliver concentrated fire over a wide area, and we need bait that can survive long enough to draw in maximum numbers."

  Mazoga was still staring at him, her expression a mixture of concern and fascination.

  "I have a plan," Doc said, meeting her gaze directly. "But I need to speak with Carl and Dulric first. They can help build what we need."

  Doc turned to leave, his mind already racing with plans for the weapons they'd need. "I'll find Carl and Dulric immediately. We need to—"

  "Hold on." Mazoga's firm hand caught his shoulder. "Where do you think you're going?"

  Doc blinked, surprised by the interruption. "To start working on our weapons systems. We don't have much time before—"

  "Night has fallen," Maz said, gesturing toward the tent flap where darkness had completely settled outside. "When's the last time you stopped moving since you woke up this morning?"

  Doc paused, his momentum suddenly broken. "I'm fine. The suit regulates my—"

  "Did you eat breakfast today?" Maz pressed, crossing her arms.

  The question caught Doc off-guard. He mentally retraced his morning—waking, checking his equipment, meeting Kesh, departing for the scouting mission. His stomach chose that moment to growl audibly.

  "I... may have overlooked that detail," he admitted.

  Mazoga shook her head. "Carl and Dulric are already busy trying to finish that breathing apparatus you requested, plus Carl's working on the launcher weapon remember. Let them concentrate on those tasks before you lob another responsibility on them."

  Doc opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. She was right. His single-minded focus on the mission had overridden basic necessities—again. It was a pattern Lux had flagged in his behavior countless times before.

  "Your cortisol levels are elevated and blood glucose is below optimal parameters," Lux chimed in through their neural link. "Maz's assessment is correct. Current efficiency metrics indicate diminishing returns on cognitive function."

  Doc sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "You're right. I get... focused."

  "Obsessive is the word I'd use," Mazoga said, but her tone had softened. "The fungal infestation will still be there tomorrow. Go get some food and actual sleep. You'll need your strength."

  Doc nodded, suddenly aware of the deep fatigue in his muscles. The day's trek through difficult terrain, the constant vigilance, the mental strain of analyzing the temple's defenses—it had all taken a toll his adrenaline had been masking.

  "Thank you," he said quietly. "Sometimes I need that reminder."

  Mazoga smiled, the expression warming her usually stern features. "I understand your concerns, Doc. We all feel the urgency. But you need to rest when you can. You're going to need all the strength you can muster for what's coming."

  Doc nodded, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and embarrassment. On Nexus Prime, his tendency to work through meals and sleep cycles had been a point of pride—the mark of a dedicated scientist. Here, surrounded by people who depended on him, it felt like a liability.

  "I'll get some food," he conceded. "And sleep. Eight hours minimum."

  "Good," Mazoga said, clearly satisfied. "The stew's still warm. Ironha made sure to save you a portion."

  As Doc ducked out of the command tent, Fish materialized from the shadows to join him, pressing against his leg with quiet reassurance. Together, they walked toward the communal fire, where the smell of hearty stew reminded Doc just how human he still was—advanced suit and all.

  Doc settled beside the communal fire, a wooden bowl of steaming stew balanced on his knee. The rich aroma of herbs and meat rose with the steam, making his stomach growl with renewed insistence. Fish curled at his feet, her massive form somehow managing to look both intimidating and content as she watched him eat.

  "Your hypothalamus is registering increased satisfaction with each caloric intake," Lux noted through their neural link. "Blood glucose levels rising to acceptable parameters."

  "Thanks for the digestive play-by-play," Doc muttered between spoonfuls.

  The camp had quieted for the night, with only a few figures moving between tents. Across the fire, Ironha nodded approvingly as she noticed him eating. She'd set aside this portion specifically for him—a small kindness he might have missed entirely if Mazoga hadn't intervened.

  Doc sighed, recognizing the familiar pattern. How many meals had he skipped on research stations? How many times had Lux had to remind him that humans required sustenance, not just data? His single-minded focus had served him well as a lone explorer, cataloging anomalies on distant worlds where only scientific curiosity mattered.

  But this wasn't a research mission.

  He glanced around the camp—at the repaired walls where villagers had worked together, at the children sleeping peacefully because of their collective efforts, at Carl's workshop where the young engineer was still tinkering with breathing masks that might save lives tomorrow.

  These people weren't data points. They were looking to him not just for solutions, but for stability.

  Fish nudged his hand, her amber eyes somehow conveying understanding beyond animal capacity. Doc scratched behind her ears, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease.

  "I know," he said quietly. "I'm part of something bigger now."

  The realization settled over him like a warm blanket—unfamiliar but not unwelcome. Perhaps Mazoga's intervention wasn't just about his physical needs, but a reminder that here, unlike the cold void of space, someone noticed when he disappeared into his own mind.

  Someone cared enough to pull him back.

  Thanks for reading Chapter 22!

  Chapter 23 drops Tuesday.