The ravine narrowed, cutting off the late afternoon light and plunging the path into premature twilight.

The settlement was a patch of tents built with scavenged plastic and tarps that clung to the rock face like barnacles, sheltered behind a natural choke point in the canyon.

The defensive perimeter was even worse. It consisted of felled pine trunks lashed together with wire and a few rusted car chassis dragged into the gap.

<It's garbage.>

Reidar looked at the barrier and ran the numbers. A single Iron-Hide Behemoth would smash through that wood like it was dry kindling. The Church had failed to take this place either because they didn't know about it or because it was a convenient pen for their livestock.

The group had to stop far from the main camp for fear that the others would attack. They didn't know how Reidar would take an attack against his summons, so the survivors asked him to go down far from the place so that they could get to their base on foot.

They walked toward the gate. Two guards stood on a makeshift platform above the logs. They raised crossbows, but the weapons wavered in their grip.

—[Marcus Chen—Level 98]—

—[Sarah Mitchell—Level 104]—

Most of the people here were around level 100. The Church Zealots he had just killed were Level 220. The monsters in the woods were even stronger. These people were waiting to die, and they couldn't even leave.

The guards saw their people return, and with three guests.

The lead guard—Marcus—straightened when he recognized the survivors. His crossbow dropped an inch.

"David?" Marcus called down, squinting. "Is that you?"

The man in the lead—David—raised a hand. "It's us, Marc. We made it back."

Relief broke across Marcus's face. Sarah lowered her crossbow completely.

"Jesus," Marcus said. "We thought the Church got you for good."

"They did," David said. "But we are here now."

Marcus's eyes widened. "How—"

David glanced over his shoulder at Reidar, then at Lena and Jake. "These people saved us. They killed the Zealots."

The guards stared. Sarah's gaze flicked between Reidar's gear and his face, trying to reconcile the story with what she was seeing. Reidar didn't smile. He didn't reassure them. He just stood there, waiting.

Then the guards finally noticed their levels.

Marcus swallowed. "You—you fought the Church?"

"We did what we had to," Reidar said.

What he didn't say was that he also did it because it cost him nothing. A few minutes and with a handful of spells, and he'd gained what he needed: intel, leverage, and a way into this camp without starting a fight. Altruism was just one of the reasons. Reidar, Jake, and Lena needed a vendor.

The gate creaked open, and they all stepped through.

It was quiet.

People sat by small fires, but they didn't look up with the curiosity Reidar expected in this circumstance; instead, they watched with dull, glazed expressions that betrayed such an exhaustion that Reidar wondered how they could still be standing. These people's faces were gaunt, with skin pulled tight over their cheekbones, and with bandages wrapped around far too many limbs.

As Reidar scanned the camp, he noted there were no fortifications or fallback points inside, realizing the area contained nothing but soft targets.

He remembered Creamont—the reinforced walls, the organized patrols, the sense of purpose. He remembered Havenwood and its large walls. This place had none of that. This was what the rest of the world looked like without someone like him doing the heavy lifting. It was a place where hope was running out.

David gestured toward the center of the camp. "I'll bring you to Thomas."

Reidar understood David was talking about the settlement leader and followed without comment. Lena and Jake fell in behind him.

They wove between tents and dying fires. People watched them pass—curious, wary, and too tired to care.

David led them to a larger fire near the back of the camp, where an old man sat cross-legged on a scrap of canvas. He stirred a dented pot with a wooden spoon, steam rising in thin wisps.

—[Thomas Wright—Level 112]—

The man didn't look up at first. He just kept stirring, like he'd done this a thousand times before.

"Thomas," David said. "We're back."

The old man paused. His hand stilled on the spoon. Then he lifted his head and his eyes and looked at David.

"Didn't think I'd see you again," Thomas said.

"Neither did I," David said. He stepped aside, nodding toward Reidar. "These people saved us."

Thomas's gaze shifted to Reidar, then to Lena and Jake. He studied them for a long moment. He clearly noticed the levels, but he said nothing, although Reidar, and most importantly Lena, could see the questions forming in his mind. But this person, Thomas, seemed smart enough not to say anything or ask questions.

"That so," he said.

Reidar met his eyes and said nothing. Thomas set the spoon down and braced his hands on his knees, pushing himself to his feet with a faint grunt. He was tall and broad-shouldered despite his age, and his movements carried the weight of someone who'd seen too much and survived anyway. If because of luck or skills, it was unknown.

"Well," Thomas said, wiping his hands on his trousers. "Guess I owe you a thank-you."

"You don't," Reidar said. "We need information. That will be enough."

Thomas's mouth twitched. It was not quite a smile, but it was close. "Straight to business." He paused. "Not that I don't like it, and for sure I can respect that." He paused again. "Let me be clear, though, if you hope I'm going to give you a reward, then forget about it. We don't have enough to survive, so dishing out rewards is impossible. Although I would like to do it."

"That's something weird to say after we said we are not looking for rewards."

"I know," Matthias said. "But it's better to make this clear regardless of what you say."

He gestured to the ground around the fire. "Sit. I'll tell you what you want to know."

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