As Richter stepped away from the partially built gate and made his way back toward the canyon path, a sense of safety settled over him. For the first time, he had somewhere to return to—he was no longer alone.

  Before leaving, Richter had arranged with a Leatherworker to process the Palehide pelt for the 40 credits he had left. The craftsman estimated it would take a few days to complete. That gave Richter some time to spare—and with two days still remaining in the Guarded Spoils event, he intended to try his luck at securing a few more chests.

  It turned out that not many people from the settlement had been hunting the chests. Only now did Richter realize that, for most, the goal was simply an easy life. They would find a settlement like this, choose a crafting profession, and settle into a comfortable existence—not too dissimilar from life before the System.

  If you had told Richter before the System that he would willingly step into the unknown and risk his life, he would have laughed. Yet here he was, gazing at a handful of beacons shimmering in the distance—each one no more than half a day's walk from the settlement. He hadn't decided which to pursue yet, preferring to wait until he closed the distance before making his choice.

  As he followed the dirt path worn into the meadow by countless footsteps, Richter passed a team of four men, their clothes and faces smeared with dirt and grime, struggling to pull a makeshift cart laden with crystal chunks.

  Nan had mentioned they had discovered a cave entrance along the canyon wall, filled with strange crystals. Underground, the crystals appeared colorless, but once exposed to sunlight, they absorbed the light greedily. So far, they had identified eight different variations.

  Each colored crystal displayed a unique property when infused with sunlight.

  The red, ruby-like crystals emitted a gentle warmth—not enough to cook or forge with, but sufficient to warm a room on a cold night. In contrast, the blue crystals generated a chilling coldness. By placing a few of them inside a small box, the settlers had managed to craft makeshift refrigerators, preserving food far longer than they otherwise could.

  As for the other colors, their uses remained largely a mystery. A few curious souls were dedicated to studying them, hoping to uncover new applications.

  In a world stripped of electricity and modern infrastructure, these sunlight-powered crystals had the potential to become invaluable.

  As Richter thought on the uses of these crystals, he heard the group of men shouting to someone, Richter turned to see Liam running up, the path, past the men towards Richter.

  "Wait up!" Liam called, jogging up the path toward him. The roguishly handsome man now sported a new leather vest, a clear upgrade from the basic archer gear issued by the System. It was only now that Richter noticed the intricate tattoos covering Liam's arms—they suited him, adding to his wild, untamed charm.

  "You okay? Where's the family?" Richter asked, curiosity edging his voice. He had assumed the group had returned to the settlement just to restock before heading back out again.

  "Dad and the two girls decided to stay at the settlement for a while," Liam said, now walking alongside Richter toward the canyon. "Dad's not too bothered about chasing down a chest, and the three of them want to focus on getting professions. So, I figured I'd head out and try hunting on my own. Can't let you have all the fun, right?"

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  "The company would be welcome," Richter said, offering a small smile. "We can work together if you want—split the chest fifty-fifty." It might be nice, he thought, to have a teammate for once.

  "Thanks for the offer, but I want to try it alone—see what I'm really capable of," Liam said with a determined smile. Richter nodded in understanding; at least he'd made the offer.

  The pair got through the canyon passage walking through the forest, bit of small talk here and there talking about pre System stuff.

  It turned out Liam had been a tattoo artist before the System arrived, and fittingly, his first skill was tattoo-related. He showed Richter a design inked on the underside of his arm—a sleek, elongated arrow.

  With a grin, Liam brushed his fingers over the tattoo and, with a flick of mana, pulled the arrow free from his skin. It solidified into a tangible weapon, crafted entirely from ink. A moment later, with another pulse of mana, the tattoo reappeared on his arm, ready to be drawn again.

  Richter shared details about his Scribe profession, and a sense of connection formed between them. Both Liam's class and Richter's profession relied on using their own bodies as conduits for ink and magic.

  And then the topic came up.

  "You know what I told you the other night? I didn't want to push, but I got a hint—you knew the feeling," Liam said, his grin fading. His expression had grown more serious, not angry, just quietly earnest. "Is that scar... tied to killing someone."

  He had been caught. He liked Liam, but what would Liam think of him if he knew the truth? What would his reaction be?

  Richter's fingers absently toyed with his scribe ring. Was it just nerves—or was he preparing himself, ready to summon his scroll if things turned bad?

  Richter kept his gaze averted from Liam's amber eyes as he told the story. They continued walking through the woodlands, each step grounding Richter as he fought the urge to run. This was the first time he had shared the truth with someone, and it took everything he had to keep going. Liam said nothing—he simply listened.

  Richter told him everything—about the archer who abandoned them, about Dave and his family, about the bear attack, and the brutal deaths of Dave, Sophie, and Jason. Even when Richter admitted to killing Jason, Liam remained silent, simply listening. Richter continued, sharing the truth about the title he had been given, the scar that marked him forever—leaving out only the secret of his Identify skill. That was something Liam didn’t need to know.

  Liam's hand touching Richter's shoulder caused him to tense.

  "You are not a murderer," Liam said as he turned Richter to face him. His amber eyes held something deeper—was he speaking to Richter, or to himself? In Richter's confession, Liam seemed to find a quiet confirmation: he wasn't alone. There were others in this world who had been forced to do terrible things just to survive.

  Richter swallowed hard, the tension slowly bleeding from his muscles.

  "You really think that?" he asked, voice low, uncertain.

  Liam nodded without hesitation.

  "I know it. You survived. That’s not something to be ashamed of."

  They stood there for a moment longer in the fading light, two survivors bound not by shared victories, but by the quiet, brutal cost of staying alive.

  "Come on," Liam said with a faint grin, clapping Richter lightly on the back. "We're not far from two beacons now. Time to split up—green or blue?"

  Richter realized just how long they had been walking. As he lifted his gaze, he spotted two beacons piercing the sky—one glowing green, like the beacon from the Palehide, signaling an uncommon chest. The other shimmered in dark blue, the same color Liam's group had said marked the location of the rare chest they had once claimed.

  "Rock, paper, scissors for the rare one?" Richter joked, a playful glint in his eye.

  Liam chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, I'll take the uncommon. This is my first solo hunt—don't wanna bite off more than I can chew."

  The two men parted ways with a quick hug and a firm pat on the back—a silent acknowledgment of the bond forged between them, a bond tempered by survival and the weight of what they had both done.