Kent’s face came into focus. “Easy,” he said. “You’re safe. Just stay down.”
Confused, Bob blinked. “What took you guys so long?” His voice came out raw, thick with emotion.
“We were on the far side of the campground,” Kent said. “A group of squirrels hit a salvage team. We got lucky. No injuries.”
He hesitated, then squeezed Bob’s shoulder. “You did your best. You took on five of those monsters basically alone.”
Bob turned his head away, voice barely audible. “My best wasn’t good enough.”
Tears stung his eyes, not just from the pain.
George leaned in and gripped Bob’s head gently, forcing eye contact. “Think of the ones you save.”
Bob opened his mouth to reply but tasted blood instead. His heart lurched.
A glowing red notification flashed across his vision.
BLEEDING DEBUFF ACTIVE
HEALTH DECREASED -13
“My health’s still going down,” Bob rasped. “Bleeding debuff.”
Tami still lay beside him, eyes closed, unmoving. She couldn’t help.
Kent glanced at her, then turned to George. “We need to stop the bleeding. Now.” He put a steadying hand on Bob’s shoulder. “It’s going to hurt. A lot.”
Bob nodded faintly.
With George and Blake holding him down, Kent unwrapped strips of cloth and began binding Bob’s torso. The pressure was agonizing. Bob’s body bucked despite himself, a strangled cry escaping his throat. Every breath felt like fire in his ribs.
When it was over, they laid him gently back beside Tami. Kent leaned in, checking the wrappings. “It looks like we’ve stopped the worst of it,” Kent said. “Until Tami wakes up and can cast Minor Mend, stay still. Let someone know if the debuff triggers again.”
Bob reached out, catching Kent’s arm. His grip was weak, but urgent. “What was her name?” he asked.
Kent blinked. “You didn’t know her?”
Bob shook his head, eyes glassy. “I was looking for you. I just saw her being attacked. I didn’t stop to ask.”
Kent didn’t answer. He just nodded and walked over to the man still kneeling beside the tarp-covered body. He knelt, speaking in a voice too low to hear. After a moment, Kent put an arm around the grieving man, holding him as he wept.
Bob watched, unable to look away. His chest felt hollow. He’d fought as hard as he could. And it hadn’t been enough. His mind spun, relief that his health seemed to be stabilizing, confusion about the system, guilt gnawing at the edges of every thought. He drifted, caught between pain and regret.
Then George spoke. “Bob… do you think we’ll survive this?”
The question startled him. He jerked slightly, pain blooming again through his ribs.
George winced. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.” His voice softened. “You forgot I was here, didn’t you?”
Bob gave a weak laugh. “Yeah. I was lost in my own head. What did you say?”
George repeated the question, quieter now. “Do you think we’ll survive? This whole… thing. It’s going to get worse, isn’t it?”
Bob turned his head slowly. “Yeah, I think it will. And if we don’t figure something out soon…” He trailed off. “More of us are going to die.”
George didn’t respond right away. He just stared out over the clearing, his eyes distant. Somewhere nearby, someone sobbed quietly. Others were beginning to regroup, working to organize supplies again, checking on the wounded, whispering questions none of them could answer.
After a long silence, George spoke again, quieter this time. “You said we need to figure something out. Do you have a plan?”
Bob let his head sink back onto the ground. His whole body ached, but his mind wouldn’t rest. “I think I do,” Bob said. “It involves a quest. One I don’t think I am ready for. One I don’t know how to finish.”
George leaned in slightly, frowning. “You mean your System quest?”
Bob gave a slow nod. “Yeah. It’s called The description is vague, but Kent showed me how to see the quest reward... it said I could claim an Outpost.” Bob grimaced the pain growing in his chest as he talked. “My gut is telling me that this Outpost could be what we need.”
George sat back on his heels, rubbing his beard. “If the system’s offering infrastructure... it means it expects us to settle in. Build something. Survive long-term.”
Bob closed his eyes briefly. “Exactly. And if we can claim an outpost, that might give us defenses, structures, maybe even housing, or actual weapons. Something more than tarps and trauma.”
George looked out over the clearing again. “We need a safe place. People are scared. Hell, I’m scared.”
“So am I,” Bob admitted. “But we can’t just react anymore. We need to take the initiative. If the system's willing to give us tools, I’m going to take them. I’m going to finish this quest.”
George looked back at Bob, eyes sharp again. “Alright. So what do we do next?”
“It says I need to gain the trust of the majority of humans in the sector,” Bob said, frowning. “I don’t know what it means exactly—‘gain the trust’ is pretty vague. These descriptions really aren’t that helpful.” He sighed and continued, “When everyone agreed to come to the cabin, nothing happened.”
Bob reached up to shade his face. “If trust is what triggers it… then this is more about proving I can lead, not just organizing a caravan. So either people still don’t think of me as their leader… or there are more humans in our sector we haven’t met yet.”
Shifting slightly Bob winced. “Either way, I don’t think I’m going to be doing much for a while. I’ll have plenty of time to figure it out while I recover.”
George gave him a lopsided smile. “Well, you’re not going to figure anything out if you keep trying to wrestle giant chipmunks. Maybe next time use your hammer.”
“I got a skill for it,” Bob replied, voice dry.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“For the hammer or the wrestling?” George asked, smirking.
“Both.”
George squinted. “You're serious.”
“I’m seriously in pain. That count?”
George stared at him, trying to decide whether Bob was joking. After a beat, he groaned. “Life is really not fair. You hug a chipmunk and get a skill. Of course you’d get skills from doing something stupid while the rest of us have been working our asses off to get anything at all.”
Bob shrugged, then winced as pain stabbed through his ribs. “We really need more healers. This sucks.”
George reached over and gave his shoulder a gentle pat. “I’ll have someone go see where those other two are at.” George stood up to leave, then looked back at Bob and Tami. “I hope Tami wakes up soon but even if she does I don’t think she should be healing for a while. She really over did it.”
Bob nodded as George went to talk to a couple of people. A few minutes later he came back and the two of them sat in silence for a while, listening to the soft movements of the camp around them.
Kent returned with the grieving man. “This is Ted. Ted, this is George and Bob. Umm…” He paused looking at Tami. “That’s Tami next to Bob. She passed out trying to heal Bob.”
Ted looked down at Bob, then slowly sat opposite Tami, placing a hand on Bob’s shoulder. His other hand still gripped a necklace, fingers white-knuckled.
“I’m grateful for what you did, trying to save my wife,” Ted’s voice thick with emotion. “Didn’t change anything… but it means a lot you tried.” His hand slipped away, and he bowed his head, silent tears trailing down his cheeks.
Bob reached out and rested his hand on Ted’s arm. Ted looked at Bob, and for a moment, they held each other’s gaze. “We’ll take her with us,” Bob said quietly. “We’ll find a place to bury her properly. What was her name?”
“Susanna.”
Bob didn’t say anything else. There was nothing more to say. He just sat there, listening to Ted’s quiet sobs, the weight of failure heavy on his chest.
The quiet weeping was suddenly interrupted… Tami groaned softly, then gasped like she’d just surfaced from underwater. Her eyes flew open, unfocused, darting wildly. “Bob! Where is he? Is he alive?”
George reached out quickly. “Tami, he’s right here. You’re okay. He’s okay.”
She blinked hard, and then her eyes locked onto Bob. Without thinking, she reached for him. “I think I can heal you again.”
Kent and George moved quickly, gently grabbing her hands.
“Tami, no,” Kent said, his voice firm but kind. “You need to rest. Bob’s stable for now.”
George added, “We sent for the other healers. Claire and Shinji are on their way.”
Tami hesitated, torn between duty and exhaustion. She glanced down at Bob, taking in the stained bandages and the tight lines of pain on his face. Finally, she nodded, but her hands trembled.
A few moments passed, heavy with unsaid things.
Claire came jogging over, ponytail bouncing. She skidded to a stop beside them, eyes scanning Tami and Bob. Exhaustion hung on her face, but her voice was steady. “What happened? Tami, I was told you were unconscious.”
Tami nodded. “I have a notification for a couple debuffs. Mana Exhaustion and Mana Overdraw.” Tami looked like she was reading something then a message appeared in front of all of them.
DEBUFF ACTIVE:
MANA EXHAUSTION
MANA OVERDRAW
Then another followed right behind.
MANA EXHAUSTION:
YOU HAVE DEPLETED YOUR AVAILABLE MANA RESERVES.
SPELLCASTING AND MANA-BASED ABILITIES ARE TEMPORARILY DISABLED.
- -25% MOVEMENT SPEED
- -10% MIND STATS
- -30% MANA RECOVERY RATE
- -10% MIND STATS
DURATION: UNTIL MANA IS FULLY RESTORED.
MANA OVERDRAW:
YOU HAVE FORCEFULLY EXCEEDED YOUR MAXIMUM MANA LIMIT.
SEVERE BACKLASH INCURRED.
- -50% MAX HEALTH
- -100% STAMINA REGENERATION
- ALL SPELLCASTING LOCKED
- +75% RISK OF UNCONSCIOUSNESS
- -100% STAMINA REGENERATION
DURATION: VARIABLE. REQUIRES REST OR MEDICAL INTERVENTION.
WARNING: FURTHER CASTING ATTEMPTS WILL RESULT IN PERMANENT DAMAGE.
Tami sat there with her head down as she shared her status with everyone. Everyone was shocked by the severity of the debuffs. Bob just reached out and took her hand. Not knowing what else to do, they filled Claire in on everything that had happened to Bob and how Tami had cast her healing spell then passed out.
When the recap was done Claire reached out to Tami and cast Vitality Boost. Then turned and did the same for Bob. A notification appeared in front of him.
BUFF ACTIVE:
VITALITY +2
HEALTH REGENERATION INCREASED BY 1% FOR 5 MINUTES
“That is all I can do. Shinji has exhausted herself and won’t be able to help for a while.” Claire leaned back against a tree and closed her eyes. “I need to rest for a moment myself. I now also have the debuff Mana Exhaustion.”
Kent moved over and offered Claire a water bottle. Then sat next to her.
Tami feeling a little better after Claire's boost knelt next to Bob. “I think we need to continue with the plan and get everyone back to the cabin. The three of us healers aren’t going to be enough to keep us alive if we keep getting injured. We need a safe place.”
George, trying to lighten the tension, grinned and said, “Yes, mother.” He started laughing at his own joke.
Tami didn’t laugh. She glared at him, and then the dam broke.
“This isn’t a game!” she snapped. “Bob could die. We’ve already seen people die!” Her voice shook with emotion. “If Bob dies, are you going to lead us? I don’t see anyone lining up to follow you. We need him!”
She paused, then took a deep, shaky breath, trying to calm herself. When she spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper.
“I need him.”
Bob reached out and gently took her hand. “George didn’t mean anything by it,” he said quietly. “It’s how he deals with stress. He always tries to be funny when he’s worried.”
He held her hand until she visibly relaxed, the tension in her shoulders easing. Then he glanced over at George, who looked thoroughly chastised.
“I’m going to be okay,” Bob added with a faint smile. “It’s going to take more than some overgrown Chip ’n Dales to stop me.”
Tami shot him a look that suggested she was close to hitting him, but she held back, probably for the sake of his injuries. Bob had a feeling she’d get her revenge once he was healthy enough to withstand it. Still, the moment seemed to break the tension between her and George.
After a beat, Tami looked at him seriously. “The rest of the wounded should be ready to be moved. But I’m worried you’ll start bleeding again when we try to move you back to the cabin,” Tami stood up. “Once we’re on the move, you need to let me know If your health drops again while we’re moving, tell me right away. I’ll need to act fast.”
Bob Looked at Tami. “You can’t do anything with that debuff. If you cast a spell it will cause permanent damage.”
Tami’s look told Bob he wasn’t going to win this argument. “Anything I suffer will be worth it if you don’t die.”
Bob conceded the argument and just nodded. He had another promise to keep so he changed the subject. “We also need to bring the bodies,” he said, turning his gaze to George and then to Ted, who was still sitting silently beside him. “We can’t leave them here for the animals. They deserve a proper burial.”
George nodded solemnly. “I’ll get people on it. I don’t know how we’re going to get them back to the cabin, but we’ll find a way.”
As George left to organize the effort, Bob turned to Kent.
“Gather everyone,” he said. “It’s time to move.”
It took about thirty minutes before everyone was assembled near where Bob still lay. Kent returned with an update.
“Everyone’s ready,” he said. “We’re going to move you into a cart Jürgen put together. The others who can’t walk are already loaded in.”
The cart was a marvel of desperation and ingenuity. Jürgen had scavenged four spare tires and attached them to a pair of rusted steel pipe axles. Somehow, it rolled. The bed was fashioned from siding torn off the ranger’s station, forming a flat surface for the injured. Several people took up ropes to pull, while others stood behind, ready to push.
Another hour passed before the bodies were gathered and placed into a second cart that was just as roughly built.
By the time they finally set off, the sun was low on the horizon. Shadows stretched long across the dirt road as dusk crept in. The day hadn’t gone anything like he’d imagined. Now, he found himself worrying about what came next and how they were going to take care of everyone. The cabin didn’t have enough beds, food supplies were limited, and they still had no way back to town.
The journey back was slow and rough. Every bump in the road sent jabs of pain through Bob’s ribs. He wasn’t the only one suffering, moans and cries came from others in the cart as they jostled over uneven ground. But eventually, after what felt like hours, they made it.
The sun had vanished behind the tree line. Twilight wrapped around them as exhaustion settled over the group like a heavy blanket.
As they arrived, Tami took charge. She issued clear, firm orders directing people to help unload the injured and get them inside. Bob was given the main floor bedroom to himself, while the rest of the wounded were divided between the other rooms, two or more per space.
She organized people into work groups, some were tasked with preparing food, others with finding sleeping arrangements for the uninjured. Kent and George were assigned to coordinate a night watch, in case the creatures followed them back to the cabin.
Once Bob was settled into bed, Tami returned with painkillers and a handful of salvaged medications she’d found somewhere in the cabin. He swallowed them gratefully, and as he laid back, his eyes grew heavy.
The last thing he remembered was the muffled voices of survivors settling in around the cabin and the sound of Tami quietly closing the door behind her.
Bob let the warmth of the bed soak into his battered body. Tonight, they were together and that had to count for something.
He didn’t feel like a leader. Not yet. But people were following him anyway. That meant something. It had to.
Bob didn’t think about it anymore as the exhaustion took him.