Accidental Healer

The possibilities start stacking up in my mind. Damon’s perspective makes a lot of sense, and I can see how big of a step the new interface will be in leveling up our territory.

But there’s a nagging feeling I can’t shake. Things are going to get harder.

The more time I spend with these people, the more responsibility I feel. I’m not just fighting for myself anymore. It was simpler times with just Mischief and I against the world. Now? I have a new faction to protect.

The problem? I can’t be everywhere at once. If we’re going to survive long-term, everyone needs to be capable—not just fighters, but crafters, builders, and support classes.

And for that, they need the right tools to grow.

“Jared, how long would it take to build proper workspaces for our specialists?” I ask, already planning ahead.

Jared scratches his head. “Maybe one or two months to get everything up and running. But not every specialist needs their own building. Some roles can overlap.”

I nod. “Then we need to prioritize Damon. Arming and protecting our people is my top concern.”

We go back and forth on the logistics for a while, talking about the values of each crafting class.

I shift in my robe slightly before I look back at the interface. I’ve never been tactful with difficult situations so I figure I will just lay out my thoughts.

Looking over the screen I casually scroll through the tabs. “Have you been digging through the interface?” I ask Jared.

He nods. “Yeah. Once I accepted the steward role, I played around with the prompts. Looks like you and I have identical access now.”

That’s good news. “Perfect.” I rest my hands in my lap and face Jared. “That brings me to something I wanted to discuss.”

Jared leans forward, sensing a shift in tone. I hesitate for a second, then push forward. What I am about to confess has been on my mind for a few days now.

“Jared, listen—having everyone here has been great. Having a faction is great.” I rake my hands through my hair, trying to choose my words delicately. “But I don’t think I’m cut out to be the leader of it.”

I pause, searching for the right words. “Everything we have? The organization? The efficiency? That’s all you. I’d still be sleeping in the dirt if not for you and your people. What I’m getting at is… maybe you should take over running this faction?”

Jared doesn’t seem surprised he just rests a hand on the table and studies me. I can almost see the gears turning in his head as he processes, his expression unreadable.

I shift on my stool, the silence making me uncomfortable. Raising my hands defensively I start the word vomiting.

“And just to be clear, I’m not trying to dump responsibility. I’ll still help however I can, but I think you’re the one who should be leading. Hell, I'm only the faction leader by default since I was the only one here.”

I cock my head slightly. “Well I mean besides Mischief over there but he can’t talk so I don’t think he counts.” That earns me a light huff from the corner where mischief lays.

Jared holds up a finger, signaling me to wait. The silence stretches. Feeling uneasy with silence I start rambling again.

“Hopefully it doesn’t seem like I’m just trying to ditch the job,” I add quickly. “I’ll still be involved, I just—”

Jared finally exhales and cuts me off.

“Layton.” He pauses and waits for me to meet his eyes. “I appreciate what you’re saying. I really do.” Jared folds his hands together on the table. His eyes are boring into mine, I try to hold them but have to look away.

“And it’s admirable that you’re thinking about the good of the group. But I think you’re looking at this the wrong way.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

He leans back slightly, crossing his arms. “Before we met you, Richard had just murdered Matt, our strongest fighter and our leader. Our territory was about to face a raid we knew we couldn’t win and we were wandering through a forest we had never been to. God only knows where. We were lost. With no direction and little hope.”

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He sits back forward leaning in towards me. “Then we met you.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “You were in a wide open field alone swinging a sword around like the last samurai.”

“I have to admit. When we first met, I had my doubts…” He rests his hand on the table and shakes his head again. “Then I saw you fight.”

“It scared the shit out of me.” I opened my mouth to tell him that he didn’t have to be scared but we held up his hand again. “It scared me partly because you are so damn unassuming. I mean, no offense. But I had expected Mischief to be the real powerhouse.”

Jared shoots Mischief a smile. “And boy is he a powerhouse. But you? I had no idea.”

He catches my eyes again and there is a burning intensity. “But what really scared me? I had to ask myself, what kind of man did we just tie ourselves to? Richard or Matt? Maybe something worse?”

"Watching you in that clearing–I knew, without a doubt–whatever you wanted to be, you had the power, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.”

I try to interrupt but he holds up his hand again. Nodding that he had a point.

“Then I started to get to know you. I learned that you were definitely not Richard. But you weren’t Matt either.”

He smiled thoughtfully at me. “You are Layton. I can see how you care about the people here. You’ve spent time and energy helping our fighters get stronger. You care.”

I stare at Jared. I’m not sure what to say anymore.

“Watching you these last two weeks…well for the first time since this all started, I actually believe we have a shot at making it.” He gestures toward the settlement outside. “Look at how people have responded to you! Layton, you are the leader. There’s no question in my mind.”

Something in me wants to correct Jared, to tell him he’s got the wrong guy. The words won’t come. My eyes burned, blurring my vision. I blinked rapidly, refusing to let the tears fall.

“You’re the strongest among us, but more than that—you inspire people. That’s what a leader does. I’m happy to handle the logistics, the planning, the management. But if you think for a second that anyone else in this camp is going to rally people the way you do, you’re dead wrong.” He finally leans forward again. “So no—I won’t take over. But I will help you run things. And actually, I have a few proposals I want you to consider.”

A group walks by the cabin, I can hear their conversations muffled through the door. I rub the back of my neck. Not exactly the answer I was expecting. There is a tug in my throat I swallow down before I answer.

“Alright,” I say, my voice cracking a little. “Let’s hear them.”

Jared nods, then grins. For a brief moment he reminds me of my dad. Sensing my emotions he clears his throat and allows the conversation to shift gears.

“I have a vision for LM,” he says. He leans back and pounds his hands on a large pine log that makes up my cabin.

“I don’t want us to just survive—I want us to build a safe haven. A place where people can actually live, not just scrape by. And I know for a fact that there are other groups out there, just like we were. Lost. Wandering. We need to find them. Bring them in. Grow. I want to turn our little village into something bigger.”

I don’t feel completely in control of my emotions. Jared had touched on feelings I didn’t even know existed. I watch him carefully. He was smiling. He knew his words had meant something to me. Instead of forcing it he let me move on while maintaining my dignity.

With some effort I composed myself, nod appreciatively and we move onto business.

“I can get on board with that plan. Where do we start?”

Jared doesn’t miss a beat. “First priority: strengthening our fighters. I doubt we’ve seen the worst of what this world has in store. Leveling is important, but gear matters just as much. We need Damon operational ASAP.”

His words of encouragement still linger in my mind like a warm embrace. I still have my doubts. But I also have my own hope now.

I settle into our strategic planning, placing my hands on the table and clearing my throat.

“Actually, that reminds me—we have two mines in our territory, one is a mineral mine and the other a shard. They are both classified as uncommon rarity. Do we have anyone who can mine?”

Jared’s expression shifts, intrigued. “So far, we’ve got a few gatherers. But here’s the thing—I think classes get more specialized the higher level they get. Right now, gatherers can level up by collecting any material. But I have a hunch that dedicated miners will eventually emerge.”

That makes sense. “So should we encourage specialization?”

Jared considers. “Choice matters. But… maybe we use objectives to steer people toward roles that have the highest value to the faction?”

I nod. That feels like a good balance—guiding without forcing.

Jared continues, “Second priority—we need more people. Right now, our total population is 34—including Mischief. That’s way too low for long-term sustainability. I think we should run two initiatives at the same time. One: A scouting team looking for survivors. Two: A group systematically capturing and clearing new territories.”

He folds his arms. “Territory expansion can be assigned as an objective through the interface. The first few will need your help, but long term? I want to create task forces that can handle it without you.”

I nod slowly, taking it all in. This is why I wanted Jared in charge.

We continue fine-tuning the plan for another hour before we settle on a strategy.

For now, we have clear objectives: Get Damon’s forge operational ASAP. Recruit a mining team. Train and equip our fighters. Scout for survivors. Start capturing new territories.

However there is one wildcard that still remains—Jared’s old territory. We don’t know who or what is there now.

We decide that Mischief will scout it out. At first, we hesitate—Mischief can’t talk. But in the end, we figure he’ll manage.

Jared fully embraces his steward role, outlining his next steps to power up the faction. With clear priorities in place, we finally part ways.

Things are about to change. And I have a feeling this is just the beginning.