Accidental Healer

While the others looted, I ran straight to Elise.

I grabbed her shoulders. “Tell me we didn’t lose anyone.”

She looked up at me with a sheepish smile. “We didn’t lose anyone.”

I let out a breath. “Thank Goodness.”

“How bad were the injuries?” I asked, steadying myself.

She tilted her head. “Not as bad as they looked. Everyone had barriers up, and I healed the worst wounds immediately.”

My stomach knotted. It was just like I thought it would be. Again.

For what felt like the twentieth time this fight felt wrong to me. There had been a thought tickling the back of my mind since I spoke about it around the fire so long ago.

Why did it feel like this world was on easy mode? Raids were pitiful dregs, dungeons were only dangerous if you entered and there wasn’t a single threat outside of us seeking them out proactively.

The enemy had surprised us for a moment, but it should’ve been worse.

The treemen had no armor. No weapons besides their boulder-clubs. They were undoubtedly evolved, but in one move, they had been outmaneuvered and torn apart.

This feeling had been building for a while now. Even the anomalies weren’t allowed to enter the world immediately. This last raid cemented it for me.

I had no doubts anymore. Something was off.

The system was holding back. I could feel it in the air now.

The only question is what do I do?

-

I left the battlefield behind, jogging toward the village. The fight itself didn’t matter anymore. The pattern did.

I needed to find Jared.

I spotted him speaking with Damon near the forge, the two deep in conversation. As I approached, Damon turned, wiping soot from his hands.

“Layton! Raid’s over already?” He glanced past me toward the clearing. “We heard some explosions.”

I gave him a brisk nod. “It’s done. Everyone’s just cleaning up.”

“What was it this time?” Jared asked, crossing his arms.

“Oh, just your basic, run-of-the-mill twenty-foot-tall tree people throwing boulders the size of carts. Not many, but they packed a punch.”

Jared exhaled, shaking his head. “You’re making that sound way too normal.”

I clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Is it okay if I borrow Jared for a minute?”

Damon raised a brow. “Uh… yeah, sure.”

“Thanks! And I’ll be back later—I can’t wait to see your progress on our project.” I barely let Damon respond before dragging Jared away from the forge.

We barely made it twenty feet before Jared yanked himself free. “Hey! Hold on—what the hell’s gotten into you?”

I spun around. “It happened just like I thought.”

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Jared frowned. “Slow down. What are you talking about?”

I clenched my fists, words spilling out. “The dungeons. The raids. This entire world. It’s not right, Jared. I can feel it. It’s like—it’s like that scratch at the back of your throat before a fever.”

My breath came quicker, pulse hammering. “We keep getting stronger. The fights keep getting easier. And that’s the problem. This isn’t a real test. It’s a goddamn setup.”

Jared’s expression flickered between concern and frustration. “You’re still on this?” He ran a hand through his hair. “Look, even if you’re right—what are we supposed to do about it? You’re already running at full speed, clearing dungeons, gaining levels, while the rest of us are working day and night improving our crafts. What more do you want?”

I sucked in a breath. He was right about that.

We were doing everything we could.

But it wasn’t enough.

I started pacing, my thoughts tumbling over each other. “Are there defensive items in the shop? Walls? Wards? Anything?”

“There are some,” Jared admitted. “But they’re expensive. And honestly? Our money’s better spent on things that’ll help our people progress. It’s been months, Layton. Months. We haven’t faced a real threat, and we’re far away from the next closest factions.”

His logic makes sense.

Am I overreacting?

I stopped pacing and turned to face him. “Jared… I know I sound paranoid. But I refuse to ignore this feeling. Buy the defenses. I don’t care how much they cost, I don’t care where you get the money—make sure it happens.”

His expression hardened. “Layton. I really don’t think we need to take it that far.”

He must think I’m losing it.

Hell, maybe I am.

But I still wasn’t wrong.

I locked eyes with him. “Please. Don’t fight me on this. If I’m wrong—I’ll give you every single coin I earn for the next year. Just do this.”

Jared stared at me for a long moment, like he was searching for some deeper answer in my face.

I stood firm.

Finally, he let out a slow breath. “...Alright. I’ll do it.” His shoulders squared. “So what are you going to do now?”

I glanced toward the edge of the village, toward the unknown.

“I’m traveling to our neighboring factions.” I exhaled. “And I’m bringing Ellison, Nick, and Mischief with me.”

Jared hated the idea of me taking two of our strongest fighters and leaving.

He stood in front of me, arms crossed, expression stone-cold serious.

“You know there is for sure a raid coming again tomorrow, and then two more in a week?” he said, his voice flat, controlled. “And you’re making decisions on a hunch?”

His words haunted me.

Was I wrong? Was I about to make a terrible mistake?

Still, I stuck to my decision.

Damon was already hard at work, promising that before the week was up, Alex would be fully armored, and Durkil would have his warhammer. If my gut was right, I’d left more than enough firepower behind to handle the next raid.

And there was another surprise.

The wolves.

They’d evolved during the last fight.

Not just in strength. In form.

Rather than remaining on four legs, they’d chosen evolutions that made them walk upright. They grew hands.

And with the new communication upgrade, they could finally explain why. Not very well, their language was rough and child-like in many ways.

But their message was clear. They wanted to be more like me.

I still remembered our first fight—when I first faced them as enemies.

They remembered it too. It had stuck with them.

And they had chosen, deliberately, to be more human whenever possible.

It bothered me, I didn’t like the idea of people modeling decisions after me.

Sadie and Xander were so close. One more raid. Just one more, and they’d evolve too.

I was torn. I wanted to see it. See the moment it happened. Be there to congratulate them and try to gain more trust. But I had to go.

Before I left, Jared had asked me something that stuck with me.

Why Ellison?

The answer was simple.

We knew there were factions nearby. We didn’t know if they were human.

I needed Ellison for his gift of tongues and his natural aptitude for diplomacy.

And Mischief and Nick?

They were, without question, our best scouts. But Jared’s last question was the hardest to answer.

Why now?

I had no concrete answer. No evidence. No proof.

Just an instinct.

A feeling in my bones that if I was right, that waiting—hesitating—would cost us more than we could afford. I was proud of what we had built here in Faction LM. I felt like Noah or something before the flood.

We had built our ship. Our faction hadn’t wasted time, we grew and prepared.

I wanted to be wrong. But deep down I know, something is coming. What was it? I had my suspicions, but for now, I felt we were prepared and would continue to build on it.

But we have neighbors. For now, I just wanted to find thriving factions—people better off than we were.

I was proud of what we had built, but our numbers were still too few.

Selfishly, I wanted more people. More fighters. More hands.

But I knew that was unrealistic. Undoubtedly, these factions would have their own goals, their own ambitions.

Best case scenario?

We establish trade, strengthening both groups.

Worst case?

I didn’t want to think about the worst case.