Alistair sat cross-legged near the cave’s back wall, bathed in faint firelight, sipping what was either the best enchanted wine in existence or a cleverly bottled hallucination.

  It tasted like summer. Like dark berries and soft lies. Warm enough to make his shoulders sag, sharp enough to keep him alert.

  [You have consumed: Enchanted Vintage – Laughing Vineyard Reserve]

  +5% Mana Regen for 1 hour

  Mood: Mildly euphoric

  Hidden Effect: ??? (Unidentified)

  He took another sip.

  "Gods bless old wine and bad decisions,” he murmured.

  The others were asleep.

  Kael was curled against his quiver like a cat guarding his arrows. Thessaly had finally dozed off again, one arm tucked under her head, her brow still furrowed even in rest.

  Brimma hadn’t said a word since earlier.

  She stood at the cave’s mouth like a crooked gargoyle, backlit by the silver-blue glow of dawn creeping over the horizon. Her staff rested in her palm like it wanted an excuse to cave someone’s skull in.

  Alistair watched her from a distance. She hadn’t moved in over an hour.

  He wasn’t looking forward to that conversation.

  But first, priorities.

  [Level Up!]

  [You are now Level 19]

  +4 Attribute Points

  +3 Agility

  +2 Dexterity

  “Finally.”

  He pulled open his stat screen with a practiced flick of thought.

  [Attribute Updated – Constitution: 30]

  Health +20

  Passive Boost: Resistance to poisons, disease, and pain increased

  “There,” he muttered. “Maybe now I won’t get one-shot by every sharp rock and angry godling.”

  His fingers flicked to his notifications.

  [Skill Up – Dual Wielding: 6 → 8]

  [Skill Up – Swordsmanship: 14 → 15]

  [Skill Up – Leadership Domain: 5 → 6]

  [Magic Skill Up – Light Magic: 1 → 2]

  [Skill Up – Light Armor: 5 → 7]

  [Sword Bind]

  Type: Utility Active

  Cooldown: 90 seconds

  Description: Lock blades with an enemy weapon and trap it for 3 seconds.

  Effects:

  Prevents the next attack from the enemy

  If successful, follow-up strikes gain +25% damage

  Lore: “Sometimes the best strike is a stolen one.”

  He leaned back with a long sigh, cradling the wine bottle in his palm like a holy relic.

  “Maybe I should just live in caves and fight assassins. The leveling’s decent.”

  But the joke didn’t land in his own ears.

  Niva’s death still hung in the air, like smoke after a fire. Not the act of killing, Kael had been surgical. Fast. Clean. But the why.

  She hadn’t tried to kill him because he was dangerous. She’d tried to kill them all because they were in the way.

  She’d waited until they slept.

  Calculated it.

  Made her move with a surgeon’s certainty.

  And for all his foresight, for all the ways he’d seen it coming, he’d still woken with a dagger to his throat and Kael pulling the trigger.

  He sighed again and stood.

  The notifications blinked away. The wine bottle clinked softly as he set it aside.

  Time to deal with Brimma.

  Of all the people in the group, she had taken it the worst. Not Kael. Not even Thessaly. Brimma had been... volcanic.

  She’d stormed off when she caught him draining what was left of Niva’s corpse. Which, sure. Bad optics. But it wasn’t like he’d been savoring it.

  He walked to the front of the cave, boots crunching faintly on the loose grit and moss.

  Brimma didn’t turn.

  “Go away,” she said flatly.

  Alistair crossed his arms and leaned against the stone beside her.

  “Believe me, I considered it.”

  She didn’t answer.

  He glanced sideways. Her shoulders were tense. The staff in her hand trembled ever so slightly.

  Not from fear.

  From anger.

  “You okay?” he asked, voice light.

  “Do I look okay?”

  “You look like a stick with murder issues.”

  Her head turned slowly. “You think this is funny?”

  “No,” he said. “I think it’s horrifying. But I’ve been awake for maybe half an hour, and I’d like to keep my remaining brain cells from melting.”

  Brimma snorted. “You’re a piece of work.”

  “Guilty.”

  Silence stretched again. She didn’t speak, but she didn’t leave, either.

  “I didn’t enjoy it,” Alistair said quietly. “What happened. What I had to do. What Kael did.”

  “She was one of us.”

  “No. She was with us. Not the same thing.”

  “Semantics.”

  He shrugged. “Semantics get you through the night.”

  Brimma’s jaw clenched. “You drained her.”

  “She was dead.”

  “She was still warm.”

  “Then you’re welcome,” he said. “I saved us the trouble of burial.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You think this is all a joke, don’t you?”

  “No,” he said, voice dropping. “But if I stop laughing, I start remembering. And I really don’t have time for a breakdown right now.”

  That stopped her.

  For a second.

  Then she exhaled, slow, long. Her shoulders dropped just a little.

  “Do you think the others trust you?”

  Alistair gave her a tired smile. “I don’t even trust me. Why would they?”

  Brimma looked out toward the trees again, mist curling around her boots like reaching fingers.

  “The Cleansing. The arena. The gods. This place makes animals of us,” she muttered.

  “No,” he said, quiet now. “I think we all have that part inside of us, it’s just that some of us hide it better. And I am talking about you, and Kael, and Thessaly... Me I am an animal, I don’t hide it.”

  Another long pause.

  Then she said, “You’re not as clever as you think.”

  “Probably not.”

  “And if you ever turn on us...”

  “You’ll kill me,” he finished. “I know. Probably with that ugly stick you call a staff.”

  Brimma grunted. “It’s not ugly. It’s functional.”

  “Like your personality.”

  A pause. Then, barely audible, she chuckled.

  It was the kind of sound that slipped out before she could stop it. Alistair marked the moment and filed it under Rare Natural Phenomena right next to rain in the Darklands and gods playing fair.

  They stood together in the dim mist for a while, the silence almost comfortable.

  But not quite.

  Alistair glanced at her sidelong.

  “You were pretty shaken up.”

  Brimma’s brow twitched. “When?”

  He gave her a look.

  “When Niva hit the floor and you nearly took my head off.”

  Brimma scowled. “You were sucking the blood out of a fresh corpse.”

  “She wasn’t using it.”

  Brimma didn’t laugh that time. She just stared out at the fog, face stony.

  Alistair’s voice softened. Just slightly.

  “You thought I killed her to drink from her.”

  She didn’t answer right away.

  When she finally did, her voice came low and tired. “No. I felt that arrow hit. I knew it wasn’t you.”

  “Then why...”

  “She reminded me of someone.”

  That caught him off guard.

  He looked at her more closely.

  She wasn’t glaring. Wasn’t sneering. Just watching the mist swirl past her feet.

  “My granddaughter,” she said. “One of them. Didn’t know her well. She was stubborn, quiet. Always thinking. Always watching people like they were puzzles she was trying to solve.”

  Her jaw clenched. “And just like Niva, she was too damn smart for her own good. Got herself killed in a stupid border skirmish that had nothing to do with her.”

  Alistair was quiet.

  Brimma shook her head. “I know it’s foolish. Niva wasn’t her. Not even close. But when I saw her like that, gods, I reacted. Didn’t think. Just… acted.”

  Alistair looked down at the wine bottle still cooling in his hand.

  “I’ve had worse reasons,” he said. “And I’m a professional at bad reactions.”

  Brimma’s tone sharpened again, defensive. “You’ve got to understand. I’ve met vampires. Plenty. Not the polite ones who play noble court in black capes. The real kind. Blood-clan scum who feed on caravans. Death cults that enslave villages. Ones with more teeth than conscience.”

  Alistair raised an eyebrow. “Are you about to tell me a scary bedtime story?”

  “I’m telling you why I don’t trust you,” she snapped.

  He didn’t flinch. “Because of what I am.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Because you’re a vampire. Doesn’t matter if you talk smooth or smile like you mean it. I’ve seen what your kind really is. You’re all liars. Killers. Predators wearing charm like perfume.”

  Inside him, his spirit guide hissed, low and sharp, like a blade drawn across glass. He could feel it ripple through his soul, coiled and displeased.

  Alistair chuckled.

  “Careful. You’re hurting my pet guide’s feelings.”

  Brimma’s glare didn’t waver.

  He shrugged. “Look, I’m not going to argue. You’re not wrong.”

  That did make her pause.

  “I’m not?”

  “I’m a liar. I’ve killed people. I manipulate. I flirt when I need to. Threaten when I have to. Smile when it buys time.” He took another sip of wine. “It’s not always about hunger. Sometimes it’s just survival. Or convenience. Or being a bastard.”

  He glanced at her. “So no, I’m not going to try to change your mind.”

  Brimma squinted at him. “Then why talk at all?”

  “Because I think the bond already is,” he said simply.

  Brimma went still.

  Her fingers tightened on her staff.

  “What?”

  “That’s the problem, right?” he said, voice lower now. “You don’t hate me as much as you should. You flinch less. You’re starting to see me.”

  He let the moment hang.

  Then added, “And I haven’t even tried yet.”

  Brimma looked away sharply.

  “It’s the bond,” she muttered. “Damn thing’s doing funny things to my head.”

  Alistair grinned.

  “Funny you say that.”

  She frowned. “Why?”

  “I haven’t told you, have I?” he said, tapping a finger to his temple. “I can’t just bond with anyone. Soulbinding doesn’t work that way for me.”

  Brimma turned to look at him, suspicious. “What are you talking about?”

  He met her gaze, dead serious now.

  “Before the Arena, my trait was dormant. Broken, I thought. But turns out it was just waiting.”

  “Waiting for what?”

  He smiled.

  “For the right people. People whose fate is tied to mine. The ones that matter. The ones I’m stuck with.”

  Brimma’s eyes widened. “You mean...”

  “Yeah, grandma,” he said, stepping just out of reach. “Looks like you’re one of the lucky few.”

  Brimma’s staff whipped up and whacked him square on the forehead.

  “OW. GODS. That’s the soft spot!”

  “You little shit,” she muttered, voice half-growl, half-laugh. “You could’ve led with that.”

  “Where’s the drama in that?”

  Brimma shook her head, eyes still wide, expression caught somewhere between alarm and reluctant affection.

  “You’re a nightmare.”

  “Yeah,” Alistair said. “But I’m your nightmare now.”

  Brimma didn’t reply, she looked lost.

  The moment Brimma realized she was soulbound to a vampire for life, something inside her snapped.

  "You absolute piece of undead trash!" she shouted.

  Alistair didn’t get the chance to duck before the first bolt of green energy exploded near his feet.

  “Hey! I said you were special!” he called, backpedaling with his hands raised.

  “You tricked me into a bond!” she shrieked, firing again, this time grazing his sleeve.

  “I didn’t trick you into anything!” Alistair yelped. “You think I was aiming for ‘wrinkly war-witch with an emotional support stick’?!”

  A bolt nearly clipped his ear.

  “You called me grandma!”

  He leapt sideways, rolled, and came up grinning.

  “You’re shorter than my ego! What else was I supposed to call you, towering forest goddess?”

  Another bolt sizzled past him.

  “You’ve got the same hair texture as a nesting owl!”

  “You smug, blood-drinking bastard!”

  Alistair dodged left, then right, laughing now.

  “Oh come on, Brimma, admit it! You’re not mad about the bond. You’re mad it works! You like me!”

  “I will end you!”

  Kael sat up groggily, one hand going for his bow before realizing there wasn’t an enemy. Just Alistair doing his best impression of a rabid squirrel and Brimma chasing him with murder in her eyes.

  “What... is happening?” he mumbled.

  Thessaly rubbed her eyes. “Did we miss a goblin attack or...?”

  “Nope,” Kael said. “Just soulbonded lunacy. Again.”

  “I heard that!” Alistair yelled as he somersaulted over a fallen log.

  “You’re gonna hear more when I plant you!” Brimma bellowed, firing another sizzling bolt.

  “Gods,” Thessaly muttered. “They’ve gone feral.”

  Then, just as Brimma’s next blast singed a patch of moss near Alistair’s boot...

  [System Notification]

  Cleansing Sequence Initiating

  Estimated Time: 00:04:59

  Divine observation resuming.

  Fate threads reweaving.

  Another chime followed:

  [Medallion Acquisition Concluded]

  Champions not in possession of a medallion will be eliminated.

  The cave went silent.

  Alistair froze mid-taunt, one finger pointed at Brimma’s hair like he was about to call her a sentient broomstick.

  Brimma’s staff stopped crackling. Her eyes narrowed.

  Kael stood slowly, now fully awake. “That’s... not great.”

  Thessaly was already strapping on her gear. “We need to move.”

  Alistair lowered his hand slowly. “So... we’re just gonna pretend that I wasn’t nearly vaporized by an angry garden gnome?”

  “Say another word,” Brimma said, “and you’ll enter the Cleansing as ash.”

  Alistair grinned. “Still worth it.”

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