Yaz’s heart sank. This looked really bad. He slowly turned around and found himself facing a grizzled man, eyes narrowed with distrust and a makeshift spear gripped in his calloused hand. The man’s face was streaked with dirt and smoke.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” the man repeated, his tone accusatory.

  Yaz slowly raised his hands in a gesture of peace. “I’m just… passing through,” he said warily. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

  The man’s gaze flickered over Yaz,

  “I’m just looking for a safe place to rest,” Yaz spoke again, somewhat disconcerted by the man’s silence.

  That same silence stretched between them, when the man finally spoke. “Follow me.”

  Without waiting for a response, the scout walked past Yaz and trudged through the underbrush. Yaz hesitated for a moment before trailing behind him. The man’s demeanor brooked little argument. After a while they broke into the clearing that Yaz had been making his way towards prior.

  He took in the scene: a sprawling camp of shoddy tents, huddled figures, and hushed conversation. Everyone looked rough and worn. Survival had stripped away any pretense of elegance from this group.

  As he followed the scout, he noticed that they were walking towards the largest tent in the camp. He began to grow concerned about what could possibly happen to him. Maybe he had been too hasty to just follow the man? They had walked far enough into the camp that he was now surrounded on all sides. He realized that if he wanted to make a break for it, that time had long past. He wasn’t capable of fending off this many people at once, and he began to silently regret following the man into their camp.

  They finally reached the tent, and the man picked up the edge of the tent flap before gesturing to Yaz to follow him inside.

  Inside, there was a rough-hewn interior filled with scattered belongings, maps, and quiet conversation. A few eyes lifted to meet Yaz’s as he stepped in, each glance measured and cold. He was trying to steady his breathing when someone spoke.

  “What’s your name?” a gruff voice demanded from the far side of the room. A large, heavily scarred man, sitting behind a makeshift table, fixed Yaz with a hard stare.

  “Yaz.”

  The scarred man’s gaze shifted back to the man that led him in, who nodded in acknowledgement before turning his attention back to Yaz.

  “Why are you here?” the man asked.

  “I was just looking for shelter,” he replied. He didn’t want to reveal that he had been on a hunt, it would bring his combat ability into question and the might be less inclined to trust a more dangerous individual.

  “You’re not the first drifter we’ve had. But out here, trust is scarce. We can take you in, but we can’t take in everyone. You need to prove your worth.”

  Yaz nodded. Not an insane demand. If their ranks were inundated with people seeking asylum, it would be difficult to function and only make them a target of someone stronger. What also interested Yaz is that he hadn’t mentioned combat. He only said he needed to prove his worth. Following that line of thought, he began to wonder how they had tents and furniture. Their must be some people in their party that specialized in productive activities rather than strictly combat. Yaz was so caught up in hunting and feeding his Echo that he hadn’t even considered that may be a possibility.

  Without saying another word, the man motioned for Yaz to walk up to the empty spot near the table to take a seat. Several of the surrounding spectators cast wary glances as he moved to take them grizzled man up on his offer.

  The scarred man pulled his own chair closer and sat down, his eyes never leaving Yaz.

  “Name’s Roderick,” he said gruffly. “Out here, I’m sure you’ve noticed, but we’ve gotta do what it takes to survive. Now, what exactly is it that you can offer us?”

  Yaz shifted in his seat, careful not to reveal too much. Roderick gave him the creeps. He couldn’t place it, but he did not want to overshare. And there was no way in hell he was telling Roderick about his Echo. “I… wander, and hunt when I can,” he replied evenly.

  Roderick’s gaze hardened for a moment when he leaned forward. “So you’ve killed some of the monsters around here?”

  “A few,” Yaz admitted.

  “And your level? Your skills? What class are you?” Roderick pressed, clearly interested in Yaz. Although it was difficult to tell if he was checking for a potential ally – a potential threat.

  “Level 5,” Yaz lied. “I’m a Mage, I got the skill Arcane Shot when I chose my class.”

  A brief flicker of interest passed over Roderick’s face…and, amusement? “A mage huh?” he said to himself, “We have a few of you. You’re definitely on the weaker side but seeing as you’ve made it this far alone, I’m sure that we can do a lot with you.”

  On the weaker side? Yaz thought to himself. He’d been hunting since the Imprinting, how could he be on the weaker side? Not to mention he’d killed monsters he had no business killing considering that he had a gun at the time. What was this guy on about?

  “So are you interested in joining us? I think you have what it takes. We have a patrol going out tomorrow, we can see what you’re made of and go from there.”

  Yaz considered his proposal. He had left his backpack and his gun in the forest, he knew the direction that he’d approached the camp from and so he was confident that he could make his way back there if he needed to. Moreover, it wasn’t like he was actually using anything there, it was just a consistent place to return to after his hunts. His belongings had no value, his laptop and phone proving useless, food and drink was no longer necessary, and his gun had no ammo.

  “I’d like to join you. I think that I have a lot to offer.”

  The corners of Roderick’s mouth turned upwards into a grin, clearly happy with how things played out.

  “Stellar. We’ll get you a place to stay and you can go with Jenson on patrol tomorrow,” he gestured to the man that had caught Yaz and escorted him to the tent.

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  There was a feeling of both relief and apprehension. He’d already lied about his level and skills; he couldn’t afford to be discovered as anything less than he claimed. Still, he was able to join a group, and secure a high degree of safety than he had before. His solitary nature would have preferred he made it alone, but Yaz acknowledged that there were too many unkowns to go about everything alone.

  He was led through the winding paths of the camp by Jenson .The night air was cool, carrying the scent of woodsmoke and damp earth. As they walked past clusters of figures and tents, they finally reached a modest tent set apart form the others. The flap was already open, and Jenson gestured for Yaz to step inside. The interior was sparse yet functional, a cot, bundle of blankets, and a small lap casting shadows against the walls. How?.. his thoughts trailed off. How did they get these things? He settled onto the cot and Jenson stepped away without a word.

  Stoic fella, eh? He laid himself down and let the tension of the day ebb away. He thought about his belongings out in the forest and despite their worthlessness, knew he wanted to reclaim them before they went missing. But that was for another time, for now he would rest. It sounded like he would be having a long, hopefully fruitful, day tomorrow.

  Yaz woke to the sound of low voices and the rustle of activity outside his tent. Quickly pulling himself together, he stepped out and found Jenson waiting near a small fire, surrounded by others that he could only assume were also members of the patrol.

  “Everyone, this is Yaz,” Jenson said, as he approached. “Yaz, Garrett, Mara, Paul and Austin.” He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder at each person in kind.

  Paul and Austin were, quite frankly, not much to look at. They were both extremely wiry and did not seem very imposing. Garrett looked as average as could be, and Mara was a small, cute girl carrying a stick. Or was that a wand? Yaz realized that these people were each carrying weapons either at their hand or on their hip. Jenson, Garett, and Austin carried swords at their hip, Paul had a bow strapped to his back, and Mara had her staff.

  “He’s new to this, so he’s gonna watch us take down some beasts before helping us out.”

  “Hey everyone,” Yaz said, hoping that he appeared welcoming. Several disjointed greetings rang out, when Jenson stood up.

  “Alright everyone, let’s go.”

  They made their way into the forest, clearly having done this before. Yaz hung back as everyone else moved through the terrain. Before long, a roar sounded out from behind a series of trees. Everyone tensed as a creature with rotted fur emerged from behind several trees. There it was. The first Rotfang he had seen since his first hunt. There was no sneaking up on this one though, it was clearly aware of their squad. Jenson wasted no time breaking into action.

  “Now!” he barked. Garrett darted forward, drawing his blade from its scabbard and rushing forward. Austin and Jenson flanked it from either side, their blades gleaming, it was a perfectly coordinated assault. Paul kneeled and drew and nocked an arrow to his bow, while Mara backed away.

  The creature roared once more before Paul’s drew back his arrow to hit the creature squarely in the snout. It was not enough, barely enough to be frank. It only seemed to irritate the Rotfang more. Yet shortly after, Jenson’s sword bit deeply into the shoulder of the beast, staggering it. Again, not dealing near enough damage, as the creature whipped around and swept the three melee fighters back and off their feet. It was at this moment, that Mara revealed she was not a mage like Yaz had originally deduced.

  Upon seeing what he first assumed was a wand, his brain had just defaulted to Mage. Yet that was clearly not the case. A burst of white light surrounding the three men that had been hit, rejuvenating them. She was a cleric.

  The battle developed, with the three swordsman darting around and harassing the creature, with Paul launching arrow after arrow at the beast. It looked like a pincushion when finally, the beast lay sprawled, defeated. As everyone gathered around the monster, Yaz also walked up.

  “Wow, that was incredible he said,” unable to keep his amazement to himself.

  “Not really,” Austin said in response. This was the first time he had heard the man talk, and damn he sounded depressed.

  “It was fine,” Jenson huffed. “Could have been better, we definitely took more hits than we should have but it wasn’t our worst performance.”

  As Yaz didn’t deal a single point of damage, he had received no XP for the kill. However, he was curious how it worked for the members of the party.

  “Is the XP divided among all of you? Or do you each get the full amount?” Yaz asked.

  “It’s divided evenly,” Jenson replied. “I thought that it would be performance based, but that’s not the case. It just takes the full amount and divides it by the number of people that contribute to the fight.”

  Interesting. That begs the question though, if experience is divided then why did Roderick call me weak? Is it because Level 5 is not a significant milestone, would he have been more impressed if I told him that I was level 9?

  “What is everyone’s level here?” Yaz asked.

  He get several stares in response. Was that the wrong thing to ask? The group shared some looks between them before answering.

  “11.”

  “12.”

  “12.”

  “9.”

  “13.”

  What the…all higher than me? Everyone was a higher rank than him. Even with the XP distribution. That made absolutely no sense. However, his question was answered before the day was done.

  The group returned at dark. Yaz was in awe. He had joined them halfway through the hunt, helping kill the beasts and speeding up the process. He believed that his addition to the team was beneficial, as his range support vastly improved the kill time of the group from what he could tell. He knew that his firepower was higher than that of a Level 5, but given that no one in the group was a Mage he doubted that they would be able to tell that he was dishing out way more than he should have. He even managed to level up today, putting all of his additional stat points into Arcane for increased damage.

  He did notice that hunting in a group placed immense strain on his MP. As it stood, the requirements were not as high when he hunted alone because he was simply hunting slower. Kiting monsters around, ensuring that he wasn’t injured because he had few ways to heal himself. Moreover, his Echo alluded to status affects, and if he were poisoned or something he was sure that would be his death bed.

  However, in a group, they were rapid. He killed nearly 5-6x as many monsters as he would have if he was by himself. It was incredible, and it answered the question of how everyone was stronger than them. Monster volume was the answer, that much was clear. Yaz was impressed though, that these people had managed to fight so well. But he wouldn’t question it, 1/8th of the population had been wiped out within the first hour of the integration. It stood to reason that the survivors had to at least have some level of baseline confidence. Or were extremely lucky. Who knew.

  As they settled back down at the camp, Yaz noticed other groups of 4-6 people coming from the tree lines looking exhausted.

  So there’s more than 1 patrol. Makes sense. After all, Roderick had alluded to having mages in his camp and there were none in his party, so they must all be part of different groups. And then, he noticed something else.

  A group was coming back, larger in size. Maybe 10-12 people, and they were wheeling several carts that appeared to be full of metal. Behind them was another group of people, walking with pelts and branches.

  That…makes so much sense. They have productivity teams.

  “Hey, how many people do you guys send out that are capable of handling all of those productivity tasks? That has to be a game changer for you guys,” Yaz asked Paul, who was sitting besides him.

  “I have no idea,” Paul responded.

  He didn’t expand on it either, he was a quiet guy. Yaz could respect it. He had exchanged words with everyone from his party in passing but for some reason Paul was the most approachable of them all. He was the most withdrawn and yet Yaz still felt more comfortable talking to him than the rest of the group.

  Unprompted, Paul spoke again, “It’s not something we talk about much. We all do what we can.”

  Jenson, who’d been silent all evening, merely grunted in acknowledgement as others discussed plans for tomorrow’s patrol. That night, there were a few more murmured exchanges before everyone made their way back towards their personal tents to rest. Time passed, the camp grew quiet, and Yaz slipped into a gentle slumber.