The forest felt alive with malice. The fog clung to Alaric like cold fingers, and every sound—a snapping branch, a distant howl—set his nerves on edge. His ribs burned from the wound Selene had given him, and each labored breath felt like dragging glass through his lungs.

  He pressed his back against a gnarled tree, willing himself to disappear into the shadows. Blood still seeped through his fingers where he clutched his side, leaving a dark stain on his shirt. Somewhere in the distance, the growls of monsters grew louder, but they felt far away compared to the roaring storm in his mind.

  Selene.

  Her cold eyes. Her calm, calculating voice.

  "You’ve done well, Alaric. But the System rewards strength. It doesn’t reward weakness—or liabilities."

  Her words echoed relentlessly, slicing through him like her blade had.

  It wasn’t the first time.

  Alaric was fifteen when he learned the truth about trust.

  He sat on the worn bleachers of his high school gym, his chest tight with an unfamiliar mixture of dread and anger. Across the court, a group of kids laughed together—his team, his so-called friends.

  One of them, Kevin, caught his eye and smirked. Alaric’s stomach churned.

  It had been a simple game plan. Alaric was supposed to pass the ball to Kevin during the final seconds of the game—a play they’d practiced dozens of times. But when the time came, Kevin had pretended not to see him. Alaric had been left standing there, exposed, as the ball was intercepted and their team lost the championship.

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  Later, Alaric had overheard them in the locker room.

  “Man, did you see his face? He really thought I’d trust him with the win,” Kevin had laughed.

  “What a loser,” someone else added.

  The betrayal stung worse than the loss. Alaric had worked hard to earn their trust, had believed in their promises of teamwork and camaraderie. But in the end, it had been a joke to them—a game within a game, and he’d been the fool.

  That night, sitting alone on his bed, Alaric had stared at the trophies lining his shelf, each one a hollow reminder of what he thought he had earned.

  “You can’t trust anyone,” he’d whispered to himself, the words bitter on his tongue. “Not really.”

  Alaric squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push the memory away, but it clung to him like the fog. Selene’s betrayal had reopened that old wound, ripping it wide open.

  It was different this time, though. Back then, the stakes had been pride, friendship—things that, in hindsight, seemed trivial. But here?

  Here, it was life or death.

  A branch snapped nearby, and Alaric’s eyes snapped open. His heart thundered in his chest as he scanned the fog.

  A shadow moved.

  He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stand. The pain in his side flared, but he ignored it. He couldn’t afford to be weak now.

  Another shape materialized in the fog, larger this time. The growling was closer now, more distinct.

  Alaric’s grip tightened on the jagged piece of stone he’d picked up earlier. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

  Selene’s words came back to him, taunting him: “You’ve done well, Alaric. But the System rewards strength.”

  A low snarl rumbled through the air, and a pair of glowing red eyes emerged from the mist.

  Alaric raised the stone, his jaw tightening. His hands were steady now, his fear turning into something sharper—determination.

  “Fine,” he muttered under his breath, his voice cold. “If that’s the lesson, then so be it.”

  The creature lunged, and Alaric moved to meet it head-on.