Allison stepped into the center of the main fire. She was no good with speeches, but some things needed to be said.

"I'd like to say a few words," she began, steadying herself. She couldn't just be Allison now. She had to be Allison Rhiannon.

The chatter around the camp gradually faded until every eye was on her.

"First, I want to thank all of you, each one who trusted me and chose to come on this expedition. We lost seven along the way."

Her gaze swept across the faces lit by firelight.

"But their memory stays with us, just as Angelica's does. For many of you who have been trapped in this tutorial for years, she was like family."

She raised her mug high.

"Tonight we drink not only for the fallen, but for the living. As long as we're still breathing, we can keep moving forward. Together, we can find a way out of this place."

The survivors lifted their mugs as one. Allison took a long drink, then everyone else followed. Setting her mug down on a crate, she remained standing in the circle.

"But there's something I want to show you."

With a smooth motion she summoned from her system inventory a gleaming katana, its presence radiating heat, its blade glowing violet. The prize for killing the Orc Lord.

"For many of you, what we faced today might not feel like hope at all. It might feel like despair. If an Orc Lord was this hard, what about the Beast Lord? Or the Midnight Lord? Or the final monster of this tutorial?"

The blade flared as she activated it, violet light crackling across the edge.

"But you are not the same people you were. You've grown stronger with every fight. Some of you started at class level five, and now you've reached twenty-five in just a few months. Some of you didn't even have professions, and now you do."

Her eyes moved over them, sharp and steady.

"Today, Haven took a real step toward Earth. We chose to face an Orc Lord, and we won. Was there pain? Yes. Were there losses? Yes. But we did the impossible with so little. And what will we achieve now that we've claimed this victory?"

She lifted the katana, letting the violet fire shimmer across the blade.

"A legendary weapon. A symbol of what we've earned. When we leave this forest, we're not crawling back to a half-rotten hotel. No. We'll seize the second fortress of the mechanism, and with it, everything it offers."

Allison channeled the berserk enchantment, raising the katana high. The blade burned so hot it blazed with incandescence, painting her words in light.

"And think about this: we managed this without a single healing potion! What will we conquer when we own a fortress of our own? When we have dozens of chests filled with potions every week?"

She walked toward the bonfire. With a sharp tug from her storage, she pulled free the severed head of the Orc Lord, lifting it by the hair for all to see. A ripple of murmurs swept through the crowd. The trophy didn't need words. It was proof of the impossible, carved in flesh and bone. With a decisive motion, she hurled it into the heart of the fire. The flames roared, devouring the darkness. Allison raised her violet katana, the steel gleaming against the blaze.

"I'll tell you what we'll claim when we take the fortress," her voice rang out, cutting through the night. "Victory. Freedom from this cursed place. Are you with me?"

Before anyone could answer, she slashed downward. The blade split the fire in two, cleaving through the head and snuffing the flames with a sharp crack. Cold surged outward in a wave, smothering the warmth, frosting the air until everyone's skin prickled.

For a heartbeat, the night was only smoke and darkness. And in the center stood Allison, her katana raised. The camp erupted as one, mugs lifted high, voices thundering into the night.

***

While the celebration carried on outside, food being served and laughter spilling around the fires, the leaders of Haven gathered in the main tent to discuss what came next.

"Good speech," Mason said as Allison tied shut the tent's entrance.

"Thanks. It's what they needed to hear."

But everyone knew the speech had been more necessity than triumph. The truth was brutal. Too many were badly wounded, limbs severed, eyes lost to arrows, some with no legs at all. Moving this many crippled survivors back to safety would be slow and dangerous. And seven had died.

"Malik's gone…" Gilbert muttered.

"I hope wherever he is, he knows we avenged him," Miriam added quietly.

Allison stepped up to the table. "Did we find anything useful in the village chests?"

"Food and weapons," Mason replied. "No healing potions."

Scouts had already been sent to comb through every orc house, but the results had been just as grim.

"Any clues about the final tutorial mission?" Allison asked.

They'd searched the Orc Lord's throne, finding strange markings, but nothing they could make sense of.

"In his house, I found this," Mason said, setting down a stack of papers and parchments. Crude sketches covered them, drawings the Orc Lord had used to give orders. He would sketch and send them out to the villages.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

The memories came back to Allison. Long ago, she and Luke had stumbled into a small orc village and found drawings like these. That had been before they crossed the great wall. Now she understood: they were commands from the Lord himself.

The drawings showed humans slaughtered, bones scattered. The message was always the same: kill humans. Others depicted nets and spears, crude instructions for traps, maps marking ambush sites.

"That's all it is. Useless scribbles," Quinn said with a scoff.

The meeting dragged on as they discussed their next steps. A forward team would return to the Safe Zone to reach out to Evangeline. Too much time had passed since they left, and Bartholomew could easily be setting an ambush. They couldn't risk walking into one blind.

Later, as Allison walked through the camp, people stopped her to congratulate her on slaying the Orc Lord. She forced herself to smile, to play the role. The truth was, victory had been anything but easy. Without everyone, she would have fallen. But right now, they didn't need her doubts. They needed a pillar.

When she finally reached her tent, she exhaled deeply and stepped inside. She double-checked the knots on the entrance cloth until she was sure nothing outside could intrude. Here, she could drop the mask.

From her system inventory, she pulled off the battered remains of her armor. They were so worn and broken they couldn't even be fully repaired anymore. She set them aside, then reached into storage for a plain men's shirt, one of the pieces she'd inherited from Luke. When he fled Haven, he'd left everything behind in the tent they once shared, a two-room shelter divided between them.

She sank onto her mattress and let herself fall back, staring up at the fabric ceiling.

"I did it, Mom…" she whispered, voice almost breaking.

Against certain death, she had survived. She lifted her hand, and a faint frost swirled in her palm, the power of ice.

I only lived because of the bloodline I despise so much, the family I wish I could reject.

Just as she reached for the magical candle that always burned in her tent, Allison noticed a silhouette outside.

A faint cough broke the silence. "Allison… may I come in?"

For a moment, she almost said no. Her exhaustion wasn't physical but mental, the kind that made her want to shut out the world. She drew in a breath and let it out too quickly, realizing with a start that her exhale frosted the air.

This power… it's becoming a problem.

She still didn't fully understand how deeply it was tied to her emotions. It was irritating, really. A dragon's exhalation was meant to be instinctive, fire for some, poison for others. For her, it was frost. Just as a fire dragon had to live with the burn in its lungs, she had to live with the chill in her heart. And the more ice powers she gained, the stronger her Heart became. That was the truth of her bloodline: each skill was like a coin dropped into the vault of her legacy. One day, even a simple iceball would carry the weight of destruction.

She blew softly. The air shimmered white.

Apparently impatience triggers it too.

The silhouette outside didn't move. Allison had assumed silence would be enough of an answer, but whoever it was seemed determined.

"I'm coming," she called, rising.

She untied the flap of her tent and pulled it open.

"Hope I'm not bothering you," Eugene said, stepping inside.

"I'm sure this will be quick, so no problem," she replied, though her tone was tired.

He hovered there, awkward, and for a moment the silence turned almost heavy.

"Well… you came here for a reason. What is it?" she asked.

He cleared his throat. "I brought… a drink for you."

In his hands were two mugs. He offered one to her.

"I've already had some," Allison said flatly.

That's it? He came all this way just to hand me a mug?

Confused, she watched as Eugene hesitated, then pulled the mug back nervously. "Right… okay," he muttered, before plopping down into the chair.

Oh, great. He sat. So this is going to take a while…

"I'll drink for both of us then," he said with a crooked smile.

Allison felt herself melting into a puddle of fatigue. All she wanted was to collapse onto her mattress, empty her mind, and let that puddle freeze back into silence. She sat down on the mattress anyway.

"I'm just… mentally drained," she admitted. "Fighting a level 70 monster isn't exactly as easy as it might've looked from the outside."

"I know," Eugene said softly. "That's why I came. I understand the weight you carry."

She stretched, relieved he at least recognized it.

Good. Now's the part where you leave.

"I thought I was going to die today," he continued. "But seeing you so steady, so confident… putting your life in our hands with that plan, it took courage."

"Everyone was brave today, Eugene," she answered.

A pause hung between them, thicker than the silence before.

"From this day on," he said, fumbling with his words, "I've decided to put my life completely in your hands. Not that I didn't trust you before, but… I want you to know now, without a doubt, I'm with you. Entirely."

Allison noticed his forehead beading with sweat. He took a long swallow from his mug, almost as if hiding behind it.

"I'm glad to hear that, Eugene. When we leave this forest, we'll need even more unity as a group. Not just to face the fortress, but to defend it against Bastion. We have a long mission ahead of us."

"Y-yeah," he muttered, still nervous.

She sighed, searching for a way to end the conversation gracefully.

"D-do you… like wearing men's clothes?" he blurted out.

Her eyes flicked to the shirt and shorts she was wearing. "I've grown used to it," she answered, scratching her head, confused by the question.

"You came from a noble family," Eugene went on after a pause. "You must've grown up in a castle."

"Yes," she said simply.

"That's quite a life. And then you went to Haven, sleeping in tents… that must've been a shock."

"Honestly, I prefer tents over castles," she replied.

"Really? Why?"

Allison rose to her feet. "You're asking very personal questions about my life." She moved toward the tent flap. "Look… I'm mentally exhausted. That fight was brutal, and I need rest."

"Of course. I'm sorry, I should've realized," Eugene said, standing as well.

She smiled inwardly. Finally, she could return to being a melting block of ice.

He swallowed hard. "Just know that… even though I'm an ordinary man, I'll do everything I can to prove my worth." He reached to place a hand on her shoulder.

Allison stepped back. "I don't like being touched."

Eugene drew in a steadying breath. "I understand. After being betrayed by that bastard Luke, it's hard to trust anyone. But I promise I'll make him pay." He hesitated, then added, "Rest well, Allison."

When he left the tent, she felt more puzzled than anything, but she had no desire to spark a debate. Quickly, she tied the flap shut, making sure no one else would come in. She blew out the candle, letting the space fall into quiet. At last, no more interruptions. Stretching out on the mattress, she stared at the ceiling with a rare sense of relief.

Turning onto her side, her thoughts briefly brushed against her family, but she shoved them away. They weren't worth a second of her memory.

"I can't wait to see the look on that idiot Luke's face when he finds out I killed the Orc Lord," she muttered.

Should I brag and pretend it was easy?

Allison had her own private competition. She would claim the second fortress, and when Luke showed up, he'd be the one surprised at what she had accomplished.

She tugged at her shirt, frowning faintly. "I think this thing's dirty," she whispered, lifting it to her nose. "It smells like him."

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