CHAPTER 14: Wandering Through Wounds
Getting them out wasn't as simple as pointing to a door and marching into the sun.
I didn't come into this cave. I just sort of... was. One minute I was floating in a void, getting cryptic choices handed to me like a game menu, and the next, I woke up next to flickering torches, surrounded by rock and rot and growls.
So no… I didn't know where the exit was.
I didn't even know if there was one.
And the girls following behind me? Survivors in the loosest sense of the word. None of them had the strength to question it. They weren't talking. They weren't asking for directions. They weren't asking for anything.
They just followed.
Feet dragging. Eyes empty. Breathing like it was a chore someone else forced on them.
Some looked barely able to stand. Others looked like they didn't even want to.
I glanced over my shoulder and saw a woman, beastkin, judging by the faint tail wrapped around her ankle, stumble. Her eyes didn't even flinch when she hit the floor. No cry. No wince. Just blank detachment.
She'd stopped caring.
Hell, most of them had.
And I was leading them.
Nowhere.
I rounded another tunnel bend and realized it looped back into a chamber I'd already passed. Damn it.
I stopped and turned toward them, opening my mouth to admit it, to say: Look, I don't know where the hell we're going...but someone stepped up before I could.
She walked with actual rhythm to her steps. Not limp, not stagger, walked.
Elven. You could tell even without the ears. There was a... refinement to her. Poise despite dirt, posture despite trauma. Pale hair streaked with dried blood. A crude bronze dagger strapped to her hip, probably one I handed out earlier. Her violet eyes met mine directly.
"I can guide us," she said simply.
I blinked. "You sure?"
"I was brought in a little over a week ago," she said. "I was still lucid enough to remember some of the layout."
"Lucky you."
She didn't smile. "Not really."
I nodded.
We started walking again.
The tunnels twisted and forked. She took the lead, carefully noting faint markings on the stone, discoloration from torch soot, scratches likely left from goblin patrols, and some kind of dried sap or resin I hadn't even noticed before.
I followed her in silence for a bit.
Then I asked, "You got a name?"
She hesitated for half a second.
Then: "Seyla."
"Elven?"
She arched an eyebrow. "What gave it away? The ears? Or the total lack of chest bounce?"
I snorted. "Mostly the attitude."
That got a faint, almost-smile. It faded quick.
"You said you were only taken about a week ago?" I asked.
She nodded. "Caught in a raid outside a supply town. Bastards grabbed me, three others."
I glanced back. "The other elves?"
"Yes. We're not particularly sexual creatures," she said without a shred of modesty. "Makes it harder for them to break us. Not impossible, mind you, just slower."
The words sat between us like ice.
She kept walking.
I could see her eyes scanning the path ahead constantly, like she was chasing invisible threads. Occasionally she glanced at small alcoves, took a different route, backtracked once or twice. Always certain. Always quiet.
"You're really holding it together," I said after a while.
Her head didn't turn. "I'm holding what's left."
"You knew the Chief was dead, didn't you? The moment we walked into that hall."
"I saw the sword in his neck," she said. "And I saw you fighting those green fools as well. The only man in this entire gods-damned maze not foaming at the mouth or rutting like a beast."
We walked in silence again for a bit.
She finally glanced over.
"You don't know where you are, do you?"
I stiffened slightly. "I woke up in the middle of the cave system. Orientation was never really my strong suite."
"Is that right?"
I didn't answer.
She smirked. "You're not local."
"What gave it away? The wool shirt?"
"You don't walk like anyone I've ever seen."
I sighed. "Alright, fine. I'm not from around here."
Seyla raised an eyebrow. "Never heard of Rostalio?"
"Not even a little."
"I'm not surprised. We're not exactly famous. No grand empire. No great mages. Not part of the Northern Alliances. No royal bloodline worth singing about."
We turned a bend and she kept talking. Her voice was even, clipped, controlled but her pace never slowed. She knew this maze like it had tried to kill her, and she'd memorized every one of its teeth.
"We're a small kingdom tucked in the southeast of the continent. Poor. Corrupt. Border-raided more often than fed. Our own nobles sell off their cousins to marry into mercenary guilds. Half the towns don't have plumbing."
"Sounds charming."
"Oh, it's worse than it sounds. Especially when the surrounding kingdoms treat us like a stain."
"Well damn…"
She glanced at me sidelong.
"You really don't know?"
"Humor me."
She smirked. "Trying to see if I'm lying?"
"What do you think?" I asked.
She didn't answer that. Just gave a light shrug.
"You probably already know. Everyone does."
"Sure," I said smoothly. "I just like hearing it said out loud."
She snorted faintly. "Not much to hear. Everyone just calls it The Great Continent. Nobody agrees on what to name the damn thing."
That made sense.
Too many cultures. Too many factions. Too many countries barely held together by the threat of war.
She continued walking, guiding the group like she'd been born to it. And behind us, the slow, quiet train of broken souls limped forward. No one spoke. But a few had started looking up.
Eyes focused.
Hands clenched.
It wasn't hope. Not yet.
But it was something.
And Seyla?
She was the only one besides me still burning.
I didn't trust her fully. But I didn't need to.
I just needed her to get us out.
And the moment I saw a crack of real light piercing the tunnel ahead soft and golden and real, I knew she would.
The light at the end of the tunnel was real.
And cold.
Not harsh, not bright. Just distant and faint like the world beyond the cave had grown tired of shining, and we were walking into its forgotten corner.
We stepped out into a forest that shouldn't have existed.
Not this close to goblin nests.
The air was heavy, damp with something old and unsaid. Fog clung low to the roots, curling around our legs like hungry cats. The trees, gods above, the trees, they were massive. Old. Tall as cathedral spires and thick like they'd been carved out of mountains. Grey bark twisted in vein-like patterns, gnarled branches reaching up like skeletal arms desperate for sunlight they hadn't seen in decades.
The canopy was so dense, barely a few rays of sunlight filtered through. What did make it felt… wrong. Muted. Pale. Like the light had forgotten how to be warm.
"This doesn't look like a town," I muttered.
Seyla stepped up beside me, one hand resting casually on her hip. "No. It's the Edelmere. Ancient forest. Supposedly cursed. The kind of place soldiers use to scare their kids."
"Lovely. Any bears?"
"If we're lucky."
She knelt and touched a moss-covered root. Studied the shadow of her hand. "Sun says it's still early. We have time."
"Time for what?"
She glanced back at the shuffling, limping caravan behind us. "Food. Water. Rest. You think they're marching anywhere like this?"
I followed her gaze.
They were broken, but no longer bleeding. That was about all I could say.
Some had sat down already, legs giving out from under them like their bodies knew they were no longer in danger and decided to quit while they were ahead. One woman had curled into the roots of a tree and fallen asleep so fast I thought she'd passed out.
Yeah. Rest was non-negotiable.
Seyla stood again. "We'll cook. That cave filth had plenty of rations, disgusting but edible. Let me guess, you looted a pack of it?"
I tapped the side of the leather sack hanging from my belt. "One of the few smart things those green bastards did. Took food from their raids."
She nodded. "Then let's use it."
But I didn't sit down.
Didn't pull out anything. Didn't unsling the weapons strapped across my back.
Instead, I turned to go.
"Wait, what the fuck are you doing?" Seyla asked, a step behind me.
I didn't stop.
"I got you all out," I said. "That was the job."
She stepped in front of me. "You're not going to help us anymore?"
I looked past her at the group.
The women were watching us. Quiet. Still hollow behind the eyes.
They weren't asking for help.
They were too far gone for that.
But they were waiting.
For someone.
For me.
I couldn't stand it.
The idea of staying here. Being looked at like that.
Like I was some hero.
Some savior.
It made my skin crawl.
"I'm not sticking around for the speeches and the crying and the part where people try to turn me into a fucking symbol," I said, quieter now. "I've seen how this story goes. Some noble hears about what I did, gives me a medal I didn't ask for, and suddenly I'm 'The Goblin Slayer of Rostalio' or some shit."
Seyla folded her arms.
I kept going.
"I don't want it. I don't want people remembering me. I don't want the attention. I don't want someone showing up ten missions from now calling me a legend and asking me to solve some kingdom's civil war."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"I didn't do this for glory," I said. "I didn't even do it for *them*." I motioned to the women. "I did it because I had to. Because it was in my way. Because there was no choice. That's it."
Seyla was silent for a moment.
Then she said, "Nobody's going to sing about you."
"Good."
"You'll take us to a nearby town," she continued, tone flat. "And then you can disappear. No one will say your name. No one will remember your face. No medals. No praise."
I looked at her.
She held my gaze.
"I promise," she said.
I stared for a while. Thinking.
Of the Chief's axe. Of Rordan's body. Of the system's cold, calculated voice telling me one down, ninety-nine to go.
Of the weight I'd felt when that sword, Dux, refused to move.
I wasn't strong enough yet.
But I was getting there.
And if I wanted to survive the next ninety-nine?
I couldn't do it alone.
"…Fine," I said.
Seyla raised an eyebrow. "That easy?"
"No. But I'm not going to argue with someone who can actually navigate cursed forests while half-conscious."
She gave a tight smile, half relief, half something else. "Then help us light the fire. You're in charge of not burning the moss."
"I make no promises."
We walked back toward the others.
I didn't feel like a hero.
Still didn't want to be one. Like Zoro said: 'I don't want to share my sake.'
But for now…
I was still breathing.
And that was enough.