The Fractured Vanguard
The next morning, the Safe Zone felt less like a sanctuary and more like a courtroom waiting for a verdict.
Oliver was the first to rise. He dismantled the tent with a flick of his wrist, storing it away. Amy stood beside him, folding blankets with the domestic energy of a newlywed wife, humming a soft tune. She made a point of ignoring the other side of the room completely.
On the other side, the mood was funeral-somber.
William had managed to heal the worst of the damage with mid-tier potions, but his face was still a mess of yellowing bruises, and his left wrist was wrapped heavily in bandages. He didn't speak. He moved stiffly, his eyes fixed on the floor, radiating a dark, brooding silence.
Daniel looked exhausted. He tried to rally his team.
"Alright, listen up," Daniel called out, his voice echoing a bit too loudly. "We descend to Floor 31. I know yesterday was... rough. But we have a mission. We are the Heroes. Let's act like it."
