The days following the override blurred into a rhythm of cautious expansion, the forest around Greybridge transforming from a makeshift camp into something resembling a hidden outpost. Ethan moved among the bound men, including the older leader he'd dubbed Harlan—with a deliberate slowness, his Agility stat held in check to avoid intimidating them further. The Panel's ledger pulsed faintly in his mind.
Harlan, with his grizzled beard and eyes that had seen too many bad deals, proved unexpectedly adaptable. Bound or not, he retained his sharp tongue, barking orders at the others to reinforce the perimeter with felled logs and woven nets. "This ain't no charity," he'd grumbled during their first group huddle around the fire. "You tied us up in your fancy invisible ropes, kid. Least you can do is let us earn our keep." Ethan had nodded, allowing the man to take point on logistics. It was a small concession, but it humanized the process—turned containment into collaboration, even if the underlying tether ensured no betrayals.
By midday, the group had cleared a small training area, where Ethan demonstrated basic survival drills adapted from the Zombie Node: efficient looting patterns, stealth maneuvers drawn from Fold Slip's essence, and simple chakra-like energy control to build endurance. He kept it low-key, masking the cross-node elements as "instinct training." The men grumbled but improved; one, a wiry scout named Reyes, even flashed a grin after nailing a target with a thrown rock. PP accrual: +150 from sub-task (Group Drill Completion). Multiplier applied: +1,500 total.
But the moral reckoning gnawed at Ethan during quieter moments. As he sat alone on a stump, summoning Aoi from Taming Space for a brief check-in.
Word of the "van incident" had spread to nearby villages, drawing a cautious envoy: an elder woman named Mira, flanked by two rangers. They arrived at dusk, eyes wary as they surveyed the camp. "We've heard of armed men vanishing on the roads," Mira said, her voice steady but probing. "And now this... Greybridge? Explain yourself, stranger."
Ethan met her gaze, his Will at 190 bolstering his composure. He wove a half-truth: a network of reformed mercenaries, contained by "ancient techniques" and dedicated to protecting trade routes. He demonstrated by having Harlan step forward, unbound in appearance but tethered internally—no overt displays, just quiet assurance. Mira tested them with questions, probing for coercion. Satisfied for now, she offered a tentative alliance: supplies in exchange for patrols. It was the first external check—a human oversight to balance the system's override.
As night fell, a plan to integrate Mira's rangers into the Oversight role.
Greybridge grew that week, not through conquest but quiet necessity. Ethan bound two more stragglers from a scouting party—hostiles scouting for another convoy—logging the actions with self-imposed notes: Immediate threat neutralized; rehabilitation protocol initiated. The cost settled heavier, but the roads quieted, villages breathed easier. Power's price was etched in every ledger entry.
The days after Mira's visit settled into a new equilibrium—one that felt less like a camp and more like the early bones of a functioning micro-society. Greybridge expanded outward in rings: a woven perimeter, a hunting circuit, a ration depot, and the new "neutral square," where villagers and rangers could enter without stepping into the taming zone's influence.
Ethan worked in silence that morning, shaping the last of the support beams for a storage shed. Even with his stats restrained, he carved smoother and faster than any of the men. Harlan supervised from a log, arms crossed, pretending not to be impressed.
"You know," the old mercenary said, voice gravelly, "I've led warbands, guarded caravans, raided places you've never heard of… but I've never seen someone build an entire outpost in under a week. You some kinda demigod or just very, very worrying?"
Ethan smirked. "Neither. I just… learn quickly."
Harlan snorted. "Understatement of the year."
Oversight Integration
The first Oversight meeting—Mira, two rangers, Harlan, and Ethan—took place around the fire circle. No weapons were drawn, but everyone kept a hand close enough to reach one.
Mira unrolled a charcoal map of the region.
"Three villages," she began, tapping small marks. "Two trade routes. Bandit groups usually cycle through every winter, but this year's been… different. More organized. More aggressive."
Her eyes flicked to Ethan. "The armored van assault wasn't random, was it?"
Ethan shook his head. "Someone's testing territory. Or trying to claim it."
Harlan grunted. "Feels like mercenary movement. Could be a private contractor group. Could be a splinter faction. Hell, could be someone with a grudge."
Mira's gaze sharpened. "Do you intend to solve this alone?"
Ethan hesitated—long enough for her to understand the truth behind the pause. No one could do this alone. Not even someone with a fused system whispering potential in the back of his mind.
"…No," he said finally. "Not anymore."
Mira nodded, satisfied. "Then from this day, we consider Greybridge an auxiliary settlement. We provide supplies and intel. Your… reformed men provide patrols and field support. Mutual benefit. Mutual accountability."
The word accountability hit with the weight of a moral anchor.
Good.
He needed that.