At first light, the group set out under a pale, silver sky. The morning air was crisp and hushed, with only a faint breeze whispering through the trees. The forest held its breath, offering no sound save for the soft crunch of boots on the path and the occasional rustle of leaves overhead.

  Liam had been silent since the night before, slipping ahead of the group with practiced ease. He moved like a shadow among the trees, scouting ahead.

  Richter felt a twinge of sympathy for the man—the accidental killing had clearly shaken him, leaving him in a quiet, brooding state. Still, at least he didn’t have to live with a scar that carved across half his face, like the one Richter bore as a constant reminder.

  The forest floor had begun to change—what was once flat and easy terrain now gave way to rugged, uneven ground. The elevation gradually rose, the path winding like a serpent through a narrow canyon. Towering rock walls flanked them on either side, their surfaces jagged and fractured, streaked with mineral veins and worn by time. Vines clung to the stone, creeping through every crack, and small, stubborn plants pushed their way through wherever they could find room.

  At times, the passage grew so tight they had to turn sideways and squeeze between the stone, their packs scraping against the rough walls. It felt less like a path and more like a forgotten artery, carved through the rock by ancient forces—and now reluctantly allowing them passage.

  "Not long now, ten minutes at most," Sarah said, her raspy voice instantly recognizable. "Some folks at the camp have unlocked professions, and right now they're running things on a barter system."

  Richter did need a few supplies—his potion stock was running low. But what did he have to offer? Would anyone even be interested in the things he crafted as a scribe? Then again, parchment and ink might hold surprising value in a growing settlement. Records, maps, messages—they all needed something to be written on.

  "Oh cool, I’m excited to see what people have built," Richter said, genuine curiosity flickering in his voice. These were the first humans he’d encountered since entering the System, and the idea that they’d managed to form a settlement—especially in under a week—was both surprising and intriguing.

  "The others and I talked, and we want you to have this," Sarah said, offering him a large white bundle—the thick, iridescent pelt of the Palehide, still carrying the faint scent of the battle it had come from.

  "There was at least one leatherworker at the camp last time we checked, so you should be able to trade it for something useful. It's our way of saying thanks—for saving the chest." Her voice held a slight tremor, the calm confidence she showed in battle now softened by a quiet, genuine humility.

  "Thanks—you didn’t have to. I don’t feel like I really did much, and you're the ones helping me now," he said, though he still accepted the bundle, not wanting to seem ungrateful. He already had a different idea for the pelt—something other than trading. Maybe, if he could find the leatherworker, they could help him process the pelt.

  As they continued walking, Richter turned the bundle over in his hands. The Palehide was heavier than it looked, thick and warm, still carrying the scent of blood and battle. He thought about Sarah's words, her tone. For someone so composed in combat, that flicker of nervousness had been oddly grounding.

  It wasn’t just a pelt—it was a gesture. A thank you. An acknowledgment. And despite everything, it meant more than he expected.

  As they rounded a bend, the canyon walls gradually parted, opening into a wide lakeside meadow. It was the first truly open space he'd seen in days—no trees, no towering stone, just rolling grass and the gleam of water stretching out beneath a pale sky. The contrast was striking, almost surreal after so long under the forest canopy.

  At the edge of the lake, Richter spotted a wooden wall under construction, its framework rough but steadily taking shape. Through the gaps between the beams, he caught glimpses of simple wooden structures and a few animal-hide tents scattered beyond—early signs of a settlement just beginning to take root.

  A narrow trail had formed in the grass, worn down by frequent footsteps leading back toward the canyon they’d just exited. As Richter surveyed the area, it became clear—the meadow was cradled by steep rock walls on one side and the lake on the other, forming a natural cove. That narrow canyon path appeared to be the only viable way in or out. Without getting wet.

  As the group approached the settlement, Richter saw people hard at work, digging into the earth to create rows for crops. When he activated his Identify skill, several of them registered with the Farming profession.

  Near the entrance, a young man was busy sawing planks from thick logs. The tooltip marked him as having the Woodworking profession. He worked with practiced focus, assembling what looked to be the sturdy frame for a wooden gate, likely intended to serve as the main entrance to the settlement once completed.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  High above ground level, a solitary guard stood in a raised lookout post built into the unfinished framework of the wooden wall. A bow was slung across his back as he surveyed the open meadow and dense forest beyond. He wasn’t watching the people approaching from the canyon; his eyes were fixed outward, scanning the treeline and lake edge for movement. More than likely, he was on the lookout for beasts.

  Inside, Richter quickly realized the wooden buildings he had glimpsed were still in the early stages of construction—most were little more than skeletal frames. Only one large structure appeared to be complete, its walls sealed and roof intact. Yet despite the roughness, he could already see the blueprint of a settlement taking shape. Whoever was organizing this clearly knew what they were doing.

  There were around fifty animal-hide tents, each large enough to comfortably house ten people. A few, positioned along the main path near the completed wooden building, had already been repurposed into makeshift workshops. Some of the smaller tents were already being taken down to make room for more permanent wooden structures, signalling a shift from temporary survival to something more enduring.

  The group was clearly guiding him toward the completed structure, which appeared to serve as a town hall of sorts. Considering it had likely been built in just a few days, its craftsmanship was surprisingly impressive. Near the front, a middle-aged woman was carefully installing glass panes into the empty window frames—an unexpected touch of refinement amidst the rough beginnings of settlement life.

  On the wooden steps leading up to the hall, a tiny old woman sat in quiet repose. She wore simple black caster robes, her metal staff balanced across her lap like a symbol of office rather than a weapon.

  Her white hair was pulled into a tight, no-nonsense bun, giving her a kind of compact dignity. In her gnarled hand, she held a large green crystal that pulsed with a gentle, steady glow.

  Emma ran forward and embraced the woman before she could even steady herself on the steps, her joy bubbling over in the sudden, affectionate tackle.

  Jon, the bald Light Warrior, stepped up beside Richter. He hadn’t spoken much during the journey, but along the way, Richter had learned that he was the father of the other three—Emma, Liam, and Sarah. They’d all been together in a government bunker when the countdown reached zero. By sheer luck—or perhaps design—they’d been placed in the same group when the System took over.

  "This is our fifth member—my mother. Everyone just calls her Nan," Jon said, his voice unexpectedly gentle, a sharp contrast to his rugged exterior.

  As Emma stepped back, giving Nan a moment to regain her composure, the elderly woman rose to her feet with the aid of her metal staff. It looked comically oversized in her grasp, a towering contrast to her small, stooped frame.

  With a practiced motion, she tucked the glowing gemstone into the folds of her long sleeves, disappearing it with the ease of someone used to handling precious things discreetly.

  Almost instinctively, Richter activated his Identify skill as she approached, curiosity and caution guiding the subtle motion.

  [Human-Level 5]- ???

  [Caster-Level 3] – A magic user with access to a wide range of offensive and utility spells. Excels in burst damage, crowd control, and large-scale destruction. Often fragile, with limited stamina and high reliance on mana management.

  [Settlement Steward – Level 7] – A leadership-based support profession that enables the management of a developing settlement. Grants the ability to implement taxation, create and assign quests or missions, and establish guilds. Provides passive bonuses to construction coordination, resource allocation, and community morale within the area of governance.

  Richter's Eyes of the Murderer skill granted him an unusual depth of insight into people. He could see the uses now in battle, being easily able to identify people and there roles quickly.

  "Nan, this is Richter. Richter, meet Nan," Emma said, practically bouncing with excitement as she stepped between them, her happiness radiating through the group.

  "Nan’s the leader here—she’s even got a profession tied to running the settlement," Emma added proudly.

  Richter nodded along, careful to feign surprise. He hadn’t told anyone about his Identify skill, and he’d played dumb yesterday when the group mentioned Liam’s profession. Trust was a valuable thing, and revealing too much too soon could be dangerous.

  "Well now, welcome to Lakeside," Nan said, her voice warm but gravelly, touched with age and authority. "Earning the trust of my lot—that says more than most introductions ever could."

  Nan looked Richter over with sharp, assessing eyes, then offered a faint smile.

  "You’ve accomplished so much in such a short time. I wasn’t expecting anything like this," Richter said, his gaze sweeping over the settlement. He couldn’t help but wonder how long something like this would’ve taken to build back on Earth—before the System changed everything.

  "You are too kind young man, with teamwork and a bit of planning it wasn't too bad." The old women said clearly she was the planner but she wouldn't take all the credit.

  "Nan worked for the city for years—she was head of the planning department," Emma chimed in. "So, all this? Totally her wheelhouse." She’d grown noticeably more talkative since the first day, her confidence blooming alongside her trust.

  "You should’ve seen the fuss she raised on day one when some genius tried digging a latrine pit near the water’s edge," Liam said, strolling back over to the group with a half-eaten red fruit in hand. He ruffled Nan’s hair with a grin. "That poor guy didn’t stand a chance."

  Richter couldn’t help but smile. There was an easy warmth between them, the kind born from shared history and unspoken understanding. And it was good to see Liam smiling—the cheeky grin suited him far more than the haunted stare he'd worn during their quiet conversation that night.

  "Now that you’ve had a look around, you’re welcome to stay a while," Nan said, her gaze resting on Richter with quiet confidence. "There’s a spare room in the town hall—should do fine until you get your bearings. And with those pelts you’re carrying, you’ve already got something valuable to trade. One of our folks just picked up the merchant profession—you can talk to him if you’re looking to buy from our craftsmen. They earn credits, he gains experience—works out for everyone."

  It wasn’t much. A hall, some tents, a few fences still half-built. But it was enough. For the first time in what felt like forever, it felt like home might be possible.

  He wondered if his sister had found a place like this—if she was smiling somewhere, too.