They expected blue cloth.

  They expected a perimeter.

  They expected William's camp still squatting in the sand. The way he always claimed territory.

  But when Sora and Violet limped out of the labyrinth's shadow and stared across the open stretch, there was nothing.

  No banners.

  No fires.

  No shouting orders.

  Only trampled ground, old footprints half-erased by wind, and the faint smell of ash where something had burned days ago.

  Violet's grip tightened around Sora's arm.

  They kept moving, step by step, toward the city's distant silhouette.

  Arm in arm. Two broken bodies keeping each other upright, because letting go would mean falling, and falling out here might mean never standing again.

  The desert was loud in a different way.

  Wind.

  Dry grit skittering across stone.

  Open air that made them feel exposed.

  Violet scanned the horizon like she expected someone to rise out of it with a spear.

  Sora kept his eyes on the ground.

  Not because he feared traps out here.

  Because he feared stumbling.

  Because the moment their pace slowed too much, his mind started counting what could've happened. If he'd been slower. If he'd turned the wrong way. If he hadn't found her.

  He shoved it down and walked.

  They reached a small rise an hour later. Or something that felt like an hour. They saw a cluster of tents tucked behind a shallow stone ridge.

  A camp.

  Small.

  Smoke thin enough to be recent.

  Violet stopped so abruptly Sora had to catch her weight.

  Her hand slid to her sword.

  Sora's throat went tight.

  If this was William. If he'd left people here as a net.

  They were in no condition to fight.

  Violet's blade was chipped. Her arms shook when she lifted it. Sora's legs still felt like splintered wood from Flash Step, barely holding him upright through stubbornness alone.

  But the city lay beyond that ridge.

  To reach it, they had to pass close enough that someone would see them.

  Or they could go around. But that would take days.

  Sora breathed in once, tasted dust, and started walking forward anyway.

  Violet followed, tense, dragging her broken body towards the camp.

  They moved closer.

  Closer.

  No blue.

  No armbands.

  No disciplined line of guards.

  Just plain cloth, mismatched gear, and the quiet economy of people surviving without pretending it was controlled.

  Sora's shoulders loosened by a fraction.

  Violet didn't loosen at all.

  Then the nearest tent entrance shifted.

  A figure stepped out.

  Matteo.

  For a heartbeat he just stared, like his eyes couldn't process what they were being asked to accept.

  Then the shock snapped into something raw and alive.

  He screamed.

  Not a battle cry.

  A raw, uncontrolled sound that cracked in the air like a signal flare.

  "They're alive!"

  The camp exploded.

  People surged out of tents. Someone stumbled over a crate.

  Violet's sword came up.

  Instinct.

  Fear.

  The last two weeks engraved into her muscles.

  Sora caught her wrist.

  "It's okay," he said, voice low, immediate. "We're safe."

  Violet's eyes flicked to him.

  Searching for the lie.

  Searching for the trap.

  But Sora's face didn't carry lies.

  It carried exhaustion but also certainty.

  Violet's grip loosened.

  Not all the way.

  Just enough to let the blade dip.

  Matteo reached them first and stopped in front of them.

  His eyes were wide. Glassy. Bright with disbelief.

  Then he nodded once.

  Behind him people arrived with supplies in their hands like they'd been waiting for a reason to use them.

  Water.

  Food.

  Blankets.

  A strip of cloth for bandages.

  Someone held out a flask.

  Sora took it, careful, and held it toward Violet first.

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  She hesitated.

  Then she drank. One swallow. Then another. Her shoulders sagged like her body finally remembered it was allowed.

  Matteo's gaze locked with Sora's.

  There were a thousand questions in it.

  Sora gave him a single look back that answered only one thing.

  Later.

  Matteo understood.

  "We'll talk," he said quietly. "Rest first."

  They led them into camp.

  People kept glancing at Violet like they didn't want to stare but couldn't help it. The rumor of her strength had spread. The stories of her defeating one boss after another were well known.

  Someone tried to direct Violet toward one tent and Sora toward another.

  "This tent is for you," a woman said gently. "You will have your own space to rest."

  Violet's fingers tightened on Sora's sleeve so hard it wrinkled the fabric.

  Her eyes went flat.

  No trust left for separation.

  Not after William.

  Not after being left.

  Sora saw the panic rise behind her expression and stepped in before it could turn into a fight.

  "We stay together," he said, calm but final. "At least for now."

  The camp didn't argue.

  No annoyed sighs.

  No authority pushing.

  Just a few nods, and the woman adjusted her plan.

  "Fine," she said. "Together, then."

  They put them in a larger tent. Gave them a thicker blanket. Left food and water within reach. A small lamp. A clean cloth.

  And then they left them alone like privacy was another kind of medicine.

  The tent quieted.

  The fabric walls muffled the outside world until the desert became background again.

  Violet sat with her back against a rolled blanket, sword resting across her lap like she still didn't fully believe safety existed.

  Sora sat beside her without thinking.

  Not guarding an entrance.

  Not calculating angles.

  Just... sitting.

  Because sitting next to her had become the default in a world where nothing else was stable.

  Violet stared at the entrance for a long time.

  Then she spoke without looking at him.

  "Why are they helping us."

  Sora turned his head slightly. "Matteo."

  Violet's eyes narrowed. "What about him."

  "He's the one who ran back," Sora said quietly. "The day you went missing. The one who reported it. The one who-" He paused, not liking how the words made his chest tighten. "-came into the labyrinth with me. To find you."

  Violet's grip on her sword loosened a fraction.

  Her voice came out blunt. Defensive by habit. "Why would he do that. For a stranger."

  Sora exhaled through his nose.

  "I don't know," he admitted. "At first... I thought there was a motive." He glanced down at his hands. Still scratched. Still stained. "He always had people around him in the early worlds. But he never recruited. Never took. He just... kept helping whoever was bleeding."

  Violet didn't answer.

  Sora continued, quiet, like he was talking to himself as much as her.

  "I guess there are people like that," he said. "Even in this."

  Violet's silence stretched.

  When Sora looked at her again, her eyelids had drifted shut.

  Not pretending.

  Not resting with one eye open.

  Asleep.

  Her head had tipped toward him, just slightly, like her body had chosen and her pride hadn't woken up fast enough to stop it.

  Sora didn't move.

  He sat there, feeling the warmth of her shoulder through thin fabric, and something in his chest tightened in a way he didn't understand yet.

  He didn't know what this feeling was.

  He didn't know why he'd run into the labryinth that day.

  He only knew one thing with brutal clarity.

  He would do it again.

  A thousand times.

  —

  Hours passed. The light outside shifted.

  Evening settled.

  A shadow crossed the tent fabric and a cough sounded from just outside.

  "Can I come in," Matteo asked.

  Sora answered quietly, "Yes."

  Matteo stepped inside, and the first thing he saw was Violet asleep.

  His expression softened in a way that looked almost painful.

  "She must be..." he began.

  "Exhausted," Sora finished.

  Matteo nodded once and lowered his voice instinctively, like he was afraid to wake her up.

  "It's a miracle," Sora said, and the words came out like he'd been carrying them for days. "She survived."

  Matteo's eyes flicked to Violet's torn gear, the damage that should've ended anyone else. Then back to Sora.

  "How long," Sora asked quietly.

  Matteo's jaw tightened. "More than two weeks. That's how long she was down there."

  Sora stared at the ground. The number landed like a weight he couldn't set down.

  Matteo inhaled, held it for a beat, then looked up.

  His tone shifted into something sharper.

  "William knows where the boss room is."

  Sora's head lifted immediately.

  Matteo continued, voice low but hard. "That's why his camp isn't here anymore. There's another entrance."

  Sora's throat tightened. "Another entrance."

  "It appeared a couple of days ago," Matteo said. "This one-" he glanced toward the direction of the ridge, as if the labyrinth could hear its name "-might've been bait."

  "To mislead," Sora said.

  Matteo nodded.

  "To kill," Sora finished.

  Matteo didn't deny it.

  "He moved with his guild," Matteo said. "I don't know how many, but he's trying to clear the boss alone. He wants the drops. The monopoly of stronger gear."

  "That's suicide," Sora muttered.

  Matteo's mouth tightened. "He thinks he's invincible."

  Sora's mind flashed to the city. To names. To Harvald. Abigail. Cecilia. Thomas. Jun.

  "What about the others," Sora asked, and he hated how thin his voice sounded for a second.

  Matteo caught it instantly.

  "Most stayed in the city," he said quickly. "Some joined William. But your people are still there." Then he added. "I sent someone to the city. To let them know you're alive."

  Sora's shoulders released a fraction of tension he hadn't known he was holding.

  A voice behind him cut through it.

  Blunt. Awake.

  "Why are you doing this."

  Sora turned.

  Violet was sitting up.

  Her dark and long hair fell in tangled strands over one shoulder. Her blue eyes were sharp despite the exhaustion.

  She stared at Matteo.

  Matteo didn't flinch.

  "What do you mean," he asked gently.

  Violet's expression didn't soften. "Risk yourself for others. Help strangers. Even when it doesn't benefit you."

  Matteo held Violet's stare for a moment longer than was comfortable.

  Then he said, not softly, not kindly, just honest.

  "Don't."

  Violet's eyes narrowed. "Don't what."

  "Don't stand there and pretend you've never risked yourself for anyone," Matteo replied. "I've watched you."

  Violet's jaw flexed. "You watched me fight."

  "I watched you take the front," Matteo said, voice tightening. "Over and over. Bosses. Raids. The kind of fights where one wrong angle means you die."

  Violet didn't blink.

  Matteo kept going anyway, like he'd been holding this in.

  "You didn't have to do that," he said. "You could've played it safe. You could've stayed midline, waited for openings, let other people eat the hits."

  Violet's mouth curled, sharp. "That's inefficient."

  Matteo shook his head once. "That's convenient."

  The word landed.

  Violet's fingers tightened around the edge of the blanket.

  "I do it for me," she said, voice flat. "I don't care if people live because of it."

  Matteo's gaze didn't move. "Then why didn't you step back when the line broke."

  Silence.

  He leaned forward just slightly.

  "There were fights where you held the boss's attention so long nobody else had to," he said. "I saw backliners walk away without losing half their HP because you kept the pressure on yourself."

  Violet's throat worked once.

  "That's not saving," she muttered. "That's me not trusting anyone else to do it right."

  Matteo nodded, like he'd accept that as part of the truth.

  "Fine," he said. "Call it whatever you want. That doesn't change the facts."

  Violet's eyes sharpened.

  Matteo didn't flinch. "Still. People lived. Because you were in front."

  Violet looked away first, toward the tent wall, like staring at fabric was easier than staring at an accusation that wasn't entirely wrong.

  Matteo's voice softened.

  "You can tell yourself you'd never risk your life for others," he said. "But your body's been doing it since the beginning."

  Violet didn't answer.

  Matteo waited a beat, then answered, quieter now.

  "People die all the time," he said.

  Not in this world.

  In general.

  "Hunger. Accidents. War."

  His eyes went distant for a second, like the tent fabric had become a different wall in a different place.

  "I am a soldier," he said quietly. "Or... I was."

  Violet didn't move.

  Sora didn't speak.

  Matteo's throat worked once.

  "I was the only one who made it out alive that day," he continued, voice roughening. "I couldn't save anyone."

  His hands clenched at his sides like he was holding something down.

  "And in the end... I was the one who needed to be saved."

  His eyes went glassy.

  He blinked hard like he could erase it with force.

  It didn't work.

  "My brother," he said, and the words cracked. "He chose my life over his."

  Silence filled the tent.

  Matteo's voice dropped even lower.

  "That's the only reason I'm here," he said. "Breathing. Walking. Able to pretend I'm useful."

  A tear slipped free. He wiped it immediately.

  But more came anyway.

  "I don't want people dying because of greed," he said, and his mouth twisted like the word tasted bad. "Because someone wants to win. Because someone wants to own."

  He swallowed hard.

  "And every time I see someone needing help," he continued, "I see-" he stopped, breath catching. "I see the version of me that couldn't stand up. The version that made my brother lose his life."

  His shoulders trembled once, then steadied.

  He looked at Violet, then at Sora.

  "So when all of this started-" he began.

  The sentence broke under the weight.

  He wiped his face again, breath uneven.

  Then he forced himself to step back, voice quieter.

  "Anyway," he said, trying and failing to sound normal. "Rest."

  He turned toward the entrance.

  Before he could leave, two words slipped out of Violet's mouth.

  Quiet.

  Present.

  "Thank you."

  Matteo froze.

  Just for a second.

  Then he nodded once without looking back, like if he turned around he'd fall apart.

  He stepped outside.

  From the other side of the fabric, his voice came one last time, low and sincere.

  "Thank you for making it back."

  The tent fell silent again.

  Violet leaned back, exhausted, eyes on the ceiling like she didn't trust those emotions.

  Sora sat beside her and didn't move away.

  Outside, the camp kept breathing.