Marek was going to die.
Caleb knew it. Dina knew it. They all knew it, but nobody said it out loud.
The makeshift bandages around his severed wrist were soaked black with blood. His breathing was shallow, irregular. Shock was setting in hard, and they had nothing to treat it with except strips of cloth and hope.
Ellen wasn't much better. The claw marks on her thigh had gone deep, tearing muscle down to bone. She couldn't put weight on the leg without screaming. Every few minutes, she'd pass out from the pain, then wake up gasping.
They'd found shelter in a shallow cave, really just an overhang of rock that blocked the wind. No fire. Too visible. Too risky. The goblins might still be hunting them.
Dina sat beside Marek, checking his pulse every few minutes. Her hands were steady now, EMT training taking over where panic had been.
"His heart rate's dropping," she said quietly. "Blood pressure's falling. If we don't get him real medical attention soon…"
She didn't finish. Didn't need to.
Soren cleaned his cracked shield with a torn piece of shirt. The metal was bent, useless. Like the rest of their equipment. Half their weapons were gone, lost in the retreat. What remained was damaged, dull, barely functional.
"We need to keep moving," Caleb said. "Find the next floor. The Tower heals injuries when floors clear."
"He can't move," Dina snapped. "Neither can Ellen. Look at them."
Caleb looked. Marek's skin was gray, waxy. Ellen's leg was swollen, infected. Moving them would kill them faster than staying put.
But staying put meant they were trapped. On a floor they couldn't complete. With enemies that knew where they were.
The interface pulsed weakly in his vision.
[Medical Assessment Available]
[Cost: 1 Skill Point]
[Accept? Y/N]
He blinked. That was new.
"Anyone else seeing this?" he asked.
The others shook their heads. Only him.
He selected yes.
[Medical Assessment: Marek]
Status: Critical
Blood Loss: Severe
Infection Risk: High
Survival Probability: 23% without intervention
[Medical Assessment: Ellen]
Status: Stable but declining
Mobility: Compromised
Infection Risk: Moderate
Survival Probability: 67% with rest
[Recommended Action: Immediate floor completion or medical intervention required]
Twenty-three percent. That wasn't odds. That was a death sentence with paperwork.
"We have to go back," Dina said suddenly.
Everyone stared at her.
"Not to fight," she continued. "To finish the floor. It's the only way to heal them."
"Go back to the village?" Soren's voice cracked. "Are you insane? They'll slaughter us."
"We can't fight them," Caleb said. "Not like this. Not with two people down."
"Then we don't fight." Dina's voice was getting stronger. "We complete the objective another way."
Caleb frowned. "What objective?"
She gestured toward the interface display. "It says 'Floor Five: Trial of Entry, Enemy Type: Invader Group, Survival Required: Four of Six.' We assumed we had to kill all the goblins. But what if we just have to survive them?"
"Survive what?"
"The trial. Maybe the floor isn't about winning. Maybe it's about lasting long enough to prove something."
Ellen stirred, consciousness flickering back. "Prove what?"
"That we're not just killers." Dina looked at each of them in turn. "Every other floor tested something specific. Teamwork. Loyalty. Decision-making. What if this one tests whether we can survive without becoming monsters?"
Caleb considered it. They'd been thinking like soldiers. Kill the enemy, take the objective, move forward. But the Tower didn't work like that. It tested psychology as much as strength.
"The voice," he said. "Whatever stopped the attack. It could have let the goblins finish us. But it didn't."
"Because we weren't supposed to die," Dina said. "We were supposed to learn."
Soren spat into the dirt. "Learn what? That we're weak? That we can't win?"
"That we're not invaders," Ellen whispered. "We're participants."
Caleb looked at her. "What do you mean?"
"The floor description. 'Enemy Type: Invader Group.' What if that doesn't mean the goblins are invaders? What if it means we are?"
The words hit like a cold wind.
They'd been acting like an invasion force. Hunting. Killing. Taking territory. Treating the goblins like obstacles instead of… what? Residents? Other participants?
"You think the goblins are climbers too?" Marek's voice was barely a whisper, but he was conscious.
"Maybe," Ellen said. "Or maybe they're supposed to be here. And we're supposed to coexist with them, not exterminate them."
Caleb felt something shift in his understanding. The Tower had been teaching them to be efficient killers. Rewarding brutality. But what if that was the trap? What if the real test was refusing to become what the Tower wanted?
The interface pulsed again.
[Alternative Objective Available]
[Negotiated Settlement: Establish non-hostile contact with local inhabitants]
[Success Condition: Mutual survival agreement for 24 hours]
[Failure Penalty: Standard floor reset]
[Accept Alternative Objective? Y/N]
"I see it too now," Dina said. "The negotiation option."
"Same here," Soren muttered.
So the Tower was giving them a choice. Fight and probably die, or try something else.
Caleb looked at Marek's gray face. Ellen's infected leg. Their broken equipment and exhausted bodies.
They weren't in any condition to fight.
But maybe they could talk.
"If we do this," he said, "we go back unarmed. Hands visible. No aggressive moves."
"And if they kill us anyway?" Soren asked.
"Then we die learning something instead of repeating the same mistake."
Caleb selected yes.
[Objective Updated: Establish Peaceful Contact]
[Time Limit: 6 Hours]
[Current Status: Neutral]
The notification faded, leaving them in silence.
Dina was already helping Ellen to her feet. Soren lifted Marek carefully, supporting his weight.
They began the slow walk back toward the village.
This time, not as hunters.
As humans hoping other thinking beings might choose mercy over revenge.
The forest watched them go.
Silent. Waiting.
Judging.