The sun hung low, bleeding amber across the jagged hills beyond the Triad's camp. Elias crouched by a line of sharpened stakes, placing them in a shallow trench. His hands were blistered, his body aching—but for the first time since waking up in Realm 1000, he felt purpose.
Kaela emerged from the tree line, dragging a bundle of coiled vines and salvaged metals. "This'll hold another barricade."
He nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. "We'll finish the eastern wall tonight. If we keep this pace up—"
But his voice stopped short.
Because Ryker wasn't back yet.
He had left that morning, claiming he needed a walk. "Just scouting. We can't hole up forever," he'd said with his usual cocky shrug.
Elias had almost stopped him.
Now it was dusk.
Kaela seemed to read his worry. "You think something happened?"
Before Elias could answer, movement came from the trees.
Ryker stumbled out of the shadows—bleeding, limping, one eye swollen shut. His chain whip was wrapped around his arm like a torn bandage, and he was dragging a crude satchel behind him.
"Holy—Ryker!" Kaela rushed forward, catching him as he sagged to his knees.
"Wasn't scouting," he muttered. "Found people."
Elias crouched beside him, already checking the wounds. Bruised ribs. Lacerated shoulder. Deep gash near the thigh. "What happened?"
Ryker coughed and winced. "They jumped me. Four of them. Organized, geared, talking like they own this section of the Realm. Called themselves the Dreadhounds."
Kaela's eyes narrowed. "That name is trying way too hard."
"Tell me about it." Ryker groaned. "They took most of what I had. Food. Potions. Almost took my boots. But I got one of them pretty good. Left him screaming."
Elias stood, anger simmering under his usual calm. "You didn't deserve that. None of us do."
Kaela helped Ryker to the campfire. "What do we do?"
Elias looked out over the clearing. Their fortress-in-progress, their sharpened logs, their growing stockpile. The little patch of peace they'd carved out with blood and will.
"We defend what's ours."
Kaela tilted her head. "With three of us?"
"With us," Elias said. "That's more than enough."
And that night, as Ryker rested and Kaela stood guard, Elias etched a word into a smooth stone by the fire's edge:
Stonewake.
The name felt right—like something ancient remembered. A place born from ruin, standing in defiance of the world's madness.
⸻
They left at dawn.
Ryker moved slower than usual, but his bruised pride burned brighter than the pain. Kaela carried her twin daggers on her belt, and Elias adjusted the wrappings on his arm, where Ashbrand flickered faintly beneath his skin.
The trail was easy to follow: broken branches, smears of blood, scorched earth.
It led them down into a narrow valley where an old ruin sprawled like a forgotten fortress—cracked stone walls, shattered towers, and signs of habitation. Tents. Cookfires. Makeshift barricades.
Elias counted at least a dozen people moving around the encampment.
"This is bigger than I thought," Kaela whispered.
Ryker spat to the side. "Good. More teeth to knock out."
"Let's be smart about this," Elias said. His Insight flared—glowing symbols rippling in his vision. Enemy Count: 14. Combat Formations: Loose. Gear Level: Moderate. Weakness: Overconfidence.
He nodded slowly. "They're cocky. Spread thin. If we split them fast, we can take control."
"Classic divide and conquer," Kaela smirked. "Told you I liked this guy."
They moved like phantoms—silent, quick, deliberate.
Elias struck first, unleashing Ashbrand in a flash of fire, his blade-like flame slicing through a supply tent and igniting panic. Ryker burst forward next, chain whip cracking through the air as he swept two sentries off their feet. Kaela slipped into the chaos like smoke, daggers finding soft spots in armor.
The Dreadhounds scrambled, trying to regroup—but the Triad's synergy was too precise. Every strike complemented the next, every opening filled, every movement instinctive.
At one point, Ryker caught Kaela's dagger mid-air and hurled it into a fleeing archer.
Kaela blinked. "Did we practice that?"
"Nope."
"Cool."
Within minutes, six of the Dreadhounds were down or unconscious. The others began to retreat—but Elias stepped forward, fire coiling around his fists, eyes glowing with Insight.
"Stay."
The flames danced higher.
"I said stay."
A silence fell. The remaining fighters froze.
One of them—a tall girl with a shaved head and heavy armor—stepped forward slowly, hands raised.
"Who are you people?"
"We're Stonewake," Elias said simply.
Kaela added, "And if you ever try that again—if you ever touch one of ours again—there won't be any limbs left to bandage."
The Dreadhounds backed off, dragging their wounded and what remained of their pride.
Elias extinguished the fire in his hand. Kaela retrieved her blade. Ryker limped to a fallen crate and pried it open, grinning at the recovered loot.
They walked away as the ruin burned behind them.
⸻
Back at camp, they sat around the fire again.
Kaela passed Elias a bundle of dried fruit, salvaged from the Dreadhounds' stash.
Ryker exhaled. "Okay. I know I'm banged up and still healing, but… that was kind of incredible."
Elias smiled faintly. "We can't scare off everyone. There'll be others. Bigger groups. Smarter ones."
Kaela said, "Let them come."
Elias looked to the stone where the name was carved.
"We're not just surviving anymore."
He turned to them both.
"We're building something worth protecting."
And beneath the stars, the name Stonewake began to mean something more.
A home.
A warning.
A kingdom rising from the ashes.