The camp looked like a fortress by nightfall.
Kael's army had turned rubble into barricades, torches into walls of light. Their blades and shields glimmered in the false moonlight, every strike of whetstone ringing like a promise of glory. Even the air felt sharp with purpose, the hum of men and women waiting for war.
An army under him.
And then… there was us.
We sat at the farthest corner of the plaza, where the shadows pooled thickest and the whispers were loudest. The forgotten. The broken. The unfit. A cluster of people held together only by fear and the fact that no one else wanted us.
Not soldiers. Not heroes. Not anything.
Just mine.
✦
Whispers crawled through the night like biting insects.
"That's them… the cursed ones."
"He speaks to shadows. To things that aren't real."
"He rewrites death. Don't get close."
The mother with the child hunched tighter, shielding the little girl from stares. The old man spat darkly toward the whisperers, but no one heard him. To Kael's army, we weren't people anymore.
We were a warning.
Dev grunted beside me, folding his arms. "Fantastic. We're officially the lepers of the apocalypse. Should I get us a bell to ring when we walk past?"
I rubbed at my temples. "Don't tempt the system. It might actually do it."
The ink in my veins pulsed faintly. Like laughter.
✦
It started when the scarred soldier came.
He marched up with half a dozen behind him, their spears gleaming, their formation neat. The whispers stopped. Even Kael's army liked a spectacle.
"You don't belong here," the scarred one sneered, his voice loud enough for the whole camp.
The forgotten shrank behind me. I didn't move from where I sat on cracked stone, shadows curling lazily around my boots.
"Funny," I said. "The gods seem to think otherwise."
His lip curled. "People are afraid. You bring curses. We won't sleep under the same sky as your kind."
The girl with the crowbar stepped forward, voice trembling but fierce. "He saved us! If not for him, we'd be dead!"
The soldier smirked. "Maybe that would've been better."
✦
Dev bristled instantly. "Say that again, tin-man, and I'll shove that spear where the sun doesn't shine."
Weapons rose. The forgotten whimpered. The shadows at my feet stretched forward, eager for blood.
And then—
"Enough."
Kael.
His voice was calm, but it cut sharper than any blade. The soldiers froze as the Hero strode into the firelight. He didn't shout. He didn't need to. The air bent around him, the camp breathing in rhythm with his steps.
His gaze locked on me. "Reed. Control your shadows."
"They're not the problem," I said.
"Maybe not. But you are."
✦
For a moment, silence ruled. Kael's army waited for his verdict. Cast me out. Strike me down. Burn the curse before it spread.
And for a terrifying heartbeat, I thought he would.
But then the system intervened.
[ Variation Initiated. ]
[ The Keeper of the Forgotten cannot be cast out. ]
[ A separate trial will begin tonight. ]
The letters seared across the air for all to see. Soldiers stumbled back, their courage cracked by glowing script.
The scarred man spat. "See? Even the system brands him cursed."
Kael said nothing. His jaw tightened, his hand flexing at his sword hilt—but he didn't argue.
Because it wasn't his choice anymore.
It was mine.
✦
The system pressed into my skull, heavy and cold.
[ Trial of Trust: Survive the night without betrayal. ]
[ Condition: At least one forgotten must choose to remain by your side until dawn. ]
[ Failure: Erasure. ]
The word echoed through me like a death knell.
Erasure.
Dev swallowed hard. "Erasure? As in—"
"As in deleted," I said. My mouth was dry. "Gone. A bug fix."
The mother sobbed. The boy with the crutch paled. The old man muttered, "Trust, eh? That's cruel."
Cruel was the point.
✦
Mirae's voice screamed into existence.
"OOOOHHHHHH! AUDIENCE, ARE YOU SEEING THIS?! Our little Bug just got slapped with the Trial of Trust! That's right, folks! The gods don't just want him dead—they want him betrayed! Place your bets, people: who's gonna stab him in the back first? My money's on the limping kid!"
The dimensional chat went feral.
"LMFAO he gets a friend simulator while Kael gets boss raids."
"This is the most evil trial yet. I love it."
"Old man's totally gonna do it. They always do."
"Imagine trusting NPCs in this economy."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Do you people ever shut up?"
[ The gods laugh at your suffering. ]
Of course they did.
✦
The Hero left us to our corner. The torches of Kael's camp dimmed with distance, leaving us in half-shadow. The forgotten gathered close, eyes flicking between me and the invisible weight of the trial hanging over our heads.
Dev finally broke the silence. "So… how do we win? You gonna rewrite their loyalty?"
The shadows twitched at my feet, eager, like they'd heard him. But my gut told me this wasn't something ink could fix.
Trust wasn't a sentence to rewrite.
It was something else.
✦
Night deepened.
One by one, the forgotten drifted into uneasy sleep, though none strayed far from each other. I sat awake, blade balanced on my knees, eyes sharp.
Because any one of them could betray me.
The ink pulsed faintly, and then I saw it: words smeared on the ground at my feet, jagged and uneven.
TRUST IS THE SHARPEST BLADE.
I muttered, "Is that supposed to be advice?"
The ink curled like a grin.
✦
Hours crawled.
The fire crackled low. The whispers from Kael's camp faded into distant murmurs. Only us, the broken ring of shadows, and the weight of a trial designed to snap.
A rustle.
I turned.
The boy with the crutch stood, pale in the moonlight. He froze when he saw me watching.
"I… I wasn't going to—" he stammered. "Just needed… air."
His voice trembled. His eyes flicked toward the brighter campfires of Kael's army. Safety. Food. A bed without whispers.
It would be so easy.
"Sit down," I said softly.
For a long, trembling moment, he hesitated.
Then, slowly, he limped back into the circle.
The ink pulsed once. Approving.
✦
Later, it was the old man.
He stirred awake, pipe clenched in his teeth though it was empty. His eyes glittered in the dark.
"You know, boy," he whispered, "if I handed you over… maybe they'd let me in. Maybe I'd get one more day of peace before the end."
I met his gaze without flinching. "Maybe."
He barked a laugh, rough and broken. "But you're too damned interesting to kill. Not yet."
And he lay back down.
The ink pulsed again.
✦
But the tension never left. Every whisper, every shuffle, every shadow stretched into accusation. Mirae's voice returned, gleeful as ever.
"OHHH, audience, did you see that hesitation? The limp kid almost cracked! The old man too! I swear, Bug, you're living in a soap opera and I'm eating it up."
The chat blazed.
"Dawn's not coming."
"Trust trial's gonna eat him alive."
"I want betrayal. I PAID for betrayal."
[ The gods lean forward eagerly. ]
The ink trembled like a drumbeat under my skin.
✦
Finally—
A scream.
The mother.
She clutched her child, eyes wide, as shadows pooled under her feet—not mine. Something else. Something wrong.
The ink surged in my veins, warning, hissing.
And then the system's voice crashed down.
[ Betrayal Detected. ]
[ Trial of Trust escalates. ]
The shadows around the mother writhed, coiling like serpents, reaching for me.
The forgotten scattered, panic snapping them awake.
I surged to my feet, blade drawn, ink roaring in my blood.
So this was it.
Not dawn.
Not peace.
The trial was beginning now.
✦
And before sunrise, I would know exactly who wanted me erased.