Dominic woke to shouting.
Not close. Not immediate. But urgent enough to cut through sleep and snap his awareness into place. He sat up at once, pain flaring in his chest, and listened.
Boots on stone.
Raised voices.
Fear, sharpened into panic.
Iron Fang again.
Lysa was already awake. She grabbed his arm. "That is too close."
"Yes," Dominic said.
They moved to the edge of the storage building and peered through a crack in the stone. The square from the previous day was partially visible, its edges washed in gray morning light.
People were gathered again.
Not watching this time.
Surrounding.
In the center of the square, a man knelt on the ground with his hands bound behind his back. Blood streaked down the side of his face. He was breathing hard but upright.
A cultivator.
Not the robed man from yesterday. Younger. Less composed. His posture was tense, coiled, like an animal waiting for a chance.
Iron Fang stood around him.
Seven mercenaries. Two with collars ready. One with a spear leveled casually at the kneeling man's chest.
Dominic felt his pulse quicken.
This was not a raid.
This was a lesson.
The Iron Fang leader stepped forward. Same red sash as before. Calm. Controlled.
"You refused recruitment," the leader said. "You injured one of my men."
The cultivator spat blood onto the stone. "You sell people."
The leader nodded. "Yes."
The crowd murmured.
Dominic watched carefully, cataloging everything. Distance. Formation. Angles. The way the mercenaries stood just outside striking range.
They were ready.
The leader raised a hand. "This is what refusal costs."
He gestured.
The spear thrust forward.
The cultivator moved instantly.
Dominic's breath caught.
The man twisted, rolling sideways as the spear scraped his ribs instead of piercing his chest. In the same motion, he slammed his shoulder into the mercenary's knee.
Bone cracked.
The mercenary screamed and fell.
Chaos exploded.
The cultivator surged to his feet, hands still bound, and drove his head into another mercenary's face. Teeth shattered. Blood sprayed.
Dominic's body reacted before his mind did. He leaned forward, muscles tensing, every instinct screaming calculation.
Two mercenaries rushed the cultivator. He ducked one strike and took the other full in the side. He grunted but stayed upright.
Dominic's thoughts raced.
If I move now, I reach the edge in three seconds.
Another two to enter the fight.
I have one weapon.
One injured body.
The robed cultivator from yesterday was not present.
No one intervened.
The Iron Fang leader stepped back, observing.
The cultivator fought like a cornered animal. Efficient. Desperate. Dangerous. He dropped another mercenary with a kick to the throat.
Then the collars activated.
Blue light snapped around his neck and wrists. His body jerked violently. His scream tore through the square, raw and uncontrolled.
He collapsed, convulsing.
Dominic froze.
For half a heartbeat, he considered it.
Throwing the stone. Creating a distraction. Buying seconds.
Seconds that might change everything.
He hesitated.
The leader nodded.
A mercenary stepped forward and drove a blade into the cultivator's spine.
The body went still.
Silence crashed down over the square.
Lysa covered her mouth, eyes wide.
Dominic did not move.
The Iron Fang leader turned slowly, scanning the crowd. His gaze passed over Dominic and lingered just a fraction too long.
Then he smiled.
"Remember," the leader said calmly, "we do not ask twice."
Iron Fang withdrew, leaving the body behind.
No one moved to claim it.
Dominic stayed where he was until the square emptied. Only then did he release the breath he had been holding.
Lysa grabbed his sleeve, her voice shaking. "You could have helped him."
"Yes," Dominic said.
"You knew how. You were ready."
"Yes."
"Then why did you stop."
Dominic looked at the bloodstained stone where the cultivator had died. He replayed the moment again and again.
The distance.
The timing.
The hesitation.
"Because I was not sure," he said quietly.
"Sure of what."
"That I would succeed."
Lysa stared at him. "So you let him die."
Dominic did not answer.
The system presence surfaced, heavier than it had ever been.
[Continuum Evaluation System]
Critical decision point recorded
Action: Inaction
Outcome: External casualty
Survival Probability: 16.8%
Evaluation note: Hesitation increases long term risk
The words burned.
Not because they judged him.
Because they were correct.
They returned to the storage building in silence. Dominic's thoughts churned, sharp and relentless. He replayed every movement of the fight. Every opening. Every mistake.
The cultivator had been strong.
Not strong enough.
But stronger than Dominic was now.
And Dominic had still hesitated.
That night, Dominic did not sleep.
He sat with his back against the wall, the monster core heavy against his spine, and breathed slowly until the warmth in his body responded.
He did not force it.
He did not rush.
He remembered the boy in the courtyard.
The man taken yesterday.
The cultivator in the square.
Different faces.
Same result.
Dominic clenched his fists until his hands shook.
Hesitation had a cost.
And the cost was paid in blood that was not his.
He opened his eyes, gaze hard and focused.
Next time, he would not ask whether he could succeed.
Next time, he would decide whether the risk was acceptable.
And if it was, he would act.
Because survival bought with hesitation only delayed the bill.
And Iron Fang had just taught him how expensive that delay could be.