I didn't go far after leaving Mira's shop.
I walked until my legs ached and the city noise blurred into a dull hum, then I stopped beneath a cracked stone archway and pressed my back against the wall. My breathing sounded too loud in my own ears. Every heartbeat felt like it was counting something down.
Sixty-three percent.
That number wouldn't leave my head.
Isolation Meter: 63%.
I didn't know exactly what would happen if it filled completely. The system hadn't explained it in detail. But I didn't need a detailed explanation to understand the warning. I could feel it already. The way faces seemed flatter. The way voices carried less weight. The way guilt came slower… and stayed shorter.
I rubbed my hands together and laughed under my breath. "You're spiraling," I told myself. "Get a grip."
The system didn't comment. It didn't need to.
Iron Vow's guildhall loomed at the end of the avenue, broad and solid, banners snapping lazily in the breeze. Adventurers moved in and out, armored boots clanking, laughter spilling from the open doors. It looked safe. Welcoming. The kind of place people went when they wanted belonging.
I stood there longer than I should have.
I could walk away.
I could leave the city. Take the gold. Disappear into some backwater village and pretend none of this had happened.
The image didn't stick.
Belonging had already betrayed me once. Maybe twice, if I was being honest with myself.
The system flickered, gentle as a nudge.
Opportunity Window Closing. Delay Increases Suspicion.
"Fine," I muttered. "I'm going."
The inside of the guildhall smelled like sweat, steel, and cheap ale. The noise hit me all at once: shouting, clanking armor, the scrape of chairs on stone. A notice board covered one wall, plastered with contracts and bounties. A long table ran through the center, crowded with adventurers eating, drinking, arguing.
No one noticed me at first.
I took a step inside, then another, forcing my shoulders to relax, my posture to loosen. I let exhaustion show. Let grief sit just behind my eyes.
False Sincerity thrummed faintly under my skin, like a second pulse.
A man at the front desk finally looked up. Broad shoulders, graying beard, Iron Vow's emblem stitched into his cloak. His eyes sharpened as they landed on me.
"You there," he said. "Name?"
"Eron," I replied. My voice sounded steady. That surprised me.
His brow furrowed. "Eron… Eron…" His gaze slid to a parchment beside him. "You're listed as deceased."
A few nearby adventurers glanced over.
I swallowed. "My party left me for dead in a dungeon. I survived."
That got attention.
Murmurs rippled through the hall. Someone scoffed. Someone else swore under their breath.
The man studied my face, searching for something. Lies, maybe. Or weakness.
"What do you want?" he asked.
"Work," I said simply. "And a place to stand."
Silence stretched.
Then a woman laughed.
She leaned back in her chair near the table, boots propped up, dark hair pulled into a loose tie. Scar across her cheek. Sharp eyes.
"Survives a betrayal dungeon and walks in here asking for work," she said. "I like him already."
A few chuckles followed.
The man at the desk grunted. "Name's Captain Rhel. That's Serah," he said, jerking his head toward the woman. "Iron Vow doesn't turn away proven survivors."
He slid a contract across the desk. "Provisional membership. One week. You screw up, you're out."
I stared at the parchment.
One signature.
One stroke of ink.
The system stirred, alert and eager.
Guild Contract Detected. Trust Network Size: Large. Potential Yield: Massive. Warning: Long-Term Betrayal Increases Isolation Exponentially.
I picked up the quill.
My hand paused.
I thought of Mira's smile. Thought of Lysa's tears. Thought of how good it had felt, just for a moment, to belong.
Then I signed.
The ink dried instantly.
Rhel nodded. "Welcome to Iron Vow."
The words settled on me like a weight.
They put me to work immediately.
Nothing glorious. A simple escort job for a supply caravan heading to a nearby outpost. Six adventurers total. Enough to handle trouble, not enough to draw attention.
Serah led the group. Two fighters. A healer. A quiet archer. And me.
No one asked too many questions. Adventurers were used to scars and silence.
The road was dusty and long. The sun beat down, relentless. I listened more than I spoke, picking up names, habits, little frictions between them.
Trust was built from small things, I realized. Shared water. Jokes about sore feet. Complaints about contracts.
By the time we made camp, they were already including me in the circle.
"Your shield work's solid," one of the fighters said as we ate. "Who trained you?"
"Someone who doesn't matter anymore," I replied.
That earned a few nods.
The system flickered faintly.
Trust Level Increasing. Cumulative Bonds Forming.
My chest tightened.
That night, I lay staring up at the stars, unable to sleep. The campfire crackled softly. Someone snored. Someone else muttered in their dreams.
I remembered nights like this with my old party.
The warmth. The laughter.
The way it had all ended.
"Am I really going to do this again?" I whispered.
The system answered, voice almost gentle.
Question Noted. Outcome Probability: High.
I closed my eyes.
The attack came at dawn.
Bandits burst from the rocks on either side of the road, arrows flying. Shouts rang out. Steel met steel. Chaos erupted.
I moved on instinct, shield up, sword flashing. Everything slowed. I saw openings before they fully formed. Felt attacks before they landed.
Power surged through me, clean and sharp.
One bandit fell. Then another.
Serah barked orders, rallying the group. The healer shouted warnings. The archer's bow sang.
We were winning.
That was the problem.
If everyone survived, there would be no betrayal. No reward. Just another successful job. Another step deeper into Iron Vow.
The system pulsed urgently.
Critical Moment Detected. High-Value Betrayal Opportunity. Target: Squad (Collective Trust).
My grip tightened.
I spotted it then—the healer, exposed, focused on keeping Serah standing. One wrong move. One missed block.
I hesitated.
This wasn't revenge. These people hadn't hurt me.
Yet.
The Isolation Meter flickered, a silent threat.
I thought of chains biting into my skin.
I thought of the lever dropping.
I moved.
Not toward the bandits.
Toward the healer.
My shield slammed into him from behind. Hard. He stumbled, spell breaking, eyes wide with shock as he fell into the path of a bandit's blade.
Blood sprayed.
Someone screamed my name.
The fight turned instantly. Confusion. Panic. A gap in formation.
I stepped back, letting it unfold.
When it was over, two of them were dead. The healer. The quiet archer.
Serah stared at me, chest heaving, eyes burning.
"What did you do?" she demanded.
I opened my mouth.
False Sincerity surged.
"I tripped," I said hoarsely. "I was trying to reach you. I— I'm sorry."
The lie slid into place effortlessly.
Her gaze searched my face.
The system chimed, triumphant.
Betrayal Confirmed. Targets: Multiple Allies (High Trust) EXP Gained: +180,000 Stat Points Earned: +40 Skill Unlocked: Fracture Formation Isolation Meter: 81%
My knees nearly buckled as power flooded me.
Serah looked away first.
"Get moving," she said coldly. "We'll talk back at the guildhall."
As we walked, the weight of what I'd done pressed down on me harder than any armor.
They trusted me.
And I had broken them for strength.
The system's final message for the day appeared slowly, glowing ominously.
Isolation Threshold Approaching. At 90%, irreversible changes may occur. Next betrayal will determine who you become.
I stared ahead at the road, heart pounding, knowing the next choice wouldn't just change my power—
It would decide whether there was anything human left in me at all.