There was a deep silence after Damon spoke.

The Whispering Forest.

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Of all the options before them, it was the worst. If they went there, death would be a mercy. They could be turned into one of the horrors that lurked in its depths—cursed, or worse. And yes, something worse could happen to them. Ancient ruins were horrible places.

Matlock shook his head, tears dripping down his face.

"We can’t... we just can’t…"

Damon punched him straight in the face.

Matlock let out a delicate yelp as he crumpled to the floor, clutching his nose in shock.

"Our odds are slim," Damon said, his voice cold. "But anywhere else is absolute death. We don’t stand a chance—a group of weak students."

He gritted his teeth. His dark eyes burned with something unreadable.

"Our odds are less than three percent." He chuckled bitterly.

"I never gamble unless I have more than an eighty percent chance of success. However, this time, I’ll just play the hand I’ve been dealt. Maybe this is new to you guys, but this is just my life."

His gaze swept over them, unyielding.

"You’re afraid? Fine. Don’t know what to do? Also fine. You’re losing hope, lacking faith? Then put your faith—not in the goddess, or some other god—put your faith in me. And I’ll walk you through hell."

The shadows around him deepened, stretching unnaturally across the ground. His presence grew heavier, suffocating.

"I won’t ask for much. Just put your lives in my hands... and follow me to almost certain death."

Xander clenched his fists.

"You want us to place our lives in your hands with no guarantee?"

Leona sighed. Damon looked done talking. He wouldn’t indulge Xander in an argument.

"Fine. I’ll place my life in your hands."

Sylvia smiled thinly. There was more to this situation than the others realized. This was sabotage. Someone wanted Damon dead, and they had all been caught in the crossfire. Or maybe… maybe she was the target. It could be any of them.

"My life is yours," she said. "Do with it as you please."

There was a weight to her words that the others didn’t seem to catch.

Evangeline let out a deep sigh.

"I don’t know what to do... I can’t act on anything. All I can do is put my faith somewhere else. I choose to put it in you. I will follow you... to the abyss."

Xander gripped his spear tightly.

"I would have wished for better options," he muttered. "But if I’m going into a forest of death... I’d rather do it next to the man who burned one to the ground."

Damon nodded. He had a powerful party now—all of them close to their first class advancement. He would be counting on that. But there was still one more person to consider.

Matlock.

For all intents and purposes, Damon would have preferred to leave the young fairy to die. Dead weight. Baggage. But he didn’t have that luxury. If Matlock was going to survive, he would need to be useful.

"Matlock… make your choice."

The young fairy trembled.

"I don’t wanna."

Damon nodded, as if accepting his answer.

"Then we’ll leave you to die."

Matlock’s breath hitched. He shook his head desperately. "No, please don’t—"

"Then make yourself useful."

Damon turned away, not waiting for an answer. Matlock never made a choice, never gave Damon his life. And if that was the case, it wasn’t Damon’s responsibility to keep it safe.

His grip tightened on the dagger as he turned to Sylvia.

"We need more information about the road to the ruined ancient city."

Sylvia nodded and approached the goblin.

The next quarter-hour was grueling.

Damon worked. Sylvia threw up. Seven times.

By the end of it, they had extracted all they could. The information wasn’t much—only a general direction and an overwhelming fear of the Whispering Forest.

The city was no haven. It was hell. But in that hell, there was hope of salvation.

And worse—far worse—was what they learned from the redcap goblin’s terrified ramblings.

The demon army had apparently awakened Ashergon from his slumber.

The dragon was not known for his patience.

Damon raised his dagger and drove it into the goblin’s eye.

The redcap’s body convulsed. Warm blood flooded over its red skin, seeping onto Damon’s fingers. Its breath hitched once, then all light left its eyes.

A system prompt flashed before him.

[You have slain Redcap Goblin.]

Damon turned to face his party.

They were staring at him.

And in that moment, his position as leader became undisputed.

Leadership was not a crown of gold. It was a burden. It was fear, horror, and the weight of every decision about to be unleashed.

"We need to cross the Mountains and reach the Whispering Forest," he said. "Once we’re there, we’ll find the way to the ruined city."

Xander nodded, his fist clenched. "How do we do that?"

Damon had already thought of a way.

"Redcap goblins are a smart group. There’s always a shaman or an intellectual among them. Not to mention, they’re part of a military force with a strict hierarchy."

Leona blinked. "What does that have to do with our situation?"

Sylvia held her chin. "He means they would have a map or written records we can steal."

Damon nodded. "Or someone we can kidnap."

Matlock’s face paled. "Did you guys forget about the three war trolls? And the fact that the goblins outnumber us?"

Damon’s expression didn’t change. "That’s why we need a plan. And luckily for us… I have one."

Xander swung his spear over his shoulders.

"Please tell me your plan doesn’t involve kidnapping a goblin."

Damon smiled. "Fine. I won’t tell you."

Xander groaned. "I feel like I’m going to regret this…" His eyes flicked to the corpses. "And what about these? You said you had a way to get rid of them."

Damon nodded, glancing at the three goblin carcasses.

"You guys go. I’ll handle the bodies and throw off any hunting parties."

He pointed forward. "There’s a huge tree a kilometer and a half in that direction. Wait four minutes for me to catch up."

Evangeline nodded.

Sylvia looked at him with a mix of curiosity and concern.

Leona didn’t need to look—she trusted him. She grabbed Matlock, pulling him along as the others followed.

Their shadows stretched out as they moved away.

Damon turned to his own.

"Devour them."

His shadow surged.

It rose like ink spreading across the ground, swallowing the goblin corpses whole. He felt a familiar system prompt flicker in his mind.

[You have gained 5 attribute points.]

[You have gained 5 attribute points.]

[You have gained 5 attribute points.]

Damon exhaled slowly.

His shadow perception flickered.

More redcap goblins. Moving in his direction.

His fingers curled into fists.

"We just need to survive," he murmured. "I need to survive."

For a moment, the weight of it all pressed down on him. He let himself feel it. The unease. The exhaustion.

But only for a moment.

Because no one else would see it.

That was the burden of leadership.