What is time? The definition of such an ephemeral concept wildly differs between every human being, and in every case, that same definition changes over a lifetime of experiences. Time for Marcus meant something entirely new in his warped reality – before he’d only wanted to work, survive, and maybe be a better person if possible. His prior commitments were like evaporated like water left out in the sun – gone, but still water - only changed into a new form. Now he strives forward, growing stronger with each passing moment, each spell thrown, and each life extinguished.

Everything came back to time in the end - it was a resource that no one could afford to waste, and up until a day ago he’d thought his reserves were rapidly approaching empty. Although now, finding himself in a lull after what had been nearly a week of hectic slaughter, he found the peace almost overwhelming. Every sound was an alarm, or a threat, but the only thing he’d heard lately that occasionally drew his attention were the faint rumblings of their wagons, and the footfalls of those around him. Conversation between the survivors had been sparse at best, but at least those short snippets of interaction hadn’t been interrupted by any hostile creatures. They were certainly out there, Marcus could hear them even now, but for reasons unknown the beasts avoided any violent action. He’d said it once before, but it may be possible for less intelligent creatures to ‘sense’ an opponent’s level or possess an instinctual fear towards those same people.

He’d once asked Azarti about what the System really was, and the response he was given still didn’t quite make sense. Azarti had said that the System worked to prevent entropy across the multiverse, how exactly it did that remained a mystery to everyone, not just him. But first, let’s begin by assuming that was its purpose, how could it accomplish that goal when it seemed to give out power like candy. His only rational explanation for the situation led to one conclusion: mana.

Mana - even after using the resource extensively recently - remained completely shrouded in ambiguity; Sure, he knew how to manipulate raw mana and charge it with an element, but as for how raw mana came into existence initially, he could only guess. All energy in the Universe originates as solar, or more specially from stars undergoing fusion in their cores under extreme conditions.

Maybe mana comes from dark matter? Scientists never really figured out what the stuff was…it’s a good a guess as any.

Another issue bothered him greatly – what were skills, and how did they function so naturally. Marcus had learned a couple of skills through means other than self-exploration. Stone Throw for example was a spell that he’d been granted for completing a path, one moment he knew nothing about it and the next he was effectively a savant in the skill, albeit one without any practical experience. This led to a disturbing question: Could the System read or overwrite parts of his memory - he was inclined to say yes, otherwise spontaneously knowing how to do something you’d never done before didn’t seem possible.

Ethical concerns aside, he worried that parts of him were slowly being whittled away to make him someone new. In his old life he’d abhorred violence, but since the System he’d done almost nothing else but kill and kill some more. His hands drenched in blood were a common theme of his dreams these days, and perhaps these visions in Marcus’s dreams were the anguished screams of an altered mind. He could only shiver and hope that the crystalline lattice inside his head would eventually become powerful enough to stop any attempted influence - of course that is any of that was going on in the first place.

Becoming paranoid wasn’t a state of mind that Marcus could or would allow himself to fall into. While mortified of the ramifications there really wasn’t any course of action he could take currently – other than maybe lying down in the fetal position and crying – for all the good it would do.

Seeking to distract himself, he almost rushed to once again crack open his primer on Enchanting, soon enough he began to read, losing his worries in a tome of arcane knowledge.

Hours passed with nothing other than the occasional spot on the trail that Marcus would need to repair. Less than a week after passing through here initially the once well-maintained trail had already started to deteriorate at rate that belied another factor in its rapid degradation; whatever or whomever caused the damage left no marks, at least none that he could see.

Without any clues to act on, they simply continued their trek through the wilderness - albeit at an elevated level of scrutiny towards their surroundings. Near nightfall Marcus told the group to keep an eye out for an appropriate area for him to setup one of his ‘prefab’ shelters that he was starting to call Outposts. Within an hour or so, Adrian pointed out a particularly tall mound of earth that would be just large enough to cram an outpost into.

With practice creating these structures had already shifted from being a challenge into more of a routine, as such the protective housing was complete within the hour – just in time for the last dregs of light to disappear. A light meal comprised of potato chips and canned foods over a small fire was their dinner; of course, they needed to eat the ‘good’ stuff before it went bad - he could guarantee that chips would be a rare luxury soon. Eating slowly, he had several inquiries to ask his impromptu party of sorts.

“Adrian, Greg you’ve been following me into crazy, and deadly situations for reasons I’ve frankly never asked. Now that we have a little peace, I figured now would be the best time to get to know you, and your reasons for doing what you each do,” Marcus spoke, obvious curiosity laced into his words.

Greg spoke first, setting his food down before starting, “There isn’t a whole lot to say to be honest. Before all of this started I worked as a paramedic, if my class hadn’t already tipped you off,” he scoffed, taking a sip of water.

“Other than that, I had a girlfriend, or rather a fiancé - we were due to get married in a couple of months…” he whispered, “I think I’ve been throwing myself at nearly every dangerous situation I can. I can’t tell you exactly why I do it, but if its anything its because I miss her. The void in my heart hungers for revenge, and more than anything its what I want, but its not what SHE, Caitlyn, would’ve wanted. She was a pure, kind soul, so in her honor I’ll do what she would’ve strove towards, healing and restoring the sick, injured, and broken.”

At this point Greg abruptly stopped speaking, although no one blamed him for doing so, while he was now silent he lingered around to listen. While Marcus wanted to comfort the man, he felt as if simply trying to placate Greg was selfish, grieving was a healthy process, so he’d leave him too it – of course he’d talk if Greg himself asked to. To fill the awkward silence, Adrian stepped up, his turn to talk.

“I’ve already told Marcus a bit about myself, but I’ll reiterate a bit of it here. Although, Marcus there is something I need to confess, while it’s true I’m prior military the reasons for my discharge are slightly different,” he awkwardly shifted around, but crossed his legs and continued after Marcus didn’t really seem angry about the deception, “Seeing as the government has all but been erased, I don’t see any reason not to share classified information. The orders I disobeyed would’ve gotten myself and other soldiers killed, that part is true, although there’s much more to it. My team and I had been deployed via helicopter in the dead of night, our objective was to scout a possible Al-Qaeda training facility deep in the mountains. All was normal, at least as normal as you could expect, all up until we found that ‘facility’. Using infrared, we’d been able to confirm over a hundred probable terrorists camped out at the location, but the problem lay with whom was also present with them: Woman and kids – basically their families.”

Taking a deep, slow breath and a swig of looked to be whiskey, he continued,” Of course, we immediately called it in, calling off any prospective bombing missions, as much as we wanted to eliminate the hostiles there were far too many civilians to feasibly do so. Unfortunately, on this mission we’d had an officer imbedded into unit, apparently a high-value target was present, someone they’d been searching for over several months. Credible intel placed him within the one and only structure present – everyone else had been camped out in tents. He overruled my decision, calling in a precision strike, disregarding any of the imminent collateral damage such a weapon would cause.”

“Before I knew it I heard the scream of jet engines, of course by the time I’d heard that the jet had long since flown over, releasing its payload. Here’s where my information gets a bit hazy. I’m not sure what kind of ordinance it was supposed to be, but in any case someone, somewhere, fucked up big time. What was supposed to be a precision strike, something that in it of itself would’ve been horrible, whatever was dropped ended up disbursing over a wide area, turning the night into day as hellfire obliterated everyone and everything in that camp - civilian and terrorist alike. I’d never been so sick in my life, but also angry. Before I knew it I’d already had that son of a bitch on the ground and by the time I’d been pulled off had been him within an inch of death. After that it’s probably easy to guess what happened, we got extracted, the mission became classified, and I was dishonorably discharged for my actions, none of which I regret.”

“Its been long enough since then for me to come to terms with it, but I still get an occasional nightmare. As for why I follow your insane ass? I guess it’s as some form of repentance for those innocent lives that were unjustly stolen away. The terrorists deserved it, but those women and children didn’t deserve that end…although I’m not sure now if that death would’ve been better than this fresh hell we’re in now,” he concluded.

Mulling over their words, each of the trio parsed over their thoughts, lost in the moment. After a period, Marcus retold his story thus far, leaving nothing out this time – these two had earned that at the very least. Lacking any real serious trauma in the past, he started with his story thus far during integration. He began with the plane crash, drawing several looks of disbelief that he’d survived, but nonetheless continued. His brief run in the forest that ended with a near death experience with a Wyvern, and of course how could he leave out his dungeon escapades?

Once he started telling them about who and what Azarti really was ended up being the final straw as both Adrian and Greg gave up trying to understand just what in the hell Marcus had been up to in a very short week. The story petered out around Denver as that’s when the former pair ended up joining, but all the same he finished by telling the events from his point of view. After their stories had been told the trio long continued talk about the not so serious things about who they were. Greg was an African American man, 6’1, and aptly described as thick, and built like a truck from the legs on up. He’d grown up in suburban Denver, were he attended Highschool, and eventually went on to work as paramedic after not wanting to go to college. Adrian was similar outside of leaving the country for a time after joining the Armed Forces, but contrary to Greg, he was on the shorter side at 5’8, and thin. Of course, Marcus couldn’t without his past – he’d went to a private prep school in place of attending public school. During that ‘special’ education he interned for several companies before graduating, and entering university were he eventually earned his degree. All-in-all aside form Adrian, they’d lived boring lives honestly. They’d all come from whole homes, and aside from Marcus didn’t have any siblings.

Sometime after everyone but them had fallen asleep their conversation which had at this point grown much more friendly and personal, was interrupted by a scratching sound from the walls.