It had been a while since Arin last looked at his own numbers.
Not because he'd forgotten they existed, more because he already knew what he would see. Progress didn't lie, and lately, it hadn't been the best either.
Still, avoidance wouldn't change anything.
That evening, after the heat finally loosened its grip on the village and the sand stopped radiating warmth like a living thing, Arin sat alone beneath the shade of a low awning and opened his status panel.
The familiar translucent screen hovered before his eyes.
___________________________
Name: Arin
Core Talent: Lord
Rank: Soldier (30%)
Core Skills: Lord's Eyes, Lord's Imprint
Regular Skills: Basic Swordsmanship, Timed Step, Anchor of Identity
----------
Subordinates (3/3):
Raul Slade — Soldier (77%)
Victor — Soldier (80%)
Mina — Soldier (2%)
Lord Coins: 45
___________________________
He stared at it longer than necessary.
Thirty percent, even after a full month, it hadn't changed.
His gaze drifted lower, lingering on the rest of the list. Raul's progress was solid, no surprises there. The man lived for combat, for pushing himself until something either broke or improved. Victor's number sat higher than expected, too, though Arin knew why. Custom weapons, repairs, and village work, his talent thrived when he had problems to solve and materials to bend into shape.
Then there was Mina, two percent.
Arin exhaled slowly, closing the panel.
It wasn't her fault, not really. She was starting from a place worse than zero, years of isolation, fear, and a talent she'd been taught to treat like a curse instead of a tool. The fact that she'd moved at all was already something.
But something wasn't enough.
At this pace, they'd still be here a year from now. Still drinking bitter water, still counting supplies, still circling the same stretch of sand like insects trapped in a bowl.
Arin leaned back against the wooden support, staring at the horizon where dunes blurred into the sky.
They needed pressure.
The kind that forced growth, not the slow, safe kind that let you stagnate without noticing.
By the time the sun dipped low and shadows stretched long, he'd already made up his mind.
He called them together that evening.
Raul arrived first, as usual, rolling his shoulders like he was loosening up for a fight that might or might not happen. Victor followed soon after, wiping grease from his hands with a cloth, eyes sharp despite the tired set of his posture. Mina came last, walking a little faster than she used to, spear resting against her shoulder more out of habit than readiness.
They gathered in a loose circle, the air warm but bearable now.
Arin didn't bother easing into it.
"Our progress is too slow," he said. "All of it. At this rate, we're not leaving the desert anytime soon."
Raul didn't argue. He frowned instead, eyes narrowing slightly as he thought.
Victor tilted his head, considering the words rather than reacting to them.
"So," Raul said after a moment, "you're thinking about the mines again."
Arin nodded. "Yes, the more risk there is, the more growth we'll have."
Victor's fingers tapped against his arm. "Risk isn't the issue, uncertainty is. We barely managed last time, and that was without Mina in the middle of it."
Mina stiffened at the mention of her name, then straightened her back. "I won't be dead weight."
"No one said you would be," Victor replied calmly, though his gaze softened just a bit.
Raul scratched his chin. "One or two big ones, we can handle. But if a group shows up…" He trailed off, glancing at Mina, then back to Arin. "That's where it gets messy."
Mina hesitated, then spoke anyway. "If we kill even one, I can raise it. That changes the fight."
Silence followed her words.
Victor was the first to break it. "She's not wrong. An undead Stoneback would soak hits. Even if it doesn't last long."
"And if things go bad," Raul added, a crooked smile tugging at his mouth, "we let the undead take the beating while we pull out."
Arin looked at them one by one.
"It's a workable plan," he said. "But Mina needs better gear."
Mina's eyes flicked toward Victor before she could stop herself.
Victor noticed. His lips twitched, pride creeping into his expression. "We've got the materials. I'll handle it."
The decision settled quietly, as a stone dropped into water once the ripples fade.
Preparations began the next morning.
Arin and Raul checked supplies, reinforced old habits, and ran through positioning drills until muscle memory took over. Mina practiced until her arms trembled, pushing herself further than she had before, driven by the fact that this wasn't training for her own sake anymore.
Victor disappeared into his smithy.
When he worked, time seemed to bend around him. The rhythmic clang of metal echoed through the village, steady and deliberate. He took Mina's measurements carefully, height, reach, and weight distribution. He watched how she moved, how her grip tightened when she got nervous, how her stance shifted under pressure.
Two days later, he emerged with the results.
The spear came first, wrapped in thick cloth. When Victor uncovered it, the metal caught the light in a muted sheen, blackened steel shaped into a clean, narrow point. The shaft was balanced for one hand, the grip wrapped in pale material that contrasted sharply with the dark blade.
"Midnight Flash," Victor said simply.
Then he held up the shield.
It was smaller than his own, round and solid, forged from black iron steel. Sized just right to cover Mina without weighing her down.
"Midnight Dew."
Mina took them with care, testing the weight, the balance. She adjusted her grip, rolled her shoulder, lifted the shield, and felt how naturally it aligned with her stance.
Something in her posture changed.
Not confidence, not yet, but recognition.
Like her body understood these things in a way it hadn't before.
Victor wasn't done.
He brought out the armor next. Black iron chest guard, reinforced leather along the arms and sides, boots fitted for movement in sand. The skirt was unnecessary from a practical standpoint, and everyone knew it.
Victor didn't comment on it.
Mina didn't either.
She put it on quietly.
When she stepped back into the light, Arin barely recognized her for a moment. Not because she looked different, but because she looked like she belonged where she stood.
Not a girl hiding at the edge of the village.
A fighter about to walk into danger.
They set out at dawn.
The desert stretched ahead of them, endless and unforgiving, but this time Mina walked among them instead of behind.
She tightened her grip on Midnight Flash, shield resting against her arm, heart pounding, not with fear, but with something sharper.
Anticipation.
Whatever waited in the mines, she would meet it head-on.
And this time, she wouldn't be alone.