For once, no one talked about upgrades.
Not because they weren't tempting, Lord Coins still burned quietly at the back of Arin's mind, but because everyone was tired in a way numbers couldn't fix. Muscles healed faster than nerves. Bruises faded faster than memories. The village needed time to breathe, and so did they.
So they stayed.
They helped rebuild.
At first, it was awkward.
The villagers kept their distance from Mina. Not openly hostile, not anymore, but cautious, careful, as if she might suddenly dissolve into shadow or raise the dead beneath their feet. Old fear didn't vanish overnight, no matter how many lives she'd saved.
Mina noticed. Of course she did.
She said nothing, but worked anyway.
She hauled stones. Mixed mortar. Helped lift broken beams back into place. Her undead weren't summoned, not because she couldn't, but because she chose not to. She worked like everyone else, sweat-streaked, dusty, human.
On the third day, an elderly woman came up to her, walking slowly, back hunched, hands shaking.
"I… I'm sorry," the woman said quietly. "For what I said before. About you."
Mina blinked, surprised. "You don't need to—"
"I do," the woman insisted. "Fear makes fools of us. You stood between my grandson and a scorpion bigger than my house."
Others followed after that.
Not all at once. One by one. Awkward apologies. Stiff bows. Food was left near where she worked. A loaf of bread. A waterskin. A quiet thank-you.
The oppressive aura people once whispered about never returned. If anything, Mina seemed lighter now, still dangerous, still powerful, but grounded. When someone finally asked her, hesitantly, if she was angry about how she'd been treated before, she shook her head.
"It wasn't entirely your fault," she said. "If I were you… I'd probably be scared too."
That settled it.
By the end of the week, the village stood again.
Walls repaired. Watchtowers reinforced. Scorpion carcasses burned far from the gates. Funerals were held for the fallen, names spoken aloud, their weapons laid beside them, their sacrifices framed not as loss, but as courage.
Two more wounded warriors succumbed to their injuries despite the healers' efforts. The grief lingered, heavy and quiet, but life moved forward, as it always did.
Rasir recovered faster than anyone expected. The worst of the pain faded, the shaking stopped, and he could stand on his own again. The weakness lingered, though, something that would never quite leave him. Still, it was enough.
His missing left hand remained wrapped, the stump clean and healed, a constant reminder of the cost. He learned to balance again. To hold a spear with an altered grip. To move differently. It frustrated him, but he never complained.
"I'm alive," he said simply when anyone asked. "That's more than enough."
Weeks passed.
Peace returned.
And when routines finally settled back into place, Arin called them together.
They gathered in their usual spot, a simple room, a wooden table, and familiar cracks in the walls. They sat close in the low light, gear set aside, shoulders brushing now and then. Scars showed where steel usually hid them, fresh aches still lingering. It was a quiet they shared easily, four people who had already bled together more than once.
"Guys," Arin said, rubbing his temples, "it's time we talk about the Captain Rank upgrade."
The room went quiet, the kind of silence that pressed in all at once.
Raul stared at him, unreadable.
Victor stared harder, unblinking, the weight of it impossible to ignore.
Mina stared too, expectant, almost hopeful, like she was waiting for a punchline that hadn't landed yet.
Arin sighed and opened his status screen.
___________________________
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):
1. Raul Slade — Soldier (85%)
2. Victor — Soldier (82%)
3. Mina — Soldier (10%)
Lord Coins: 1212
___________________________
"Raul's at 85 percent," Arin said. "Victor's close behind at 82. Mina's… well."
"10 percent," Raul said cheerfully. "Truly an inspiring number."
Mina elbowed him.
Arin continued. "Everyone needs a thousand coins to advance to Captain, regardless of progression. That means if we upgrade someone now—"
"Mina makes the most sense," Victor finished.
"Yes," Arin said. "She's furthest behind. Without help, it'll take her over a year. You two are already near the finish line."
Raul leaned back, arms crossed, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Wow. Is that favoritism I'm smelling?" He winked at Victor.
Victor caught the hint and gasped dramatically. "Yeah, must be." He sniffed exaggeratedly. "Sorry, bro. Guess I should've been born a woman."
Mina laughed, then clapped a hand over her mouth like she'd committed a crime.
Arin stared at them.
"…You guys are unbelievable. No one is getting upgrades."
Three bodies moved at once.
Raul was suddenly behind Arin, hands on his shoulders, kneading as if his life depended on it. "Whoa, whoa, calm down, my lord. No need for rash decisions."
Victor dropped to one knee with exaggerated flair and grabbed Arin's hand. "Please forgive us, O benevolent Lord. We spoke out of turn."
Mina grabbed a random piece of cloth, folded it into something vaguely fan-shaped, and started waving it in Arin's face. "Yes, yes, cool air. Deep breaths. I wasn't laughing, I was, uh… coughing."
Arin blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"…What are you all doing?"
Raul leaned closer. "Damage control."
Victor nodded solemnly. "Survival instincts."
Mina added, "Peer pressure."
Arin pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're all idiots."
None of them stopped.
After a long moment, Arin sighed and leaned back, letting Raul keep massaging his shoulders. "Fine. I'd better enjoy it while it lasts."
They grinned like children who'd gotten away with something.
Eventually, they settled.
They weren't in a rush.
The village was safe. The walls stood. The dead were buried. The living laughed again.
And for the first time in a long while, they could sit together, not as soldiers bracing for the next fight, but as people.