A full day had passed since Quinn and the others arrived on the planet and it had offered them nothing except relentless caution, keeping them locked in a state of extreme alertness.
For now, Vorden had taken on the role of the group's human clock. His copied ability reset every twenty-four hours, making him the only reliable measure of time. After refreshing themselves in their own fragmented ways, they gathered together once more, despite of all their conflicting emotion towards one person in particular.
They had to work together.
Vorden spoke in Quin's place trying to bridge the fractured dynamics of the group.
"There are two options," he began. "First, we investigate this area. All Military buildings house teleporters. If we're lucky
and find one, we can return back to earth. It's unlikely we'll end up at our original base—but it's still brings the same problem, we are ending up into the maw of the military."
He paused, then continued.
"The second option is thanks to Logan. He has sent a message.
He did some digging and confirmed that a group of adventurers—sponsored by a company—arrived on this planet for exploration. Their most probable location has been marked here."
Vonden waste his wrist, and the watch lit up.
the location was pinned on the hologram.
"But the only problem is they're far towards the west. About four hundred and thirty kilometers from our current position."
Silence followed.
"That means days of walking," Vorden said. "Shelter will be an issue. This place—right here—is the safest zone we'll find. Step outside it, and it becomes a hell zone."
"But if we reach them, they'll likely have a teleporter. If we return to Earth that way, none of us will be detected by the military. after that We'd be on our own. And we can go back to our own ways."
"This is suicide," Amy snapped. "We're powerless. How are you even considering this risk?"
"what will we do even if we return, Without abilities, we're nothing," Erin said quietly. "The military won't take us back. No company would hire us. So what are we supposed to do? Our fates are sealed."
She exhaled slowly.
"To die."
"Or," Michael added, breaking the silence, "we could join the Pure Organization."
Everyone turned toward him.
"They don't rely on abilities," he continued. "It's said that their members even posses a Demon-Tier weapon."
That was when the System whispered into Quin's ear.
"Why don't you create your own faction?"
Quin froze.
"You're already branded as a liability," the System continued. "You have nothing left to lose—Instead only potential for growth.
But more than that You could recruit them."
"How?," Quin muttered. "Right now I don't even have proper gear. No money. Nothing to give them—no armor, no weapons."
"Did you forget about your shop feature?" the System asked, its voice carrying an almost cheerful note.
Quin's eyes sharpened. He immediately opened the system interface and navigated to the Shop tab.
[ Welcome to the Shop ]
The moment the screen loaded, Quin's eyes widened.
An enormous catalog unfolded before him—rows upon rows of Beast Gear.
Weapons, Armour and Accessories. Far more than he had expected.
"This is incredible," Quin whispered. "System… I love you so much."
Then he noticed it.
Every item was greyed out.
"Wait—why is everything locked?" Quin demanded. "How do I unlock even one of these?"
"Of course nothing comes free or easy," the System replied, its tone openly taunting now. "To gain something, you must first offer something."
"…This is ridiculous," Quin snapped. "I hate you, System."
"But fortunately for you," the System continued unbothered, "this planet is rich in the very beasts required to unlock these items."
The implication settled in his chest.
Kill the beasts. Claim their beast crystal and make these peoples stronger.
Quin exhaled slowly.
This planet wasn't a prison, it was literally a gold mine.
"Change of plans Vorden."
Quinn's voice came out louder than he intended.
Vorden turned, visibly surprised. "What do you mean?"
"I'm going hunting."
"…Huh?"
Quin turned to face the group. "Answer me honestly. If you had the chance to wield a weapon of your choice—what would it be?"
"Have you lost your mind?" Michael scoffed.
"Yeah," Quin replied flatly. "Maybe. Just answer."
Vorden narrowed his eyes. "I don't know what you're planning," he said slowly, "but if I had to choose… short dual blades perhaps."
"Perfect," Quinn said without hesitation.
He turned to Amy. "What about you?"
Amy hesitated. "I was a healer before. Maybe… a shield."
"Excellent."
"Ray?" Quin asked.
Ray cracked his knuckles. "A warhammer. My ability was hardening—I mostly fought with my fists anyway."
"Great."
Quin looked at Erin. "And you?"
Erin frowned. "I don't know what's going on in your head, Quinn. This isn't the time to humor you."
"Oh, come on," Quin said. "Just say it."
She paused, then sighed. "A sword."
"Done."
"And you, Michael?" Quin asked.
Michael snorted. "I am not playing your games Quinn!"
"Then Forget about it, you are not getting anything."
Quin said.
Quinn then stepped closer to Vorden and placed a hand on his shoulder.
In an instant, Vorden felt it—three distinct surges of energy rushing through him. His eyes widened in shock.
"Wait… since when could you—"
Quin winked.
"I've got a plan," he said. "I'm heading out to hunt. Stay here and keep everyone together until I return."
He turned once more.
"And message me when your twenty-four hours are up."
Without another word, Quin walked away—leaving the safety of the zone behind, stepping alone into the hell outside.