Arthur chose the narrow paths.
Skylandia's streets did not form grids. They curved, fractured, rose without warning, then vanished into suspended walkways that led nowhere familiar. The wider avenues invited attention. The narrow ones punished carelessness.
Blood soaked deeper into his pant leg with every step. He kept his pace even. Limping advertised weakness. Weakness invited testing.
He needed three things. Shelter. Water. Time.
The first came sooner than expected.
The structure barely qualified as a building. Stone walls leaned inward, cracked but intact, a partial roof hanging above like a broken jaw. It had once been a watch post, maybe a storage outcrop. Now it was abandoned, or pretending to be.
Arthur paused before entering.
The air inside was still. No obvious movement. No scent of rot or smoke. Someone had been here recently, but not long enough to settle.
He stepped inside anyway.
The interior was dim, lit by a narrow slit in the stone that allowed Skylandia's pale light to spill across the floor. Arthur crossed the space and lowered himself against the far wall, finally allowing the strain to surface.
His breathing deepened.
He tore fabric from his sleeve, wrapped the wound tightly, and tied it off with steady hands. Pain flared. He welcomed it. Pain meant awareness.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
That was when he heard it.
Footsteps.
Not careless. Not hurried. Multiple. Spread out.
Arthur opened his eyes.
He rose silently, shifting position, placing himself where the entrance was visible but not obvious. His weight settled onto his uninjured leg. He slowed his breathing again.
Voices followed.
Low. Controlled. Confident.
They stopped just outside.
"You sure this is clear?" one voice asked.
"It was an hour ago," another replied. "And someone bled recently."
Arthur's jaw tightened.
A shadow crossed the entrance.
Then a man stepped inside.
He was broad shouldered, carrying a short spear made from metal that did not look native to this world. His clothes were mismatched. Leather, cloth, scavenged armor pieces layered without uniformity. He was followed by two others, one male, one female. Both armed.
Their eyes adjusted quickly.
They saw Arthur.
Weapons lifted.
No one attacked.
Arthur stood still, hands relaxed at his sides.
"Didn't hear you come in," the spear wielder said. "That's either impressive or stupid."
Arthur did not respond.
The woman stepped to the side, angling for a better view. Her eyes dropped to his leg, then rose again. "He's hurt."
"Everyone's hurt," the third said. Younger. Tense.
The spear wielder raised a hand slightly. "Easy."
His gaze locked onto Arthur's. "You kill the thing in the courtyard."
It was not a question.
Arthur said nothing.
"That wasn't luck," the man continued. "We watched the end of it."
Arthur shifted his stance by a fraction.
"You're not from any group I recognize," the man said. "That makes you dangerous."
Arthur finally spoke. "Then leave."
The woman laughed once. Sharp. "He's funny."
The spear wielder did not smile. "This shelter is ours."
Arthur looked around slowly. "It was empty."
"For a reason," the man replied. "We clear areas, move supplies, rotate positions. You wandered into a claimed space."
Arthur considered his options.
Three opponents. Tired, but not weak. Coordinated. They had numbers and familiarity. He had surprise and intent, but his leg limited his mobility.
A fight here would be costly.
But backing down cost something too.
"I will be gone soon," Arthur said. "I needed time."
The man studied him in silence. "Time costs."
Arthur met his gaze. "How much."
The younger one shifted. "We should just kill him. He's already marked."
The woman shot him a look. "And lose someone to infection or worse later? No."
The spear wielder nodded slowly. "You're not wrong."
He looked back at Arthur. "You give us information. Routes. What you saw. Who else is moving."
Arthur shook his head. "No."
The air tightened.
The man's grip on his spear adjusted. "That wasn't a suggestion."
Arthur's eyes hardened. "Then kill me."
Silence followed.
Not the kind that invited violence. The kind that weighed decisions.
The woman exhaled slowly. "He's not bluffing."
The spear wielder nodded. "No. He isn't."
He stepped closer. Not threatening. Assessing. "You don't value your life much."
Arthur answered immediately. "I value it precisely."
That earned him another pause.
The man straightened. "You stay. Short time. You rest. You leave before nightfall. You do not speak of this place."
Arthur waited.
"And?" he asked.
The man smiled thinly. "And when we meet again, you won't be trespassing."
Arthur inclined his head slightly. Not gratitude. Acknowledgment.
The younger one looked annoyed. "That's it?"
"That's it," the leader said.
They backed away slowly, weapons lowering but not relaxing.
As they left, the woman glanced back. "If you're still here at dusk, we won't talk."
Arthur watched them go.
Only when their footsteps faded did he allow himself to sit again.
The tension drained slowly, leaving exhaustion behind.
He closed his eyes.
For the first time since arriving in Skylandia, Arthur understood something clearly.
The monsters were not the real threat.
People were.
And unlike beasts, they remembered.