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Chapter 9 – Whispers in the Flame
Chester fell asleep smiling.
Not the kind of smile that came from safety or rest—but the grin of someone who had peered behind the curtain and seen something glorious. The mythical weapon now stored in his roll inventory hummed at the edge of his thoughts.
> The Sword of the Lord of Chance...
They think I'm playing a clown. But I'm holding the dagger to the act itself.
When he awoke, dawn had barely cracked the sky. The fire had long since died. Ash curled upward in soft tendrils. For a moment, there was peace.
Then silence.
Too much silence.
He sat up. Keen and Marlo were gone. Veyra wasn't in her place either.
No panic. Just calculation.
He checked his roll counter:
Cooldown remaining — 3 day.
No more rolls.
> Time to earn survival the old-fashioned way.
Suddenly, Keen returned—his blade stained, his eyes colder.
"Wanderer from another team. Got too close," he muttered, cleaning his sword. "Didn't want to share."
Chester yawned theatrically. "Well that's not very friendly."
From the edge of the woods, Marlo emerged with Veyra. The four were back together.
Veyra's expression was unreadable. "One more team lost a member last night. Thirteen remain."
Keen scoffed. "No alliances. That's how they die. We're lucky we even have a group."
"Luck," Chester echoed, eyes narrowing. "That's... my thing."
Then the earth groaned.
A deep shudder rolled through the ground like a breath from something ancient. Trees bent. The fog thickened.
A new presence was entering the Nightmare.
> "Today will be different," Veyra murmured.
Then, from the distance—screams.
Another group under attack.
The nightmare wasn't slowing down. It was accelerating.
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Final Scene
That night, Chester sat at the edge of the fire, mask glowing faintly. His hand hovered over his roll menu.
> Cooldown ends in: 2 days
He stared at the timer.
Waited.
>
He smiled beneath the mask.
Lets try something
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