The column stretched behind Jonah like a wounded serpent.

  Eight hundred people moved through the corrupted terrain, their footsteps crunching against earth transformed by the System's integration. The landscape bore the scars of that transformation: trees twisted at impossible angles, stones hummed with ambient mana, and patches of ground where grass had been replaced by growths that caught the light wrong.

  Outside their arrival area, the city had become heavily wooded and overgrown with bushes and foliage—the perfect scenario for ambush predators and hidden monster dens.

  The density of the undergrowth increased the further they went, enough that Jonah couldn't trust his own vision or senses.

  He kept his pace steady, not too fast for the wagons, not so slow that they'd fall behind schedule. The plan was to reach the settlement stone in four days, and they needed to stick to that schedule in case something went wrong, which it always did, no matter how well-laid their plans. Every hour mattered.

  "Scouts out," he called to Martinez and Sarah. "Twenty meters ahead, fifty-meter flanking spread. I want eyes on everything before we walk into it. Four to each scout party."

  The Spear Sergeant nodded and relayed the orders. Within minutes, a couple dozen fighters broke from the main column, spreading into the corrupted landscape like fingers reaching into darkness.

  Sarah led the forward scouts. Her Ghost Blade evolution made her nearly invisible when she wanted to be, a shadow moving between twisted trees and corrupted undergrowth. The others couldn't match her stealth, but they knew the terrain well enough to move without stumbling.

  Jonah had given them explicit instructions before departure.

  "No engagement. If you see something dangerous, you fall back. If you encounter hostiles, retreat to safe numbers. I don't care if it's a single goblin or a wounded beast. Your job is information, not combat. Anyone who starts a fight they can't immediately win will answer to me."

  The scouts had nodded, but Jonah had seen the skepticism in some of their eyes, especially the younger ones. They'd survived the goblin war, leveled up, evolved their classes, and now felt powerful, some even believing they were invincible.

  It was humanity's greatest flaw, the same one he had suffered when entering floor 34.

  That feeling would get people killed if he didn't manage it carefully.

  The first few hours passed without incident.

  The column moved through what had once been suburban sprawl, neighborhoods transformed into mazes of corrupted architecture and thick woods. Houses had fused with the stone growths, their walls bulging with weathered stone that pulsed faintly with mana. Streets cracked and reformed into paths that didn't quite match their original layouts. Cars sat frozen in driveways, their metal shells slowly being consumed by creeping mineral formations.

  Jonah guided them along routes he remembered from his first life. Not the exact same paths—the System's transformation created variations each time—but close enough that his knowledge remained useful. He knew which areas spawned beast dens, which zones contained hidden dungeon entrances, which seemingly safe passages led to ambush points, and where crossing would be a death sentence.

  The column avoided them all.

  "You're leading us in circles," Garrett complained during the second hour. The big man had pushed his way to the front, his faction's fighters trailing behind him. "We could cut straight through that plaza and save twenty minutes."

  "The plaza has a beast den underneath it. Something large. We'd lose fifty people before we cleared the ambush."

  "How do you—" Garrett stopped himself. "Fine. Your route." The skill explanation Jonah had provided earlier apparently still held weight.

  He fell back, grumbling but compliant.

  The sun climbed toward its zenith. Heat pressed down on the column, the corrupted sky's strange violet tinge offering little relief. People started shedding layers, drinking more water than they should, and slowing their pace without realizing it.

  Jonah called a brief rest at midday.

  "Fifteen minutes. Water and food only. Stay in formation. Don't wander."

  The column collapsed into clusters of exhausted humanity. Fighters sat where they stood, legs grateful for the reprieve. Non-combatant healers and the very rare support class huddled near the wagons, sharing rations and whispered conversations. The wounded in their makeshift transports shifted and groaned, the jostling of the march aggravating injuries that hadn't fully healed.

  Jonah used the break to check his map, comparing their progress against his mental timeline.

  On schedule. The river should be visible by sunset if we maintain pace.

  The river was the first major geographic landmark on their route, a massive waterway that had existed before the System arrived, now transformed into something barely resembling its original form. The corruption had widened and deepened it, filling it with currents that moved with enough force to tear a man in half.

  But it remained navigable at specific crossing points, marked by large stones they could walk over until they reached calm enough waters that their enhanced bodies could pass without issue.

  Though they would need to fashion some type of bridge over that area to get the wagons across more easily. Or maybe he could have them picked up on shoulders.

  All of these points were areas Jonah remembered from his first life.

  Sarah materialized beside him without warning, her presence dampened, making her approach nearly silent. "Movement ahead. Nothing hostile. Looks like a herd of something. Deer-sized, but nothing like earth deer. Six legs, crystalline growths on their backs with electricity arching between those crystalline growths."

  "System wildlife. They'll scatter if we approach in force. Keep distance and let them run. We don't need to hunt them yet."

  She nodded and vanished again.

  The rest ended, the column reformed, and the march continued without preamble.

  The first incident happened three hours past midday.

  Jonah was reviewing the afternoon's route with Martinez when a shout pierced the air.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  His head snapped toward the sound, originating from the column's left flank, perhaps forty meters back. One of the civilians—a man in his thirties assigned to help guard a supply wagon—had drifted from formation, maybe fifteen meters beyond the column's edge, toward a cluster of twisted trees promising shade from the oppressive heat. Jonah noticed a splinter piercing the man's palm, jutting out the back, a souvenir from the vegetation he'd disturbed.

  Jonah recognized the impending danger an instant before it struck.

  "Stop! Get back—"

  But it was already too late.

  The creature exploded from the undergrowth like a missile of muscle and fangs.

  A feline shape, armored with scaled patches over clean orange and black fur. It moved on four trunk-like legs, each ending in obsidian claws. Easily the size of a sedan, its bulk was compressed into a predatory form designed for ambush hunting.

  The man never saw it coming.

  The beast's jaws closed around his torso with a wet crunch that echoed across the column. The scream cut off mid-breath. Blood sprayed across the corrupted grass. The creature shook its prey once, twice, ensuring its death.

  Screams erupted from the column as fighters fumbled for weapons. The orderly formation dissolved into chaos as everyone struggled to process the horror they had just witnessed.

  "Hold formations!" Jonah's voice cracked across the panic like a whip. "Shields up! Spears forward! Do not break ranks!"

  The beast looked up from its kill, yellow eyes scanning the mass of humans with predatory intent. Blood dripped from its muzzle. Its legs tensed, preparing to—

  Justin's lightning struck first.

  The bolt caught the creature in the flank, electricity arcing across scaled patches and burning fur. It screamed, a sound that was part roar and part shriek, and whirled toward the new threat.

  "Drive it off! Concentrated fire! Don't pursue!" Jonah shouted.

  Mana bolts and arrows converged on the beast. Most deflected off its scales, but enough found gaps in its natural armor. The creature took two steps toward the column, then another lightning bolt struck its face, blinding one eye in a spray of vitreous fluid.

  It fled with its new meal.

  The beast vanished into the twisted trees faster than it had emerged, leaving behind only blood and the echoing memory of screams.

  No body remained to be retrieved.

  Silence fell over the column.

  People stared at the remains of the man who'd wandered too far—nothing but a single boot and sword on the ground. Then they looked at the blood soaking into the corrupted earth, at the gap in the tree line where something that could kill them in seconds had disappeared.

  "Who was he?" someone asked, their voice cracking.

  "Thomas Johnson. He was with the third supply wagon," another answered.

  Jonah allowed them a moment longer to absorb the scene. "Formation. Now. We move in two minutes."

  "We should bury him," Garrett said, his pale face contrasting with the strength in his voice, which carried across the stunned crowd. "He deserves—"

  "There's nothing left to bury. By the time we find the creature, it will have already picked its fangs with his bones." Jonah's voice was flat, devoid of emotion. "Stopping here makes us targets. The blood will attract predators—more things like that one. We move, or we join him."

  The column reformed, moving slower this time, with the tense awareness that only near-death could bring. Those who had been drifting toward the edges pulled closer to the center, and fighters tightened their grips on their weapons.

  No one strayed from the formation for the rest of the afternoon.

  The scouts returned two hours before sunset.

  Sarah materialized beside Jonah, her expression tight. "Problem."

  "Report."

  "Forward scouts encountered a pair of goblins—primitive types, probably from a local tribe. The scouts engaged them."

  Jonah's jaw clenched. "I gave explicit orders—"

  "I know. They claim the goblins spotted them first, forcing the fight. They killed one; the other escaped."

  A cold fury settled in Jonah's chest. "They didn't chase it down."

  Their story didn't make sense. How could a group of four scouts be ambushed by two primitive goblins, only for one to escape?

  "No. They came back to report."

  "Where are they now?"

  "I stopped them before they reached the main column. I didn't want them spreading whatever story they'd cooked up." Sarah's eyes were hard. "They tried to play it off like nothing happened, as if losing track of a goblin scout was acceptable."

  Jonah pushed past her, heading toward where the scouts waited at the edge of the column. His core team fell in behind him without a word.

  The four scouts stood in a loose cluster, their expressions shifting from confident to nervous as Jonah approached. Their leader, a man named Peters who had shown promise during the goblin war, stepped forward.

  "Sir, we encountered—"

  "You didn't chase it down?" Sarah's voice cut through his explanation like a blade. The volume drew attention from nearby fighters, heads turning toward the confrontation. "You let a goblin scout escape? Do you have any idea what you've done?"

  Peters faltered. "It was fast. The terrain was difficult. We thought—"

  "You thought wrong." Jonah stopped five feet from the scouts, close enough that they had to look up to meet his eyes. "I gave you one order: Don't engage unless forced. And if you do engage, don't let anything escape to report our position. You failed on both counts."

  "Sir, we killed the first one. The second—"

  "The second scout is running back to his tribe, relaying information about a potential food source—us—numbering in the hundreds, moving through their territory." Jonah's voice dropped, almost soft, and the scouts paled at the shift in tone. "How many goblins do you think that tribe boasts? A hundred? Two hundred? More?"

  Silence answered him.

  "They know our approximate location. They'll set an ambush or send a war party. People are going to die because you couldn't follow simple instructions."

  Peters opened his mouth, miming words, unable to speak.

  "Get back to your positions. You're on rear guard for the rest of the march. If we survive the next few hours, we'll discuss whether you're still qualified for scout duty."

  The four scouts practically fled.

  Jonah turned to find the three faction leaders approaching. Derek's expression was a mix of satisfaction and concern—pleased to see Jonah's authority challenged, yet worried about the implications.

  Garrett looked genuinely alarmed.

  Chen Wei's calculating eyes were already processing scenarios.

  "What happened?" Derek demanded, though they likely heard everything.

  Jonah explained in terse, unsweetened sentences: the goblin encounter, the escaped scout, and the likelihood of a response in the hundreds. They needed to prepare for a vanguard party to hit them soon.

  No one argued.

  He ordered them back to their positions, outlining the new plan. They couldn't continue moving forward with an army, likely less burdened and faster, chasing them.

  The leaders hurried to their assigned locations, understanding the gravity of the situation.

  "Halt the lines!" Jonah's voice carried across the column. "Full defensive formation! Clear the perimeter—remove or neutralize every piece of cover within a hundred meters. Anything that could conceal an ambush gets dealt with now."

  Eight hundred people surged into motion, spurred by the leaders echoing Jonah's commands. With a united front, no one dared to waste time with arguments or inaction.

  Fighters spread out from the column, weapons ready, systematically clearing the area. Corrupted brush was hacked away. Twisted trees offering too much concealment were felled and removed. Even stones large enough to hide behind were dug up and uprooted beyond the designated clearing.

  Martinez organized the shield wall with practiced efficiency.

  David's Guardian presence steadied the non-combatants, his aura spreading calm through the center of the formation.

  Liam and Alexa took positions at the formation's forward edge, their combined talents poised to meet any threat.

  Sarah vanished into the corrupted landscape, scouting for the approaching danger.

  Jonah frowned. John would have assisted Martinez, fortifying those lines considerably. But John was gone, taken by the Warboss while trying to save a couple of idiots who had spread themselves too thin.

  I want to give him a proper monument. It's the first death our party has suffered, and even killing the Warboss hasn't eased this feeling of suffocation.

  He cleared his throat, careful to hide his expression.

  The wait felt eternal.

  Jonah stood at the formation's center, his Tactical Assessment feeding him information about sight lines and potential avenues of approach. His mana reserves had recovered somewhat during the march, enough for sustained combat. The damage from Poliva's Touch still limited him, restricting him to a mana blade for only a few minutes. He would need to rely on his developing melee abilities, perhaps even learning something new while his magical strengths were diminished.

  Sarah appeared behind him. “Contact was made with forward agents, hundreds of them. Primitive types, no armor, stone weapons. Moving fast, no formation. They'll hit us from the northwest in about three minutes.

  "Numbers?"

  “Hard to count. Three hundred? Maybe more. One shaman that I can see, staying back. It seems abnormally large compared to the shamans we've faced so far.”

  "Understood. Have everyone fall back to our lines."

  Jonah raised his voice. "Contact northwest! Three hundred plus primitive goblins, one shaman confirmed! Prepare for engagement!"