You Already Won

Sšurtinaui was tired.

The Sryun had faded, but the ache in her limbs still pulsed with every breath, and a dull throb gnawed at the edges of her skull. She leaned back against the cool stone, watching the others talk like everything hadn't just turned upside down.

Jonathan being Jafar? Sure. That she could handle. In fact, it was even a little exciting in that doomed, ridiculous sort of way. But now?

Now she was sitting across from the Jujisn of Rhan Xas Rituain—the Primordial Beast of the Boundless Hunt, the god whose domain wrapped around realms like vines around bone.

It was too much.

Of all the Supreme Families, all the cosmic forces, all the monstrous legacies—why Rhan?

Rhan wasn't just a name whispered in fear. They were everywhere. Even in places they didn't rule, their blood was there. Their essence threaded through life itself. If you weren't an Outlander, Supreme or Royal by blood, chances were some fragment of Rituain ran through your veins. Even she had a trace—faint, diluted, barely worth mentioning—but as an elf, as a creature of forest and root, it meant something.

Every elf had heard the stories. The Primordial Grove. The Hunts that reshaped reality for all realms. The god who listened to the woods like others listened to breath.

And now she was supposed to accept that his Jujisn was casually apologizing for punching Jonathan through a wall?

Meanwhile, Caroline was throwing out questions like they were snack wrappers, and Jonathan—Jonathan—was just nodding along, as if being part-time Jafar wasn't enough to unpack already.

It was absurd.

So Sšurtinaui did the only reasonable thing left.

She sighed.

Long. Deep. Soul-weary.

Because if she didn't, she might scream.

"You good, elf?" Jonathan asked.

"I have a name," Sšurtinaui muttered.

"Yeah, I know. But are you okay?"

She sighed again, but this time it was lighter. "I guess I am. Now that no rocks are falling on me. Though I wouldn't mind just laying here for the rest of the day."

That earned a laugh from Caroline and Jonathan both.

Tinsurnae shuffled awkwardly at the edge of the group. Caroline narrowed her eyes at him.

"You promise not to pull a Jonathan?"

"Hey!" Jonathan snapped.

"What? When you're not being an asshole, I call you North."

"You're not my mom! Don't start using my first name like it's a threat—"

"Anyway," Caroline interrupted, turning back to Tinsurnae. "What's your name again, Rhan memory card?"

Tinsurnae chuckled. "Oh, you got jokes?" He rolled his neck, still smiling. "It's Tinsurnae."

Caroline raised an eyebrow. "Interesting name."

He nodded, half-sighing. "Rhan took mine."

That earned a pause.

"Wait," Caroline said. "Technically, did he?"

"Rhan's not a 'he,'" Tinsurnae said casually.

That got everyone's attention.

Jonathan squinted. "What do you mean 'not a he'? Pretty sure that memory had some… he energy. And wait… you're a guy."

Tinsurnae looked away, suddenly more interested in a loose pebble. "I am a guy," he muttered. "It probably has to do with when Rhan became a god."

Jonathan tilted his head. He was about to press, but then he remembered Jafar's throne room—those massive dragons lounging about. Jafar had casually mentioned they belonged to his lover.

"Right," Jonathan muttered. "So becoming a god means you get a little… androgynous. And also become a certified lizard fucker. Go figure."

Caroline blinked. Sšurtinaui choked on a laugh. Tinsurnae groaned.

"Please don't ever say that again," he begged.

Jonathan grinned. "No promises." He then looked between Caroline and Sšurtinaui, then tilted his head toward the side.

"Quick huddle?"

Caroline crossed her arms. "Really?"

"It's tradition," Jonathan said with mock solemnity.

Sšurtinaui sighed as they helped her up. The three formed a loose triangle just out of Tinsurnae's earshot.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"So," Jonathan began, "he's strong, clearly not trying to kill us now, and let's be honest—two Jujisns, three outlanders, and a sexy hunter elf? That's solid squad composition. I'm open to your nonsensical disagreements."

"You're such a nerd," Caroline muttered.

"And I'm sexy?" Sšurtinaui raised a brow.

"Everyone here's sexy," Jonathan said, putting his arms around their shoulders. "I'm just saying—odds are better with him than without him."

Caroline leaned toward Sšurtinaui, while glaring at Jonathan. "We might need a second huddle just to decide if we're letting "him" back in."

Jonathan gasped. "Betrayed in my own huddle?!"

"Be serious," Sšurtinaui said, rubbing her temples. "Please."

After a few moments of actual consideration—plus two more sarcastic side-eyes from Caroline—they broke the formation.

Jonathan turned to Tinsurnae. "Congratulations. You've been voted in."

"We'll even forgive the attempted murder," Caroline added sweetly.

Tinsurnae placed a hand over his heart, dramatically. "I'm honored. Truly. For this second chance. Hopefully I'm not gonna be stabbed in my sleep."

"No promises," Sšurtinaui muttered, smirking.

"Fair," Tinsurnae replied, and the group laughed.

The cave air felt calmer now, the tension draining from the group like mist after rainfall. Jonathan exhaled, relishing—for once—not having to use his blood to heal. It was a small victory, but he'd take it. Leaning back, letting his shoulder relax as a faint hum of energy faded from his fingertips.

Caroline, however, was staring at her inventory screen, visibly annoyed.

"Well… this sucks."

"What now?" Jonathan asked, cautiously.

"My potions," she said, holding up a small, half-drained bottle. "In the game, I could carry ninety-nine of these. But here? Fifteen. Fifteen. And they take hours—sometimes days—to recharge."

"That's—what?" Jonathan sat up straighter. "That's like sending a tank into war with a lawnmower engine."

"Tell me about it," she muttered.

Tinsurnae tilted his head. "Some blessings or systems don't translate cleanly into Requiem. Realspace logic tends to nerf anything too 'unbalanced.' Happens to a lot of gamer type outlanders."

"Yeah," Caroline grumbled. "Nerfed is putting it nicely."

Sšurtinaui, seated nearby with her back against a stalagmite, nodded slowly. "Unfair, but expected. Requiem doesn't reward convenience."

Caroline crossed her arms. "So basically, I'm supposed to guess what'll work and what won't? That's gonna suck for leveling up."

"Adapt," Tinsurnae offered with a shrug.

Jonathan turned to him. "Speaking of guessing—what do you know about the rule change? Did you know the guy who was talking reckless on the cosmic mic?"

Tinsurnae shook his head, brushing some dust off his sleeve. "I'm in the same boat as you. Rhan didn't tell me anything. No briefing. No map. Just dropped me into the event and said, 'Survive. Make it matter.'"

Jonathan whistled. "Nice. Real nurturing."

Tinsurnae chuckled. "Rhan isn't cruel. But they're not merciful either. It's… complicated."

Sšurtinaui raised a brow. "Explain."

Tinsurnae thought for a moment, then said, "Rhan believes people only grow when they're forced to face impossible choices. Their philosophy is that structure creates stagnation. But too much chaos and everything crumbles. So they walk the line—just enough pressure to force change, not enough to kill… most of the time."

Caroline grimaced. "Sounds exhausting."

"It is." Tinsurnae nodded. "But it works. At least, Rhan thinks so."

Jonathan stretched, cracking his neck. "Great. So none of us have extra insight on the situation, your potions are nerfed, I nearly died again, and now we're sitting in a cave with a gem guardian you still haven't told us about."

Tinsurnae smirked faintly.

You could've just asked."

"I had a few things to say out loud with it. A few-for-one, if you will."

Caroline rolled her eyes. "Shut up."

"Yeah, shut up," Tinsurnae echoed with a half-smirk.

Sšurtinaui chuckled quietly. "Let's focus. We need to deal with the guardian and get that gem—especially if the region's going to shrink soon."

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Tinsurnae stepped forward, his expression growing serious. "The guardian's an old ranker. He's strong. Not just physically, but clever, too. I tried to beat him solo. Failed. Sixty-eight times."

Caroline blinked. "Sixty-eight?"

"Yeah," Tinsurnae said dryly. "I got real familiar with the taste of defeat."

Sšurtinaui tilted her head. "Then how are you still here?"

"I didn't challenge him head-on every time. I used the creatures in the cave—set them loose to fight him, wore him down, tested his limits. Even had a few decent attempts." He paused. "Didn't win, obviously."

Jonathan whistled. "That's… dedication. Or insanity."

"Both," Tinsurnae admitted. "But I wasn't charging in blind. I used the cave's creatures. Set traps. Sent wave after wave of monsters to probe his defenses and take care of interfering forces."

Caroline frowned. "That explains it…"

"Explains what?" Jonathan asked.

Sšurtinaui's eyes widened. "That's why we didn't run into anyone else. The Eternal Arcade was the only group left. Because he redirected the cave's monsters."

Tinsurnae didn't deny it. "Had to keep people away. The guardian's tricky. Strong, smart, and territorial. He doesn't just fight—he plays the long game. But with the four of us? We might stand a chance."

Caroline folded her arms. "You sure about that? You're the strongest one here and you still couldn't take him."

Tinsurnae looked to each of them in turn. "Sšurtinaui's a Varic. That alone gives me faith. Her precision, speed, and aura control are top-tier."

Sšurtinaui blinked at that, clearly surprised by the compliment, but said nothing.

Tinsurnae continued. "Caroline, you kept up with me when in that mode—what do you call it?"

"Sigil Brawler," she said flatly.

He nodded. "Right. Sigil Brawler. You're strong and your control over buffs and support spells? That'll make the difference."

"And Jonathan?" Jonathan asked, raising his hand.

Tinsurnae grinned. "A well of potential. He's reckless, sure—but he shrugged off a Sryun punch without losing himself. That changes everything. If he can manage that, then we might just have the edge. The guardian's not just some ranker. He's a Sword Paladin. He buffs himself with Ryun, enhances every strike, and repels invaders."

Jonathan smirked. "Great. I'm the unstable nuke."

Caroline crossed her arms. "And again, you expect us to beat someone you couldn't handle with an army? And want to bring an unstable nuke instead?"

"Wow, you guys love to joke," Tinsurnae muttered, half-amused and half-exasperated.

Caroline just shrugged. "Helps my mental."

"I was born this way," Jonathan added with a smug grin.

Sšurtinaui rolled her eyes. "North brings out the worst in Caroline."

Caroline laughed and hugged her. "I'm sorry, don't lump me in with him. I have standards."

Jonathan feigned offense. "Rude."

Tinsurnae let out a long sigh, then returned to the matter at hand. "If Jonathan and I can both use Sryun—and we've got you two backing us up—we might be able to pull this off. He's not a high-ranked ranker, but he's definitely stronger than most."

"Great plan," Jonathan said, raising a hand again. "One problem. I don't actually know how to use Sryun."

Sšurtinaui tilted her head, thinking. "That… might explain your aura during the beast fight. And how it corrupted my arrow."

Tinsurnae's eyes lit up. "Good. Sounds like you've already used it without knowing. That means this pop test won't feel like total hell."

Jonathan groaned. "You're calling it a pop test? That's not encouraging."

Sšurtinaui chuckled. "Better than a final exam with death as the penalty."

"Technically," Caroline said, "that's what this whole world is."

The group fell into a moment of silence, broken only by Jonathan's quiet chuckle. "Welp. Let's get this on the way and then we jump the old guy."