After we took out the obvious threats, we just left the bodies where they lay. Honestly, there was no need to hide or bury them — in a few minutes, the local monsters would take care of that for us. It was the natural cycle of that place. Once we finished what we came to do, we turned our backs and left without looking back.

No one said a word about what had happened. Not because there was nothing to say, but because everyone instinctively knew words weren’t necessary. The silence hanging between us spoke louder than any conversation ever could. Even though none of us spoke, we all understood: moving on at that moment was the only possible—and right—choice.

Of course, we knew we weren’t alone—that much was undeniable. Still, among all the options in front of us, that seemed like the best decision we could make. Negotiating was out of the question.

Even if we wanted to try, the moment I told what those four men said, it was clear: none of us could trust a single word that came out of their mouths, not for a second.

Doubt was inevitable, but regret wouldn’t get us anywhere. Deep down, we all knew situations like that would probably happen more times than we’d like. In the end, all we could do was accept and adapt.

Still, even knowing all that, it was inevitable some of us would feel something after what we did. Whether we admitted it or not, we took lives—and we did it fully aware. Of all of us, Alice seemed to carry the heaviest burden of guilt.

Since it happened, she barely spoke, shutting herself off completely. I watched her quietly from the side and noticed how different she was: quieter, more withdrawn, almost like she had shrunk inside herself. Maybe out of instinct or empathy, I decided to get closer.

I used my female body—something Alice always seemed more comfortable around—to break the distance. I approached slowly, saying nothing at first, respecting the silence that seemed to wrap around her like a second skin.

“You okay?” I asked, slowing my pace as I caught up to Alice, who was walking a few steps ahead, away from the group.

She slowly turned her face when she heard my voice, her eyes heavy with a mix of exhaustion and confusion. When I realized I finally had her attention, I took a deep breath and continued: “Look, I know what we did was wrong. I’m not trying to justify anything or expect you to just accept it and treat it like it’s normal... or less serious than it really is. But...”

Before I could finish, Alice shook her head, looking down briefly like she was trying to gather her thoughts. Then, looking back at me with a serious but gentle expression, she said quietly, almost like a confession: “That’s not what’s worrying me... I mean, it is, but it’s not why I’m so thoughtful”

I said nothing, just stayed quiet, waiting for her next words. She noticed she had my attention, and after a few seconds of hesitation, she went on. Her voice was low, almost a whisper, like she was afraid the very air around us might overhear: “I... keep wondering... is there any reason for all this? For everything we’re facing now? Any real reason why we have to kill others from our own kind?”

On the outside, I stayed silent, but inside, my thoughts were racing. It was like every conflicting idea knocked on my mind’s door at the same time. Maybe sensing my inner turmoil, Alice moved a little closer and asked softly, but with something deeper in her voice: “I already asked Ethan and Oliver, but... they couldn’t give me an answer” she said, eyes fixed on me as if searching for something she didn’t quite understand herself.

After a short pause, Alice took a deep breath and asked: “Do you think there’s a purpose to all this? To everything we’re doing?”

Honestly, I didn’t know how to answer. Even if I said yes, I’d be lying—and worse, I wouldn’t even believe my own words. A purpose? I don’t think there is one. And even if there is, does it really matter? In the end, whether we get out of here alive or not, we’ll look back and laugh at these thoughts, thinking it was all nonsense.

That’s how humans are: incredibly adaptable. Pain fades, meaning gets lost, and life just goes on. In my opinion, sooner or later, all the effort to find a “reason” ends up becoming irrelevant.

Maybe sensing why I was silent, Alice—walking beside me with a faint, sad smile at the corner of her lips—broke the silence in a low but firm voice: “You know... even if it wasn’t directly, I still carry the guilt for those four deaths”

For a moment, she closed her eyes, like trying to push away a painful memory or gather strength to keep going. Then, after a brief sigh, she went on: “But still, I don’t regret it. It was a decision we all made together, fully aware of the consequences. Besides...” she hesitated for a second, looking down: “even if it sounds selfish, you guys are my family now. As long as you’re safe... nothing else matters”

Alice’s gaze as she said those words was firm and resolute—there was a silent conviction in her eyes that made it clear: she had made her decision long before that moment.

Still, no matter how much she tried to hide it, the slight tremor in her wrist betrayed her, revealing the storm of emotions boiling inside. And honestly, maybe that’s why I respect her even more.

Some time later, we were finally resting in an area that seemed relatively calm. At least, as far as I could scout using one of my bodies, there were no signs of monsters or humans nearby. As we settled carefully into that makeshift shelter for a short break, I decided to check the gains from the last fight.

Of course, the results weren’t substantial enough to cause a major impact, but the emergence of a new skill definitely couldn’t be ignored—after all, something like that could never be considered insignificant.

Also, when examining my skills, I couldn’t help but feel a little surprised. Why? The ratings that had been marked as (Common) before were now showing as (Uncommon)—or rather, a mix of both, with a clear dominance of (Uncommon) skills. It was like a new level had been reached, and it made me curious, even if in a contained way.

Among that vast sea of options, with countless skills at my disposal, only three really caught my attention more intensely. The rest just seemed to pass before my eyes without sparking any interest.

[Precise Execution (Uncommon)] – Attacking unsuspecting enemies deals triple damage. Additionally, enemies up to 15% higher level than the user have their physical and magical defenses completely ignored and are instantly killed when hit by a successful strike, as long as the user remains undetected.

[Predatory Gaze (Uncommon)] – Activates a state of absolute focus: enemies’ anatomical weak points become visible.

[Controlled Breath (Common)] – Completely suppresses bodily sounds and thermal presence, becoming invisible.

That didn’t necessarily mean the other skills were bad or inferior—far from it. Many had considerable potential, each with its own merits. However, among all options, these three stood out for a simple reason: versatility.

They were the only ones I felt I could use efficiently in different situations, whether combat, support, or more complex strategies. I stayed silent for a few seconds, reflecting carefully.

Which one could really make me stronger? Which would have the ideal balance between power and usefulness? And, above all, which would allow me to protect and support Alice, Ethan, and Oliver when they needed it most?

In the end, I chose [Predatory Gaze (Uncommon)]. There were many reasons that could justify this choice, but the main one was simple: knowing our enemies’ weak spots would give us a huge advantage in combat. Of course, identifying a weak spot doesn’t mean an instant kill—far from it.

Practically, it just means that particular area of the creature’s body is more vulnerable to attacks, like the lower part of men, for example. A well-placed strike there might not take down the enemy immediately, but it definitely makes the job easier.

Anyway, after selecting my skills, I let my gaze wander over the place where we were. It was a relatively open part of the forest but still surrounded by dense vegetation and tree shadows, offering some natural camouflage. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, creating golden patches on the ground covered with dry leaves.

Alice and Ethan were talking quietly up ahead, as if everything we’d been through until a little while ago was just a distant dream—or maybe a blurred memory clouded by some fantasy. The ease with which they laughed and exchanged words gave the scene an almost surreal air, like the tension of the past had dissolved into the warm afternoon air.

Oliver, on the other hand, stayed a little further from the group, leaning his back against a tree trunk. His watchful gaze scanned the surroundings, as if always expecting something, even though nothing seemed really out of place.

Leaving my female body sitting safely, I approached him using my male body—a move that, as I expected, didn’t go unnoticed. Oliver slightly raised his face and greeted me with a subtle nod of recognition, the kind of silent gesture that said more than words ever could.

I stayed by Oliver’s side, quiet. Honestly, I didn’t really have much to say. His presence was enough—sometimes shared silence speaks louder than any word. So I just waited. Oliver seemed to carry something in his eyes, as if heavy thoughts he didn’t want to share yet weighed on him.

And, as I suspected, seconds later his voice finally broke the silence, low enough for only me to hear: “How many people with thoughts like those four do you think are still out there? I mean... in the forest”

Hearing Oliver’s words, I thought for a few moments about what he said, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find a truly satisfying answer.

Personally—and this might sound a little pessimistic—based on what I know about humans, I get the impression that more than 80% of the people who joined the tutorial chose to follow the path of hunting other humans.

That’s because, undeniably, it seems like the fastest and most efficient way to earn points to buy gear and items in the store. Sure, 80% might seem like an exaggeration, even from my point of view... but in the end, it was just an estimate based on instinct and observation.

Seeing my silence, Oliver looked away from me and back toward the forest. A thin, lazy mist still stretched between the trees, but now the terrain was much more visible than in the first days. The once vague shapes were starting to take real form, like the world itself was slowly waking up from trauma.

Then he said, in a low voice, almost like talking to himself rather than me: “You know... since that day—since it happened—I’ve been thinking about this. Thinking too much, actually. But no matter how many times I revisit that memory, how many possibilities I try to consider... just put Alice, Ethan... you... in that equation, and I simply can’t regret it. Not for killing them. Not for those four”

After saying that, Oliver slowly turned to me, a sarcastic smile forming on his lips, like he was savoring every word before even speaking it.

“Don’t you think it’s strange?” he said, with an unsettling gleam in his eyes: “All that naturalness... like it’s all perfectly justified”

He let out a brief, dry laugh before continuing: “I can’t even say I feel guilty for killing those four. Actually... I think the real regret would’ve come if I hadn’t done it”

I shook my head at Oliver’s words: “No, that’s not strange” I answered, calm but firm. I paused for a moment, gathering my thoughts before continuing: “You’re just prioritizing what really matters... with all this crap happening around us, it’s natural to want to focus on what’s essential”

Hearing my words, Oliver gave a smile—not one of relief, but full of sarcasm, like he was laughing more at the situation than at me. Still, it was a smile.

“Yeah...” he said, with a sharp tone and distant gaze: “I hope you’re right about that”