Chapter Thirteen: Survival Mode

Marek was going to die.

Caleb knew it. Dina knew it. They all knew it, but nobody said it out loud.

The makeshift bandages around his severed wrist were soaked black with blood. His breathing was shallow, and irregular. Shock was setting in hard, and they had nothing to treat it with except strips of cloth and hope.

Ellen wasn't much better. Her injuries were bone deep. She could barely muster any strength, without screaming. Every few minutes, she'd pass out from the pain, then wake up gasping.

They'd found shelter in a shallow cave, really just an overhang of rock that blocked the wind. No fire, it was too risky. The goblins might still be hunting them.

Dina sat beside Marek, her Savant precision steadied by EMT experience, checking his pulse every few minutes. Her hands were steady now, training taking over where panic had been.

"His heart rate's dropping," she said quietly. "Blood pressure's falling. If we don't get him real medical attention soon…"

She didn't finish. She didn't need to.

Soren cleaned himself with a torn piece of shirt, his strength bracing Marek's weight when he'd carried him to the cave. Half of their equipment was gone or broken. What remained was damaged, dull, and barely functional.

"We need to keep moving," Caleb said.

"He can't move," Dina snapped. "Neither can Ellen. Look at them."

Caleb looked. Marek's skin was gray, waxy. Ellen's was swollen,seemingly with infected. Moving them would kill them faster than staying put.

But staying put meant they were trapped. With enemies that knew where they were and they couldn't fight.

The interface pulsed weakly in his vision.

He blinked. That was new.

"Anyone else seeing this?" he asked.

The others shook their heads. Only him.

He selected yes.

[Medical Assessment: Marek]

Status: Critical

Blood Loss: Severe

Infection Risk: High

Survival Probability: 23% without intervention

[Medical Assessment: Ellen]

Status: Stable but declining

Mobility: Compromised

Infection Risk: Moderate

Survival Probability: 67% with rest

[Recommended Action: Immediate floor completion or medical intervention required]

Twenty-three percent. The odds weren't looking good, if they were that in the first place. That was a death sentence with paperwork.

"We have to go back," Dina said suddenly.

Everyone stared at her.

"Not to fight," she continued. "To finish the floor. It's the only way to heal them."

"Go back to the village?" Soren's voice cracked. "Are you insane? They'll slaughter us."

"We can't fight them," Caleb said. "Not like this. Not with two people down."

"Then we don't fight." Dina's voice was getting stronger. "They let us go for a reason they might want to negotiate."

Caleb frowned. "What about the objective?"

She gestured toward the interface display. "It says 'Floor Five: Trial of Entry, Enemy Type: Invader Group, ' We assumed we had to kill all the goblins. But what if we just have to survive them?"

"Survive what?"

"The trial. Maybe this floor isn't about winning. Maybe it's about lasting long enough to prove something."

Ellen stirred, consciousness flickering back. "Prove what?"

"Prove our capability of survival." Dina looked at each of them in turn. "Every other floor tested something specific. Teamwork. Loyalty. Decision-making. What if this one tests whether we can survive in the face of an overwhelming enemy?"

Caleb considered it. They'd been thinking like soldiers. Kill the enemy, take the objective, move forward. But the Tower didn't work like that. It tested psychology as much as strength.

"If that's the case, we've already failed. Whatever that creature was it let us go on it's own volition. We didn't "survive"."

"Because we weren't supposed to die," Dina said. "We were supposed to learn."

Soren spat into the dirt. "Learn what? That we're weak? That we can't win?"

No one said anything.

The words hit like a cold wind.

Caleb felt something shift in his understanding. The Tower had been teaching them to be efficient killers. Rewarding brutality. But what if that was the trap?

The interface suddenly pulsed:

[Alternative Objective Available]

[Negotiated Settlement: Establish non-hostile contact with local inhabitants]

[Success Condition: Survival agreement for 24 hours]

[Failure Penalty: Death or Brazion (Goblins kept their captives male or femalefor stress relief, breeding, and slow, conversion.)

[Accept Alternative Objective? Y/N]

As they read this everyone's mind shuddered in terror.

Seeing we they'd been presented an alternative maybe the Tower wasn't as cruel as they thought.

Caleb looked at Marek's gray face and Ellen's injury. Their broken equipment and exhausted bodies.

They weren't in any condition to fight.

"If we do this," he said, "we go back unarmed."

"What if they try to kill us ?" Soren asked.

No one said anything as Caleb carefully selected yes.

[Objective Updated]

The notification faded, leaving them in silence.