The settlement was hidden in plain sight—a converted warehouse on the city's industrial edge, reinforced with scavenged materials and protected by a perimeter of traps.
"Welcome to Sanctuary," Maya said.
Alex counted maybe thirty people inside. Men, women, a few children. They'd set up sleeping quarters in old offices, a medical station near the loading dock, and what looked like a communal kitchen in the break room. It wasn't much, but it was organized.
"Derek runs things," Maya continued. "Former Army, good tactician, paranoid as hell. He'll want to talk to you."
Derek was a broad-shouldered man in his forties, with a shaved head and eyes that missed nothing. He listened to Maya's report with a frown, then turned his attention to Alex.
"You interfered with Wolves business. That puts you on their radar, and by extension, us. Why should we let you stay?"
Alex considered his options. Lying would be easy, but he'd have to maintain the lie forever. The truth—or most of it—might be more valuable.
"I'm good in a fight. Better than my level suggests." He didn't mention midnight. "I've cleared a dungeon solo. I have a magic weapon and some skill at stealth. And I don't have anywhere else to go."
Derek's eyes narrowed at "cleared a dungeon solo."
"Which dungeon?"
"The Forgotten Office. On the west side."
"That's a Level 5-10 dungeon." Derek's tone was skeptical.
"I'm aware."
The two men stared at each other. Derek was calculating, reassessing. Finally, he grunted.
"Alright. You can stay, for now. But you work. Guard duty, supply runs, whatever we need. And if you cause trouble, you're out. Understood?"
"Understood."
Derek turned to Maya. "Show him the rotation. And keep an eye on him. Anyone who clears a Level 10 dungeon at Level 2 is either very lucky or hiding something."
Maya nodded, but Alex caught the flicker of curiosity in her expression. She'd noticed the discrepancy too.
As they walked away, she lowered her voice. "You want to tell me how a Level 2 solo clears a dungeon meant for a party?"
"I'm better at night," Alex said, which was technically true.
Maya didn't look convinced, but she let it drop. "Your bunk is in Office 3. Guard shift starts at midnight. Try not to get killed before then."
Alex found his assigned space—a corner of a former office, with a salvaged mattress and a crate for a nightstand. Better than sleeping in ruins. He settled in, using the time before his shift to organize his inventory and think.
The settlement was an opportunity. Allies, resources, a base of operations. But it was also a risk. Every interaction was a chance for someone to notice something strange about him. The Wolves already knew his face, and now Derek suspected something.
He needed to be useful but not suspicious. Powerful but not overt.
And he needed to figure out how to contribute during the day, when he was weakest.
His midnight shift would begin soon. Coincidentally—or not—his power activated at midnight. He could use the guard duty to patrol the perimeter, eliminate threats quietly, and return before anyone noticed anything unusual.
It was a start.
A knock on the doorframe interrupted his thoughts. Maya stood in the doorway.
"Dinner's in an hour. Assuming you eat."
"I eat."
She nodded curtly and left.
Alex lay back on the mattress, staring at the water-stained ceiling.
This was either going to work out, or it was going to end very badly.
He'd find out which soon enough.