Chương 36: Interlude – Camp Persistence

The palisade rose ahead, thick trunks with pointed tops, proof that whoever built Camp Persistence had done so with urgency and purpose. Sasesh followed behind Richard with careful steps, eyes flicking from the structure to the man leading them in. Something about Richard itched at him. The man's calm was too polished, as if he hadn't gone through the same hellish Tutorial that they had. It didn't sit right with Sasesh.

They passed through the gates, the heavy wooden doors groaning open with a push from a nearby guard. Inside, Camp Persistence spread out like a small village carved from the swamp. Log cabins and lean-tos dotted the clearing, their construction rough but purposeful. Wooden walkways covered the worst of the muck. Fire pits smoked in the distance. Sasesh frowned. The clearing looked natural, but had it always been here?

He couldn't spot any stumps outside the camp, but with the System, enhanced stats, and enough people working together, it wouldn't be hard to rip roots out, flatten the land, and cover the damage with dirt and swamp clay. Still, something about the quiet here made his skin crawl. They had fought to survive every day since the Tutorial started. Fought tooth and nail for every step of progress. And here was a man in spotless clothes with steady eyes who smiled like he ran a summer camp.

Richard turned, walking backward as he called out, "Healer team, incoming!" Three people peeled away from a larger group and moved quickly toward them. Kyle, supported by Bryan and Miriam, was pale, unconscious from the pain of his missing leg.

"Take him to the medical hut," Richard said, nodding to the trio.

"You'll be in good hands." Bryan and Miriam didn't move. Miriam's grip tightened around Kyle's waist.

"We'll go with him," Bryan said. Richard paused, then nodded, his smile never wavering.

"Smart. I'd do the same. Trust isn't given lightly in this place." He motioned to the three medics.

"Lead the way. We've got room for all of you." The group peeled off. Amanda gave Sasesh a small look, then followed after them. Richard turned back to the rest of the group.

"When the Tutorial started a week and a half ago, I was just like everyone else. Dropped in with four strangers and no clue what was happening. I chose a Profession that fit my old life— [Civic Arbiter]. Thought maybe I'd be helping manage a city or something." He gave a quiet laugh, as if amused at his own naivety.

"Turns out the Tutorial didn't care that my Profession was a terrible choice for the given circumstances. My original group didn't have a single fighting class. So we hunkered down. No monster-slaying for us. Just five scared people and a half-assed hut." They rounded a bend and Richard pointed to a sagging lean-to near the edge of the clearing.

"That was it. Our first shelter. We keep it around as a reminder." Sasesh stared at it. Rough wood, uneven branches, a moss-covered roof that probably leaked when it rained. It wasn't impressive, but the fact that it had been built at all during the first days of the Tutorial was.

"More people found us. Some joined us right away. Others took time. But every one of them saw something worth staying for. And every one added something new. We just finished the wall yesterday." They passed newer buildings—some still under construction, others already bustling with activity. People moved between them, carrying bundles of wood, talking, eating. It all looked… peaceful. But Sasesh couldn't shake the feeling that he'd stepped into a stage play. The lines were right. The props, convincing.

But something in the performance rang hollow. He kept walking anyway. He needed to know more. Richard continued leading them deeper into Camp Persistence. The ground beneath their feet had been reinforced with laid wooden planks in high-traffic areas, and the buildings here were sturdier than those near the palisade. Ahead, he gestured toward a long, low building made from thick tree trunks and lashed together with vines.

"That's the longhouse," Richard said.

"Most of us sleep there in shifts. We always keep a rotation of people awake—just in case." Sasesh glanced at the longhouse's structure. Its windows were little more than narrow slits covered with animal hide. Still, it was weatherproof. Richard kept talking as they walked.

"When we finished the outer wall, I got a System notification. It classified Camp Persistence as a low-grade settlement. Apparently, that comes with benefits. The System won't send standard monsters to attack us anymore. Not until Day 31 when the walls to the other quadrants lower." Sasesh slowed his pace a little.

"What about the Lords of the Swamp?" Richard looked over his shoulder, his expression still maddeningly calm.

"They're exempt, unfortunately. But we've tracked four of them so far. Scouts are keeping eyes on all of them. At a distance, of course." Sasesh narrowed his eyes.

"Did you have anyone tracking Kharvaxis?" Richard nodded without hesitation.

"We did."

"So why didn't your scout intervene? Warn us it was that strong?" Richard stopped walking and faced Sasesh directly, his voice patient but firm.

"Because we don't stop people from walking their path. Some groups choose to hunt the Lords. Some don't. We're not here to tell anyone how to survive the Tutorial—only to offer safety when they're ready for it." He smiled again.

"That's why we helped Nadean. When she ran into our camp shouting for help, we confirmed her story with our scouts. They can send messages across distance, but it takes a minute or two. Once we verified that Kharvaxis had been attacked—and that the attackers failed—we knew her group needed help." They started walking again. Sasesh said nothing, but kept watching Richard out of the corner of his eye. As they moved through the camp, Sasesh took in the people around them. They weren't smiling, exactly—but they looked…

steady. No one carried weapons openly. No one scanned the treetops or moved with that twitchy caution of someone used to being hunted. He saw a group gathered around a large communal fire, eating what looked like soup from carved wooden bowls. Others sat in clusters, chatting softly. Sasesh felt his guard ease—just a little. Maybe this place really was what it seemed. Maybe the week and a half of fighting for his life had forced him to keep his guard up at all times.

Richard pointed out a small set of outhouses, a wide open clearing with training dummies and sparring circles, and a few other huts whose purposes weren't immediately clear. Finally, he led them to the largest building in the camp. Its door was reinforced with bark-covered slabs, and the front steps had been smoothed flat.

"This is our meeting hall," Richard said, pushing the door open.

"Come in. Let's talk properly." Inside, the space was surprisingly roomy. A massive wooden table dominated the center of the room, surrounded by rough but sturdy chairs. Sasesh noticed the table was freshly built—no polish or decoration, just raw craftsmanship and function. Richard took a seat and gestured for the others to do the same.

"Here's the deal," he said once everyone was settled.

"You're welcome to stay. We won't force you and you can leave any time you like. But if you stay, you work. We don't have room for freeloaders. Everyone contributes something." He folded his hands atop the table. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

"This is a survival situation, but it doesn't have to be chaos. If we're going to live through this together, everyone has to carry their weight." Sasesh leaned back in his chair, studying the man across from him. He'd heard nothing obviously untrue. Nothing explicitly dangerous. And yet, the unease hadn't gone away. He stayed quiet. The group sat in silence for a few seconds after Richard finished speaking. They glanced at each other in a way that said more than words could. A silent exchange.

Weighing their options and the potential risk involved. John was the first to lean forward.

"My name's John," he said evenly.

"I'll be honest—it looks like you've built something solid here. Safety in numbers makes sense. Sleeping without having to rotate watches every couple hours does sound nice." A few quiet nods circled the table.

"But what exactly counts as contributing?" John continued.

"What would you expect from us?" Richard smiled faintly, as if he'd been waiting for that question.

"That depends entirely on what you're capable of—and what you're willing to do," he replied.

"Take me, for example. I'm not a fighter, never was. My Profession is [Civic Arbiter]. Before all this, I was a county clerk. Paperwork, mediation, municipal organization." He gestured vaguely toward himself.

"Hardly built for combat." Sasesh kept his expression neutral, but he filed that away.

"So I don't scout. I don't man watchtowers. I don't fight," Richard continued.

"Instead, I organize. I assign tasks. And I coordinate the camp's efforts. And the System rewards me for it." Professor Sanders straightened slightly.

"Rewards you… how?"

"With experience," Richard said pleasantly.

"If I direct someone to complete a task aligned with the settlement's growth, I gain experience once that task is completed." Professor Sanders' brows lifted.

"Could you please clarify." Richard nodded.

"Take the palisade wall, for example. A few days ago, I assigned five of our stronger members to gather long, straight logs. I then directed someone with basic engineering knowledge to draft a layout. After that, I organized a digging crew to prepare the foundation." He spread his hands.

"Each completed task granted me a small amount of experience. But when the wall itself was finished?" His smile widened slightly.

"That resulted in multiple level gains at once." A low murmur passed through the group.

"That's… efficient," Professor Sanders said thoughtfully.

"A non-combat leveling pathway through structured settlement development."

"Exactly," Richard said. Sasesh watched him carefully. The man didn't hesitate one bit. No hint of stammer or nervousness. His confidence felt well practiced.

"And everyone here contributes in some way?" John asked.

"They do," Richard replied.

"Because everyone here is bound by cooperation." That made several heads snap up.

"Bound?" Nadean asked. Richard nodded.

"System-enforced contracts." The air in the room shifted.

"Explain," Professor Sanders said immediately.

"My Profession allows me to draft and invoke contracts backed by the Authority of the System," Richard said smoothly.

"Anyone who joins Camp Persistence signs a simple agreement. They will not harm another member of the camp." Sasesh's jaw tightened slightly.

"And if they do?" Kranti asked. Richard's voice remained calm.

"The System punishes them proportionally. Minor harm results in minor penalties such as a loss of levels. Severe violations escalate accordingly."

"You mean death," Sasesh said flatly. Richard met his gaze without flinching.

"If someone murders a member of this camp, yes. The System will execute the offender." Silence fell over the table. Professor Sanders extended a hand.

"May we see this contract?" Richard smiled again and flicked his fingers. A sheet of parchment materialized in his hand as if plucked from thin air. He laid it on the table for all to see. By entering into this binding agreement, you consent to the following terms, enforced by the Authority of the System: While you are recognized as a member of Camp Persistence, you shall not cause harm, injury, or death—whether directly or indirectly—to another member of the camp.

Violation of this Pact shall incur System-enforced punishment proportional to the harm inflicted, to be measured and mirrored upon the perpetrator. This contract is non-transferable, automatically active upon acceptance, and shall remain in effect for the duration of your membership within Camp Persistence and for 48 hours following your departure. By signing below, you have accepted these terms. Sasesh read it twice. The wording was precise.

"Forty-eight hours after departure?" Professor Sanders asked. Richard inclined his head.

"For everyone's safety. I have no issue with people leaving. This is a voluntary settlement. But I cannot allow someone to walk away, gather allies, and return the next day to slaughter us. The grace period ensures transparency. If someone leaves, we know. And we prepare accordingly." The explanation sounded reasonable. Sasesh leaned back slowly, studying Richard's face. This place offered safety, structure, and stability. It was everything people would want after days of chaos and near-death experiences.

So why did it feel like stepping into a cage? Richard looked around the table, reading the tension in the air. He offered a polite smile and rose smoothly to his feet.

"I can see you all have a lot to think about," he said, brushing a crease from his sleeve.

"Take your time. Talk it over. There's no pressure either way." He stepped back from the table and moved toward the door, pausing only to glance over his shoulder.

"I'll be just outside when you're ready." With that, he slipped out and pulled the door closed behind him, leaving the group in silence. The contract sat between them, heavy despite the flimsy parchment it was printed on. Sasesh didn't touch it. Didn't say anything at first. He could feel the group weighing the offer, turning it over in their minds. John broke the silence first.

"It's a fair deal. Honestly, it's safer than anything we've had so far." Professor Sanders nodded in agreement.

"And the structure here could be beneficial. It's not every day the System gives us a tool to enforce order." Kranti and John exchanged glances, then looked to Sasesh.

"Look," John said, "I get why you're hesitant. But think about Kyle. He's down a leg. He's not going to be mobile for a while. We can't just carry him around while monsters try to rip us apart." Kranti nodded.

"We can't leave him. And having a base to come back to after grinding levels in the swamp? That could be a huge advantage. We fight hard, then recover here." Sasesh frowned.

"And how long until we get soft? Until this place becomes a crutch? A cage?"

"It's not forever," Nadean said gently.

"We stay, rest, and recover. John and Kranti are right, Kyle isn't going anywhere anytime soon and we can't just leave him here alone." Professor Sanders folded his hands.

"Survival comes first." Sasesh looked at each of them in turn. Kranti. John. Professor Sanders. Nadean. They all looked steady, certain this was the right decision. Nadean gave him a slight nod. He sighed, leaning back in his chair.

"Alright," he said quietly.

"We can try it." John stood, walked to the door, and opened it.

"Richard," he called. The man was standing just a few meters away, hands folded behind his back. As if he'd been waiting. He returned to the room with a smooth, measured pace.

"Have you all decided?" Sasesh met his gaze.

"We'll stay. For now." Richard smiled.

"Then let's make it official." One by one, they stepped forward and signed the contract. Each signature glowed faintly before vanishing into the parchment. As Richard collected the completed agreement, his smile didn't falter.

"Welcome to Camp Persistence." The firelight had died down to embers. Camp Persistence was quiet, most of its inhabitants either asleep or on rotation for the night watch. Sasesh stood near the perimeter wall, arms crossed, eyes scanning the treetops just beyond the palisade. The air was still, but his thoughts weren't. Heavy footsteps approached from behind. Sasesh turned. A tall man stepped into view, broad-shouldered and muscular, with a clean-shaven head that reflected the dim moonlight.

His face was hard, but not unfriendly.

"Name's Earl," the man said in a low voice.

"Mind if I stand with you a bit?" Sasesh shrugged.

"Free clearing." Earl stood beside him, eyes following Sasesh's, out into the swampy trees. For a moment, neither spoke. Then Earl asked, quietly, "What do you think of this place?" Sasesh turned slightly, narrowing his eyes.

"Why?" Earl let out a slow exhale.

"'Cause I saw it in your face earlier. You're not buying the act either." Sasesh said nothing. Earl continued.

"I knew the second you stepped through the gate. You're not like the others. You're not taken in by Richard's polished words and promises. And I've got to say—I'm glad I'm not the only one." Sasesh gave him a sideways look.

"You planning something?" Earl shook his head.

"Not like that. I just… can't stay here. Something about this place feels wrong. Off. Too perfect, too controlled compared to the Tutorial we were thrown into. We're in a survival scenario and these people are building a utopia? Doesn't make sense." Sasesh's jaw tensed. He'd had the same thought—more than once.

"My group," Earl went on, "they're happy here. Comfortable. They don't want to leave, and I'm not going to drag them out. But me? I can't stay. My gut's never steered me wrong, and it's screaming at me now." He turned and looked Sasesh in the eye.

"I saw the same doubt in you. So I figured I'd ask—want to come with me? I'm heading out at first light. Just me. But I wouldn't mind the company of someone else who hasn't fallen under whatever spell this place is casting."