CHAPTER 251: DISPARITY

He thought I was here to drag him straight into a suicide mission.

"We’re not heading there now," I said, already turning away. "There’s still some stuff I have to do first."

The relief that washed over him was almost comical.

His shoulders sagged, the tension left his jaw, and he let out a breath that sounded like he’d been holding it for hours.

I shook my head and started running again, trying to refocus on the damn daily quest so I could get it over with. But as my feet hit the dirt and the rhythm settled back in, a thought hit me hard enough to make me slow down mid-stride.

"Wait, Gork."

He froze mid-step and turned back toward me, still looking like someone who hadn’t fully recovered from the possibility of dying ten minutes ago.

"Come to think of it," I said as I walked up to him, "you’re also a Chosen, right? You have a system."

Gork blinked at me, brows knitting together in the kind of confused frown that asked why I was bringing up something so basic.

"I... believe so," he said slowly, almost cautiously, like he thought the question might be a trap. It was an obvious answer, but I needed it anyway.

"Then do you also get daily quests?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied with a quick nod.

"Oh..." The answer caught me off guard more than I expected. I genuinely didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to me earlier. The idea of him dealing with penalty zones or time limits or random punishments felt strange. Almost funny.

"And what are the tasks you get?" I asked, curiosity pushing the words out before I even filtered them.

I wondered if his system worked the same way mine did, or if the universe just liked bullying me specifically.

Gork answered without hesitation.

"Running for one kilometer, ten push-ups, ten sit-ups, and ten squats."

I stopped dead in my tracks.

"...What?"

He blinked, then repeated it exactly the same way, thinking maybe I hadn’t heard him properly. "Running for one kilometer, ten push-ups, ten sit-ups, and ten squats."

I stared at him, waiting for the rest, something harder, something that sounded even remotely like the hell my own daily quests threw at me, but that was it. That was the whole list. His entire routine. No climbing trees, no dodging falling stones, no sprinting with weight on your back, no weird system-induced torture masquerading as "training."

Just light exercise.

I clicked my teeth in irritation.

Of course.

Of course my own would be different. Nothing about my system was ever normal or simple, and even though that was good in some situations—great, even—in other moments, like now, it just sucked.

"Chief," Gork called softly, almost as if he was afraid of interrupting whatever storm was starting to brew on my face.

I let out a long sigh and forced myself back into the moment. No point getting lost in irritation when I could just ask him directly. So I did.

"Has there ever been a time you missed your daily quest and didn’t get a penalty?" I asked.

"Penalty?" Gork repeated, brows rising in genuine confusion.

My expression soured immediately. That reaction alone told me more than I wanted to know. Don’t tell me that hellish death run was something only I had to deal with.

"There’s no penalty for not doing the quest," Gork explained. "You just don’t receive the healing potion or stat points for that day."

I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt. My hand closed into a fist without me meaning to. No penalty at all. Not even a warning. He just missed out on a potion and some points—meanwhile, I got dragged into a desert full of level forty undead maniacs every time I slipped up.

It was even worse than I thought.

"Chief?" Gork called again, worry creeping into his voice as he watched whatever expression I was making. He could probably see how close I was to losing it.

I raised my head slowly, and Gork flinched the moment our eyes met, like he wasn’t sure if I was about to yell or explode or drop dead on the spot. I let out a long breath, forcing the tension out of my shoulders before it twisted into something I didn’t need.

"You can go," I said, keeping my voice steady. "I’ll get in contact with you later about heading to the enemy."

He nodded quickly, almost gratefully, and hurried off.

I stood there for a moment, letting the silence settle around me before exhaling again, deeper this time. There was no real point staying angry or frustrated. My system was different—unfairly so sometimes—but even that wasn’t something I could complain about with a straight face. I had an innate skill that was basically a cheat. A blessing disguised as a curse, or the other way around depending on the day. If the system wanted to balance that with harsher quests or nastier punishments... well, it could have been worse. A lot worse.

I sucked it up and pushed the irritation aside.

Once my head cleared a little, I resumed running through the camp, letting the rhythm of my steps pull me back into focus. As I moved, I took in the familiar sights: goblins sharpening weapons, others hauling materials, a few tending to fires or checking traps. The camp looked alive, busy, stronger than the mess it had been when I first arrived.

Eventually, my run brought me to the border of the settlement, where wooden planks had been woven together and propped up against a massive fence, forming a makeshift barrier that stretched across the outer edge of our territory.

At first glance, it looked too simple for something meant to keep danger out, and the doubt crept in almost immediately. Wood was wood. I couldn’t help wondering if it would actually hold when it counted.

I stepped closer and wrapped my hand around one of the wooden handles, pulling lightly just to test how much force it could take.

And to my surprise, it didn’t...