It had been almost two years since Sébastien became an adventurer, and in that time, he had learned more than he ever expected. The world wasn't kind to those who weren't prepared, and every mission, every raid, every failure had taught him something new.

He had learned how to survive—how to read the signs of danger before they hit, how to adjust on the fly when plans fell apart. He had learned that strength wasn't just about raw power; it was about resilience, about standing back up even when the world seemed determined to keep you down. He'd learned that trust wasn't easily given, and sometimes it was earned with actions, not words.

But more than anything, he'd learned the value of teamwork. It wasn't enough to just be good at what you did; you had to rely on the people around you, and they had to rely on you. You couldn't make it alone in this world—no matter how skilled you were.

Sébastien gazed up at the stars, the quiet hum of the night wrapping around him like a familiar cloak. His mind wandered, tracing paths he hadn't dared to follow before. He had been toying with the idea for some time now, letting it grow quietly in the back of his thoughts. A dream that felt as heavy as it did distant—something more than the life he'd been living.

Not just showing up when someone needed an extra hand, not just filling a slot in some squad. He didn't want to be the guy they called when things went sideways, the one who followed orders because it was expected, not because he believed in the cause. He was tired of being a cog in a machine, a nameless face in the crowd.

He wanted to build something real—his own team.

He imagined it—a group of people who weren't just there because they had to be. No more empty alliances, no more working with people who didn't care about the mission, only about their own survival. He wanted a team where trust wasn't a currency, it was the foundation. He wanted people who fought not just for the mission, but for each other, people who were there because they chose to be, not because the job was theirs by default.

No more following someone else's orders. No more waiting for someone else to tell him what to do. He wanted to lead—not with commands, but with purpose. He wanted to shape a team that wasn't just a collection of individuals, but something stronger, something that could hold each other up no matter the odds.

Something he could create from the ground up, not inherit, not borrow. A team built on shared values, on loyalty and mutual respect. It was a dream that felt like a risk, like a fragile thing that could shatter if he wasn't careful. But it was the only dream that made sense anymore.

It was risky, sure. But maybe the most risky things were also the most worth chasing. 

The more Sébastien thought about it, the clearer it became. Every choice he had made so far, every leap of faith, had been wrapped in uncertainty, but it was that uncertainty that had shaped him.

He had come this far not by following the safe path, but by listening to something deeper inside of him—the same pull he had felt the first time he stepped onto this path. 

***

The next few nights, Sébastien couldn't stop thinking about the team. It consumed him, a fire that wouldn't let him rest. Whether he had just returned from a grueling raid, muscles aching and fatigue weighing on him, or knew he had to wake up early the next morning to prepare for another mission—his mind never stopped. The idea of building a team was always there, swirling in his thoughts, keeping him up long after the others had fallen asleep. He could see the team in his mind's eye, a fragmented vision of people—strangers for now—who would one day stand by his side.

Even during raids he'd sit by the campfire, staring into the flames, letting the crackling embers ignite his imagination. He'd pull out a worn piece of parchment, scribbling down ideas with a makeshift quill, his hand trembling slightly from the exhaustion but driven by something deeper. He had to figure out the right balance. Who did he need? What kind of people? What kind of skills?

But how was he even supposed to begin? What would a team truly need?

He knew his own role. One-handed sword, agile, precise. He didn't overwhelm with brute force; his skill was in timing, speed, and cutting down his enemies with controlled strikes. But in chaos, precision alone wasn't enough. He needed someone who could steady the field when everything fell apart.

He needed someone who could cover him—who could be his anchor when things got out of hand. He'd seen it time and again—the best plans fell apart the moment chaos broke out. Someone had to be able to read the flow of battle, to step in when everything went sideways. Someone who could think on their feet, adapt, and protect the others from the things they didn't see coming.

His mind kept returning to Xander—he wasn't perfect, far from it. But there was something there. A fire, a rawness, that could be molded into something greater. Xander didn't need anyone to give him permission. He would follow, but he would never bend to someone else's will. That kind of loyalty, that kind of strength, was hard to come by.

But would Xander agree to join him? But even if he would, Xander alone wouldn't be enough. A bruiser mage and a sword user could only take a team so far. Sébastien knew what they lacked—support, range, adaptability. They needed someone who could see the field from above, who could manage the chaos while they were in the thick of it. Someone whose presence meant survival, not just strength.

The hours slipped by, and as the firelight flickered low, but Sébastien couldn't let it go. He'd been working for hours, his thoughts scattered between possibilities, but he knew he was getting closer to something. He just needed time. Time to find the pieces that fit. But that was okay. 

Time, after all, was something he had.