So what if I am just a mob in a novel : I will get what I want

Mo Tang leaned back against the rock, her fingers idly tracing the hilt of her dagger. The firelight danced across the campsite, illuminating the tension that lingered like a heavy fog.

She cast a glance at Erin, who was meticulously sharpening his sword, his gaze flicking toward Rishitha every so often. The girl was asleep—or pretending to be. Either way, Mo Tang could tell Erin wasn't going to let his suspicions rest.

"She's hiding something," Erin had muttered earlier.

He wasn't wrong.

Mo Tang's fingers tightened around her dagger. She had seen the same things he had: Rishitha's uncanny ability to predict dangers, her seemingly miraculous survival instincts, the strange glow that had enveloped her back in the cave.

But none of that mattered—not to Mo Tang.

Mo Tang wasn't the kind of person who threw her trust around easily. In this world, trust was dangerous, a gamble that often cost more than it was worth. But Rishitha... she was different.

When the cave-in happened, it was Rishitha who had pulled her out of the rubble. When the traps triggered, it was Rishitha who had figured out the puzzle that saved them all.

And when the guardians attacked, it was Rishitha who had stood her ground, even when she was clearly terrified.

That kind of bravery didn't come from someone who was trying to manipulate or deceive.

"She's not like us," Mo Tang murmured, almost to herself.

Erin looked up, his brow furrowing. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Mo Tang shrugged, her tone casual. "You and I, we've been through this kind of hell before. We've seen things, done things. Rishitha hasn't. She's not like us—she's still trying to do the right thing."

Erin scoffed, the sound harsh in the quiet night. "And you think that makes her trustworthy?"

"I think it makes her human," Mo Tang shot back.

Mo Tang's mind drifted back to the cave, to the way Rishitha's hands had trembled as she reached out to deactivate the traps. She had been terrified—anyone could see that.

But she had done it anyway.

That kind of determination, that kind of grit... it was rare.

Mo Tang sighed, leaning her head back and gazing up at the stars. "Look, Erin. I'm not saying she's an open book. Hell, I don't know half of what's going on in her head. But I know this: she's saved our lives more than once already. That's good enough for me."

Erin didn't reply, but his expression remained skeptical

Mo Tang's instincts prickled. The forest was too quiet, the usual sounds of nocturnal creatures oddly absent.

She rose to her feet, her hand instinctively going to her dagger. "Something's off."

Erin stiffened, his sword already in hand. "What is it?"

"I don't know." Mo Tang scanned the darkness, her eyes narrowing. "But I don't like it."

A soft rustling sound came from the edge of the clearing. Mo Tang's heart raced as she stepped closer to the fire, her back to Rishitha's sleeping form.

Erin moved beside her, his sword glinting in the firelight. "Stay sharp."

Mo Tang's grip tightened on her dagger as a shadow moved at the edge of the trees. Her keen eyes caught the faintest glint of red—eyes watching them from the darkness.

"Erin," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"I see it," he murmured back.

The shadow shifted, then vanished as if it had never been there.

Mo Tang swallowed hard, her pulse hammering in her ears. "We're not alone."

Erin nodded, his expression grim. "Stay close. And wake Rishitha."

Mo Tang crouched down, gently shaking Rishitha's shoulder. "Hey. Wake up. We've got company."

Rishitha stirred, her eyes fluttering open. For a moment, she looked disoriented, but then she sat up, her gaze sharpening.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice low.

"Trouble," Mo Tang replied.

As the three of them stood together, weapons drawn, Mo Tang couldn't help but feel a strange sense of camaraderie.

Whatever secrets Rishitha was hiding, whatever doubts Erin had, none of it mattered right now. They were a team, bound together by the sheer will to survive.

And as the shadows closed in around them, Mo Tang knew one thing for certain: she would fight to protect this fragile alliance, no matter what it took.Chapter: Erin's Perspective

Erin's grip on his sword tightened, the familiar weight grounding him as he scanned the darkness. His instincts screamed at him to act, to strike before whatever was out there could close in, but he held himself back. Barely.

Rishitha had stirred awake, her expression still groggy but rapidly sharpening with awareness.

Erin's gaze flicked toward her, his jaw clenching.

Rishitha.

From the moment she had stumbled into his line of sight back in the forest, Erin had felt something was... off about her. Not necessarily wrong—just different.

She wasn't like Mo Tang, whose sharp eyes and sharper instincts spoke of someone forged by hardship. Nor was she like him, someone who had long since abandoned the luxury of doubt or hesitation.

Rishitha was soft. Fragile.

And yet, she kept surviving.

It didn't make sense.

He'd seen her hesitate in battle, seen the fear that clouded her eyes when danger loomed. She wasn't trained, wasn't hardened, and certainly didn't seem like someone who should be alive after everything they'd been through.

But she was.

Erin's mind replayed the moments from the cave—the traps disarmed, the guardians dodged, the faint glow that had emanated from her hands.

"How?" he muttered under his breath, so softly that even Mo Tang wouldn't hear.

She wasn't strong. She wasn't fast. She wasn't clever in the ways that survival demanded.

And yet, every time death seemed inevitable, she pulled through.

Erin hated mysteries, hated things he couldn't explain. And Rishitha was a walking, breathing enigma.

He didn't trust her. Not entirely.

Trust was a currency too valuable to spend lightly. And in a world like this, it often came with a price tag attached—a knife in the back, a betrayal when it mattered most.

But Rishitha had done nothing to earn suspicion, either.

She had saved Mo Tang. Had stood her ground, even when her legs were shaking.

He'd seen her pain, her uncertainty, the way she looked at the ground as though the weight of the world was pressing her down. She wasn't someone who would stab them in the back.

At least, not deliberately.

What was she hiding?

Erin's eyes flicked to her again, watching as she rose to her feet, her movements still stiff from exhaustion. She wasn't telling them everything—he could feel it in his gut.

But then again, who in this group was?

He had his own secrets, things he would never share with anyone, not even Mo Tang. Secrets that weighed heavier than the sword in his hand.

Maybe Rishitha's secrets were the same. Maybe they were burdens she carried alone, for reasons he couldn't yet understand.

Or maybe they were the kind of secrets that would get them all killed.

Erin shook his head, trying to dispel the thoughts. Now wasn't the time to get lost in his doubts.

But his gaze lingered on Rishitha, watching as she adjusted her grip on her weapon—a crude knife she'd scavenged earlier.

She didn't look like a fighter. Didn't act like one. But she kept trying.

And that, more than anything else, made him angry.

Why did she keep trying?

Why didn't she just collapse under the weight of it all, the way so many others would have?

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath.

Because he knew the answer.

Somewhere deep down, she believed she could make a difference. That she could save people.

That kind of belief was dangerous. It made people reckless. It made them blind to the realities of survival.

And yet... it was also something Erin couldn't bring himself to hate.

The rustling in the forest grew louder, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"Stay sharp," he said, his voice low but firm.

Mo Tang nodded, her dagger glinting in the firelight. Rishitha tightened her grip on her knife, her eyes scanning the darkness.

Erin's lips pressed into a thin line.

He didn't trust her. Not yet.

But for now, she was part of their group. And as long as she was, he would protect her.

Because no matter what secrets she was hiding, no matter how fragile she seemed...

She had saved them before.

And maybe, just maybe, she would do it again.

Erin took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus. His thoughts about Rishitha would have to wait. The shadows around them were thickening, and the distant rustling was growing louder, more erratic.

"Positions," he barked, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

Mo Tang moved swiftly, falling into step beside him. Rishitha hesitated, her eyes darting between the trees, her expression tense.

"Rishitha, to the left," he ordered, softer this time. Her gaze snapped to his, and for a moment, Erin caught a glimpse of the storm brewing in her eyes—fear, uncertainty, and something else he couldn't quite name.

She nodded, her grip on the knife tightening as she moved into position.

Erin's eyes followed her for a moment longer than necessary. He hated how much space she was taking up in his mind.

She wasn't his responsibility—not really. She wasn't trained, wasn't prepared for this world's brutality. Yet, every time she stumbled, he found himself reaching out, steadying her.

Why?

It wasn't pity. Erin had seen too much to waste time pitying anyone.

Maybe it was the way she looked at danger—not with defiance or bravado, but with a quiet determination that refused to be snuffed out.

Or maybe it was the way she kept going, even when her body clearly screamed for her to stop.

The firelight flickered against Rishitha's face, highlighting the smudges of dirt and the faint scratches along her cheek. She didn't look like someone destined to survive in this hellish world.

But she didn't look like someone ready to give up, either.

Erin felt an unexpected pang of guilt. He had been harsh with her—pushing her, testing her limits. But wasn't that necessary? If she was going to survive, she needed to be stronger. Tougher.

And yet, he couldn't help but wonder if he was being too harsh.

As the rustling drew nearer, Erin's mind raced.

He didn't trust Rishitha.

But the thought of losing her left a hollow ache in his chest that he didn't want to acknowledge.

Was it because she had saved Mo Tang? Or because, for all her fragility, she had stood her ground in the cave?

Or was it something else entirely?

Erin shook his head, gripping his sword tighter. There was no time for doubt. No time for weakness.

"Focus," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

The rustling erupted into a cacophony of snapping branches and guttural growls. Shadows poured into the clearing, the shapes of beasts with glowing red eyes and slavering jaws.

Erin's instincts kicked in, and he moved without thinking, positioning himself between the group and the advancing creatures.

"Hold the line!" he shouted, his voice firm and commanding.

Rishitha stepped closer to him, her knife trembling in her hand. He glanced at her, and for the briefest moment, their eyes met.

"Stay behind me," he said, softer now, almost gentle.

She hesitated, then nodded.

The first beast lunged, and Erin met it head-on, his sword slicing through its hide. Blood sprayed, and the creature crumpled to the ground, but more surged forward.

Mo Tang moved like a shadow, her dagger flashing in the firelight as she struck with precision.

Rishitha held her ground, her eyes wide but steady. She wasn't fighting, not yet, but she wasn't running either.

Erin felt a surge of something he couldn't name—pride, maybe, or relief.

She wasn't strong. She wasn't fearless. But she was trying.

And in this world, sometimes that was enough.