Kaldalis made it about halfway back to his tent before someone stopped him.

It took a moment for his aggravated brain to process that the hand on his arm belonged to Haldir. He was halfway to ripping the fingers off him, and so dropped his hand to his side.

“You look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks. I wasn’t thinking about how my mood might affect the camp’s aesthetic.”

“You know what I mean,” Haldir said with a frown. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

Kaldalis hesitated for a second, and looked around. The immediate area was empty, and so if he started freaking out, it wasn’t going to draw a huge crowd. But Haldir didn’t really deserve to be subjected to the maelstrom raging around in his brain.

Then again, Haldir did ask.

Kaldalis felt as if he could have a little meltdown.

As a treat.

“You know, no. Not everything is okay.” Kaldalis took a deep breath. “I just… I feel unappreciated. I’ve pushed so hard to get things done here. I’ve done so much to try and help people. I’ve sidetracked my time to help people with their quests and crafting material needs. I’ve given up so much time fishing for the sake of keeping us all from suffering malnutrition. I’ve given up an entire week just spamming that fucking dungeon even though there are a hundred things I’d rather do with my time. I’ve risked my life - or at least a good chunk of aplomb - getting the censer ready for that first Infernal Horde attack, and helping keep the camp in one piece through the second.” He threw his hands up. “I even put myself in much less superficial danger to stop Onirioago from going through with her evil plan and turning us all into drug zombies!”

Haldir nodded, without hesitation. “You have done a lot. I don’t think that’s up for debate.”

“Could have fooled me.” The words felt bitter and petty, but Kaldalis didn’t care. “Nobody wants to acknowledge it. Literally nobody wants to give me any credit. Any praise. I’m busting my ass soldiering along, and everyone fucking ignores me.”

“To be entirely fair,” Haldir said, “you don’t do those things alone. You weren’t the only one running people through dungeons all week. You didn’t take down Onirioago alone. And the person you helped most was yourself, by supporting your friends.”

Kaldalis rolled his eyes. “Jesus man, are you here to pick me up, or to knock me further down?”

“Fine.” Haldir sighed and rubbed at his face, and Kaldalis couldn’t help but see it as the same way a tired parent dealt with an overreacting child. “You’re not wrong. You deserve more of a reputation than you have. I can’t stress this enough: you’re insane. You soloed half a dungeon because you couldn’t bear to let a rodent with a charm get away from you.”

“I’m pretty sure enhydras are otters, and otters are mustelids,” Kaldalis said with a wan smile, “making them more closely related to dogs and cats than rodents.”

“Thanks for being pedantic,” Haldir said. “What I mean is you’ve done the impossible. Sometimes for stupid reasons, but it’s no less impressive. I’m just trying to convey that you’ve gotten away with that shit because Balrim and Myrin were there for you.”

“I know that,” Kaldalis said, “obviously.”

He remembered very clearly the two of them rushing to his rescue when Ara had him expecting death. And saving him from the dungeon boss. Honestly, he kind of expected them to show up now and save him from acting like an ass.

But there was no battle cry. Just Haldir and his particular brand of frustrated grimace.

“You don’t know what they were like in the dungeon after we got split,” Haldir said. “Balrim flinched every time you took a hit. Myrin pushed all three of us to our limit trying to get to you.” He shook his head. “As much as I’m sure it feels like you’re doing, it’s not alone. You shouldn’t be surprised that you’re not getting sole recognition for what all three of you - or four of us - have done.” He shrugged. “Or at least, you shouldn’t be surprised that your reputation is being throttled by it having not been done all alone.”

Kaldalis took a deep breath.

While he’d been hoping for an ego boost, he was instead getting a reality check. It didn’t feel good to hear, but Haldir wasn’t wrong. Kaldalis hadn’t considered how much he’d been minimizing his friends’ impact on his exploits.

It actually felt like a dick move, since he was talking to one of those friends.

“You’re right, Haldir,” Kaldalis said at last. “I’m being unrealistic about this.”

“Not completely, but yes.”

“I just feel… I don’t know,” Kaldalis said with a sigh. “I want some recognition, you know? I want to be validated for my work.”

“I was just thinking about something for that,” Haldir said. “Do you remember when we first entered the dungeon? It told us the fastest time anyone had completed it.”

“Right,” Kaldalis said, “the speedrun message.”

“It lists the times and names of the fastest run, and those names will stay there until someone beats it. If you want validation, we just get a dream team together. If we set an unbeatable run, we’re immortal.

“One of the tanks I ran with discovered you can skip the first firmacid pack,” Haldir continued. “You can run around the Vendagora’s sight range while the beetles are on the ceiling and not deal with any of them. I think you might be able to do the same with some other packs as well.” His gestures were growing more animated. “We’ll have to do a couple dozen runs, and probably test out the different second bosses to develop the best route. But if we put in the time and keep our secrets under our hats, it shouldn’t take long to set a record that’ll stand for years.”

Kaldalis frowned. “Okay. Seriously, you’ve put some time into thinking about this. Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Haldir asked with a grimace. “This is a dangerous island. Have you talked to Bangen since yesterday? Someone found a monster that can literally paralyze you for up to thirty minutes, and then take its time murdering you. It just walked up on them in the jungle, no dungeon, no warning, no mercy.” The teal-skinned vathon shuddered.

Kaldalis did, too.

Haldir didn’t seem to notice, however. “You don’t understand it. You don’t stay dead. I only have this one shot. I want my name to live on beyond whatever horror gets the drop on me.”

“There are less obnoxious ways to do that than spending the next month routing a speedrun,” Kaldalis said with a smirk. “There’s always the classic way. Just find an amenable woman and give the world Haldir Junior.”

“My newfound appreciation of my mortality definitely makes that seem like a better idea than it used to be.” Haldir mirrored Kaldalis’s smirk. “But that’s if we make it back to Baimer. Look at this place, Kaldalis.” He swept an arm out at the camp. And then the jungle beyond. “Do you think anyone wants to raise a kid here?”

“Alright, then help me make this a place worth raising a kid,” Kaldalis said. “We get me elected Expedition Leader and I’ll make this place a town. With me in charge - at least at the start - I make sure we focus on security. Built a school or set up daycare facilities.”

“Whoa, whoa.” Haldir raised his hands. “You started strong with the idea that there were less obnoxious ways to leave a mark on the world, and then you reversed course and went entirely the opposite direction. Listen to yourself. You’d rather be the Expedition Leader than take a few dungeon runs? You think I’d rather try and start a family out here in a tent in the jungle than do some trial and error?”

“I was making a run at that anyway,” Kaldalis grumbled.

“Of course you were,” Haldir sighed. Kaldalis could almost see Haldir shoving his excitement and interest back under the guise of the disgruntled parent. “I should have known from where this conversation started.” Haldir thrust a finger towards him. “You’re bending over backwards trying to make your problem my solution.”

“Oh, fuck off. What are you, a teenager? Faced with your own mortality, you want to do something stupid and meaningless to take a shot at leaving your name behind? A speedrun is never going to work for that. In a few months, people will find the level cap. They’ll come back here with raid gear and obliterate your time without half the tricks you want to grind out.” Kaldalis shrugged. “You got your name on the first clear, right? At least that’s something that will last forever, and won’t vanish into history before this time next year.”

“Maybe I want something that isn’t blind luck,” Haldir snapped. “I want to be remembered for putting the time and effort in. I want these hypothetical assholes coming back to take my record to have to work for it. To look at those names and wonder how we did it. How they had to work so hard to beat people wearing charms they wouldn’t wipe their asses with.” He stepped up in Kaldalis’s face. “I want to earn my fame. My reputation. My validation. I don’t want it just handed to me.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Kaldalis said, shoving Haldir away. “You have a funny way of wanting to be remembered. Kicking me while I’m down.”

“No. You have a funny way of wanting to be recognized. You know you only managed what you’ve done because of your friends. And now I’m here offering you help again. I could find any tank for this. You’re not even my first choice. I’m asking you to join me because you’re my friend.”

“I bet I can guess your first choice,” Kaldalis muttered, bitterly.

“Honestly, I was just looking for the people who hold the current record when I found you,” Haldir said. “Garyung was just in the party that-”

Kaldalis punched Haldir in the mouth.

He didn’t know if he meant to until it happened.

But it felt fucking good.

And also terrible.

Kaldalis didn’t get a damage readout from the hit, but Haldir looked no less shocked.

But that shock vanished under a veneer of disgust and disappointment.

“How heroic,” Haldir said dryly. “You know, we’re so lucky to have you as our savior, Kaldalis.” He spit at the ground at Kaldalis’s feet. “Enjoy your validation.”

Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving Kaldalis with a sore knuckle and a shitty feeling in the pit of his stomach.