The question hung in the air, unanswered. For a moment, no one spoke. Outside, the storm raged on, lightning illuminating the cabin in brief, blinding bursts. The plane hummed steadily beneath them.


    “About the levels,” Tim began, a frown creasing his forehead. “I didn’t see mine on my evaluation.”


    Lacerta took a sip from her drink before answering. “You’re obviously at Level 0 now, but if you’re curious, you’ll be able to see all your information after entering the capsule.”


    “The capsule?” Samantha asked, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.


    “Yeah, that–” Lacerta took another sip, her tone casual, almost dismissive. “You’ll use the capsule to enter the Mysteries. Much easier than the old method.”


    Right. Luca recalled reading in Pendulum’s Extras that before the invention of the capsules, the only method was to ‘go to sleep in the Crypt and see where you end up.’ No wonder she couldn’t avoid mentioning it. However, he doubted that there would be an explanation about this.


    No. There was no more words regarding the matter. In truth, there were no words.


    Luca glanced at the others out of the corner of his eyes. Sam looked at Lamia, her hands clenched so tightly her knuckles were white. Tim shifted uncomfortably in his seat, pursing his lips. What were they thinking so deeply about? This was a good moment for them to ask questions. Later, they might not have the chance to ask so freely without paying the toll.


    “Could you tell us more about the different kinds of Rules?” Luca asked after a moment. It was good idea to start planting the seed. “If we’re starting soon, we might not have enough time to familiarize ourselves with them.”


    It wasn'' an excuse. He knew they wouldn''t be getting the time to peruse about ''little details'' like this one.


    Lacerta hummed thoughtfully. “Alright. Death Rules are already covered. Omen Rules are like the warning signs–if you notice them, you can usually avoid triggering the Death Rules. And then there are Split Rules,” she said, her smile widening. “Commonly called ‘Splits.’ They’re rare, especially in one- or two-star worlds. They’re triggered when you fulfill a set of conditions that open up new possibilities. Think of it like unlocking a hidden path in a game. They’re tied to Extra Missions–“she paused, and took a sip.


    “Don’t think too much about that for now, alright? ” Her gaze grew serious. “Experienced recruits die eight out of ten times trying to find Splits, so don’t go looking for trouble.”


    Luca’s gaze flicked briefly to Sam, his mind flashing to the description of her death. Yes, even the top could die due this kinda of thing. But his thoughts lingered on another detail–his own plans to complete missions in the best way possible. It seemed he’d have to -well, ignore this important piece of advice.


    Tim pressed further. “What if I find another rule? Will I get a bonus or something?”


    Lacerta’s smile widened, revealing teeth that seemed sharper than before. “Opportunist, right? What an interesting, dangerous Trait.”


    Her words made Tim’s eyes widen before he frowned.


    “The quick answer is yes. If any of you discover a new rule–and survive–you’ll receive a bonus. A substantial one, even.” Her eyes gleamed with a predatory light. “But ask yourself this, Mr. Reeds: how many people died uncovering the rules we do know? And how confident are you that you won’t join them?”


    Silence hung heavy, her words pressing down like a mountain. The room felt heavier, the tension palpable as the recruits processed the implications of what Lacerta had just revealed. Or tried to, at least. They wouldn’t understand the real danger until they lived it –with their lives truly at stake.


    “Any other questions?” Lacerta asked lightly, her tone almost casual as she glanced toward Samantha with an encouraging smile.


    Samantha hesitated, then spoke up. “About the Traits,” she began, licking her lips nervously. “Can they be changed?”


    “No,” Lacerta answered, her voice firm and final, even as her tone remained deceptively soft. “It surprises me none of you mentioned them before. This part of the System always catches the attention of recruits–for better or worse.” She paused. “Now, while Traits can’t be changed, don’t let them define you. Learn to work with them. And, before anyone asks, you’ll earn more of them as you participate in missions and level up.”


    Luca’s mind flickered to Samantha’s Trait, and he understood why she’d asked. Compassionate sounded good on paper, but it was a bit too people–oriented. While a Charisma bonus had its benefits, it also came with disadvantages. It wasn’t surprising she’d already discovered hers–even if they hadn’t been really revealed. The system was like that for puny noodles.


    What a shame. Neither of them would be a fighter anytime soon.


    “Oh, right, before I forget,” Lacerta said, her tone shifting to businesslike. “You’ll be working under one of three Delta Squadrons, so I’ll give you your assignments now.” A flicker of something crossed her face before she addressed each of them individually, her voice authoritative. “Mr. Reeds, you’ve been assigned to Delta–03–or Delta–N. A representative couldn’t join us, but don’t worry, you’ll meet them on the island. Mr. Olson, you’re with Delta–02, also known as Delta–M. You’ll be with Michael. And Miss Green…” Her smile softened ever so slightly. “You’re with me in Delta–01–or Delta–L. Welcome.”


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    “Thank you, Miss Lacerta,” Samantha replied, offering a polite smile.


    Lacerta nodded, and then continued, “Part of your contract requires you to select a designation. You probably already suspect this, but it must be a name starting with the same letter as your team.”


    “Delta–N,” Tim muttered, rolling the syllables around in his mouth like they tasted rare. “Can I choose any name that starts with N?”


    “Exactly,” Lacerta confirmed, her grin turning sly. “Feel free to pick whatever suits you –even traditionally feminine names, a rock band or a dessert name if that’s your preference. Go wild.”


    Tim scoffed but looked thoughtful, his fingers tapping absently against his knee. Sam, for her part, was glancing through the window, pursing her lips.


    Meanwhile, Lacerta returned to the front of the cabin, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. The screen behind her flickered briefly, displaying static for a fraction of a second before stabilizing.


    The sharp sound of the curtain being pulled back startled Luca from his thoughts. Michael emerged, stepping into the cabin with an ease that felt almost predatory. His presence filled the space, commanding attention without effort. Unlike Lacerta, whose menace simmered beneath a veneer of professionalism, Michael exuded the air of a crocodile sunbathing on the rocks–calm, but filled of teeth.


    “Have you finished briefing the rookies?” he asked Lacerta, his voice smooth and low.


    Lacerta nodded, her cheerfulness replaced by something colder, more formal. “They should be ready. I told them to choose a designation in the meantime.”


    “That’s a good idea,” Michael said, nodding approvingly at her before turning his gaze toward the group. His eyes swept over them slowly, lingering on each face as though sizing them up. When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of someone who’d seen it all. “Don’t rush your decision. You won’t be changing your designation anytime soon. Don’t pick something frivolous. Don’t use your real name or the name of someone you loved.” His lips curled into a faint smirk. “Trust me, it gets messy when you have to see and answer to that name in reports–or personally.”


    He paused, his gaze sharpening. “Don’t be the one with their ex’s name, please.”


    It was good advice. And yes, there was one –or a couple- of stories there.


    “Right. Some names are already taken,” Lacerta added, her tone practical. “So I’d recommend picking at least three options.”


    “Why can’t we use our own names?” Tim asked, his voice tinged with skepticism.


    Lacerta and Michael shared a look before she answered. “I told you about the Roles, right? There are consequences if you don’t keep a certain barrier between yourself and those identities.”


    You go crazy, Luca summarized silently.


    A sudden, piercing noise cut through the cabin–a high–pitched whine that set everyone''s teeth on edge. For a split second, the agents’ faces betrayed genuine surprise, sharing a frown and an unreadable look. On their part, the recruits exchanged uneasy glances, unsure whether the sound meant.


    Lacerta recovered first, smoothing her expression with practiced ease. "Alright," she said briskly, clapping her hands together once. "You’ll have a couple of hours to think about your designations. But now…" Her smile returned. "It’s time to see your new home."


    As both agents sat down on two empty chairs on a corner and tightened their belts, the plane descended rapidly, jolting violently as it hit the runway. The turbulence rocked the airplane, as if the aircraft itself resisted landing down. Outside, the world blurred past the windows–grey asphalt and trees under an overcast sky. Lightning flickered sporadically, casting a game of shadows inside the cabin.


    For a splint second, the idea they all would die crossed his mind.


    The plane’s engines whirred to a halt, and the cabin fell into silence. Luca unbuckled his seatbelt, his movements slow and deliberate. Around him, the rest of his coworkers stood, their faces unreadable. They moved like oiled machines. A Pendulum operative dressed in a warm orange sweater appeared at the front of the cabin, gesturing for them to disembark.


    Logistic Corps. They were a bunch of fearless people, perhaps even more than the Security Corps of the island.


    Without a word, Luca followed the line of people down the boarding ramp, his suitcase in one hand and his thermos in the other.


    The cold wind hit him immediately, sharp and biting, carrying the faint, salty scent of the sea. The air felt heavier here, charged with an unspoken charged tension. Ahead, the road stretched out like a gray desert, leading to a cluster of low, utilitarian buildings not so far from there. Michael stood waiting at the bottom of the ramp, his back straight and sunglasses perfectly in place.


    “This way,” Michael said, his voice calm but firm. He turned and began walking, not bothering to check if the others were following.


    Luca fell into step behind him, his eyes scanning the surroundings. The island felt… off. It was beautiful, of course. Lush green open spaces stretched out around the paved road, and a line of sleek, modern buildings stood in the distance, their silhouettes sharp against the horizon. But the ground beneath his feet wasn’t stable. He could feel subtle vibrations traveling up through his legs with each step. A small detail, but one that set his nerves on edge.


    In front of him, Tim muttered something under his breath, his tone low and uneasy. Samantha kept glancing over her shoulder, her eyes darting toward the line of trees that bordered the path–or perhaps she was looking at the tall fences standing a few meters away. They were imposing, after all, their metallic surfaces gleaming under the sunlight.


    A black bus with tinted windows waited at the end of the path, just beyond the barriers. Michael gestured for them to enter first, his movements efficient and unhurried. Luca found a seat in the middle, noting that there were plenty of empty spots. The interior was sleek and modern, but the air felt heavy, charged with unspoken tension.


    When everyone was inside, Michael stood at the front of the bus as it began to move.


    “I won’t make this long,” Michael began, pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. “‘You’ve heard what’s ahead, and you’ve experienced the Interview firsthand. But understand this: you’re no longer on the same page as the rest of the world. Not here.”


    He paused, letting the words sink in, his gaze sweeping over the group. Even hidden behind his sunglasses, the intensity of his eyes could be felt. “This island–G–zilla–is its own world. You’ll need to adapt to it, too. The faster you understand that, the better off you’ll be.” He leaned back slightly. “Adapt or die trying.”


    …Well. That guy sure was something.