《Silentium Univsersi》


 Chapter 1: The First Layer

    The first thing John expected when waking up on a nice Monday morning was not a splitting headache. Neither was the cold concrete floor that greeted him, nor the blinking text that floated in front of his face, a topic which quickly became the center of his attention.


    [You have entered the first layer]


    [Calibrating¡­]


    [Data Synchronized]


    [Welcome¡­ John]


    What¡­? John was befuddled, staring at the translucent blue screen that hovered in front of him. He slapped the air, his hand merely passing through the anomalous text, something which confounded him even further. The text scrolled by at impossible speeds, as if changing and twisting as time went on. It blurred through his vision before he could even comprehend the meaning of the words, before suddenly more appeared again, blinking in front of his face. He jumped slightly, his back hitting a hardened, concrete wall, the same dull gray as the floor, before observing the surreal spectacle before him.


    [Scanning for Data¡­]


    [Core¡­ Absent]


    [Mana¡­ Absent]


    [Traits¡­ Absent]


    [Species¡­ Absent]


    [Error]


    [System data not found]


    [Initiating SystemInduction.sys]


    Before he knew it, John was overwhelmed with a piercing, stabbing pain. It dug into his entire body, enveloping all of his senses as he clenched his teeth. His muscles tensed, and he let out a pained scream, desperately trying to resist, but to no avail. It felt as if he was being squeezed on all sides, with some invisible, impenetrable force threatening to crush him. He panicked, flailing his arms around the open air as if he could push the pain away, just as the piercing, threatening force suddenly began to multiply. He could feel something foreign flowing through him, like a river through his veins, enveloping his bloodstream, invading his systems, like a virus eroding him from the inside out. Seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours as he stood there, unable to move.


    Just as he accepted his fate, the pain dissipated, gone as quickly as it came. He gasped for breath, as if he had been unfrozen from time itself, clutching at his chest with his hand. His breathing was staggered and rugged, as if overcoming a minacious coughing fit, and he quickly noticed a line of tears that dripped from his eyes.


    [Congratulations on your induction into the System]


    [Core: Copper]


    [Soul: Copper]


    [Traits: Masterful Crafter (Species Only)]


    [Species: Human]


    [Status:]


    [Strength: 10]


    [Constitution: 10]


    [Dexterity: 10]


    [Intelligence: 10]


    [Spirit: 10]


    [Charisma: 10]


    [Abilities: None]


    John¡¯s confusion continued to spiral out of control, his eyes widening in recognition. These¡­ they felt familiar, yet when he attempted to think back to it, he couldn¡¯t find the memory. Frowning, he dug further, yet it felt as if a hole had been forcefully dug out inside his mind, removing the memory. He knew it should be there, he could feel it on the tip of his tongue, yet he couldn¡¯t quite place it.


    [To ensure utmost fairness, all sentients¡¯ attributes are set to 10]


    [Good luck]


    ¡°What does this even mean?¡± He asked no one in particular, his voice cracking as he finally spoke. His body felt foreign, as if his mind had been placed into something new. Looking down at himself, he noticed that his previously skinny stature had been replaced by a slightly larger body, adorned with slim muscles, which hadn¡¯t been there before. Not to mention, he felt taller and lighter, like he could do a backflip on the spot.


    He stood tall, turning his attention to the hard, concrete floors that he stood on. Staring around himself revealed a strange light which permeated throughout the room, despite the lack of a lightbulb or natural lighting. The room was somehow fully lit, revealing four large concrete walls on each side of the room, one of which he was leaned against. His breath quickened as he looked for an exit of some kind, some form of way to return to his home, but he quickly realized that there was no door.


    [Generating Layer 1]


    [Calculating¡­]


    More text flooded his vision, appearing one instant and disappearing in the next, barely giving him enough time to read the messages that bombarded him.


    [Layer 1: Begin]


    The concrete floors around John turned a vibrant green, with fields of grass erupting from the ground as the room shifted, sloping and transforming into a vibrant hillside. The concrete walls seemingly fell away, revealing a bright, cloudless blue sky. Trees sprouted from the ground and grew within seconds, leaving John¡¯s mouth agape in shock. At the crest of the hill, a house blinked into existence, walls made of a brightly painted wood. A series of warm red shingles crowned the fantastical house, which sloped and slanted like something of a children¡¯s fairy tale.


    The cottage was bright and comforting, a stark contrast to the grey concrete walls from before. As John regained his senses, he turned around, seeing a small border of trees surrounding the hillside, obscuring his vision beyond. He scratched his head before turning back towards the cottage once more, noticing a chimney that wasn¡¯t there before, bellowing smoke. It all felt unnatural, as if the universe itself was artificially created and sculpted, like a painting. Even the smoke from the chimney felt off, yet it gave John a warm, fuzzy feeling, like he was returning home.


    He stood still for a minute, conflicted over what to do. On one hand, he was shocked and scared of the world around him, seeing such a casual display of absurd changes that seemingly broke the laws of physics. On the other hand, the cottage was terribly inviting, and he was desperate for someone or something to talk to, and the smoke that erupted from the chimney certainly pointed to activity inside the house. He tightened and untightened his fists, unsure of what to do, before taking a deep breath, his chest puffing out as his lungs reached its capacity and stepped up to the door.


    ¡°Hell-¡° He rapped the door with his fist as he called out a greeting, but as he pulled his hand back to knock a second time, he was interrupted by the door swinging open, startling him. Behind the door stood a bright, young woman, who appeared to be in her early twenties, with bright orange hair. Her face was smooth, bright and pale, and covered in small, puckish freckles, as if she were a character from a movie. She smiled brightly- for just a moment- before her face drooped to a quizzical frown. She tilted her head, looking at him, and he did the same.


    She wore a long, rustic dress, accompanied by a bright tan apron. Adorned atop her head was a small winter cap, made of smooth, untarnished leather. She was dressed as if snow piled along the ground, as if the icy winds would blow her away and send her shivering, yet the summer breeze was warm and inviting. She was slim, but fit, and when looking into her eyes, he noticed a distinct calmness behind her gaze, as if she was purely confident, her pride evident in her stance. She stood with her chest puffed out, her back straight, and her head held high, like a nobleman or an experienced scientist would when walking the open streets.


    ¡°Hello, dear traveler!¡± She smiled once more, a light, beaming smile as she spoke to him. Her voice was a unique accent, a mixture of English, and something he couldn¡¯t quite place his mind on. ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting visitors, but since you¡¯re here¡­ would you mind helping me with a task? Tis of utmost importance!¡± She bounced as she spoke, her voice shifting as she did so. She grabbed his hand before he could retort, pulling him towards her as she began to turn around, leading him inside.


    ¡°Wait- what?¡± He stumbled forwards, nearly falling on his face as she pulled him into the house. Her stature was small, but she was surprisingly strong, and he found that he couldn¡¯t break free of her tight grip. ¡°Who are you? Where am I?¡± He asked, desperation peeking through his questioning. ¡°What the hell is going on?! Text boxes, and- and the walls turned into¡­ this, wherever this is. Please, explain!¡± His voice was less demanding and more questioning, as if begging for an answer, but she ignored him, not even giving him a glance as she passed through the various rooms of her house, passing through a robust living room, with mountains of blankets strewn about, through a wonderous kitchen, with furniture painted to look like wood, and a library of beautiful, unending shelves of books. The ceiling was painted with layers of lovely, vibrant green, as if the roof was a canopy of trees, sunlight poking through the leaves, even if it was only paint. Finally, they stopped near a large flight of stairs, leading downwards into what John could only assume was the basement.


    ¡°Please, traveler! There¡¯s a beast in my basement! It crept through my windows and taunts me in the wee hours of the night¡­ Please!¡± Her palms clasped together in a temple, as if praying to the gods above. ¡°I just want to be free of this torment, of his quiet whispers in the night, tempting me to his clutching jaws. It drives me mad!¡± Her words were quick, heightened and energetic, as if she needed to release as much information as possible. It was quite overwhelming to John, who stood hesitantly, watching the door, fearing the worst.


    ¡°I-I- Look, lady, whoever you are, I¡¯m lost. I need help finding my way back home. Is there a map I could use, or a GPS, or whatever?¡± His eyes never left the ominous door, which sat obscured by the shadow of the staircase above it, shrouding it in darkness. ¡°If you¡¯ve got a beast, I¡¯m sure you can call an exterminator, or the police, I don¡¯t know how it works.¡± He took a step back from the ominous entryway, but found himself unable to move. She stood behind him, her hands firmly holding him in place.


    ¡°Please, traveler! There¡¯s a beast in my basement! It crept th-¡° Her words are exactly the same John noticed, as she repeated her previous exclamation, his brows furrowed in thought. This isn¡¯t real, it can¡¯t be. It¡¯s got to be some unique dream, some lucid nightmare or something. His hand flew to his face as he stood, contemplating. He bit down on his fingernail, feeling the temptation to walk away. I could just leave, go and wait for myself to wake up¡­ but something feels off here. His hand brushed against the wall, feeling the rough, grainy texture of the brick, feeling the thump! of his simple shoes stomping along the hardened wood floors. It felt real. It felt alive.


    He hesitated, for a moment, his mind reeling. Was he simply dreaming? But the woman clearly needed help, but would help even do anything? Ho-


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    [Objective Gained: Beryl¡¯s Plight]


    [Beryl¡¯s home has been invaded by a mysterious creature. Resolve the issue, or escape]


    [Reward: ???]


    His face jerked back, as his thoughts were interrupted by the blinking text, which appeared with a Ping! In front of him. Beryl, which he assumed was the woman¡¯s name, was staring at him blankly, an empty, hollow, stare. It¡¯s as if time froze itself, she didn¡¯t even blink until the floating text fell away from his view, and she resumed her previously frantic expression. This stupefied John further, and his brows furrowed in frustration as he tried to comprehend the situation.


    Suddenly, from the door, he saw a flash of shadow from under the gap in the door, where something stood in the doorway, listening to their conversation. He froze, watching the shadow, until a slow, strained scratching noise resounded across the hall. He couldn¡¯t tell what or who it was, but it sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Each resonating sound sent a chilling shiver down his spine,


    ¡°P-please!¡± Beryl¡¯s voice stuttered as she took a preemptive step back from the door, her leather shoes scraping across the bright wooden floors. Suddenly, her heel caught on a one legged table, which looked more like a wooden stool, and she fell to the ground, her hands slapping against the floorboards with a resounding clap!


    Just as John went to help her up, a piercing BANG! Rang out from the basement door, as the creature pushed against the wood. The hinges twisted and bent, showering the stairwell with splinters as the frame exploded outwards. A large figure, layered in dense, thick, black fur burst from the cloud of dust that settled in the stair well. It looked like a massive bi-pedal wolf, with glowing red eyes and fangs as big as icicles. A stream of drool fell from its gaping mouth as it rapidly made its way up the stairs, its thick claws punching holes into the walls as it threw itself upwards.


    It was up the stairs in an instant, as fast as John could blink. Each step the creature took stomped into the ground, sending an imposing thud echoing through the house, as it continued its murderous rampage towards the defenseless Beryl. John, shaken by the explosive activity, watched the creature begin to approach Beryl, who had scurried back along the wall, her back pressed to the wooden boards as she screamed at the top of her lungs. He knew she would die if nothing happened, but there¡¯s no way he could take on something like that, right? It was taller, stronger, and wider than him, there was no chance in hell her could win. However, could he live with that? Without at least trying to help the woman who¡¯d invited him in, begging for help?


    Without a second thought, John launched himself into the side of the wolf, who had largely ignored him during its sprint. He saw the bright red iris of the creature¡¯s eyes dart towards him as he moved, and it began to twist towards him, but not before John¡¯s large frame hit the center of its body, sending it flying off course, and crashing into a shelf that housed a collection of fine China, which shattered upon the destruction of said shelf. A flurry of sharp plate fell atop the wolf, with one of them embedding itself in its side, releasing a shuddering yelp that sounded more like a growl.


    John stood up quickly, finding his footing as the howling monster began to bleed along the floor, sending a line of small, scarlet splotches along the ground as it began to move once again, this time with its attention pointed towards John himself. ¡°Foo-lish Hu-man¡± it hissed through gritted teeth, standing on both legs for the first time. It looked much more bipedal than a quadruped, and its matted head touched the ceiling of the cottage, standing several feet above John¡¯s smaller, six foot frame.


    ¡°You can speak?¡± He asked, more to himself, his mind racing. He watched his enemy closely, waiting for a sudden jerk or flinch he could take advantage of, but finding none. It just watched him, slowly, its gigantic mass like an impenetrable wall, or at least one John knew he couldn¡¯t penetrate with just his bare fists. His eyes darted around the room, looking for something he could use as a weapon, but all the usable items were scattered across the floor. There was no chance he could get to something that fast, much less bending down to grab it. Knowing he couldn¡¯t reasonably fight back, he put up his fists, like a boxer, light on the balls of his feet.


    ¡°Ye-ssss¡± Its speech was broken, tattered, foreign, like it was testing the words with each syllable. Its jaw formed into a shriveling grin, twisting and distorting its already hideous face. ¡°De-ath, you will fi-nd, hu-man¡± It started moving towards him, slowly and raggedly. ¡°You dis-turb my pr-ey, Fee-ble as you are.¡± With those words, it raised a large paw, its razor sharp claws glinting in the light of a nearby chandelier. John tried to throw himself to the side, but the piercing razors swung down in a wide arc, shredding John¡¯s clothing and leaving a harsh gash deep into his gut. Blood spewed from the gaping wound as John fell to the ground, clutching his stomach in an attempt to halt the flow of blood.


    His breath fluttered as he spasmed on the ground, the words he attempted to scream instead came out as gargled, painful gasps. He felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him, struggling to breathe as he writhed, the sticky, slippery blood coating his hand a scarlet red. He fought with himself for who knows how long, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the creature cackling, smiling with glee as it watched him die, its eyes filled with ecstasy as it sniffed the air. It could smell it, the stench of death, as it began to settle onto the now stained floorboards.


    Just when John felt his vision blur, a loud voice erupted from the corner of the room:


    ¡°[Greater Healing]!¡± John¡¯s vision swung to where the voice originated from, seeing Beryl, cowering against the wall, her hand outstretched towards him, glowing in a soft green light that bathed the well lit room in a cascade of energy. As the rays touched him, he noticed the pain immediately begin to soften, and he watched as his skin painfully and slowly begin to stitch itself back together, until the gaping wound was fully closed, sealing itself, as if it never occurred in the first place. All that remained was a fleeting, phantom pain, and a lengthy scar that covered his previously unblemished skin. John was fascinated, observing the supernatural and irrational energy as it danced along the room, before he remembered the threat before him.


    Thinking fast, he pushed himself to his feet, regaining his balance as his head spun, making him dizzy. He leaned against the nearby wall, his eyes finding the creature, who stood, still amused at his attempt to fight back. He could see something change in its expression, a hint of annoyance as he watched John recover, but John didn¡¯t care anymore. All that mattered was fighting for his life.


    His hand found a nearby lamp which was surprisingly unbroken after being knocked off its stand, gripping it tightly, his knuckles tinged white as he held onto it for dear life, knowing this was his only weapon. He bent his legs like an athlete, preparing to move, before launching himself forwards, slamming the lamp towards the head of the beast. It tried to twist out of the way, but John¡¯s makeshift weapon slammed into it, shattering on contact but sending the beast rearing away, clutching the sides of its head.


    John grabbed a shard of broken glass and gripped it tightly, feeling the sharp edge piece into his hand, but he did not care, nor did he care about the spurt of blood that now ran down his palm, the smell of iron filling his nostrils. He followed after the beast as it staggered away, plunging the shard into its hide, before pulling it out, and slamming it back in again.


    It swiped at him, glancing his shoulder with its claws once more, but John barely flinched, continuing his barbaric rampage on the creature, his hoarse voice forming into a scream, which echoed in his ears as he finally heard the first whimper of fear from the creature. It only drove him further, and he kept stabbing it, filling with gashing, gaping wounds that would¡¯ve killed John hundreds of times over.


    It kept squirming, so he kept stabbing;


    And stabbing,


    And stabbing.


    Until finally, it shuddered as it took one long, final breath, its strength giving out as it fell still, dead. John did not care, however, plunging a few more thrusts into it, before falling backwards, his backside hitting the hard wood floors roughly. He took a deep breath, his head spinning. He felt light, as if nothing that was happening was real, like it was all a figment of his imagination, until he looked at his hands.


    The shard of glass he¡¯d used to kill the beast was broken and unrecognizable, with small shards piercing into his hands, leaving deep, painful wounds that now began to hurt with an intense pain, his hand slowly erupting into a series of piercing throbs, like a hive of bullet ants were taking turns biting him, turning his hand into a pasty mush. He let out a choked sob, feeling tears involuntarily reach his cheeks.


    He lay there for a few minutes, sobbing to himself as he processed the situation, before he felt a tap on his shoulder from behind him. He turned, seeing Beryl standing there, her hand once again glowing with an intense green light.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I must pull out those shards.¡± She said, sternly, her face layered with concern. ¡°It¡¯s necessary for me to heal your hand, unless you want shards of glass stuck in you forever.¡± She gave him a brief smile ¡°that lamp was an heirloom, just so you know. Passed down for centuries through my family.¡± She patted his shoulder, before reaching towards his hand and yanking out the sharp glass, provoking a pained howl from John, before moving to the next, and the next, until finally, his hand was nothing but a few lines of cuts. With the wave of her hand, she once again spoke those strange words, which echoed in a language John couldn¡¯t understand.


    [Greater Healing]


    Somehow, despite the words sounding alien, he understood what they meant, and his mouth fell open in awe as he observed the cuts stitch themselves back together, feeling the familiar sting as the cuts re-attached. ¡°What is this?¡± He asked, shocked at the potency of healing, his hand reaching for one of the distinct green rays of light which bathed the room, as if they were something he could touch.


    ¡°Magic, my dear boy. ¡®Tis a simple spell for advanced scholars of the Emperor, such as myself.¡± She smiled cheekily, a smug grin crossing her face. ¡°I¡¯m a magician, one of the best in the world, if I do say so myself.¡± Her bright face felt childish, and he couldn¡¯t help but smile at her proud manner of speaking. ¡°Thank you, traveler, for assisting me in my¡­¡± she looked towards the unmoving form of the beast, its black fur stained with dark red blood, the two seeping together to create a blend of color. ¡°Situation, if that¡¯s the correct way to put it.¡± She clicked her tongue, observing the devastation caused by the fight. ¡°It seems I must repair my lovely furniture I worked so hard on.¡± She said, with a slight bit of sadness. Then, her face crumpled into a scowl, as she observed the red floorboards. ¡°I¡¯ll never be rid of that, however.¡± She sighed deeply; ¡°A setback, nothing more. Still, you saved my life, traveler, thank you. I am forever in your debt.¡± She grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. She was much smaller than him, and she tilted her head upwards to look him in the eyes.


    ¡°My thank-¡°


    [Objective Completed: Survived]


    [Side Objective Completed: Beryl is Still Alive]


    [Side Objective Completed: Werewolf is Dead]


    [Congratulations! Layer 1 Complete]


    [Reward: Ability Assignment]


    Werewolf?! He asked himself, his eyes glancing at the mythical monster that sat before him, buried in a pool of blood. He looked to where the claws pierced his skin, tentatively touching it before pulling away, hoping he wouldn¡¯t start growing fur anytime soon.


    He looked up, hoping to speak to Beryl more, but she was frozen still, so still it felt like time itself had stopped, her words stopping mid-sentence as the floating text returned, filling his vision. The world suddenly felt cold, as if he was stuck in a freezer and couldn¡¯t escape. A shiver inched down his spine as he caught his breath, waving his hand in front of her face, but eliciting no reaction. He inspected her face, looking for any signs of movement, even the smallest amount, but he found nothing. She wasn¡¯t moving in slow motion, she wasn¡¯t moving, at all. His brows furrowed, and he leaned away from her, a million possibilities running through his head, none of them coming to a reasonable conclusion.


    ¡°Side objectives?¡± He said to no one in particular, his voice suddenly feeling extremely quiet, knowing that nobody could hear him. Feels like a game, or some interactive adventure He had consumed plenty of media involving fantastical fantasy worlds, monsters, and adventurers in the past, but to think something like that is here in reality was¡­ nearly impossible to believe. He ran his fingers through his hair, sighing deeply as he processed this information, feeling something well up inside him. Was it excitement? Fear? Anger? He couldn¡¯t quite tell, but he knew that there was something deeper behind this. He attempted to shift his feet but felt himself frozen in place, unable to move his legs. ¡°Shit¡­¡± he said under his breath. Placing his arms under his thigh, he used his upper body to shift his leg up as far as possible. He pulled and strained as hard as he could, but they would not budge, seemingly glued to the floor.


    [Congratulations on Your Induction to the Layers]


    This time, a voice rang out with the words, sounding monotone and robotic, as if it was an automated phone call. At the same time, a small graphic of confetti appeared around the text, before quickly disappearing. What the hell is going on? John asked internally, a frustrated frown on his face. It seemed he wasn¡¯t the only one going through this trial, and he wondered just how different things were compared to what happened to him. Just as the thought crossed his mind, a series of videos appeared before him, accompanied by a list of potential results.


    He watched as a man ran away from the cabin, through the intense brush of woods. He stumbled and fell to the ground, before a large dire wolf pounced on him, slashing through his spine with claws as sharp as the werewolf, erupting a cry of agony from the man, cries that were quickly surpassed as the wolf began to take a bit of his flesh, eating him alive. The camera cut away before he could see more of the terrifying sight.


    The next screen showed him a woman fleeing through the woods again, narrowly dodging the swipes of a nearby wolf, moving like an Olympic gymnast as she shot through the dense vegetation. He watched her weave through the rest of the forest, like a dancer on ice, before she ran into a large, stone monument that lightly hovered above the ground, glowing with dense, blue patterns, giving it an alien-like feeling. After hesitantly placing her hand on the stone, she was enveloped in a blue light, and disappeared.


    Another scene shows someone confronting the werewolf but being swiftly put down by its monstrous strength. Another showed a man trying to stab Beryl, who cowered away in fear, only to be cut down by the werewolf again. He saw tens of scenes of death, destruction, and chaos, watching people cry in the corner as a beast bears down upon it, watching those foolish enough to fight back, and a middling palette of vile, evil actions he couldn¡¯t bear to see.


    Despite the horrifying events, he felt rather lucky at his outcome, knowing just how easy it was to die here, despite Beryl¡¯s healing. It began to hit him, just how gruesome this situation was. He was clearly not the only person going through this. It seemed almost as if all of humanity experienced this exact same situation at the same time, and he shuddered to think of the undoubtedly many deaths that followed this experience. Despite the horror, he couldn¡¯t help but ask more questions he knew wouldn¡¯t be answered.


    [Passive Ability gained: Willpower - <u>1/2</u>]


    [You have proven yourself able to push beyond your limits in the face of mortal danger. In times of intense stress, you find calm in the storm. While this ability is active, the user has increased control of their emotions, allowing for higher focus and quicker reactions during combat and fast-paced situations]


    [Active Ability gained: Adrenaline - <u>16/25</u>]


    [You have proven your ability to continue fighting, despite fatal wounds. Experience enhanced energy and pain resistance during combat. While this ability is active, the user feels constantly energized, allowing for prolonged combat with one or more combatants. Perceived pain is nullified by 50%. After this ability has been used for over one minute, user has a 25% chance per minute of entering a berserker state]


    He read the descriptions of the ¡°abilities,¡± before he felt a rush of energy pass through him, seeping into his very soul. He was stuck in a sense of ecstasy as he felt something new becoming a part of him. Minutes felt like hours as he absorbed this euphoria, before finally it subsided, and was replaced by something radically different. He felt¡­ full, as if he had eaten several servings of food.


    Just as he was processing this information, his eyes suddenly dimmed, and an intense wave of sleepiness overwhelmed his senses, sending his head drooping low. He fought to keep his head up high, but he found his efforts were to no avail, and his body slumped, his legs finally freeing themselves from their unmoving state, sending him tumbling to the ground with a thump!


    Just before he fell into a deep slumber, his vision was filled with more floating text, hovering before his eyes intensely, seemingly shaking before his vision:


    [You finished SystemInduction.sys with satisfactory results]


    [You have been randomly assigned to participate in the 5<sup>th</sup> wave]


    [Enjoy your rest]


    And everything went black.

 Chapter 2: The 5th Wave

    Once again, John awoke to an unfamiliar ceiling. This time however, he was prepared for the concrete prison that greeted him, and its comforting coldness. He slid his hand along its rough surface, caressing the grainy, brutalist layer, which cradled his body that lay curled up along the floor. It was as if nothing changed from when he fell ¡°asleep,¡± whatever asleep may have been. He ached all over, as if his entire body had hadn¡¯t been used in days, and he felt a series of pops as he stretched, feeling instantly better.


    He sat upright, taking in the inescapable concrete room for the second time in twenty four hours, finding the scars that previously lined the length of his gut missing entirely, as if his body completely reset. He brushed his fingers over where the length of blood had coated his skin, feeling a phantom line across his body that clearly did not exist. Sighing deeply, he pushed his way to his feet, finally noticing the floating text that sat in the center of the room.


    In the past few times he¡¯d seen the mysterious writing, they¡¯d been focused in the center of his vision, in a large blue box that served as a backdrop. It had been personalized, only discussing him, however this was different. The font changed slightly, and it felt bolder, more pronounced than his own individual messages.


    [Congratulations on your rest]


    [You have been selected to participate in the 5<sup>th</sup> wave]


    [You are the 5,546,342,544<sup>th</sup> human to reach layer 2]


    [Generating Layer¡­]


    [Error! Layer already generated]


    [Launching OneSmallStep.sys¡­]


    [Welcome to the 2<sup>nd </sup>Layer]


    His vision turned an intense black, like someone punched out a flashlight while walking in the woods, before a blaring fluorescent light enveloped his eyelids, piercing his vision and causing him to place his hand above his eyes, clutching his head. At the same time, he heard tens- no, hundreds of voices all erupting to life at the same time around him, some crying out in pain, some collapsing to the floor, and some cheering in victory.


    He opened his eyes, his sight adjusting to the harsh light before turning to look around. An array of jarring, strange walls surrounded him on all sides, and he stood in a large room, the size of a large sports stadium. The floor was made of waxed hardwood, which shined in the overwhelming light that dominated the space. The walls were a sickly yellow, without pattern or texture, merely functional, with small damp stains lining the junctions between the floor and wall itself.


    John was standing in the very center of the room, mixed within the midst of a large crowd of people, possibly hundreds of people total, all of whom were in a state of panic or disarray. He watched as a man screamed and fell to the floor, clutching his chest, holding a wound which didn¡¯t exist. Another vomited on the floor, wailing something about losing his head. A few more panicked and began to run around the room, searching for an exist, but the room was so large they couldn¡¯t find much to go off of.


    Some others had a completely opposite reaction, however. A woman jumped to her feet with energetic flair, pumping her fist as she raised one hand in the air, her finger pointed. She began to scroll, as if swiping on a phone, confusing John. Others looked calm, their gaze slowly panning around the room, and John noticed that a few of those who remained quiet looked more physically strong, their stature often taller and muscle filled, or confident and composed. He couldn¡¯t tell which one looked more dangerous.


    The ceiling was an inverse of the floor, waxed hardwood, which was strange, because he didn¡¯t understand how something like that could be kept on the ceiling, nor the practicality of waxing the ceiling. Nothing about this place really made sense, not to mention the fact that they were in a room bigger than a football field, with no decorations, furniture, or other amenities.


    Just as the crowd began to regain their bearings, a large section of the wall slid to the side, some mechanism pulling it apart, leaving a screeching, twisting noise as moving metal echoed throughout the hall. From the gap, a group of twenty people emerged, carrying a collection of weaponry, from large assault rifles to polearms and medieval swords. In fact, most of the ¡°soldiers¡± carried medieval weaponry, the metal of their weapons gleaming in the light. Their attire was rather strange, wearing a series of tan clothing that blended in with the surrounding walls, without pattern or camouflage, yet he found it difficult to track the men as they moved.


    There were a few women, but the group consisted of mostly men, clearly cautious and maintaining a vigilant sweep of the nearby space. Amid the group, a man wearing a bright red cap emerged, equipped with an accompanying set of military gear, padding, and a large backpack that made him stand out as the de-facto leader of the group. He moved with purpose, nearing closer to John as his men stopped their sweep, falling behind him. John shifted from side to side, and he noticed the people around him cease their discussions, all silent in waiting.


    Red Cap made his way to the front of the group, standing in front of John as he puffed out his chest, his confidence calming the panicked collection of people before him.


    ¡°Listen up, because I¡¯m only going to say this once!¡± His voice was strict and loud, echoing off the walls with almost religious fervor. ¡°My name is Squad Leader Bill, but you can just call me Bill. We¡¯re from a branch of SkyCorp, a great power here in the second layer. Also, welcome to the second layer! If you¡¯re currently not being bombarded with notifications, congratulations on surviving the tutorial. For those who are¡­¡± His face twisted in a grimace, his eyes sorrowful. ¡°We¡¯re sorry you had to go through that. I hope your death was painless.¡± John noticed his hand shake slightly at those words, clearly he had gone through something terrible.


    Wait, these people died?! He thought to himself, taking a step back in surprise. His mind flickered back to all the scenes he saw of people dying in horrible, terrible ways, remembering the dread he felt from confronting the werewolf. Just getting cut was bad enough¡­ he couldn¡¯t imagine having to die and awaken here. He assumed they never had a chance to see their notifications until now, which seemed likely seeing a majority of people swiping at the air.


    ¡°Follow me, we¡¯ll bring you to the closest settlement. I believe it¡¯s the¡­¡± His voice trailed off, and he leaned over to one of the soldiers, whispering something into his ear. After a brief back and forth, he turned back to the group. ¡°It should be the territory of the Migrants group. Seems y¡¯all got lucky, some of the other groups aren¡¯t so gracious to newcomers.¡± His expression turned dark, his brows furrowing as he spoke. ¡°But enough of that, let¡¯s get you somewhere safe a-¡°


    BANG


    An extremely loud burst of noise rang out along the massive room, followed by a series of smaller thumps, as if someone or something was running through the vents. John dropped his stance, ready to move at a moment¡¯s notice, until the noise faded. The room was dead silent as people tracked the noise through the walls, including Bill¡¯s squad. He noticed Bill tense up, and the soldiers tighten their grip on their guns. This clearly wasn¡¯t a random occurrence. There was a danger around, and John certainly didn¡¯t want to stick around to see it.


    ¡°Everybody up!¡± Bill said, raising his rife to his chest, his eyes darting to the sides of the room. He noticed a short, but sharpened sword gleaming on his hip, and began to turn back to the door. ¡°There are many dangers on this layer, and if you¡¯re left alone, you will surely die. Come! We must move quickly!¡± His voice turned from a raised, inspiring voice, to one of concern, and urgency. John felt a shiver run down his spine, and watched as the curious faces of the people around him turned into fear. As one, the crowd surged forwards, moving towards the door in the wall. John allowed them to pass, following their direction, but not risking him being crushed by the stampede of people. He followed behind until he stepped through the doorway, each side stationed by two guards, who shifted on their feet.


    Once he passed through the doorway, he was met with a completely unorthodox sight. Instead of a sprawling, vast landscape that typically surrounded a large building, he was met with¡­ nothing. There was a small, tight space to walk, but it felt more like a balcony than a hallway. As they left the gigantic room, the floor turned from wood to a dense carpet, which gripped to his shoes as he walked, making it hard to slip. Outside of the door, there was a massive drop, accompanied by what seemed like an endless void, which stretched as far as the eye could see. In the distance, he could see massive pillars of yellow, large complexes with the same, monotone greenish yellow wallpaper, creating towers of spaces that looked almost like an office building, but from the inside. It felt like each ¡®building,¡¯ as he so quickly named them, was a dollhouse, surrounded by nothing, where he could see inside. Looking carefully, he noticed small figures moving quickly through a few in the distance, before disappearing into a hallway and disappearing from view. Each building was massive, much larger than a typical office building, looking more like the size of a small town. He noticed dozens within his vision, before a thick fog blocked off the rest of his sight. The buildings were located near each other, forming little clusters of structures that looked almost like miniature cities. Overhead, the same intense, fluorescent lighting cascaded down from the same, dense fog. Somehow, the fog did not obscure the lighting, and instead prevented John from being able to see the origin of the lights.


    ¡°Do not fall! You will not come back, no one does.¡± Said Bill, yelling from the back of the line. They shuffled carefully alongside the walkway, which stood along the side of one of the buildings that John had seen prior. There was no railing, or ways to stop falling, forcing most to give the edge a wide berth. ¡°


    ¡°Keep moving!¡± Bill encouraged, which was joined by the orders of the other soldiers as they herded the group around. ¡°We¡¯ve got quite a ways to walk before we reach the headquarters of the Migrants.¡± He approached one of his soldiers, who sported a green cap, which John assumed meant he was second in command. He strained to listen to what they were saying, but only heard a few words. ¡°Migrants¡­ Thrall¡­ Danger¡­ Sundown...¡± He quenched his brow after hearing those words. Something else was going on, clearly more than they were letting on. Also, when was sundown? There was no sun!


    They pushed ahead for a few minutes, before reaching the edge of the strange building. The group suddenly stopped, unsure of what to do, and John strained his head, trying to get a good view. Ahead of them, maybe a mile or so away, was another massive structure, similar to the one they stood in now, separated by a massive gap, which gave way to the void that sat below them. Once he pinched his eyes, he could barely make out the outline of a small, thin bridge, made entirely of glass, that slowly tilted upwards towards the expanse. It was barely an inch thick, and looked as if it would break at the slightest touch. There was nothing on the sides, nothing to hold a person, or to prevent them from falling. He traced the line of glass with his eyes, and saw that the bridge ended at a separate walkway, at the next building ahead. They had to go across.


    ¡°Don¡¯t fear! The bridge will not break!¡± The squad leader pushed his way through the crowd, before firmly placing his foot along the bridge, thumping it down with a boom! John flinched as the man stood on the bridge, certain that it would break, but calmed when he saw the man begin to walk along it, watching his footing, but confidently making his way forward. ¡°This bridge may seem flimsy, but I assure you, the world is pretty damn weird now!¡± he said, chuckling slightly as he saw the concerned expressions before him. ¡°Believe me, the Empire State Building could fall on this thing, and the bridge wouldn¡¯t even have a scratch on it!¡±


    A rather brawny man, wearing a blue office shirt with a long, black tie, stepped forward, carefully placing his foot on the bridge, before stepping on it completely, squeezing his eyes shut as he finally put his entire weight along its thin frame. His arms flew out to the sides, as if to catch himself if he fell, but the moment he moved onto the bridge, his expression calmed. A small smile flew to his face, and he took another step, and then another. ¡°It¡¯s safe!¡± He said, eagerly. ¡°It¡¯s not even slippery! Feels like invisible grass under my feet, or something.¡± He gestured for everyone to follow them as they began to file onto the bridge, one after the other. There was no room for more, with the bridge being so thin.


    John was the last to step upon the bridge, tentatively placing his foot across its surface. He was surprised to feel phantom carpet under his feet, gripping around his shoes and preventing them from slipping. He felt secure, as if he could sprint across a small plane and never lose balance. A small murmur from the group began to spread, as they began to talk to each other, but John didn¡¯t bother. He looked around a bit nervously. Had they forgotten the strange thumps when they first awoke? There was something deeper in the background of this place, a danger they didn¡¯t want them to know about, at least not yet.


    As he was thinking this, he noticed a flash of movement at the other end of the bridge, towards their destination. A shadow emerged, catching the attention of the soldiers, who readied their weapons, causing a wave of excitement and fear throughout the onlookers. John strained his eyes to see what was going on, but could barely catch a glimpse of whatever it could be, but before anything else happened, he heard an intense, reverberating thump thump ¨C thump thump!


    It wasn¡¯t his heart, it was something, approaching on all fours, and fast. Screams began to erupt from the front of the group, and John froze in place, finding himself unable to move. Gunshots erupted from the front, but still the footsteps kept coming, getting even faster than before. It was then that John finally got a look at it.


    The monstrous being was an immensely large gorilla, its fur a pitch black, and its limbs covered completely in tensed, bulging muscles. Its arms were the size of a small child, and it towered over even Bill, who stood taller than John by a few inches. It somehow just barely fit its massive frame onto the small glass panel, but with absolute confidence it charged headfirst towards the soldiers. Its face was incredibly dry, like skin that had been rotting in a desert for a decade and drained of all color. Its skin was a sickly gray, almost like a zombie, and a small creaking could be heard with each step it took, its muscles twisting in terrifying noises. Worst of all, its face was twisted in a horrific scream, its mouth stretched and twisted like a snake unhinging its jaw. It looked as if it was stuck in an eternal yawn, unable to move its mouth.


    SKRIIIEEEEEE!


    It let out a shrill screech that pierced John¡¯s ears, sending his hands flying to his ears as he desperately tried to keep out the noise, but to no avail. Even covering his ears, the scream sunk into his skull, like someone took a jackhammer and began drilling into the side of his head. He flinched, falling to his knees, as did many others, writing for a brief moment, before the sound disappeared faster than it appeared.


    John opened his eyes, which he hadn¡¯t even realized were closed, staring at the void below him, visible through the unsmeared glass which he sat on. A set of terrified squeals rung out ahead of him, and he watched twenty bodies go flying, launching into the air, as if punted into the grip of an invisible tornado. They were launched away from the edge, falling into the void as they screamed high pitched, desperate screams, which faded away slowly as they fell further and further into the black fog below. Another body fell in parallel with the glass bridge, toppling another twenty people, sending more spiraling to whatever awaited them below.


    Gunshots burst out from the direction of the gorilla-like monster, which John could finally see properly. The hulking beast towered over the humans, its visceral expression sending a paralyzing shiver down his spine, and he began to feel sick. The soldiers unleashed their rifles upon the creature, but despite their impressive noise and relatively large caliber, the bullets merely bounced off the hide of the creature, ricocheting with a flash of sparks, sending bullets flying in different directions. A few flew back towards the soldiers, sending them tumbling to the ground in an instant, clutching their chests in pain.


    In just a few seconds, dozens of people were either dead, dying, or severely injured, with the rest practically unable to move. Blood spattered onto the now slippery bridge, which was coated in a new layer of red. John saw one body slowly begin to slide down the glass ramp, causing a wide streak of guts to spread further down, until someone kicked the man away, and they gasped silently, their arms outstretched, searching for a hold, searching for someone to help. There was nothing for them.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    The monster crashed into the line of people, now that the soldiers were taken care of. John watched someone¡¯s head get crushed under the sheer weight of the horror, its massive frame easily crushing bone and flesh. This caused a panic in the remaining group, only half of which still stood. They began to run, pushing into John and sending him tumbling to the floor with a yelp. A foot pressed on his face, then another kicked him, as someone tumbled over the edge. It caused a little domino effect, causing even more to fall on top of each other. John screamed as the thuds of boots echoed around him, the thundering noise overpowering his senses, before another swift kick launched his leg off the cliff.


    Shit! He cursed to himself, desperately trying to stop the rest of his body from rolling off, but despite his desperate scratching, he found no hold to stop himself, nothing to grab on, and before he knew it, he fell off the bridge. Just before he tumbled into the abyssal depths below, his eyes scrambled for something, anything he could grab on, landing on the edge of the glass before he, in one final, desperate attempt to keep his life, barely managed to snatch the edge of the bridge, his one hand supporting the rest of him, which dangled off the edge, his balance teetering on the edge of a knife.


    ¡°H-HELP!¡± He screamed, feeling his pit sink as he glanced downwards, seeing nothing but an endless, infinite void. ¡°Somebody, help me! Please!¡± His desperate, anxious voice rang out loudly, but was overpowered by the screams that surrounded him, and the thick crunch! of death. He reached for the edge with his other hand, trying one-two-three times, before finally getting his second hand to hold onto the thin pane, and he began to pull himself up, slowly lifting his exhausted body back to safety, if you could even call it that.


    As he practically kissed the glass that now lay beneath him, he looked back, trying to find signs of life, but instead he found nothing but a carpet of red, bloodstains and bodies left behind the path of destruction caused by the monster. Speaking of- it stood above the bodies, its chest puffed out, and it reared on its hind legs, its massive fists banging on its chest like a drum, releasing its unnatural, guttural shriek to the sky once more. It turned towards him, rearing its head at his quivering form, before charging once more, its fists splashing up a wake of scarlet innards as it sprinted.


    Crap! Crap, crap crap! He told himself, desperately searching for something to do, some way to get past the monster, to avoid the deathly void below him, or the swift death that faced him. His mind reeled, and his desperation grew as he found he could do nothing. There was nothing he could do, no way to get around it, no way to lead it on, no way to survive, except embrace the death that came before him. Perhaps it was false, like the first layer? Where death is not permanent? No, he can¡¯t assume that, if he died and was never reborn, that would be a pathetic end. Well, not like there¡¯s much to do, I¡¯m dead. He thought.


    Suddenly, amidst his panic, a sudden draining feeling emerged from deep within the core of his very being, as if his blood was slowly being taken, constantly emptying him, and within a moment, his mind cleared. He felt his panic calm, his focus sharpen, and time seemed to slow down around him, as his thinking became faster. Without processing what he was thinking, his hand reached down to his side, his palms clasping around the hilt of a well-worn sword that lay at his feet, the very same sword that hung around the waist of the Squad Leader, who couldn¡¯t be found. He didn¡¯t even know it was there, and yet it was, so he gripped its hilt tightly, as if letting go would spell certain doom, and a plan began to form into his mind. He knew the creature would ignore him if he went over the edge¡­ so he must make the advantage for himself.


    He charged towards the rampaging monster, earning a defiant screech from its gaping maw. The gorilla dwarfed him, its pale gray skin filling his vision completely. He pushed and pushed, fighting against the bit of nerves that crept up into his skin, sending goosebumps along his arm. Just when he could see the white- or void-like blackness of its eyes¡­


    He launched himself off the edge.


    He jumped in parallel with the bridge of glass, watching the beast¡¯s head follow him perfectly, before holding out his sword towards its massive, unyielding limbs. Just as it seemed like he would continue to fall, the blade cut into flesh with a stark krsh! Coupled with a reciprocating roar of pain from the monster, one which clearly hadn¡¯t felt pain before. It stumbled, its legs buckling as the blade cut bone, digging further into its massive body, before catching, suspending John in mid-air. A spout of blood spiked from the wound, splashing onto John¡¯s face, blinding him as it covered his eye lids. He grunted in pain as he felt the sting but continued to press the blade further into its limb, despite it suspending him over the void completely.


    The beast fell to the side, sending John reeling as its balance finally gave out, and with a desperate push, he used the last bit of suspension to launch himself through the air, his fingers barely grasping the edge of the bridge, stretched to their limits. He quickly crawled his way up, his fingers scratching against the transparent surface as he stood up, positioning himself along the side of the writhing creature, before pushing with all his might.


    It flailed and thrashed in place as John pushed. A muscled arm slapped him to the side, sending him reeling, but he steeled his teeth, and began to shove once more, slowly feeling the massive body inch forward, further and further, until finally it gave way, with the creature¡¯s giant body sliding off the edge with a final, screaming push. Instead of screaming, or crying, the monster¡¯s face turned to look up at John, its sunken, hollow eyes locked with his own, until it was enveloped by the void below.


    [Thrall (Brute) Killed]


    [20 Essence Gained]


    He didn¡¯t have the capacity to process what that meant, his body slumping with exhaustion. He laid on the bare glass, his previously racing mind slowing down, and he felt another burst of emotion, of anger, sadness, horror, and fear, all together at once. He convulsed for a moment, his mind overwhelmed, before he stilled, sighing deeply. Then the pain came. His side felt as if it was thoroughly pressed by a hydraulic press, a small fear passing through him as he imagined his skin dented, like a hammered piece of metal. Quickly, he brushed his hands along his right side, towards his shoulder, feeling for any serious injuries, but found nothing. It seemed he would live, for now.


    For a few minutes he sat there, before finally turning to examine his surroundings. All around him was a blanket of corpses, nearly thirty, scattered about the small bridge. He heard no gasps for air, no cries for help. He saw several people with their heads crushed, or necks broken, all done during the monster¡¯s bloody rampage. He felt tears stream down his eyes at the wanton violence, a mixture of sadness, grief, and fear of what could¡¯ve happened to him. He wept on his knees for a few minutes, before making a cross along his heart with his hand. He was not religious, but these people deserved any respect they could get, even if they couldn¡¯t get a burial.


    Eventually, he got to his feet once more, before turning back towards the direction they were heading, before the interruption that killed them all. His hands bled slightly, as blisters formed along his palms. He looked for the sword he used to kill the beast but found nothing. He frantically searched, before a memory appeared before him, one of the gorilla falling from the edge, sword still stuck in its side. There was no weapon left for him to use.


    The soldier¡¯s guns seemed useless, but he looked for them anyways. Most of them were thrown off in the midst of the attack, and the others were shattered from the intense impact that sealed their doom. Cursing slightly to himself, he decided to make his way without one.


    ¡°H-hey!¡± John heard a voice from behind him, across the glass bridge. ¡°You¡¯re alive! Thank god!¡± The man¡¯s voice was bright and cheery, and he rushed over to John, doing his best to avoid the bodies that littered the ground. His face was a bright peace, with large freckles across his face. He looked almost cartoonish, like Beryl was, however long ago that was. The man brushed his hand through his long, blonde, hair, brushing it to the side, which took on a natural curl. He looked almost how John would imagine Clark Kent, if he was blonde. He was of a fairly average build, rather tall, and with soft, brown eyes.


    ¡°Glad to see someone¡¯s still here! My name¡¯s Michael! Nice to meet ya¡± He said, sticking out his arm, which John took in his own. They shook, and Michael moved closer to the next structure, jogging slightly up the long, glass panel. ¡°Let¡¯s get the hell out of this place. I¡¯m not trying to be caught again on the glass.¡± His face grew solemn as he turned towards the graveyard behind them. He tsk¡¯d his tongue, before smiling slightly, turning away. ¡°Let¡¯s get to solid ground, eh?¡±


    John nodded, and followed the strange man until their feet met a familiar carpet. They entered through a large doorway, which, upon passing through, led to a stretched hallway, nearly a mile in length. All throughout, the same damp carpet and ugly lime wallpaper.


    As they finally reached a safe spot, John released his breath, which he hadn¡¯t realized he had been holding. He clutched his chest, the wind catching up with him as Michael looked at him in concern. ¡°You ok, buddy?¡± He asked, placing his hand on John¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°Yea¡­¡± His stomach churned for a moment, a flash of brutal gore and guts enveloping him. He felt his face, still slightly sticky from the monster¡¯s innards, and did his best to wipe away the blood, to little success. ¡°I¡¯m good.¡± He said, breathing in and out slowly, his breath labored. ¡°I¡¯m good.¡± He repeated.


    ¡°Name¡¯s John, nice to meet you Michael.¡± He said, standing up straight and turning towards the man. ¡°I just wish we knew where we were meeting. This place gives me the creeps. Feels like anything could run out of one of these doors.¡± He shivered at the thought of more bloodshed. There would be no ledge to save him this time.


    ¡°I got a theory about that, by the way¡± Said the perkish man. ¡°See, I think those¡­ things appear on the bridges only, hence the danger. You saw how the soldier guys tensed up as we got close? They were pretty calm before¡­ even with the weird banging.¡± He frowned for a second, before shaking his head. ¡°Still, I think it makes sense that this place is safe. It¡¯s like a game, no? We¡¯ve got safe zones, and the shelter is the safe zone, while the bridges are the danger zone!¡± He raised his voice, as if discovering a devious plot. ¡°Makes sense stuff would be like this, what with all the stats, and quests or whatnot. Speaking of which, why didn¡¯t we get a quest? Layer one made it seem like this would be nonstop narrative, not some weird, open world type thing.¡± He smiled, clearly referencing the games he¡¯d play in his free time. John knew the look, he had the same one about his favorite games.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, where did the gorilla thing come from?¡± John asked, his eyes darting around the thin, but tall hallway. There were a few lights missing from the ceiling, smashed or broken, with no sign of glass along the floor. ¡°It could be they came from here, then moved to the bridge. If that¡¯s the case¡­ could there be more?¡± He froze as he spoke, looking for any sign of movement. ¡°Shit, should we be more quiet?¡± he asked in a harsh whisper.


    ¡°Eh, I think we¡¯re fine. We made enough noise that if one of those things was around we¡¯d probably already be dead. Unless they don¡¯t hear well. What if they¡¯re deaf?¡± Michael rubbed his chin profusely, lost in thought. ¡°We could get some rocks or something, see if we can distract them if we find anymore. Whatever, too much thinking, let¡¯s just keep moving.¡± He acted calm, but the two moved at a jog, instead of their slower, cautious gait.


    They reached the end of the hallway after around ten minutes of jogging, heralded with a set of two large, metal doors. The door itself was shrouded in shadow, the lights far above it shattered, casting a blinking layer of light that occasionally lit up the door itself. It looked almost like something out of a horror movie, but upon close inspection, the pair couldn¡¯t find anything dangerous around it. They stopped right before they went through the door, and Michael cracked the door slightly, peering through the gap.


    ¡°There¡¯s another glass bridge here¡­ and more of these weird buildings as far as the eye can see. What the fuck even is this place?¡± He cursed under his breath, his brows furrowed. ¡°The squad leader guy said there was a settlement or something here, right? ¡®The Migrants¡¯ or whatever?¡± He glanced around, looking for lights, but he saw none. ¡°I don¡¯t see any signs of life, just miles and miles of whatever these things are.¡± He closed the door again, looking into John¡¯s eyes. ¡°Seems like we¡¯re in this together, hu-?¡±


    John blinked, and Michael was gone.


    ¡°H-HELP! HELP! UP HERE!¡± John looked up to see Michael being dragged up the wall by a elongated arm made of pure shadow, its skin a dark black. Desperately, he jump as high as he could, his fingers barely brushing against Michael¡¯s shoe, but not finding hold. Shit! He thought to himself as he scrambled for something he could use, something to throw, or a rope, or something, but there was nothing except carpet.


    He watched as the man was dragged higher than he could even dream of going, the several story high ceiling completely unreachable. Michael screamed and begged at whatever had a hold on him, but if it understood him or not, its tight grapple did not cease. John watched as the flailing man threw punch after punch on the creature¡¯s flesh, but it did not even flinch.


    John¡¯s jaw dropped in horror as the shadow grew another arm, and then a body, looking like a blob of goo, made entirely of shadow. The arm wrapped itself around Michael¡¯s leg, then in an instant, pulled the limb clean off, showering the carpet in a blanket of blood.


    ¡°AAAAAAAAAAGH!¡±


    John looked away, flinching as the man screamed in pain. The creature brought the limb to its blubbery form, pushing the stump of the appendage deep into its body, before absorbing it completely. Then, it moved to the next.


    Crunch! Crunch! Snap!


    The screams stopped then, and John couldn¡¯t handle it anymore. He ran, he sprinted as fast as he could, through the doors, across the next glass bridge, and into the next building. He sprinted through, screaming until his voice was hoarse, tears flowing from his eyes as his stomach churned violently. Still, he did not stop.


    He ran for what felt like hours, through multiple anomalous structures before his legs gave out, sending him tumbling to the floor. He sat along the edge of a balcony, overlooking the edge of the void, which seemed ever more tempting in comparison to the horrors that awaited him here. Just as he was thinking that, his vision began to blur, his bruise that coated his shoulders and neck noticeably became more sore, and he felt his senses dim. He blinked a few times, doing his best to stay awake, to be alert from the monsters that stalked him, but to no avail, and for the third time in what felt like a single day, he fell unconscious.


    <hr>


    Sarah walked alongside a large complex, accompanied by a squad of four men, all armed to the teeth with swords, staves, and wands, their arsenal bolstered from the war between them and the Bandit Kingdom just a year ago. Her short, brown hair jostled as she moved, and along her back sat a shield in the symbol of a leaf, colored a deep, vibrant green overlaying with a familiar, unmistakable lime.


    Two years ago, she had awoken here, terrified and disturbed at the unending hallways of offices, her last memory of being ripped apart by blackened claws at the hands of what she now knew was a werewolf. Despite her failure, she took her new start in stride, and joined the scouts of the Migrants, who took her group in. Three days in, she watched her first friend die, a man named Marcus, who¡¯d taken her under his wing, and taught her the ways of fighting. He was surprised by a Thrall as they rounded a corner, who took his head clean off in a single swipe. She remembered the countless nights after that followed, nightmares and terrified episodes of death, but even still, she had to keep moving.


    She shook her head, launching herself out of her daydreaming. She needed to focus, they were in uncontested lands, and any misstep could lead to her or her team¡¯s quick deaths. The group of five had been moving for the good part of the morning, looking for any stragglers that could¡¯ve found themselves lost after their awakening. It was Awakening Day, after all, and they needed to do anything they could to prevent more deaths. So far, they¡¯d found nothing, but as the day stretched on, she couldn¡¯t help but feel a little uneasy.


    Shouldn¡¯t we have run into the escort sent by the Migrants? She asked herself, looking for any nearby sources of movement from the nearby complexes. They had a shaky, but formal agreement to escort newly awakened to safety, and their patrol paths usually converged through the midst of their journey, but today, nothing had happened. She motioned to their group for caution, and they unsheathed their swords, each blade tipped with a slight blue glow.


    They moved as one, silently clearing out room after room, before coming across what could only be described as a horrific sight. A pile of thirty bodies at least, stacked along each other, as if they were climbing over each other to escape something. The bridge itself was caked in a layer of slippery blood, still a bit fresh from hours before. This had clearly just happened.


    ¡°By the order¡­ This is horrific¡± A man, adorned with a small necklace of a circle cut through with a cross, muttered, his hand forming a ball above his heart in a salute to those who died. ¡°The Lord¡¯s will claims these people, may they rest in peace.¡± He said aloud, bowing his head to the pile of corpses. The rest of the group reacted violently, with some doubling over, covering their mouths with their hands. Sarah had seen this type of scene before, but from human hands, during the war.


    She stepped tentatively out onto the bridge, making her way to the front of the graveyard, her gaze wide and alert, searching for creatures that may be lying in wait. After confirming the lack of danger, she bent down towards the first corpse, finding a bright red baseball cap lying nearby. Bill¡­ she whispered, her heart panging. They hadn¡¯t known each other much, but they¡¯d always talked well when they met. He would visit regularly, and for the past two years they celebrated the holidays together, with her and Matsuo.


    She need to move, she could mourn later. ¡°Spread out in squads of two, keep your message skill ready. I can handle my own, but I will run if I¡¯m in any danger. It seems like this could¡¯ve been the work of a brute or even a variant. Do not engage, but look for any survivors of this massacre.¡± She walked up the sickly ramp, moving towards the Migrant¡¯s territory, which would¡¯ve been the group¡¯s final destination.


    She spent the next hour combing the rooms of the nearest complex, searching each individual room full of office desks, chairs, and hanging lights that brightened the room further. Each room had similar, yet different styles of decorations and furniture, making each of them monotonous, yet still varying enough to distinguish themselves. After finally finishing with her sweep, she made her way towards the metal doors at the end of the elongated hallway.


    She looked at a watch on her wrist, which read 6:00. It takes them an hour or so to get back, and she didn¡¯t want to be out here when the lights go out, even with her fellow scouts. I should search the next complex for as long as I can, then turn gather everyone in about thirty minutes. She couldn¡¯t afford to search any longer for someone who could be dead, despite how much it hurt her to turn around without an explanation for the slaughter of awakened.


    Just as she was about to leave through the waiting doors, she noticed a large stained section of the carpet, its red color already being drained from the carpet. She looked up, seeing a small thread of shadow hanging from the high ceiling, waiting for something to move below it. A trapper¡­ clearly it got someone, too, the tricky bastards. This was the worst spot for it to be hiding, too. It¡¯s only thanks to the light that she noticed it.


    Clicking her tongue in frustration, she focused on her inner self, drawing out mana from her core, and pushing it outward. The invisible energy glowed a faint blue as it left her body, before the it solidified into a large, floating sword, made entirely of the energy. Slowly, another formed, then another, before she finally stopped. She imagined the swords flying up and piercing the trapper above, skewering it on their sharp edges, and instantly they flew through the air, moving faster than an average awakened could process. The first sword, with a distinct blue color, stabbed deep into the blubbery skin of the trapper, which now revealed itself fully when approached with danger. It cried softly, even its voice invisible to Sarah as she used the next blades, colored a deep green and purple, to shear it in two, with the creature finally dropping to the ground, dead.


    [Trapper (Basic) Killed]


    [5 Essence Gained]


    Her vision briefly flickered with notifications, but she brushed them aside. She needed to keep moving, to find anyone that might be nearby. She took off into a sprint, her body swiftly blurring with speed as she moved, quickly clearing out the nearby complexes without care or caution, searching for any signs of life.


    Twenty minutes passed, and she was growing tired. She couldn¡¯t keep up her top speed for much longer, and she decided to finally stop at a nearby bridge, clutching her chest above her breast, which heaved with strain. Her lungs burned as she stopped, moving to a slow walk, not letting herself stop moving. She knew it would be worse if she did, so she had to keep moving, at least a little.


    Sighing to herself, she looked down at her feet, when she suddenly noticed a sliver of movement out of the corner of her eye. Summoning her swords, she spun around towards the creature, but found herself staring at a man dressed in torn, tattered clothing, with a massive purple bruise the length of a bowling ball, along the side of his shoulder, even to the point where it met his head. He had bright auburn hair, and bright green irises that accented along his peach skin. His neck hung limply at his side, but his breathing remained calm and unmolested.


    She reached into her pack quickly, grabbing a clear crystal that looked to be of the purest quartz, and crushed it in her hand. A small glow appeared around her vision, and she spoke loudly and clearly to the air: ¡°I found a survivor, seems severely injured, but not life threateningly so. I¡¯m a few complexes north of the massacre, get here quick if we want to be back by dark.¡± When she finished speaking, the remains of the crystal burst into light, congealing together above her head and splitting into multiple orbs, which zipped into the distance.


    ¡°Alright, big guy¡± She said to herself, knowing he was asleep. She picked him up from his sleeping form, easily tossing him over her shoulder. She positioned him in a way where he couldn¡¯t roll off of her, before moving towards the entrance to the complex.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get you somewhere safe.¡±

 Chapter 3: Solitude in the Storm

    ¡°Urgh¡­¡± John felt sore, an unending, unforgiving soreness that left him dreaming of his cozy warm bed, back before this nightmare began. It felt as if his side had been completely done in, totaled, as if an eighteen-wheeler ran into him at full speed. Still, it seemed he was intact, which was reason enough to open his eyes, he supposed.


    Blinking the familiar, piercing light out of his sight, his blurry vision sharpened, observing an environment of that of a hospital room, lined with layers of hard tables, draped with cloth and cushions, turned into a hospital wing. He could hear the pained cries of others in nearby rooms, screams which sent unsightly visions down his perspective, scenes of Michael¡¯s limbs being torn off, one by one, of the cries for help he expulsed before the monster born of shadow and darkness snapped his neck with that sickening crunch!


    He felt his eyes begin to water imagining it. In the moment, he had barely managed to process what had happened before he took off, shedding the burden to the side but now¡­ with time to properly mourn, he felt the impact. His hands shook in his bed as guilt began to rack his body, waves of intense, overwhelming loss and regret overtaking him. He held back the urge to scream as he began to blame himself, his breath quickening in place as he imagined what he could¡¯ve done to help the man. He could¡¯ve turned around, he could¡¯ve paid more attention, he could¡¯ve clung to the beast before it took him high enough to be out of reach¡­ he could¡¯ve done so many things, yet he didn¡¯t.


    ¡°I avenged them. Whoever they may have been, I avenged your friend.¡± His eyes shot up, seeing a smaller, yet extremely well-built woman. She looked to be in her early twenties, and her eyes were wild and yet hardened, her every move teeming with purpose. She crossed her arms as she leaned against the wall, her shorter, dark brown hair stoic and unwavering. Her hazel eyes pierced his, and he felt as if she was staring into his soul, reading him like a book. She stood just above five foot six, a few inches smaller than himself, but it felt as if she loomed over him, like a giantess in the distance.


    She stepped forward, no longer resting her head against the hardened wall. ¡°Your friend was caught by the trapper, yes? I found evidence of one from whence you came. I suppose you¡¯re the survivor of the incident on the bridge?¡± Her voice was formal, as if attending a ceremony, yet firm. It felt like he was being interrogated, not questioned. Still, he had every intention to comply with her demands.


    ¡°Y-yes.¡± He stuttered, his voice forcefully stopping once he spoke, unused to speaking in quite a while. ¡°To both¡± His expression grew solemn as he imagined the two events, their massacre still ever present in his mind. ¡°I avenged the group, but that demon-thing that took Michael- I couldn¡¯t reach it. He screamed¡­ so loud. I heard every bit when whatever it was took his legs. I tried to hold him down but I was too slow. I failed him.¡± His lip quivered as he spoke, and he closed his eyes tightly, a pit forming in his eye sockets as he felt a real, enormous fear.


    ¡°I passed it on my way to find you. It had a swift end, be assured.¡± She nodded her head, as if ticking off a box along a list. ¡°But I need to know what happened on that bridge. Where are you from? What campus? Do you belong to a group?¡± Her finger tapped her chin as she spoke. ¡°Don¡¯t bother lying to me, I¡¯d know if you were.¡± Her hand slipped down to the tip of a knife that sat along her belt, unsheathed yet dangerous all the same. It looked sharp to John, when seeing it he tried to jump back in the bed, yet something prevented him from moving. Confused, he looked under the sheets of the bed, only to find a pair of handcuffs securing him in place.


    ¡°Don¡¯t bother trying to leave. If you tell the truth, then those will come off. Until then, you¡¯re mine until I deem you safe enough to wander.¡± She took the knife off of its holster, a knife that curved with an intense sharpness, gleaming brightly in the light. ¡°So tell me, who are you, and where are you from?¡± Her gaze became intense, and John felt an air of pressure from her.


    ¡°I¡¯m John¡­ I woke up just- how long have I been out? Since then, essentially.¡± He raised his arms in a submissive manner, hoping to alleviate the threat of dismemberment she currently held over him. ¡°I just completed layer 1, then woke up ¡®round here, by the soldier guys that were leading us out.¡± He broke into a story, telling how the gorilla-like beast slaughtered their group, killing hundreds in mere seconds. When he described the intense screech of the creature, which sent them falling to their knees in pain, her expression changed. She flinched slightly, but only for a moment before returning to her cold, intense stare.


    ¡°Did anyone kill the beast? Where did it run off too?¡± She asked, her voice a little less intimidating, while her posture softened. For a minute, he thought not to tell her of what he did, but then again, he saw no issue with telling the truth. He felt a pang of confusion at the thought of lying. Why would I want to lie to her?


    ¡°Ah- I took it out.¡± He said, his face expressionless.


    ¡°¡­¡±


    She pushed the knife towards John¡¯s face. ¡°I¡¯ll ask once again¡­ Who. Killed. It?¡± With each word she placed the knife a little closer to his face,


    ¡°I did!¡± He said, his voice growing a little desperate. ¡°I managed to knock it off the side. We were still on the bridge, so I knocked its legs out from underneath itself with a sword that was nearby, then pushed it off the edge. It¡¯s how I got that massive bruise, or at least I assume it was a bruise. Was I concussed?"


    ¡°Did you get a notification, then? How much essence did you gain?¡± She asked, dropping the blade back to its holster. She seemed satisfied at that answer, suddenly moving from interrogative to friendly in just a few seconds. ¡°A normal thrall couldn¡¯t kill hundreds that quick, not even if it got the jump on people. Plus, if the Merc¡¯s bullets glanced off.. it had to be a brute or something stronger.¡± She spoke half to herself, half to John, rubbing her chin slightly.


    ¡°Ah- yea I did. I got¡­ uh¡± He struggled to remember for a second, before the notification appeared before his eyes again, as if him thinking on it recalled it back into place.


    [Thrall (Brute) Killed]


    [20 Essence Gained]


    He had no clue what ¡°essence¡± was, but he assumed the Thrall was the creature he encountered on the bridge, stuck in that terrifying expression. ¡°It was a Brute, I got 20 essence for killing it. Can I show you the notification or something? To prove it¡¯s the truth?¡± He swiped the air with his hands, trying to move the box that floated in front of him, but his hand passed through, like it was water.


    ¡°No, you cannot. How do yo- oh, I suppose you never really learned how to use the system, didn¡¯t you? That¡¯s usually the first thing they teach you over where you were going. Here, I can help you a bit there. You¡¯ve got something called a ¡®status,¡¯ just will your status to appear in front of you, and it will appear.¡± She nodded towards him, her expression making it obvious that she did the same. ¡°Most people do a gesture of their preference while in a public space, it¡¯s polite to let others know around you that you¡¯re in your status.¡± She raised her hand above her shoulder, her middle and pointer fingers pinched together. Swiftly she brought them down to her wait, swiping through the air. ¡°Like this.¡±


    He turned his attention inwards, thinking of the screen that appeared when he first appeared in the First Layer. He willed it to appear, to show him his status, and before he could even blink, it was hovering in the air, adjacent to the notification from before. ¡°How do I close a window?¡± he asked, trying to find the woman¡¯s face through the transparent boxes.


    ¡°Just will it to close, or go away. Just as simple as opening it.¡± She replied, a little sarcastically, but patient all the same.


    He focused on removing the notification from his vision, and it closed, disappearing from his vision. When it vanished, the status screen moved towards the center of his sight, centering itself.


    [Status]


    [Core: Copper]


    [Soul: Copper]


    [Traits: Masterful Crafter (Species Only)]


    [Species: Human]


    [Status:]


    [Strength: 11]


    [Constitution: 11]


    [Dexterity: 11]


    [Intelligence: 10]


    [Spirit: 10]


    [Charisma: 10]


    [Abilities: Willpower, Adrenaline]


    ¡°Oh, my stats grew¡± He commented to himself. How did that happen? There wasn¡¯t a leveling style mechanic, or a way to improve strength, as far as he knew, so how in the world could that be?


    ¡°Ah-¡° The woman said, seeing the confusion on his face. ¡°Your stats grow as you push past your limits in each category. For example, you could get more strength from defeating a strong enemy, or lifting a rock at the limit of your strength. Intelligence grows from learning more about magic, stuff like that. It¡¯s a weird system but basically rewards you for not being complacent. You grow stronger by either adapting to your surroundings or training.¡± She brushed a bit of dust off her shoulder, smiling in a nostalgic fashion.


    ¡°Some of the strongest people find new ways to experience growth, such as martial arts, or through weapon energy. That can help give a boost to your growth, though repeatedly encountering and fighting enemies on your level of strength or higher makes it much easier to grow, probably faster than all of the other ways combined.¡± She shook her head, patting the blade on her waist. ¡°Excuse me, I shouldn¡¯t explain too much. We can speak more on this later.¡±


    She waved her hand towards the table he sat upon, and the handcuffs unlocked themselves with a quiet click! He stared at the device, which now sat uselessly upon his hand, and pulled them upwards, freeing himself from his awkward half-sitting, half-laying down position. He felt the groove left from the cuffs, but smiled as he turned to the woman, finally standing, though a bit shakily.


    ¡°The name¡¯s Sarah. You¡¯ve been out for roughly twelve hours. It¡¯s the early morning now, not that you¡¯d probably be able to tell. Also, yes you were concussed. You''re lucky we''ve got a resident healer to help you out¡± She said, shrugging.


    ¡°Welcome to The Garden.¡±


    <hr>


    John looked over the edge of the complex, which learned is what the large, tower-like buildings that loomed in the void were. Below was a twisted system of vines and tree roots, churning and spiraling in place, creating a net of lively foliage, hanging across the void. His jaw dropped when he watched a vine snake up the side of the complex, sprouting small weeds and flowers along the unnatural lime walls. How could plants even grow there? There¡¯s no dirt or anything, as far as I know he said to himself, scratching his head slightly. Ignoring that mystery, where did the roots come from? He¡¯d traveled across several complexes in his mad dash after Michael¡¯s death and never saw anything of the sort.


    Sarah had led him to a private room, with a small dresser, bed, and stool, all seemingly made of the same wood that now writhed below him, save for the bed, which sported a lovely mattress of nettles, covered with a sheet for comfort. He had plenty more questions, but for now, he wanted to explore this new life. Sarah had told him that the ¡°boss¡± was figuring out what to do with him, whatever that may have meant. It seems like he might get a chance to stay though, which he honestly preferred.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    He rubbed his neck where Sarah¡¯s blade rested, even for just a moment. If someone else had found me¡­ he could¡¯ve easily been dead before waking up. There was a small bump from where the knife nearly pierced his flesh.


    He rubbed a hand through his hair, strands of auburn brushed aside as he took a deep breath, stabilizing his thoughts. He had no more tears left to shed for the fallen, not anymore. He mourned them, and grief still overtook them, but with these people, and with some direction in life, he found purpose.


    The complex itself was an interesting one. The ground floor held a massive common area, where hundreds of people mingled, creating an independence from the dark horror that lay beyond. They traded goods, talked merrily, and cooked dazzling foods throughout the floor. As he moved through the hallways, he noticed rooms identical to his own, rows of living wood repeating itself in each doorway. Speaking of which, he passed by his own room, which now had a marking labeled ¡°J.A.¡± John Alexander. Technically it was Johnathan, but he preferred John much better.


    Smiling at the door, he moved on, his mind wandering to the strange screens and statistics that now held his attention. He¡¯d run into a nice fellow towards the marketplace, who¡¯d explained to him a few things, and answered a few questions. The entire layer was this inane, non-Euclidean space of complexes and a mixture of buildings and structures, clumped together in a seemingly random, yet structured layout. An example was this complex. Despite its randomness in terms of theme and rooms, it still had a layered structure to it. It had a central room surrounded in living spaces, with long, wide hallways that accompanied the potential people the housing could contain. It fascinated John, yet no one knew a proper reason.


    He continued his leisurely walk, making his way up towards the exit of the complex. Instead of the typical, open space where a gate or large door could lay, instead was a medieval-like gate, made of that same, living wood. It sat currently closed, with two men in a thick, steeled armor standing attentively at its sides. It stood three times the height of John¡¯s nearly six foot frame, and towered over him. Turning around at the sight of it, he made his way towards a large flight of stairs, finding more rooms towards the top. Before he could move more, however, he found himself stopped by more guards, who stood in front of him.


    ¡°State your name and purpose, stranger¡± The first knight spoke, a woman with burly muscles. John was pretty certain she could take him out easily, based on her looming figure and muscles that he could spot between spaces of both her and her partner¡¯s armor. Her voice was deep and commanding, the very definition of a confident soldier.


    ¡°John, I¡¯m new ¡®round here¡± He said bowing his head slightly in respect. ¡°I was just exploring the area. Am I intruding? I apologize if I am.¡± He said, fidgeting slightly. He didn¡¯t want to ruin his reputation on the first day.


    ¡°No greenie, you ain¡¯t intruding, but you are not allowed to go further, y¡¯ hear?¡± The knight¡¯s partner, another armored soldier, with their helmet removed, spoke up. His voice was rough and unrefined, the antithesis of the former¡¯s. ¡°This place is where the governin¡¯ types live. Matsuo and the captain live here, along with the council. Not that that council ¡®ave much sway ¡®round here¡± He said, chuckling slightly.


    He assumed the ¡°captain¡± was Sarah, but who was Matsuo? He¡¯d heard of the boss before, but no one by name. Seems like he held a valuable position, so John assumed he was some higher-up in their governing structure.


    ¡°If you get lost or need help navigating, you can let us know. Kitchens are in the complex north of here, while we have an armory just west. If you were to join the scouts, you¡¯d have access to the armory, but for now citizens get access to the kitchen. Everyone needs to eat, after all.¡± She nodded her head, as if discussing a fact of nature.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got a small campus to ourselves- ah, a campus is what we call groups of complexes, if you didn¡¯t know- but it essentially means we¡¯re much safer from outside threats. People are safe here, as safe as they can be without being directly under the four great powers, but you¡¯d need to be in the skyscraper for that. Good luck there.¡± She said, chuckling slightly. It was clear she didn¡¯t expect anyone to get there, though why, John did not know.


    As he continued to wander, he noticed an isolated room with a long queue. He saw a large counter, stuffed with various items John probably couldn¡¯t comprehend. A few people left with food stuffs, with large, dazzling meals steaming still, as if it had just been taken off a grill. His stomach growled as he smelled the food, and he quickly made his way to the line, eager to see what they offered. There was a few people on the sides of the booth, servicing customers, but he managed to talk to the man who clearly ran the place.


    ¡°Greetings! Welcome to HestiaCorp, a branch of SkyCorp residing here in the Hestia Campus. How may I help you today?¡± The man in the front was bright and excited, a selling smile on his face.


    That name again¡­ SkyCorp was mentioned slightly by Bill, the squad leader, before his unfortunate demise. I think he mentioned being mercenaries working under them? He couldn¡¯t remember properly, but shook his head out of his stupor.


    ¡°Ah- I¡¯m relatively new to these parts, just arrived actually. Is there a menu, or a catalogue I can view? I¡¯m starved!¡± He said, his mouth watering a little. He watched as the man¡¯s expression turned faltered a little, before his bright smile returned.


    ¡°But of course!¡± The man said, raising his arm towards John. ¡°My name¡¯s Johann, Johann Eschel. I¡¯m the head of HestiaCorp, and I¡¯m always happy to help the newly awakened¡­ however, my wares cost essence. You need to slay monsters to afford my goods, else you¡¯ll never be able to afford anything. Do you think you can pay my prices?¡± His eyes narrowed as he gauged John¡¯s financial status.


    ¡°Ah- depends on how much, but I could probably do that. How does it work? I mean- how do you get this much food? We¡¯re not eating those gorilla thing- thralls, are we?¡± He asked, a little concerned. He wasn¡¯t sure if he could stomach the idea of eating the beasts that slaughtered so many.


    ¡°Ah, I see!¡± The shrewd man said, clearly eyeing business. ¡°My good sir, our food is sourced from our numerous chefs, who purchase food through the exchange system! It¡¯s a system all good businessman such as myself can use, however it costs you a pretty penny. While it only works for those who take the skill, we can manifest basic goods and items by spending essence, making it the perfect ability for making money! Tis why we¡¯re out here, even in remote campuses such as this.¡± John nodded along, noticing the distinct reasoning for their arrival.


    Esther swiped his hand down in a sweeping motion, and suddenly another screen appeared before him


    [Exchange Shop:


    [Page 1/999]


    [Filters: Foods]


    [1. Steak ¨C 1 Es.]


    [2. Spaghetti ¨C 1 Es.]


    [3. Teriyaki Chicken ¨C 1 Es.]


    [4. Golden Delight ¨C 10 Es.]


    [5. Seafood Dinner ¨C 2 Es.]


    [6. Cheeseburger ¨C 1 Es.]


    [7. White Steamed Rice with Chicken ¨C 1 Es.]


    [8. Sandwich (Ham and Cheese) ¨C 1 Es.]


    [9. Phoenix Brew ¨C 100,000,000 Es.]


    [10. Demon¡¯s Heart ¨C 1,000,000 Es.]


    [<- Last Page ¨C Next Page ->]


    ¡°Take your pick¡± The man said, watching John¡¯s eagerness as he looked through the catalogue. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about the more expensive stuff, no one¡¯s been able to afford one of those anyways, not to mention I doubt they¡¯d tell us if they did! That¡¯s the kind of meal that makes you stronger, somethin¡¯ we don¡¯t typically get the chance to understand.¡±


    John frowned slightly. ¡°I thought we had a kitchen. Why would anyone get food from there if they could just buy whatever they wanted from here?¡± He asked, curiously. This erupted a heartily laugh from the man, who slapped the table slightly.


    ¡°Ah, the naivete of a newly awakened, ¡®tis something lovely to see. My boy, I¡¯m afraid that most folk don¡¯t like the idea of risking their lives to the unending hordes of thrall or buzzards. Most would rather avoid a fight, but they¡¯re forced to do so anyways. Outside the Hestia Campus, there is no kitchen to go around. People must fight, and most everyone does. That¡¯s what makes places like this so valuable. The safety and security of one¡¯s future.¡±


    ¡°¡¯Tis fortunate you landed here.¡± He said, his brow raised slightly. ¡°If you¡¯d been anywhere else you¡¯d probably already be dead. But you¡¯ve got spirit in you yet! If you¡¯ve got essence, that¡¯s proof enough.¡± He shook his head slightly. ¡°This place spoils you. It¡¯s idealistic, but it means the people rely on this haven. If this Campus were to ever fall, they would be doomed. Not me though, I couldn¡¯t stand the foods they serve here. The taste of buzzard would never leave my memories.¡± He shivered slightly, his face morphing into one of disgust.


    Buzzards? This was at least the second time he¡¯d heard the term. He went to ask about them when he was waved off. The shopkeeper shook his head, frowning. ¡°All in due time, greenie. That¡¯s something best experienced by yourself, in a safe room away from the carnage. Most that hear about it go chasin¡¯ easy essence, only to find themselves eaten alive at the hands of those demons. Best you stay away. You¡¯ll know when they come¡± he said. He waved his hand away, stopping his train of thought. ¡°Best you buy something, though. There¡¯s people waiting, and plenty of essence to be earned!¡± He said, his voice a little giddy.


    John purchased a bowl of Teriyaki Chicken. His chest burned slightly as the essence left him, as if a part of him was being torn away. He scarfed it down quickly, afraid that he¡¯d never get the chance to eat good food again. To be fair, he thought, if only a few select people had the Exchange ability, it might as well be the last time he had one. Might as well make it count. It was positively delicious, and the smell alone sent him over the edge, his hunger more apparent than ever before.


    It took only a few minutes to finish the food, before he was approached by a man in leather armor, equipped with a small one-handed sword. ¡°Oi, you John? The Greenie?¡± He asked. His voice was very deep, with a small British accent middled into their words. ¡°Matsuo wants to see you. Follow me.¡± He turned and marched towards the large staircase, while John got to his feet, following closely.


    When he arrived, he was greeted with a giant of a man. He was nearly six and a half feet tall, standing far over John¡¯s smaller frame. He was clad with a large, green vest, embroidered with a large golden leaf. The man wore a bright smile, but the rest of his face was deadly serious. It felt out of place, as if his mind was wandering, not even looking at him whilst engaging with him.


    ¡°Hello,¡± he said, his voice strangely benevolent. He was Asian American, reminding John of his brother. His deep black hair fell past his eyes, curling together in a matte of what could seem like messy hair. Despite the unkemptness of his hair, the man had a professional and confident flair about him, his back straight, chin raised. His gait was unhesitant, his every stride seemingly calculated and precise.


    ¡°I believe you are¡­ John, yes? The survivor of the bridge incident around the Starbound Campus?¡± His finger tipped his chin, tapping it slightly as he thought.


    ¡°Yes sir-¡± John said, nodding his head firmly. Briefly, a flash of the carnage flashed through his mind, sending a shiver down his spine as he recalled the brutality. His breath caught as visions of gore and violence displayed before him, a river of blood on a clear glass bridge. He quivered slightly, before catching his lip with his teeth, steeling himself and remaining calm.


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard all about it from Sarah, our local scout captain. An encounter with a brute class thrall so far away from the Skyscraper¡­ it¡¯s harrowing, seeing that many new prospects massacred before they can reach their prime.¡± His voice felt sophisticated, as if even the simplest of words had a deeper meaning behind them. ¡°I am a servant of the Lord, who tests our might with these great layers. Their memories will be stored and preserved here, in my beautiful Garden.¡± He said, steepling his hands together.


    He brushed his hands against each other and pushed them to the sky. Vines burst from the depths of the walls, coalescing and molding together in the center of the room, before solidifying into a single, pointed shape. A monument, of pure, unaltered wood, stood in front of John. He watched as flowers bloomed from its frame, and large, bolded words appeared before his very eyes.


    May the memories,


    Of those lost along the Starbound Bridge,


    Be memorialized alongside servants of the Lord of the Layers,


    And rest in the loving arms of peace,


    ¡°This will be placed in the center of our compound, alongside the legends of our own fallen citizens. May their souls rest in peace¡± He said, bowing deeply towards the statue, which was modeled like a small, person-sized version of the Washington monument.


    John flinched slightly, but smiled and thanked the man, who waved off his apology. ¡°You will be permitted to stay, to learn alongside our people. We welcome you as one of us, a servant of the Garden.¡± He turned around at those words, walking away from John without waiting for a reply. ¡°Leave me. You will be sought when you decide your path to take. As one who has slain a brute, I am interested in your potential. Do not disappoint me, John.¡± With that, he was gone, melding into the roots and disappearing into whatever lay beyond the wall in front of John, which was molded of a mixture of thick, dense leaves and hardened wood.


    As he watched where the man once stood, a familiar voice rang out from behind him.


    ¡°John!¡± It was Sarah, who waved to him, before patting his shoulder. ¡°Met the boss, did you? Matsuo¡¯s an interesting type, but he¡¯s the one who led us to be the safe haven we are today, so don¡¯t mind him¡± She smirked, before leaning over towards him. ¡°He¡¯s one of the few Gold ranked humans out here on the outskirts! It¡¯s rare to find someone nearly as strong as him.¡± She said proudly, puffing out her chest.


    ¡°He follows the teachings of The Order, but it doesn¡¯t typically go much further than that. He doesn¡¯t mind if you¡¯re a believer or not¡­ but now that I think of it, you probably don¡¯t even know who they are, don¡¯t you?¡± She tilted her head, whilst placing a hand on her hip. ¡°Something to learn later, perhaps.¡± She slapped his shoulder lightly, her face serious.


    ¡°I¡¯d recommend you get to your quarters. The darkness presents immense danger, even in a place like here. Oh yea, you need to buy a watch as soon as possible. There ain¡¯t a sun here, so anything to tell the time with makes traveling infinitely more safe. We offer some if you join the scouts, but normal civilians need to buy one from HestiaCorp. The greedy bastards.¡± She scowled slightly, kicking her foot.


    ¡°No matter. We¡¯ve got roughly thirty minutes till dark, so I¡¯d recommend you get inside and lock your doors. Usually nothing happens, but creatures can sneak in at night, even through Matsuo¡¯s living barrier.¡± She patted his shoulder and ran off, passing through the same wall Matsuo did. It seemed like it was a security check, only allowing those who he allowed through. Intriguing¡­ he thought, before making his way down the stairs once more.


    As he found his way to his room, he noticed soldiers running towards the gates, a calm expression on their faces despite their rushed movements. A team of people clad in the familiar, golden leaf followed, carrying barrels of arrows and armor. They were clearly gearing for something important.


    It was then that a loud, blaring noise took him by surprise. The florescent lights above that burned so brightly suddenly shut off, plunging them into darkness. He watched through the window as people moved calmly, before lighting a few braziers to lighten up the local area, but before they could finish illuminating the stations, the lights turned on once again, this time, instead of their usual, whiteish yellow hue, showering them in a deep red. John noticed that it was only the lights around their complex that lit up, but his thoughts were quickly lost to the void as the soldiers began to shout, barking orders to each other. A bell rang out, the piercing noise echoing throughout the halls of the complex.


    ¡°Calling any available fighters, or those eligible to fight. All hands on deck!¡± A hoarse voice erupted from the soldiers, one which began to move between the hallways of rooms, banging on doors. John opened his door, stepping out towards the soldiers, trying his best to get a view of whatever was going on.


    ¡°A raid is incoming! Prepare for combat! Hold the hordes together, guard the ledges! MOVE!¡± In a flurry of movement, soldiers ran back and forth, drawing their blades. John pushed towards their lines through the frantic crowd, before he finally made his way to an edge of the complex, giving him a view of the solitary bridge that served as the single exit of the compound, for all the people who lived here. He saw nothing, which concerned him even more, until he finally looked down. Expecting to see a dark, endless void, he instead saw a small, clawed hand grip the walls of the towering complex, dragging itself up its side. It was¡­ a small monkey? It climbed up the side with fascinating speed, dancing as it moved towards the awaiting soldiers.


    That¡¯s when another one emerged from the darkness, and another, and another, until John couldn¡¯t see the walls of the complex any further, its ugly walls obscured by a seemingly endless horde of bodies. John¡¯s jaw dropped in awe as the literal tsunami of monsters kept flowing, and he finally understood the term that eluded him this whole time, uttered in fear by the men and women who stood ready in defense.


    The Buzzards were coming.

 Chapter 4: "Gone, in a Single Night"

    The world erupted into a flurry of movement. The small monkey that scaled the walls, now accompanied by the seemingly never-ending tide of monsters, quickly scaled the walls. Once it got closer, its speed hiked immensely, dashing upwards so fast John could barely track the beast. It zipped around with a blur, speeding up until it reached the edge. John watched as a small, clawing hand reached upwards, a faint red glow emitting from its thin, padded skin.


    ¡°Stand back-!¡± A man grizzled and older, with a thick beard of white and gray stepped in front of John, pushing the terrified man behind him. ¡°We¡¯ve got a pack leader!¡± He yelled towards his comrades, extracting a palette of reactions from the soldiers alongside the walls. Three more soldiers came rushing towards them, and they collectively surrounded the monkey, who currently stood posed in place. The small glow that surrounded its body felt as if it was pulsing, scanning the complex. It let out an abhorrent, unnatural screech before leaping towards the nearest person, being the old man who pushed John out of the line of fire.


    It moved faster than John could process, its body blurring and bending around his vision. The buzzard left behind a trail of red, the same distinct glow that actively emanated from its body. Before it could reach the man however, his spear shot up from his hands, slapping the creature down to the ground, sending it reeling as its smaller body was hit with an overwhelming force. While it sat, winded, the four soldiers used the opportunity to stab it, impaling the monkey on their spears, shouting triumphantly as it took its final breath with a whisper, contrary to its rallying cry from before.


    ¡°Sir! Get a weapon, we need to hold the walls! The horde will be here any minute.¡± The older man whipped around to look over the edge, thinking quickly. He turned back to John, shooing him away. ¡°They¡¯re almost upon us!¡± He said, his voice rising boldly above the scurrying soldiers, barking orders and sharpening their blades. ¡°Prepare to hold the horde back!¡± He moved into a readying stance, looking like a basketball player attempting to box out an opponent, his spear fastened securely to both of his hands, which did not shake.


    Maybe this won¡¯t be so bad¡­ John thought, before rushing away towards the group of soldiers. He found a spare weapon, a small, sharpened but not particularly impressive sword. It¡¯ll have to do, he thought before rushing back towards the nearest group, any other people that could use a hand. Just as he was about to arrive, the full force of the massive horde hit them, with hundreds if not thousands of tiny bodies spilling over the edge.


    The closest soldier to the ledge was swarmed and fell on his back. John recalled seeing the man the day prior, a bright man around his age, who smiled to every person that walked by. His screams echoed throughout the crowded balcony, a desperate cry of pain and agony as thousands of razor-sharp teeth sunk into his skin,


    Biting,


    Rending,


    Twisting his flesh.


    His cries petered out as quickly as they started. The monkeys tore through his throat with unerring efficiency, leaving whatever remained as a gargled, jumbled mess. Their small hands managed to fit between the gaps in the man¡¯s armor, prying off their thick plate in an instant. They tore through what laid underneath, and John looked away, unable to see any more of the rest of the man¡¯s tortured existence. His hands shook violently as he lifted his sword towards the mass of bodies. He hesitated for a moment, scenes of carnage from his earlier encounter with the thrall flashing through his mind, the gore and carnage sending shivers down his spine, but he ignored it, and lunged forwards, swinging his blade in a large, cleaving arc.


    He pierced three of the buzzards with a single swing, butchering them in place as their skin parted with extreme ease. They¡¯re weak he thought, before pulling his sword back, now plastered in thick blood, and swinging again. This time, it killed another two, before being lodged in a third, stopping its sweeping arc. The creature caught by the blade pushed itself towards John, moving further into the blade as it impaled itself, its claws desperately lunging towards John¡¯s unprotected body. Blood spewed from the wound as it continued to move, until the blade pierced through its chest through the back. Somehow it continued further, and further, inching closer towards John. With a desperate cry, he kicked towards the monster, his foot colliding with its small face, sending it flying back, and dislodging itself from his blade, dead.


    [Buzzard (Basic) Killed]


    [Buzzard (Basic) Killed]


    [Buzzard (Basic) Killed]


    [1 Essence Gained]


    [Buzzard (Basic) Killed]


    [¡­]


    A string of notifications followed, and a measly amount of essence spilled into John¡¯s soul, sending that unfamiliar, warm feeling pulsing throughout his body. From the six buzzards alone, he only managed to earn two essence. These monsters aren¡¯t even worth a single essence individually! He thought. The thrall had managed to give him twenty, but he learned that the amount of essence was unusually high, due to it being a more evolved version, a brute.


    Around him, scenes of carnage unfolding at an unrelenting pace, all with varying success. He watched soldiers hold their lines of defense, wading through the seemingly unending times with their relentless wall, but in other places¡­ those weren¡¯t so lucky. There weren¡¯t soldiers at every possible gap, and a few buzzards had managed to snake through. They poured through the gaps in the line, dashing towards the people who stood quivering in fear behind them, desperately trying to barricade their rooms.


    A man in a brighter green who looked like a merchant of some sorts tried to run, but a buzzard quickly cut his ankles, sending him tumbling to the ground. He let out a shuddering wail as he crawled along the ground, dragging his bloody ankles behind him, leaving a small trail of viscera. Unfortunately for him, the buzzards were not kind enough to let him escape. A single buzzard leaped atop the man, its paws clawing at his neck. His screams increased, peaking in intensity and horror as their claws dug further, piercing the skin of his neck, sending droplets of flesh flying in all directions. His horrifying cry disappeared faster than it initially appeared as the man¡¯s head was ripped clean off, launching into the air as the creature¡¯s single-minded pull launched it upwards, only to be caught by another one. The last thing John saw of the man was his corpse, covered from head to toe in buzzards, who chomped into his organs like peasants at a feast.


    John tried to gasp, equally in awe and terror, but it was caught in his throat as more creatures burst over the edge, throwing themselves towards him at an intense speed. He swung his blade clumsily at the nearest buzzard, the point slicing a few small hairs off the top of its head, which fell to the ground in a small pile. The fast beast caught his arm, lunging itself up the length of his appendage before swiping for his head, its claws shining in the piercing red light.


    Biting the inside of his cheek, John reared his head back violently, throwing himself off balance and sending him tumbling towards the floor. As he fell, the razor-sharp claws that threatened his lower chin just barely grazed his skin, sending a small streak of red across its length, as if he¡¯d cut himself when shaving.


    He fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes, hitting the ground with a wave of impact, that flew from his legs to his chest, knocking the wind out of him. As he heaved for breath, the other buzzards didn¡¯t bother waiting for him to recover, with at least five of them clinging onto a piece of him, clothing across his body like a snake lunging for the kill. He screamed in terror as they climbed atop him, their claws digging into his skin, ripping, plunging deeper and deeper, filling his mind with intense, unending pain-


    Until it stopped.


    [Ability: Adrenaline used]


    [Ability: Calm Mind used]


    The pain disappeared in an instant, falling away despite the gore erupting from the monster¡¯s claws that tore him apart. His mind cleared of panic, the desperate dreams of escape disappearing from his mind as he disregarded any inkling of a plan. His pained grunts turned into a guttural growl, emerging from his very core as he heaved with all his might, pushing the horde off them, sending them flying away, skidding a few feet across the floor, their claws creating a piercing, ear-shredding sound as they ripped apart the carpet, catching their balance.


    John¡¯s eyes burned with intense heat as he pushed himself onto his feet, before the remaining herd of buzzards pounced on him again. Time seemed to move in slow motion as he processed each individual movement, watching their trajectory and nudging his body just ever so slightly out of the way. In an instant, time returned to normal, and the monkeys flew past him, each one barely missing by an inch.


    Before they could regain their bearings, John launched himself towards the nearest monkey, slamming the hilt of his sword into its head, sending it tumbling to the ground as the world spun around it, a piercing groan splitting the space between them. He quickly raised his foot, his shadow encompassing the small creature, before slamming down on its head, which cracked! And with a jerk, it was dead.


    Stay focused! He thought to himself as he swung around, raising his blade just in time to meet the next buzzard, their talons slamming into the metal, sending sparks flying through the air, illuminating the nearby carpet in a shower of sparks. The area around him turned into a miniature bonfire as the carpet burst alight, before the fire dissipated, sending a wave of heat across John¡¯s exposed face.


    Crude!


    He sent a punch flying towards its fluffy body, sending it soaring into a nearby wall, his strength seemingly elevated higher as he moved, energy continuing to fill him up. He felt as he would burst with a desperate, inherent need to move, to slam the nearest living being into the wall, to deliver a flurry of blows onto them with brutal efficiency.


    Three more moved around him, and he clumsily swung his sword in a wide arc, piercing two in the tops of their head, his sword cleaving through the first with little difficulty, before lodging itself in the skull of the second. He pulled, his muscles straining with effort as he tried to remove the weapon but found himself unable. The remaining buzzard roaring at the loss of its comrades, seemingly enraged as its attributes took on a superhuman-like status, blurring in place. It took on a familiar, red glow as it moved faster than he could perceive.


    He looked around, desperately searching for some sign of the beast that remained, his calm expression fading as the panic returned. He felt nothing but an overwhelming sense of dread, circling him, leaving hm delirious. He felt dizzy as he spun in place, continuing his frantic search, before the dread exploded to his immediate left, and he raised his arms desperately towards its direction.


    Two pairs of long, red gashes appeared across the skin of his arms as he barely managed to block the attack from reaching his neck. His eyes widened, his pupils dilating in fear as he felt the incoming rush of death.


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    Two more gashes appeared on his shoulder, even closer to ending his life as John fell on his back, a whoosh of air appearing in a gust right where he previously stood, narrowly dodging a quick end. He let out a yelp of terror as he rolled, using every remaining ounce of strength to move as fast as he possibly could, yet he knew it was simply a matter of time before the creature¡¯s claws found his neck.


    The blur re-appeared, this time he found himself barely able to track it, catching just the outline of the monkey as it ran towards him, the red glow of its eyes leaving a trail as it ran, an afterimage of death. John¡¯s journey flashed before his eyes, mixed memories of scattered moments of his life before the layers, which felt like just days ago, jumbling and smushing together in a mismatch of scenes, incoherent and garbled. Flashes of a face, his mother, his father, drifted through his mind, their faces frozen in time from all those years ago. His older brother Jerry, his best friend, terrified and crying in the burning remains of a metal coach, the car mangled in the background as he stood over John, cradling his arm. The burnt orange illuminated two figures in the front seats, their silhouettes unnaturally still.


    Just as he felt the pinch of the beast¡¯s claws reach his skin, feeling his skin split as blood spilled forward, beginning to coat the surrounding area in a thick coat of red, the pressure levitated literally lifting above his head. He opened his eyes, which he didn¡¯t realize he had closed, and his jaw dropped in awe at the sight before him.


    A sound like a tree tearing itself from the ground, as if a tornado flung its roots from the soil, uplifting a forest in an instant emerged, and John watched as the buzzard was flung into the air before it could even react, impaled on a spike of hardened, sharpened wood. It emerged from the carpet, enveloping the nearby area in a small layer of roots as the spike rose from the ground, raising a full seven feet above the layer carpet that now filled with the buzzard¡¯s blood.


    John lay on the ground, clutching his bleeding shoulder as he watched the shuddering final breath of the monster that just nearly took his life, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched the roots suddenly dash to the right, coalescing together underneath another buzzard, impaling it in place, before dashing to another, and another, splitting into two, then four, then eight. The horde erupted into a shower of blood, coating the office space in a blanket of scarlet viscera as the soldiers began cheering, watching the formerly formidable horde lose half its numbers in a matter of seconds.


    From the large staircase that led to the guard post, Matsuo, clad in a coat of harsh brown wood, which covered his features in a thick armor, imitating that of a fully steeled knight, emerged, his hands swishing from side to side like a conductor. With each wave of his hand another monkey was impaled, and soon the battlefield turned into a lush filled plain. A forest of spikes littered the surrounding area, each impaled monster growing a horizontal layer of branches, each tipped with vibrant green leaves. They resembled crosses, like the outskirts of a roman settlement, with thousands of crucified monstrosities.


    John did his best to join the cheering crowd, but his voice was gone, replaced with a gargle of blood as his mouth filled with thick liquid, embedding the taste of iron into his senses. He struggled to position himself upright, crawling to a nearby wall to prop himself up, his eyes meeting Matsuo¡¯s as he felt his vision darken. He jolted awake, as if catching himself on a sleepless night, and looked downwards towards his body.


    His clothes were torn in a dozen spots, and he sported nine intense, bloodred wounds. Four lines of claws lined his arm and shoulders, and half a dozen more splotches of gore shredded his chest, where the beasts climbed atop him, tearing him apart. The wounds ran deep, and he knew he was losing too much blood, so much so that he felt as if he was withering away, dried and drained of his very essence.


    Matsuo scurried to him, flanked by a pair of guards. He placed his hands upon John¡¯s shoulder, and he felt a warm glow as the man muttered something under his breath:


    [Lesser Healing]¡­


    His voice trailed off, as if out of thought, but he felt his wounds slowly begin to close with a painful pinch. He winced as the wounds began to stitch themselves back together, burning where they touched, but the pain was temporary. He gritted his teeth as he rode through the pain, feeling as if dozens of needles pierced him simultaneously, until they suddenly stopped, and he was left with overwhelming soreness. He couldn¡¯t move even if he wanted to, so he merely watched.


    A familiar face stood beside Matsuo. It was Sarah, clad in a thick, dark blue coat, which shrouded her features down to her boots. Mixed between vital organs were plates of armor. A small breastplate covered her chest, and underneath her cloak her legs were completely layered in armor. He was almost certain that her shoulders boasted the same protection, yet he couldn¡¯t fully see. Her face was half submerged in blood, staining her skin like a distinguished birthmark. Strangely, he couldn¡¯t see any weapons on her, her back and belt missing a scabbard. Even the blade she¡¯d used to threaten him with earlier was missing.


    Just as he was questioning her safety choices, his sight dimmed once more, feeling as if the lights were growing less vibrant, and a seeping gray slowly crawled from the corners of his vision. His head dipped once, twice, three times before he couldn¡¯t find the strength to carry on, only managing to stare blankly at his bloodied chest before he began to fall into the grasp of sleep.


    <hr>


    As soon as the red lights burst through the window that accompanied his room, Matsuo knew trouble was afoot. Having just finished a meeting with the head of defense, he¡¯d made his way to the comfort of his bed, seeking a slight respite before the activities of the next morning. His head grew sore as he thought of the incoming troubles that lumbered his way, his mind drifting towards the curious young man that survived the Starbound Massacre, the sole survivor of what he deemed a rampaging thrall, of at least brute class.


    Before he could think on it more, his door burst down in a heave, piling tens of miniature, writhing bodies onto the matte placed just inches from his door.


    Buzzards?! He quickened his movements with a practiced fluidity, pointing his hands to himself as a small root of bark emerged from the ground, twisting around his boot like a snake pouncing on its prey. In precisely two seconds it slithered up his body, expanding and enveloping his clothing, leaving only his head exposed. The nearest buzzard slashed towards him, yet its claws found themselves unable to pierce his armor, and with another wave of his hand, five monsters found a spike through their mouths, slowly dying as they fell further onto the spear of wood, in excruciating, immense pain. If they could feel pain, that is.


    His mind wandered as the next group of buzzards were wiped out. He heard the screams of tens, if not a hundred people locked in a violent struggle below, past the security wall that barricaded the secondary exit to the complex, and the armory that housed his guards.


    He swept through the neighboring rooms, finding Sarah standing over a mountain of bodies, a small smile on her face. He narrowed his eyes as he watched her, her breath heaving as blood dripped from her cheek. Another brave soul in face of the Lord¡¯s trials¡­ he thought to himself. His perception was filled with admiration, inspiration beaming from her every movement, before he caught himself, coughing into his hand.


    ¡°Ah- sir! A group of buzzards crawled up the side of the second entrance. I managed to clear out this group, but a few of them managed to head towards your room.¡± She said, her voice cracking as she noticed him standing behind her but straightening out as she grew serious.


    ¡°And you assumed I would be able to deal with them?¡± Matsuo asked, raising his eyebrow upwards,  slightly unnerved.


    ¡°You¡¯re here, are you not?¡± She replied, looking past him. ¡°The guards need help. I think we¡¯ve got a large raid, something bigger than we¡¯ve faced in the last year alone. There¡¯s bound to be some pack leaders, and we don¡¯t have any abilities that cover a wide area, except for yours.¡± She muttered some words under her breath, before gesturing towards Matsuo. ¡°The Surveyor¡¯s dead, so we can¡¯t just autonomously clear out the monsters. They need you down there. Now.¡± Her voice was stern, and she stared directly into Matsuo¡¯s eyes, as if searching his soul. He didn¡¯t have the time to contest her, even if he wanted to.


    He did not bother to think before rushing towards the door. Sarah followed in tow, her footsteps rapidly speeding up as she used her superhuman strength to match his pace, rushing down the stairs. Another man, a guard, filed in as well, equipped with a massive halberd that dwarfed even Matsuo in height. He clasped his hands together in a silent prayer as they moved to find what remained of their people.


    He killed the remaining horde as soon as they entered his vision, his hastened mind struggling to slaughter the thousands of beasts in just a minute, leaving only his wounded soldiers remaining. Only a few emerged unscathed, lifting the more heavily wounded onto their shoulders, or helping the remaining few that could walk away from the edge.


    His gaze swept among the crowd of bodies, eyes locking with that of another. It was that man¡­ the same that piqued his interest earlier. He was propped against a wall, stuck like a pig with nearly a dozen wounds, leaving a trail of what looked like guts behind him. Around him lay the bodies of ten buzzards, with a singular monster pierced by one of Matsuo¡¯s own spears. That raised an eyebrow from him. How could a newcomer manage to fend off nearly a dozen monsters smaller and faster than a dog?


    Shaking his head out of it, he sprinted towards the man, whose head lulled towards unconsciousness, the pain returning to his eyes. He placed his hand upon him, casting [Lesser Healing] before taking another glance at the impaled buzzard. Its body emitted a smaller, light red glow, that of an evolved buzzard.


    A pack leader¡­ he took on a pack leader by himself and lived? He asked himself, his palm rubbing the base of his chin. Clearly a speed type. It only evolved into a brute class buzzard, yet something like that would take out any copper-ranked human. He had good instincts. Matsuo smiled towards the young man, who looked up towards his second in command with a child-like curiosity, before falling into a deep slumber. Matsuo knew he would be fine once he awoke, but he dared not take his eyes off for a moment, entranced in thought.


    Wails of pain brought him out of his thoughtful stupor, and he spun in place, making his way towards the huddled group of wounded soldiers, who carefully applied bandages to their wounds. Some had even dozens of tiny, minute cuts that lined the gaps between their armor, and some had lost pieces of armor entirely, ripped away from them by the dozens of buzzards that poured over their line of defense. They were intelligent beasties, intelligent enough to recognize the importance of their armor after just a few ineffective swipes. The thought of a highly intelligent, ever evolving pack terrified Matsuo, and he shuddered at the mere thought of it. Even a few more brutes, or even a variant¡­ he grimaced as he thought of a buzzard with a magical ability, coupled with its unique intelligence.


    ¡­


    Hours later, Matsuo sat in front of a large round table, carefully sculpted from the familiar wood that lines the outskirts of the complex. Around him, in large, fantastical chairs that resembled thrones, twenty hardened soldiers, layered in scars, muttered to each other nervously, assessing damages and swiftly handing papers between their shivering hands whilst Matsuo watched on, his face grim.


    ¡°Sir¡­¡± Bernard, a grizzled veteran of five years, the man who taught Matsuo everything he knew, stood next to him, tapping his shoulder. ¡°After assessment of the raid, in just the twenty minutes of fighting, we lost nearly¡­¡± he glanced down towards a small piece of parchment that he gripped tightly, intensity radiating from his very being. ¡°One hundred and eleven civilian casualties.¡± His face twisted in a grimaced expression of grief and overwhelming, enveloping anger. ¡°And another twenty guards lost. That¡¯s a twelfth of our population gone, in a single night.¡±


    Sarah, who sat next to him, winced at the number, her steel glove flying to cover her mouth as she heaved in place, a small tear forming in her eyes. Matsuo¡¯s expression fell solemn, and he dipped his head when he heard the number. It was barely a drop in the bucket compared to the billions of humans that found themselves stranded in this layer, yet each death felt like a failure, a failure to himself, to his people, to the memories he had created when he claimed this complex for himself.


    The lord tests us¡­ he thought, his fist clenching as he thought to himself, silently watching the chaos of the council before him.


    ¡°We have lost much today¡­ but we will recover. The fifth wave has begun, and with it another billion people to introduce to the layers. It seems the death will not end with just this, Already, an incident involving a new group of awakened, claiming the lives of what¡¯s estimated to be another hundred occurred just yesterday, leaving a single survivor, who now rests here. It seems he made it through this terrible night, but this is a bad omen. Never have we seen such wanton death. This raid¡­ was exponentially stronger than any we have seen before. Hundreds we could¡¯ve handled without my presence, yet thousands attacked us.¡± His voice was filled with concern, and the air shifted as the surrounding soldiers muttered prayers or curses under their breath.


    ¡°Something is changing within the second layer. As your leader, I will investigate the matter, but that may warrant a trip to the Skyscraper.¡± His eyes darted towards each of the men and women that lined the table. A collective gasp emerged from the group, hushing after a brief moment. ¡°However, I cannot leave this place without the threat of another raid of this capacity. We¡¯ll have to send word to the nearby Migrants group, and to nearby branches of SkyCorp. Put out requests for civilians and guardsmen and organize training of new recruits. We need soldiers more than ever, especially after the losses tonight.¡± He pointed to a large piece of parchment that lay sprawled out towards the center of the table, a thick ink outlining the markings of a map, which covered the local area, showing large, detailed boxes that represented the neighboring complexes.


    ¡°We need to expand If we are to survive.¡± He muttered, speaking softly to those around him.


    ¡°Sarah¡± he spoke her name with intensity, jolting her attention towards him. ¡°I want you to send some scouts into the neighboring complexes. See if any new groups have moved in, and if no one¡¯s there, begin detailed mapping of their layouts.¡± Several of the nearby complexes had many layers to them, like the Garden. While their home was huge, it could barely house over fifteen hundred people. If they wanted to expand, and rapidly, their smaller complex wouldn¡¯t do.


    ¡°Yes, sir!¡± She exclaimed, saluting him before sitting back down, her back straightening in her chair.


    ¡°I will remain here for the next few days, before beginning my journey to the inner campuses. Once I get to the Skyscraper, I¡¯ll talk to the Collective, see if they know anything about the disturbing change in intensity we¡¯ve seen as of late.¡± He rubbed his chin, playing with a few strands of hair, pulling them between his fingers.


    ¡°But sir!¡± Bernard exclaimed, his face distraught. ¡°The teleporters were claimed by Strollo- err... Remus''s lot, just a month ago. After the war¡­ it¡¯s probably best not to trespass in their territory. I highly recommend we send a mess-¡°


    ¡°I¡¯ll have none of it, Bernard.¡± Matsuo exclaimed, brushing away his dear mentor¡¯s remarks. ¡°I need to go myself. Major Caldwell knows me well, and he¡¯ll give me the answers I need, if they have any at all.¡± He shook his head, smiling softly. ¡°I must do this, Bernard. You understand, surely?¡± He half asked, half ordered.


    Bernard shook his head, closing his eyes tightly before opening them, a new firmness gleaming deep in his gaze. ¡°Very well, Sir. I will do my best to ensure this place is perfect before your departure. He glanced up, as if gazing at the heavens through the ceiling, tensed with motivation.


    ¡°Good, then this emergency meeting is dismissed!¡± Matsuo said, clapping his hands together, and the twenty council members stood at once, filing out the small door at the corner of the room.


    ¡°Wait¡­¡± He said, his voice was considerably less firm as he lightly tapped Sarah¡¯s shoulder. She turned and glanced at him curiously, her eyes glistening with something he couldn¡¯t quite place.


    ¡°What is it, Sir?¡± she asked, tilting her head.


    ¡°That boy¡­ John, was it?¡± He asked, getting a nod from her before continuing.


    ¡°Keep an eye on him. He¡¯s a promising one.¡± He said, his mind aflutter with the thought of the near dozen buzzards, felled by the feeble man¡¯s sheer will. If he had the capacity to do so much, when still so weak¡­


    He couldn¡¯t wait to see what sort of monster he¡¯d become.

 Chapter 5: To Find the Strength to Go On

    The morning was greeted with the now familiar rush of soldiers, their armor bustling in the brightly illuminated room that stood in rank with the wooden palisade that served as their gate. At the center of the mass of movement stood a small cart, packed with parchments, papers, and a few small goods for trade. They spent the good portion of the morning working together in tandem, and Zander had noticed a few pairs of what he assumed were scouts leaving the complex together, sprinting across the glass bridges at an inhuman pace, before disappearing into the vast complexes that bordered the reach of their campus. A small stream of civilians streamed towards the kitchens, clamoring over decomposing bodies and pools of blood as they went to eat their fill. No one had an appetite after what happened last night.


    Zander had woken up with a pounding headache, which lasted ¡®till the fluorescent lights flickered on, signaling the start to the day. The dim, red canopy of illumination lasted until the raid had ended, once the last buzzard was dead or dying, leaving those who remained forced to use any handheld light sources they had to help their comrades, or grieve for them.


    Once Zander had regained his bearings, he immediately heaved what remained of his dinner off the edge of the complex, his mind filling with scenes of gore and untold violence, all of which he never fully processed until that very minute. He had been so enraptured with doing what he could to survive that he¡¯d never taken the time to understand the severity of such an attack.


    There was no joyous greeting of one¡¯s neighbor, no smiles or jokes from the chef, no cheerful greeting from Johann, the SkyCorp merchant, who distributed free aid to those whose wounds weren¡¯t deemed important enough warrant magical healing in favor of those mortally wounded.


    The man who had saved him from the ¡°pack leader,¡± whatever that had meant, the grizzled veteran who sported a stark white beard, clad in his distinctly sheen armor, joined him as he sat perfectly still, lost in a monsoon of rampaging emotions that broiled and churned within his mind.


    ¡°¡¯Morning, son. I see you made it through the night¡± He said, clapping him over the shoulder, sporting a pained smile. ¡°That was a hell of a fight, one of the biggest raids I think I¡¯ve ever seen, in my five long years here.¡± He chuckled slightly, his hand reaching down and fidgeting with the hilt of the longsword that sat at his hip.


    ¡°What¡­ was that, exactly?¡± Zander asked, pushing aside any nerves that enraptured him, swallowing a mouthful of saliva with a silent gulp. His eyes searched for any source of comfort, any sign that what happened was a simple dream, or a trick, something temporary, but in the veteran¡¯s he found no solace.


    ¡°A raid, I¡¯m afraid.¡± He grunted, leaning himself against the back of the chair he sat in, the two sitting in together in what looked like a breakroom table. ¡°They happen at random, sometimes they can happen twice in a row, but that¡¯s so rare, it¡¯s only been documented once.¡± The man¡¯s eyes caught a small pool of blood below his foot, which, while the sticky liquid was gone, the stains left in the carpet were not. It was unlikely those stains would disappear in just a few hours, much less weeks.


    ¡°Those beasts, you probably haven¡¯t heard of them since last night, yea?¡± He asks Zander, who nodded in return, taking a small bite of an apple he purchased from SkyCorp. ¡°Buzzards¡­ they¡¯re nasty beasties, they come at night, usually in small packs, but during raids¡­ over a hundred is an easy one.¡± He shuddered slightly, his eyes wrought with emotion. ¡°Last night- I¡¯ve never seen such a nasty raid. Thousands at once, it¡¯s unheard of throughout the second layer. It¡¯s never happened. Ever.¡± He said, his face steeling itself.


    ¡°With that-¡° he turned back towards Zander, smiling slightly. He slapped the man on his shoulder once more, earning a small laugh in response. ¡°I believe you¡¯ve seen every type of monster we¡¯ve got here on the second layer, in just a single day! I couldn¡¯t imagine something so unlucky.¡± His smile, while joyous and bright, felt forced, and Zander could tell there was something deeper behind his gaze, a deep concern that outweighed any joy he could emit.


    ¡°I- I¡¯ve seen people hurl themselves into the void after seeing less¡± His voice wavered, and the tip of his bottom lip quivered softly. His eyes grew far away, as if looking at something from afar that wasn¡¯t really there. ¡°It¡¯s a damn shame a newly awakened such as yourself had to go through such a thing. Most would be dead by now. You should be proud.¡± His words were solemn, desolate, almost like he was reading an obituary.


    ¡°The name¡¯s Bernard¡± He said, his chest puffed out, not with pride, but with confidence, and extended his hand, catching Zander¡¯s with an open palm, shaking him so hard that Zander felt he would be flung away. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you. I never got to fully introduce myself before¡± he explained, turning his body fully towards Zander.


    ¡°Zander. I never got to thank you for saving me last night. That buzzard¡­ why was it so fast? I mean- the others were barely enough to handle, but I couldn¡¯t even see it! Not to mention, later in the night, when I got jumped by a few of ¡®em, something similar happened.¡± He said, his voice trailing off as he recalled the events of the fight.


    ¡°Something similar?¡± Bernard asked, his brows furrowing in thought. ¡°Explain what happened. Please¡±


    ¡°Ah- I got pounced on by a group of five of the monsters, and I barely managed to throw them off, killing four of them, but I was left without my sword. The last one yelled loudly, like it was grieving, before it started glowing that same exact, familiar red. Then it got super-fast, and I couldn¡¯t see it anymore. It was a miracle I survived, but was it that fast the entire time? Or does it get enraged from killing its friends?¡± He tilted his head curiously, lost in thought.


    ¡°Ah, you¡¯re quite unfortunate!¡± Bernard clapped his hands in realization, his eyes widening slightly as he realized what transpired. ¡°You ever heard of a brute? Or a variant? A chieftain?¡± Zander shook his head. He had heard of the term brute before, but no one had ever explained what it truly meant.


    ¡°All manner of creatures in the second layer have a ranking to them, given by the system. We¡¯ve done our best to classify them for layfolk, but a brute is a beast, be it thrall, trapper, or buzzard, that¡¯s acquired some sort of enhancement. The ones we saw- the pack leaders- all had some sort of speed enhancement. That thrall, the one that carved up your group of awakened, it was a brute, yes?¡± Zander nodded again. ¡°Don¡¯t quite know what sort of ability something like that would have, I wasn¡¯t there, but it¡¯s likely the thrall was significantly stronger than its usual counterparts. It¡¯s no wonder the mercs were overwhelmed. They¡¯re a small group, dedicated to small end jobs like escorts and trading. They aren¡¯t equipped enough to deal with a brute¡­¡± he trailed off, his voice fading.


    ¡°Enough with the sad stuff! Open your status, boy! With all that fighting, a newly awakened like you is sure to have gained some juicy rewards!¡± His beaming smile returned, and Zander felt a similar one appear on his face. His mannerisms were contagious, and despite the direness of the situation he found himself truly feeling a bit of excitement.


    He willed open his status, calling up the screen, which was filled with notifications.


    [Buzzard (Basic) Killed]


    [Buzzard (Basic) Killed]


    [Buzzard (Basic) Killed]


    [¡­]


    [2 Essence Gained]


    Two essence for that desperate fight for my life¡­ it felt unfair, almost.


    [Status]


    [Core: Copper]


    [Soul: Copper]


    [Traits: Masterful Crafter (Species Only)]


    [Species: Human]


    [Status:]


    [Strength: 13]


    [Constitution: 14]


    [Dexterity: 12]


    [Intelligence: 10]


    [Spirit: 11]


    [Charisma: 10]


    [Abilities: Willpower, Adrenaline]


    His strength went up only two, but his constitution went up by three! He looked up towards Bernard, who raised his cup to the sky at the news, filling the silent air with joyous celebration. His actions got the attention of the civilians who sat in silence, staring into the empty air with a desolate expression, now grinning softly at the celebratory gesture.


    ¡°If your constitution went up by so much¡­ you must¡¯ve really taken a beating! Congratulations on your stat increase, Zander.¡± He proceeded to chug his drink, gulping down swathes of whatever dark liquid remained inside the tankard-sized cup, before raising his fist to the sky. ¡°I remember the days my stats jumped so much in a single battle. Crave these moments, Zander. Before you know it, it¡¯ll be months before you see another increase.¡±


    Zander followed suit, despite only having water, but he found it appropriate. The two shared a laugh, until Zander looked up towards the muscled man, raising his head to meet the taller man¡¯s gaze. ¡°What does spirit do? I can understand strength, constitution, and dexterity, but I¡¯ve never heard of spirit before.¡± He was becoming increasingly more aware of the several pairs of eyes that watched the pair, but Bernard seemed to pay no mind.


    ¡°Ah, laddie!¡± His manner of speech became much more informal. He was definitely drinking some sort of alcohol. At this early in the morning? It¡¯s barely past nine! He kept those thoughts to himself though, awaiting Bernard¡¯s response.


    ¡°¡¯Tis probably one of the greatest stats you¡¯ve got! You used your abilities last night, right?¡± He asked, earning another small nod from Zander. ¡°You pushed yourself just enough to upgrade your soul capacity. On your status it¡¯s called spirit, but it¡¯s essentially the capacity to use your abilities¡± He burped, covering his mouth with his hand. Yea, it¡¯s definitely alcohol.


    ¡°It¡¯s by far the hardest stat to upgrade, so consider yourself lucky. My spirit¡¯s still at twenty one after all these years, but I spend most of my time organizing the forces ¡®round here, so I don¡¯t get much action outside of raids.¡± The two of them chatted for the next hour or so, watching the groups of people go by, before Bernard encouraged Zander to help with the cleanup.


    Zander helped Bernard lift bodies onto a large cart, pulled along a set of large wheels. One after another, the bodies piled high, numbering over twenty on a single cart, until the two of them hauled the massive cart towards a row of six similar carts, piled nearly as high. Over a hundred bodies took up the small space, and as the two finished their work, Matsuo himself joined them, watching the men clean up the last of the bodies, before ordering the carts to be brought towards the ledge.


    A small crowd gathered, civilians and soldiers alike. They clamored and cried, as wives and husbands recognized their missing loved ones. Zander fell silent as their wails rang out, echoing across the complex in a cacophony of pained cries. People fell to their knees as Matsuo stood above them, raising his hand towards a group of soldiers, who now found themselves standing next to the carts.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    As soon as the man¡¯s hand fell, the carts were tipped over the edge, dumping the over one hundred bodies into the depths of the void, never to be seen again. Zander jolted with shock, his jaw dropping slightly as he started at Matsuo¡¯s grieving form. Bernard¡¯s arm grabbed his chest, stopping him from moving as the last few corpses fell over the edge, and Matsuo began to speak.


    ¡°Citizens of the Garden¡± His voice felt heavy, as if searching the depths of his soul for the words to move on, his voice catching slightly in his throat.


    ¡°One hundred and thirty one. That¡¯s how many people we lost last night, both soldiers and citizens alike. The untimely wave of buzzards were ruthless, but your combined efforts, through your sheer determination and will, got us through this brutal massacre. Let those lost in the chaos take their place among the Lord, let their honor guide us through these trying times.¡± He made a small cross with his fingers, before turning around and letting himself out, leaving Zander staring at his fleeting form in both confusion and concern.


    ¡°Why not bury them? Or cremate them?¡± Zander asked, pushing the now emptied carts towards the empty lot, a smaller but large enough room the size of a garage that served as transportational storage. ¡°Throwing them off like that¡­ it feels disrespectful almost.¡± His words betrayed no semblance of deceit or satire.


    Bernard smiled, his white-speckled mustache shifting in the light of the bright, overpowering lighting that reigned over their cluster. ¡°We can¡¯t bury them, not ¡®ere. The ground cannot be dub without large amounts of strength, and even then, they¡¯ll just be spat out once the complex repairs itself. Nothin¡¯ to be done.¡± He said, shaking his head slightly. ¡°Might seem disrespectful, but to a man of the Order, it means everythin¡¯ to be buried closer to the Lord. They could fall for all eternity, but it¡¯s likely the nicest afterlife we could enjoy.¡± He said, kicking the carpet slightly as the two stood together, comfortable enough in each other¡¯s presence.


    ¡°That¡¯s enough about them. Let them rest in peace¡± He said. Throughout the morning, his face had been one of joviality, of joyous laugher and celebration in the face of death, but his tone grew deathly still now. Zander did not dare try to press him further, instead choosing to simply walk away. He knew the face of a grieving man when he saw one, and the burden the bodies carried upon him clearly weighed more than he originally thought.


    The two¡¯s conversation, previously excited and lively, now fell silent.


    <hr>


    [Calm Mind] kept his senses at ease as he sprinted through the obstacle course, Zander¡¯s feet finding footholds and clasps of space he would¡¯ve thought previously impossible, twisting his body in ways that felt surreal to an outsider. Despite the speed, his thoughts were in tandem with his movements, not slowing or stuttering even for a second, trusting his inner flow to continuously supply his body with orders, each step a practiced movement.


    It''d been three days since the raid at the Garden, the scarred group recovering quickly, their actions guided with new purpose as they sought to reconstruct and rebuild, a sentiment Zander didn¡¯t feel much drive for. In order to counter his lack of purpose, lack of direction, Zander threw himself into training. Under the watchful eye of Bernard, the two pushed Zander to his limits, sending his strength statistic up by another two.


    With fifteen strength, he could easily stand toe to toe with an Olympian, his strength now over one and a half that of an average human. His knuckled cracked with intensity as his newfound strength accompanied comfort, the distractions and worries of the horrors that pricked at his past falling away in his desperate pursuit of new strength.


    He gained most of the strength in the first two days, and had yet to increase it in a full day, the effort needed to exceed his boundaries more than he expected, yet Bernard insisted that he practice control and preciseness over brute increases. In his words: ¡°I¡¯ve seen better men than you die at the wrong flux of energy. Be better than them, and you may never feel this weak again.¡± Something about those words just pissed him off.


    He hadn¡¯t just felt terror throughout his tribulations. Underlying the traumatic, terrifying bloodshed that sent him gasping awake in the wee hours of the morning, was a pitied anger, anger at himself. It was now that he realized that Zander hated being weak. Three times he couldn¡¯t do anything because of the overwhelming strength of his enemy. Three times where several people fell in a time of need, because they had no one left to help them.


    He was no hero, and had no desire to be one, but he recognized his faults when he saw them. He needed to step it up, but the sudden struggle to increase his strength halted him temporarily, casting seeds of doubt into his mind. He caught his breath, his mind reeling with intense emotion as he ended his training for the day. He didn¡¯t have a watch yet to tell the time, but his natural senses hypothesized it was early afternoon.


    Caravans of people Zander couldn¡¯t recognize streamed in from the glass bridge throughout the day. He watched them as they stepped through the gate, which stood permanently open, were interrogated by the local guards, and went on their way. A small concern had erupted from the people of the Garden, their worries quelled when Matsuo announced their expansion, stating his goals for a larger, more permanent population.


    Guardsmen and council members advertised their recruitment of new soldiers, which Zander held a small interest in. He knew he wanted to gain more strength, but whenever he steeled himself to apply, a flash of red burst into his vision. He felt the thrall crush his neck, watched as it threw himself into the unending void. He watched as he was overrun with buzzards, slowly being eaten alive as he desperately tried to ward them off, his pained screams failing as his inevitable doom reared its ugly head. Visions of a shadowy trapper, pulling him screaming into the air by his ankles and ripping off his appendages one by one flashed through his mind, sending a tingle down his spine, as effective in inflicting horror as the unnatural cries of the creatures he¡¯d encountered.


    Grunting, he spun in place once he¡¯d reached the end of the course, which had been so crudely put together by him the day after the funeral. It pushed him enough at first, but it was apparent that it was ineffective in the long-term. He took a sip from a nearby bottle of water, which he¡¯d purchased from Johann¡¯s shop, which had only grown in popularity after the raid.


    Taking a deep swig of water, he began the trek back towards his room. He was fortunate he came when he did, as after the raid a guaranteed room was no longer afforded to newcomers. Instead, the immigrants created a common housing area on the edge of the central ¡°plaza,¡± if it could even be called that. I need a shower, he thought to himself, making his way along the long, winding halls that marked people¡¯s rooms.


    Just as he was about to open the door to his room, a tap on his shoulder made him spin around. It was Sarah. Clad in the same armor he saw her wearing just a few nights before, she motioned for him to step to the side. ¡°Zander, I¡¯ve been meaning to talk with you. Got a minute?¡± She asked, her voice strict and professional.


    He scrunched his eyebrows, their tips pinching downwards. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± He asked, tilting his head slightly. He hadn¡¯t expected a conversation from her. He rubbed his neck, feeling a phantom trail where her very blade had been, not long ago. He hoped this time it wouldn¡¯t take that route.


    She motioned for him to follow, and he did so without much hesitation, the two meandering through different hallways, before climbing the stairs that led to the wooden gate that blocked him previously, when he¡¯d met with Matsuo for the first time. This time, as the pair walked towards it, it folded and groaned, the wood seemingly twisting itself to avoid the two, letting them pass through unperturbed.


    Behind the wall was a set of offices and bedrooms, and at the very end, a glass bridge leading outwards. Zander knew there was a second exit somewhere, but not that it was kept under the close eyes of Matsuo and his men. The exit was completely inaccessible to anyone but high ranking officers, which caused a bit of suspicion in Zander¡¯s eyes. If there was something you needed to be kept away from the common masses, what caused the action to block it off in the first place?


    They moved further through the halls and offices, which numbered over thirty total, until they came upon one marked with a large S, which Zander assumed stood for Sarah. Once he opened the door, he was greeted with a rather bland, but personalized office space, with small plants and sprouts emerging from the walls, which, and accompanied with wooden furniture that looked more like a form of living wood, instead of the typical furniture fashioned through wooden planks. The design was rather personal, giving it a lovely charm that warmed the atmosphere as a whole. In the center of the room stood a large, rectangular table. There was two chairs that sat on both sides, both of which were fashioned like naturally formed trunks of trees that so happened to take the shape of a chair. Behind the desk, towards the outer edge of the room was a large window, which overlooked the massive, cubic structures of the complexes in the distance.


    Sarah walked towards the back of the room, taking the chair furthest from him, before sitting down. She reached towards a shelf under her desk, and pulled out two porcelain teacups, setting one nearest to herself, and another towards the other chair, where Zander now sat.


    ¡°Tokens, from some of the complexes we scouted.¡± She explained, seeing his curious expression. ¡°Most have been looted, but on occasion you¡¯ll find a complex with some untouched goods inside.¡± She smiled slightly, cracking her knuckles with a light pop!


    ¡°You¡¯ll learn more about the complexes later, if you ever get a chance to venture out beyond our lovely home.¡± She moved her gaze towards the window, staring outside for a brief moment, before continuing. ¡°What do you think about this place? About our people?¡± She asked, her eyes meeting his. He looked away when their gazes met, shifting slightly in his seat, the rough, bark-like texture of the chair scratching his back.


    ¡°It seems good enough. It¡¯s got food, plenty of people, a seemingly decent sized militia, though the existence of a constant guard is¡­ a bit worrying and unusual.¡± He started, carefully choosing his words. ¡°Though, admittedly after the raid I¡¯ve felt like there¡¯s not much I can do. I¡¯ve no wish to just sit here, twiddling my thumbs and waiting for another raid.¡± He shivered at the thought, purging it from his mind quickly.


    ¡°I¡¯m thinking of joining the guards, maybe learn to fight. I can¡¯t just freeload, I¡¯d feel guilty if I just sat around waiting to die.¡± He thought of the people who fell to the buzzards, those who the guard¡¯s couldn¡¯t get to in time, left to brutally slaughter any who couldn¡¯t barricade themselves inside of their rooms. He didn¡¯t want to become one of them.


    His response invoked a raised eyebrow from Sarah, and she steepled her fingers, thinking. ¡°Why the guard? I¡¯m sure there are plenty of people who¡¯d take you in, without the risk of death.¡± She was partially lying, he knew. There was always a risk of death in this place.


    ¡°Bernard told me about your abilities. You¡¯re not exactly a fighter, though that could change, should you choose it. Still, without a combat ability, you¡¯re going to be weak for a while, especially when you¡¯re stuck in that heavy armor.¡± She rolled her head towards a small stand in the corner of the room, which held a full set of steel armor, accompanied by layers of chainmail and plate. ¡°You¡¯ll die, you know. You saw us during the raid, we rely on Matsuo to survive. Our next strongest is probably me, then Bernard and Reiner- ah, you probably don¡¯t know him.¡± She interrupted herself, realizing he¡¯d never met the man. ¡°Reiner¡¯s our chief blacksmith. Don¡¯t underestimate him though, he could slaughter you in an instant if he wanted. He¡¯s the main reason our upper wall didn¡¯t collapse.¡± She said, pointing towards the walled off exit to the complex.


    ¡°I¡¯m rambling¡± she said, sighing to herself. ¡°Point is, you¡¯ll die if you go to the guards. Unless you can fistfight a massive gorilla, you¡¯re useless in battle here.¡± She stood up, leaning herself over the table, her eyes closely watching his face as he leaned back, clearly a bit uncomfortable. ¡°Unless you want to die, but I don¡¯t think that¡¯s the case¡±


    He frowned slightly, thinking. What was he to do, if he wasn¡¯t a guard? He didn¡¯t want to be a baker, or a blacksmith. Hell, he didn¡¯t even want to think about how people got grain in the second layer. There wasn¡¯t any farmable soil around here¡­ still, he felt some internal, undeniable desire to fight, something that drew him close. It wasn¡¯t the need for revenge, or the want to stand against the monsters that clearly oppressed them, but something much simpler.


    ¡°I- I think I want to fight. Ever since I got here, I¡¯ve been watching helpless people die. The kind of people who never should¡¯ve had the chance to fight, yet they¡¯re ripped apart at the claws of a tiny buzzard. To be honest, it terrifies me¡± He started, his mind wandering to the massacres he witnessed only just a few hours into his time here.


    ¡°So why risk seeing more death?¡± Sarah pressed, her feet straining to hold herself closer to him. ¡°You¡¯ll be them one day, everyone will, whether you like it or not. There¡¯s seemingly no way out of the layers, and I¡¯ve heard whispers that they get worse the higher you go.¡±


    He furrowed his brow at that. There were more layers? If there are more layers¡­ maybe there¡¯s a way out. He clenched and unclenched his fists, feeling something within himself stirring. ¡°I¡­¡± He started to speak, but his words caught in his throat. He struggled for a moment, before falling silent.


    ¡°I know what you are¡± She said, tapping her head. ¡°I¡¯m the same myself, seen it in many others. You want to fight, but you don¡¯t want to die. You¡¯ve got no purpose, but want to find one. You¡¯ve got hope, but there ain¡¯t nothing to be hopeful about.¡± She smiled, seeing him flinch as the words rang true. ¡°You¡¯re weak. Pathetically so.¡± She said, sternly. ¡°But that¡¯s alright. We all started in the same place, except for Matsuo, the damn cheat.¡± She exclaimed, chuckling.


    ¡°Join me in the scouts, and I¡¯ll make you the fighter you want to be.¡± She said, her laughing dying away as she extended her hand towards him, hovering above the table. ¡°I can¡¯t promise safety, and the constant death will surely continue, but you can be strong enough to survive. That¡¯s what¡¯s most important here, is it not? Survival.¡± Her body was rigid, determined, and her voice filled with passion. Zander looked to her eyes, and in them he saw a spark, something that drove her forwards.


    ¡°Why me? Why not some of the new people? They¡¯ve all been here for much longer than me.¡± The newly awakened were reluctant to move outside of their camps, seeking their ultimate safety before anything else. Others, who¡¯d grown more inclined towards combat, were sought after by some of the local groups, disappearing before they were even properly catalogued into the Migrant Group¡¯s book of identification.


    ¡°I¡¯ve watched you these past few days, watched you help around with the guards. You¡¯re motivated, you just need the right place to push that feeling. You don¡¯t feel like one of us yet, right?¡± She asked, earning a small nod from Zander. ¡°Then you¡¯re perfect for the scouts. All of us here are outcasts, deviants, people unsuited to be a part of the guard. We¡¯re not some formal fighters or protectors, we¡¯re all selfish bastards who just want to live, but that¡¯s what makes us great, when we can refine those feelings and use them to fight. You fit the bill, Zander. Whether you like it or not, you¡¯re perfect for us.¡±


    Zander thought for a moment, possibilities reeling through his mind. He sincerely felt a want to belong to this place, but no place seemed to fit for him. His only friend was Bernard, and that man was only interested in combat, so that barely counted. He felt care for the people around him¡­ yet he didn¡¯t feel at home. He raised his gaze, meeting hers, and he felt himself drawn to her offer. If he was given the chance to fight, to not roll over and die, then he wanted to take it.


    He rose to his feet, his mind steeled, and grabbed her hand, shaking it firmly, a small smirk breaking out onto his face. ¡°I¡¯m in¡± he said, his voice now filled with determination. He felt inspired, a small, burning spark of passion beginning to form in his mind.


    Sarah¡¯s smile only grew, and she shook his hand in turn. She watched his energy change, seeing the same little spark she had grow to another. ¡°Good man!¡± She exclaimed, her voice growing slightly hoarse.


    She put her arm down, standing up straight. Her head raised high, she walked around the edge of the table, her hand clapping Zander¡¯s back. The force was so hard, he nearly fell to the side, but rightened himself quickly. He watched as Sarah opened a nearby drawer, hearing a small clink! Of metal on metal, before pulling out a large one handed sword, which shone with polish in the bright lighting of the room. She turned back to Zander, holding the sword carefully in her palms, the edge flat against her skin.


    ¡°Hold out your hands¡± She said, and he complied, raising both of his hands as if in prayer.


    She placed the sword in his waiting grasp, and held it there, waiting for one second,


    Two seconds,


    Three.


    ¡°Well then, Zander, with the power dedicated in me, I- Chief of the Scout Regiment, Sarah. Bring you into the fold, to mold you and shape you, to preserve the good of humanity and to bring death upon our enemies.¡± She let go of the sword, finally letting it fall into his hands.


    ¡°Welcome to the scouts¡±

 IMPORTANT UPDATE

    Howdy folks, just wanted to give an update into why there was no chapter for this week, and where it went


    Firstly, I had an important midterm that I spent most of the week nonstop studying for, so that''s the main reason I couldn''t get something out. Secondly, there were some major changes I''ve been working on, and I''m proud to announce that Chapter 1: The First Layer has received several changes. Firstly, the name of the main character and some other characters have been changed. The changes are as follows:


    Main Character: John -> Zander


    Main Character''s Brother: Jerry -> Kim Jiwoo (will be referred to as Jiwoo)


    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    John was always a bit of a placeholder name, and as for Jerry, I looked into Korean naming schemes and wanted to make the name feel more original, as well as emphasizing their role as an adopted brother, and as an Asian American, as that''s going to be a decent amount of their identity. I''ve put a lot more thought into newer characters, and the names I had for some of the main characters needed a change to fit with Matsuo or Remus Black, or the Strollos. I know they''ve only been mentioned once (now twice), but it''s an important change. These changes are throughout all chapters.


    The second big round of changes is in the first chapter is the addition of an entirely new section. This is pretty important towards worldbuilding and it introduces Zander and his background before the layers, so I recommend you go check it out and re-read the first half of the chapter. After the break in the text, not much has been changed.


    That''s all for now. These changes took a bit with my midterm and all, but I''m working right now towards getting another chapter out by Friday. See you then!


    GO BACK AND READ THE FIRST CHAPTER WOOO HOOO YIPPEEEEE YAYYYYY

 Chapter 6: "The Man Who Fought Against the World"

    One Week After the Raid on The Garden¡­


    A man clothed in pure black stalked the halls of the complex, his body covered in thick, grayed furs. His body was muscular, his size that of a monster, hulking with a mass of muscles and flesh, towering over any other who would come near.


    As he walked, tens- if not hundreds- of men stopped their menial tasks, snapping to attention and saluting him, only moving back to their duties once he gave the word. A smile crept across his face as he thought of the power he had, the strength to control the lives of his people. Two curved short swords sat alongside his hips, gleaming in the brightly lit structure of the complex, obscuring his form in an oppressive glare as his weapons glistened in the light.


    He''d cultivated this for years¡­ Three years he¡¯d been stuck on this lousy layer, surrounded by death and destruction. It only took him embracing his plights to thrive in them, to use them as they used him. Now, every man, woman, and child within a hundred campuses knew his name, knew to fear the S that represented his dear friend.


    He opened a large, oppressive door, the hinges creaking slowly as he pushed it open, revealing a detailed, expansive room. Unlike those found within the liminal structures that dotted the horizon, this room was fit for a king. Lines of banners flew from the upper walls, whilst large, golden chandeliers fell from the ceiling, casting the large hall in a bath of soft light. The room itself was larger than that of a convention center, the space toweringly massive for such a simple room.


    His predecessor hadn¡¯t cared much for d¨¦cor, something he worked to remedy the moment he took power into his own hands. The Strollos were no longer a band of ragged ruffians and misfits, they were a true power, a nation of warriors. There was no local power comparable in terms of skill, not even the Garden themselves, save for that bastard, Matsuo. His face scrunched in anger as he thought of that name.


    Matsuo


    The only other gold-tier human besides himself in the southern-edge campuses, a mage type fighter who controlled nature within the palm of his hands. The battles they¡¯d fought¡­ he shuddered at the losses. Even for him, it was excessive. Still, despite the loss, it laid the foundation of what they were today. He had Matsuo to thank for his position.


    The floors of the room were a stark, polished stone of some sort, if which he did not know. They were painted a deep blue, and his shoes clacked against the hard tile as he walked, giving him a royal gait. At the edge of the expansive structure sat a solitary stone chair, shaped in the image of a throne. It was adorned with tall, deadly spikes along the shoulders of the throne, the back of the chair carved in the image of a large S, with the bottom edge of the letter twisted and conformed into a writhing tail, that of a snake.


    His changes turned his role of leader into that of a despot, a king fit to rule the masses from his throne. The accompanying campus, which was abnormally large and fortified in comparison to the other neighboring complexes, towered over any other, and for good reason. He stepped past the empty throne, which sat in wait for his presence, walking towards a unique part of the room, a large, metallic device, with various wires, electronic parts, and circuitry poking out from it, sparking occasionally.


    A teleporter¡­ To have one of these devices under his control was incredible. He held the cradle of Human civilization within his hands, the power to reach the places no man could find¡­


    The Skyscraper


    After two years of exploring the second layer, mapping its intricate structures, walkways, and bridges, cartographers realized one interesting thing. After years, they discovered a strangely familiar set of complexes. When continuing onwards, they found that they were the same. The campuses formed a massive ring around a central void, or so they thought, until they discovered the teleporters.


    He was there when they first discovered it. Just after the arrival of the 2<sup>nd</sup> wave, when he was just a weakling, the first human took the teleporter. They returned just weeks later with news of a staggeringly large structure, a tower of scaffolding and living quarters that dwarfed the greatest cities on earth. Not only that, the structure also had many layers of verticality, leaving dozens if not hundreds of floors that could house all regions of humanity, stretching onwards for what seemed like an infinite space.


    Of course, it didn¡¯t come with just benefits. With the discovery of the Skyscraper, so came the Variant and Chieftain tiered monsters, those beings that could rival- and still rival- humanity¡¯s finest warriors. If brutes were monsters on their own, Chieftains were gods made flesh. They tore the armies of the first pioneer groups apart, wiped out entire legions of Gold-tier humans, until finally humanity gained a foothold, and the rest was history.


    To have one of the famed teleporters for himself¡­ it was a dream come true. The man smirked devilishly as he thought of the possibilities, the infinite power he held over the local region. He decided who went in and out, who could escape his grasp.


    Good. My nation will rival the Great Four soon enough.


    Skycorp, The Collective, The Order, and the Council of Iron¡­ Those four pillars of humanity had reaches within every aspect of their society, even outside of the Skyscraper. Their influence had cost him dearly in his goals for expansion, and he was dead-set on making them pay for every essence.


    He seethed at the thought, angry at the life he was forced to live, free of the Collective¡¯s ruthless laws, free of their peeping militia, who tranced about the outer territories, taking those who had to make the hard decisions to survive. No longer!


    Crreaaaaak~! The large gated door that pierced the edge of his enormous fortressed opened slowly, and as the axles creaked open, in the doorway stood a small man, shaking violently.


    ¡°R-Remus Black! Er- Lord Remus- I have news for you, sir.¡± The man was frail and unfit, his slim body a sign of his cowardly lifestyle, cowering behind the comfort of Remus¡¯ walls as he conquered the campuses. Truly someone unfit for his rule.


    ¡°What is it, Darren?¡± Remus said bluntly, taking a seat on his padded throne, which held small cushions along the edges. He pushed his arm along the length of the rests, placing his palm along his chin. ¡°I have no patience for the menial tasks of everyday life. Say you¡¯ve brought me something entertaining.¡±


    Darren panted for breath, his legs shaking. Clearly he¡¯d run for miles, his pathetic stamina changed only slightly from the newly awakened. Remus sneered as he waited for the man to catch his breath, his mind flicking open his status screen as he waited.


    [Core: Silver]


    [Soul: Bronze]


    [Traits: Masterful Crafter (Species Only)]


    [Species: Human]


    [Status:]


    [Strength: 45]


    [Constitution: 41]


    [Dexterity: 37]


    [Intelligence: 20]


    [Spirit: 19]


    [Charisma: 22]


    [Abilities: Domination, Binding Contract, Water Manipulation, Aura Manipulation, Knife Mastery (Silver)]


    He inspected his status with pride, admiring his stats. He was over four times as strong as an average human, a true powerhouse that could take on most of what was thrown his way. He didn¡¯t hold a candle to the elites of the Skyscraper, at least not yet, but he plenty of time to gain his strength, all while his enemies grew fat with peace.


    ¡°The Garden is expanding, sir. Advertisements for new arrivals, soldiers, workers, and more have been sent throughout their neighboring campuses. It seems they¡¯ve been hit rather hard, sir. What should we do?¡± He twiddled his thumbs nervously, biting the inside of his lip as he awaited Remus¡¯ reply.


    ¡°Expanding, you say?¡± He trailed off, falling into thought. ¡°If they¡¯re desperate¡­ it might be time to make a move. Send a few scouts along the road to The Garden. I don¡¯t want to make a move unless we can get Matsuo out of the picture.¡± His smirk grew into a deep grin, and he stood, his long legs closing the gap between himself and the man in an instant. He chuckled, and brought his massive hand into the sky, before slamming into the man¡¯s back, sending him tumbling to the ground.


    ¡°Well done, servant!¡± He exclaimed, chuckling loudly. ¡°Pick up double the food at next meal. You¡¯ve earned it.¡± He stepped back, his face turning to the sky, only to be met by a blunt, dark ceiling. He moved out of the exuberant throne room, making his way to the solitary entrance to the complex, a wide bridge that stretched forth at least a mile. He stared out at the unending expanse of void, his eye catching small flickers of movement within the first few complexes he could see, the flicker of armor, of a torch being lit in preparation for the night. Speaking of which¡­


    As if on queue, the lights flicked off, plunging the complex into complete darkness. For a moment, he was at peace, the worry of an incoming raid plunged from his mind, before taking one last, long look at the nearly infinite world beyond his own.


    Snap!


    The sound of a twig cracking rang out, barely audible among the quickened movement of his loyal army, who moved to secure the area in case of threats. Ignorant to the noise, they barked orders whilst Remus stood at attention, his ears preening, searching for the source of the noise.


    A flash of movement pierced his periphery, a blur of blackened clothing landing with a thud. The humanoid figure, covered in a deep shadow that blocked their features unfurled their arms, their head darting from side to side, looking for anyone else that may be lurking in the shadows. There were none.


    ¡°You¡­¡± the man¡¯s voice was familiar. He could recognize it in his sleep if he wanted to. ¡°You were the one with Jason, his right hand man, no?¡± He pointed to Remus, finally stepping forward into the light, revealing a set of messy, uncombed black hair, which fell down below the man¡¯s eyes. The monstrously tall man even with Remus himself, the two sizing each other up before Remus even dared to speak.


    ¡°M-Matsuo?!¡± Remus screamed, half in anger, and half in shock. To think, his greatest rival, greatest enemy, and greatest ally would be here, in his compound? He laughed a deep, hearty laugh, before unsheathing his twin blades, the short swords gleaming with a layer of blue energy, which wiggled and writhed, as if alive.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know why you¡¯re here, but I gotta thank you¡­¡± Remus slid forward, his belt clinking against the sheathe of his blades as they swung on his hip, inching towards the man who¡¯d haunted him for years. His face was twisted into an inane smile, looking almost manic in the loosely lit environment. ¡°You really did me a solid, killing Jason for me. However-¡° He pushed his blades together, the loose, red metal shared between them sending sparks into the air, showering the area in light. ¡°I gotta kill you here.¡±


    Matsuo looked up at the towering figure, his muscles tensed in place. Despite the threats, his face was completely calm, his eyes darting around, looking for any other threats.


    ¡°Hah-¡° He smirked. ¡°A dog like you finally got some power, eh? Matsuo said teasingly, crossing his arms across his chest. Behind his back, traces of wood began to gather along his body, wrapping himself in a protective armor, but staying just out of sight of the bullish man. He was a weapon, ready to strike at any moment.


    ¡°You think you can best me cause you became a king?¡± Matsuo asked, leaning his face towards the tensed man. ¡°You aren¡¯t a ruler, you¡¯re a tyrant. I¡¯ve seen what you¡¯ve done with the place. It¡¯s beautiful, ain¡¯t it? Better than the scum and muck you were living in a few years back.¡± He snapped his fingers, his body instantly surrounding itself in a wooded, protective armor, looking like a knight on a crusade. ¡°It¡¯ll look a whole lot better when I kill the lot of you.¡±


    Remus snarled in anger, gnashing his teeth together and wildly swinging his sword towards the thinner man, his blades whooshing through the air, as if carving space itself as they fell. He laughed internally as he watched the edge inch towards the waiting man, who didn¡¯t even move out of the way. As they moved closer and closer to splitting the man in half¡­


    His blades met air. He crashed into the ground, leaving a circular crater of cracked concrete, which sat underneath comfortable carpet floors of the complexes on this layer. The area exploded in rubble, shooting pebbles of concrete outward, like a grenade sending a wave of shrapnel into an enemy, yet Matsuo was nowhere to be seen.


    Where did he go?! He spun around, only for his arm to be pierced with a thick, wooden tip where his neck was just a moment ago, now embedded within his arm. Across the length of the wooden stake was a familiar, pulsing energy, twisting among its length. Spear Energy¡­


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    ¡°Weak¡± Matsuo said, sending another stake towards the man, hoping to end the fight here and now, yet it was apparent that the man wouldn¡¯t be fooled twice. He spun on his heels, slashing the sharpened weapon away, sending it plunging into the ground.


    Matsuo summoned a spear made of waxed, sharpened wood, holding it carefully in his hands. He spun it around his palm twice, his palm gracefully grazing against the smooth texture of the weapon, before lunging forward, thrusting it towards the waiting king.


    Clang~!


    The weapon stopped in place, a metallic sound ringing out through the terrace as both knife and spear energy collided together, the deadly force expunging itself into the empty void. The two didn¡¯t hesitate, their blades ringing out again and against as they exchanged blows, each fighter just barely managing to block the others¡¯ attacks. The sound of fighting echoed throughout the entire complex, catching the ears of the many soldiers who stood at attention, yet none moved an inch for their boss.


    Their movement were too fast to process, moving in a blur as they collided again and again, kicking up dust from the carpet as they feet skidded along its soft expanse. This continued for roughly a minute, before the two separated, catching their breaths as they stared at each other, their previously cocky faces twisted in concentration.


    Blood drained from the wound Remus Black had taken, his left arm moving just a bit slower than his dominant arm. With each blocked attack, he¡¯d grunted in pain as the powerful, overwhelming strength of the wooded weapons slammed into him, opening his wounds further.


    Remus spat off the void, his feet clutching the carpet as he pushed himself further, his speed heightened. He moved faster than before, faster than his enemy could reach, as he finally landed a blow, the blade piercing the length of Matsuo¡¯s arm, digging into the wooden armor and just barely piercing his flesh, sending the man reeling in pain. He didn¡¯t bother waiting for him to recover, lunging again towards the man, who now left a small trail of blood in his wake.


    Chink!


    The blades were stopped in the blink of an eye. Before he could even blink several wooden appendages had emerged from the ground, wrapping themselves around his arms, sending them to a sudden halt. He struggled and squirmed as the tentacle-like limbs wrapped themselves further around him, pushing his blades away, slowly trying to disarm him. He roared, puffing out his body as hard as he could. His restraints groaned against his resistance, but held¡­ until they didn¡¯t.


    Snap! The first restraint began to tear, the rest soon to follow, and Remus was back on his feet, his eyes a blood red.


    ¡°You rat! Scheming, conniving little BUG! I¡¯m going to tear you apart, rip you limb from limb, and put your impotent head on a pike. I¡¯ll parade your corpse around like it¡¯s the fourth of fucking July!¡± He charged towards the man, who stood calmly. He underestimated Remus, he didn¡¯t even think of him as a threat. The fool! Remus thought, and his blades sparked as he enveloped them in another layer of energy.


    The two exchanged more blows, with Remus barely managing to keep pace with the man¡¯s superior speed. He twisted and turned as spears would appear from the environment around him, launching from the walls and hurling themselves towards him with deadly precision, only to be deflected at the last possible moment. His mind grew light as he strained every piece, ever fiber of his senses, observing the battle around himself, like a bird from above.


    This constant, overpowering offense refused to cease as Matsuo pushed himself to his limits, his body tensed intensely as he unleashed wave after wave of attacks towards Remus. Nothing he could do would push past the man¡¯s defenses, yet he knew that sooner or later he¡¯d be able to hit him, it was only a matter of time.


    Remus cried out in pain as a blade slashed along his chest, leaving a tiny mark of blood in its wake, barely able to cut into his skin. He staggered as a small flurry of cuts emerged along the length of his body, falling to a knee as he continued to fight against the onslaught of attacks. I¡¯m failing¡­ he was starting to slip, a few more strike breaking through. He knew his time was up.


    Suddenly he felt something within himself begin to change. He felt an overwhelming sense of calm, of peace, as if he could understand every single action between the two in an instant. He felt the spears of wood that shot from the ground, or from his enemy¡¯s arms. His eyes widened, his pupils glowing a bright, light blue as his senses enveloped him, expanding beyond his body. What¡¯s happening to me?!


    [Your understanding has deepened]


    [Ability: Knife Mastery (Silver) has evolved into Knife Mastery (Gold)]


    His perception expanded around his weapons, enveloping the carpet, the walls, even the blood on the floor was captured within his enlightened state. He watched as the attacks he was faced with seemed to move in slow motion, carving slowly through the air, afterimages of light trailing in their wake.


    He sidestepped the next attack, his mind almost too fast for his body to follow. He danced with what seemed like practiced ease as he narrowly avoided the next several attacks, an oppressive grin slowly growing on his face. He activated [Aura Manipulation], enveloping his body in a small, red glow. As the aura reconnected with itself, he felt a burst of strength explode within himself, and his body grew lighter.


    This was one of his strongest trump cards. He¡¯d carefully cultivated his aura and his control of magic for years, carving it into one of the strongest boosts he could give himself without crafting a new ability. He¡¯d learned around a year ago, from an Adamantine level elite who traveled the outskirts, giving advice to those who asked for it.


    Aura was something unique to each person, a combination of their attitude, nature, and control over magic that boosted their own personalized ability outwards, affecting them or the people around them in certain ways. Once he managed to earn the ability, he gained access to a berserker-like state, but over the course of several months he¡¯d manage to carve out the flaws, giving him a massive boost to his stats, with nearly no side effects, at least until the ability expired.


    Matsuo gasped as the man disappeared before his eyes, too fast for his own to follow any longer. He glanced around, desperately looking for some sign of his massive frame, but found nothing. Fuck! What can I do? His mind spun with possibilities as he searched for any sign of movement, searching for answer. Screw it!


    ¡°AAAAGH!¡± He roared as he slammed his fists into the ground, a massive wave of roots exploding from where his fists met the floor, sending the surrounding area into a frenzy as a blanket of rocks, chunks of wood, and thorns exploded like shrapnel, pelting the walls in a layer of debris. He panted, gasping for breath, clutching his chest as a sharp pain racked his body. Did I get him? He asked himself, searc-


    ¡°Ack~!¡± He gasped as the sleek, red blade of a short sword cut through the side of his chest, its bright blue energy sending a shockwave throughout his body, cracking his skin. A small torrent of blood spilled from the cracks in his armor, showering the carpet in its sticky, sinewy liquid, staining the carpet a scarlet red. Matsuo fell to a knee, his legs shaking in a mixture of pain, exhaustion, and fear.


    ¡°Feels like years I¡¯ve waited for this¡­¡± Remus stood over Matsuo as the man clutched the wound in his chest, teeth clenched in pain. ¡°I guess it has been, eh?¡± He chuckled, dropping to a crouch above the man, watching his dying expressions with glee. He leaned in closer, his voice barely a whisper. ¡°I hate you. So. Much. I hate you so intensely, I¡¯ve forgotten what started it all. Isn¡¯t that funny?¡± He let his blade trace the skin along Matsuo¡¯s arm, leaving a tiny cut in its wake. ¡°I don¡¯t even understand what made me hate you, but I will tear your people to the ground, just to spite you. With you out of the picture¡­ they¡¯re all just lambs to the slaughter.¡± He flicked Matsuo¡¯s forehead, his joyful face twisting into that of anger. ¡°That¡¯s what they get for serving under one like you. A head on a pike is too kind, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°Bah-stard¡­¡± Matsuo gasped out, his energy slowly draining. He watched from the ground as Remus slowly lifted his weapons over his head, his blades glinting slightly with deadly precision. Time seemed to move more slowly as he watched the blades fall, slowly creeping closer and closer to his exposed, prone form. There was one more option, however¡­


    Clank!


    Remus¡¯ blades collided with a hardened, wooden shell that suddenly spread expressively throughout his body, enveloping Matsuo in a cocoon of wood. Grunting in anger, he thrust the point of his weapon towards the shell, coating it in more of his knife energy, which couldn¡¯t seem to penetrate the stone-like structure.


    Then the shell exploded.


    A rocket of shrapnel flew into Remus¡¯ skin, sending him tumbling to the ground, screaming in pain. Even his eyes were not safe, a few small points of wood stuck in his eyelids, which were luckily closed as the attack occurred. He looked like he¡¯d fallen into a pit of cacti, stuck all over with pointed thorns. As he recovered, and opened his eyes once more, Matsuo was gone.


    He regained his footing, sprinting back towards the throne room, knowing where the man was likely headed. I can¡¯t let him escape! He pushed himself as hard as he could, his form seemingly bending as he flashed towards the location of the teleporter.


    Once he entered, a flash of yellow light bathed the room, blinding Remus temporarily. When he finally blinked out the oppressive light, he found nothing but an empty room, besides a few servants cowering in fear in the corner.


    Matsuo was gone.


    ¡°DAMN IT!¡±


    <hr>


    Matsuo gasped as he fled through the teleporter, emerging into a deep alleyway. He¡¯d only been in the Skyscraper a few times, but the unfamiliar metal floors still shocked him every time, suddenly losing the extra support from the comfortable carpet of the outer layers. He emerged in a dark alley, the dark, licorice black panels marking this as the ¡°ground¡± floor of the Skyscraper.


    He had an epiphany? Mid-fight? Madness! He thought to himself, thinking back to Remus Black¡¯s sudden, explosive growth. He¡¯d nearly died due to his carelessness. To find gold-tier weapon energy on this layer¡­ he must¡¯ve been a master of his blade, a true genius of his craft. It was rare to find anything above silver-tiered energy on this layer. Most elite warriors died to Variant-level thrall, with only the rare few masters achieving gold-tier before heading into the third layer. It was clear Remus needed to be dealt with, one way or another. He paused, the pain of his wounds finally returning, and he clenched his teeth, observing his surroundings.


    He was between two buildings made of a scaffold-like structure, with beams of metal poking out of the corners of the domiciles, creating a small staircase to the next layer of housing. He looked up, observing the skyline that never seemed to end, a collection of rectangular structures that poked out, creating a spiraling layer of structures that seemed to stretch to eternity. Of course, he knew below was a similarly endless, but the never-ending hordes of thrall that hunted the halls of the massive giga-structure were simply too dangerous, even for a gold-tier human such as himself.


    He got to his feet, clutching his still bleeding chest, whish gushed freely in the open air. He concentrated with a grunt, and soon the wound was enveloped in a bandage of leaves, keeping himself from losing more blood. He¡¯d need to see a healer once he found his way into the territory of The Collective, or perhaps The Order, whoever would help him solve the mystery that nearly killed him.


    When someone took the teleporter, they emerged in the skyscraper in a random place on the ground floor, as long as there was space. The building itself was the size of a massive city, able to house millions of people within its winding halls. Once someone took the teleporter from the outside, they were placed randomly throughout the Skyscraper, as long as there was space to go. He was clearly on the outskirts of its territory, as seen by the shoddy architecture and stacked houses that teetered like a tower of soup cans. Once he got closer towards the inner sanctum of the Skyscraper, he¡¯d be able to finally see the modern, city-like towers that resembled something like the inner layers of New York, sprinkled with bright, neon lights and functioning electricity, a luxury never seen outside of the Skyscraper.


    He slowly made his way towards the city, limping as he made his way through massive crowds of people, each dressed in ragged clothing, layered in holes. Life was not easy for those less fortunate throughout the Skyscraper. It¡¯s a shame¡­ he thought. The good these people could do in The Garden would be substantial to their growth.


    Hours later, he finally witnessed the true scale of the inner city, a true mega-city, that housed the headquarters of the four Great Powers. Years ago, they¡¯d split the Skyscraper into four quarters, equally sharing the space of the giga-structure, and allowing for themselves to work individually, occasionally working together in a time of crisis, but usually they remained as friendly rivals. Matsuo looked around for signs of occupation, his eyes scanning for a flag or symbol of whatever power owned this quarter of the Skyscraper, and quickly spotted the symbol of SkyCorp. Whilst their insignia was plastered over every market and store within the second layer, they had special markings within their own territory for lost travelers.


    He passed through the well-decorated towers, watching as officials and awakened passed by, covered in layers of armor, or wielding massive, flowing weapons of energy. Many of them were Gold-rank like himself, but on rare occasion he sensed the core of a Platinum-ranked awakened, a true powerhouse of this layer. They would be the elites of the Great Powers, just under the Adamantine rank humans, those who had enough strength to take on nearly anything on this layer.


    As he dodged between alleyways and buildings, he stayed in the darkness, carefully watching every movement that may have been a threat. He continued for another hour, the towering tower that held the symbol of the collective looming on the horizon. To him, it shined like a beacon, guiding him to his eventual salvation. He cautiously made his way out of SkyCorp. territory, avoiding the massive intersection that serves as the center of the Skyscraper, and the massive plaza that housed hundreds of thousands of people.


    He breathed a sigh of relief once he finally made it to The Collective, his tense shoulders finally relaxing as he entered through the glass doors that served as the entrance to their headquarters. He spotted a receptionist sitting near the center of the lobby. The floor was engraved with a massive symbol of the collective, a planet cut in half, surrounded by a golden wreath, similar to that of Julius Ceasar. Underneath the insignia, a few words were carved into the ground, clearly in latin.


    Ad Bonum Omnium, Beneficium Multis


    ¡°For the good of all, and the benefit of many¡± The phrase was a bit cheesy, but it aligned with the more modern interpretation of democracy, being ruled by a council of elites, who served under a chairman, the founder of The Collective, Chairman Kenneth Thorne, the man who united humanity. They acted as a police of sorts throughout the Skyscraper, even getting deals from the other Great Powers to enforce their own laws. They arrested criminals, conducted operations against those who contested humanity¡¯s survival, formed hunter teams to take down powerful monsters, and performed studies and research on the strange phenomena that occurred within the second layer.


    After speaking to the receptionist, he was granted entry to meet with Chairman Thorne himself. As he entered the clean, yet simple office, the man greeted him with a bright smile.


    ¡°Ah, Matsuo! What a pleasure to see you once again, old friend.¡± The man was a giant, with a subtle, but muscular frame that pulsed as he stood up, moving to greet Matsuo. His hair was grizzled and gray, and scars covered the length of his limbs, giving the impression of a powerful veteran. In reality, he was that and more, a survivor of the first wave, and the first human to slay a chieftain-level thrall, the highest tier of monster on this layer. As to why he never left for the third layer, Matsuo would never know.


    He embraced the older man, who could easily crush him with a thought, and sat down across from his desk.


    ¡°I apologize for the sudden visit, Chairman Thorne. I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s an emergency.¡± He said, finally catching his breath. The hours of trudging through potentially unfriendly territory made him unable to rest, in case a stray rival or even a high-ranking thrall happened upon him.


    Chairman Thorne raised his eyebrows curiously, leaning forward on his desk. ¡°An emergency? I was under the impression that you were able to handle anything outside the Skyscraper. What would cause someone as prestigious as you to ask for my help?¡± Matsuo would think the man was taunting him, if not for the serious expression he wore. It seems like he was genuine.


    ¡°Strange happenings have been occurring with the second layer. First, a stray brute-class thrall happening upon a group of newly-awakened from the fifth wave, leaving a single survivor, and then a massive raid, the biggest I¡¯ve ever seen before, slaughtering my people before I could contain it. I understand this is nothing compared to an adamantine class awakened such as yourself, but for my people, where the highest level is a silver ranked awakened, they don¡¯t stand a chance if things last longer.¡± Matsuo twiddled his thumbs, thinking furiously as he watched the man¡¯s reaction, seeing something glow within the man¡¯s eyes. A curiosity, or perhaps vested interest in whatever was going on.


    ¡°And you come to see me? why?¡± Chairman Thorne asked, his face solemn. ¡°You¡¯re aware we can¡¯t move our forces from the Skyscraper. It¡¯s simply too much. What would you want me to do?¡± He shook his head, his bright yellow irises shining in the barely lit room. They looked like a predator in hiding, patiently waiting for their prey to make a mistake.


    ¡°Do you have an answer for something like this? Brute class thrall emerging more commonly in the outer ring of complexes, and even more towards the inner ring¡­ something like that would have to come from the Skyscraper itself. We¡¯ve seen rapidly changing environments from our scout teams. Uninhabited and abandoned complexes have changed. The rooms contain new designs, food is restored, and on top of it all, we¡¯ve seen strange behavior of the monsters in the areas. This is clearly the doing of something in the Skyscraper. Nothing else can shape the layer like this.¡± He furrowed his brows, staring into the piercing yellow eyes of the monstrous man before him with intensity. He could hear a pen drop in the shared silence.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯d be accusing. You think we¡¯d have something to do with the changing environment? The layers are a mysterious place, Matsuo, you know that more than most. Perhaps after a few years, things naturally change.¡± The chairman stood up, his muscles tense. ¡°I will not have you making blatant, untrue accusations against my organization. Leave.¡± He pointed towards the door. ¡°You will receive no help from us.¡±


    Matsuo jolted to his feet, his anger overtaking him. ¡°You condemn us to die?! I don¡¯t know what your operations are here, but all evidence points to you, or the other Great Powers, as the culprit. You know it, I know it. I believe we¡¯ve shared enough history for me to know when you¡¯re lying, Chairman. It seems your optimistic ideals only go so far¡­¡± He turned to leave, but a voice stopped him.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare presume to tell me where my ideals should lie. What we¡¯re doing will benefit humanity on the second layer, once we learn to control it. You have no right to presume my intentions! Fo-¡± He stopped himself, covering his mouth forcefully, calming himself down. ¡°I¡¯ve said too much, perish the thought.¡± He said, ushering the questioning man out.


    Matsuo was shocked, the outburst extremely unusual for someone like Chairman Thorne. He silently turned to leave, his shoes thudding across the hard, metal floor. His mind raced with a million thoughts. Control it? Control what? What in the world could he do that would change things so drastically? I only pressured him to see if he had any understand of what was going on¡­ but if he actually is the cause of these incidents-


    ¡°Gurghhh~!¡± He let out a grunt as he felt a sudden, piercing pain in his chest. He slowly turned, blood forming in his mouth as he stared at the massive longsword that stuck through his chest, piercing his heart. He fell to his knees, blood streaming down his body as he turned back towards the Chairman, who now stood just a few inches behind him, a saddened smile along his face. ¡°W-why¡­?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, dear friend. I shouldn¡¯t have revealed too much. I hope you can forgive me, for the good of humanity.¡± The Chairman patted Matsuo¡¯s matted, black hair, ruffling it as he would his own child, before pulling the blade pack, swiftly putting an end to his dear friend.


    Memories flashed before his eyes, scenes of carrying a younger, unconscious Matsuo through a pile of bodies, his sword dripping blood. He heaved, letting a small tear fall down his cheek before turning back to the corpse of the man he treated as a son.


    ¡°I never should¡¯ve saved you¡±