Tao had laid down quite a few protections around our main hub and the surrounding forest, even marking out the escape routes. His enchantment work was nothing short of stunning—not just for the sheer power in his spells, but for the perfection in his inscriptions, not to mention the fact that he had to remember all those complex symbols.

The dedication and confidence Tao and Ito carried with them had rubbed off on even me. I couldn’t help it. In a world this brutal, to have that little doubt in yourself—let alone in others—was rare. Hell, even before the Fog, that kind of belief was nearly extinct. I could see now why the school had said they were among the best of the best. Each of them impacted the group in different ways—examples of what potential looked like. Role models. Symbols of camaraderie and quiet wisdom.

Kito stayed by Tao’s side the entire time. While she couldn’t project a lasting shield, she could bless or reinforce Tao’s work, giving his enchantments a deeper edge of fortitude and endurance.

Drek, the cryomancer, and Bjor—the earth manipulator, or terramancer as they called him—spent most of their time studying the terrain around the cabin. They’d only come here once or twice before, back when the watch noted resource nodes nearby. Most people hadn’t actually explored around here much. The cabin was seen as way less safe than the fort, so it had mostly been avoided.

Ito and I were out front, standing near the steps, going over our plans. He respected me—strange, considering he hadn’t even seen me fight yet. But I think it was more of a kindred spirit kind of thing. Turned out we were both orphans. That carried a weight of understanding that needed no explanation.

He rolled his cigarette slowly between his fingers, watching me while I stood in silence, thinking through our next options. It was like a grim chess match—one wrong move and someone would die. A real classic parable for a full-blown shit show.

“Alright… for now, I’ve narrowed it down to three key areas,” I said finally, lighting up my own smoke. Ito did the same.

“One for hordes—undead, beasts, whatever. One for something massive. And one here, in case it’s another spirit. Each location has pros and cons, but I think we know them well enough that we won’t need to talk once the fighting starts.”

He nodded. I glanced over, watching his reaction.

“If you’re that sure, then alright,” he said. “How many potions and supplies have you duplicated?”

“My bracelet only allows one item per day… so seven. One for each of us, with one extra as backup.” I flicked him a red vial. It looked almost like berry juice—raspberry or red currant. Rarer than hell back in the city, but not impossible to grow indoors. Expensive, though. Always expensive.

Then, on the seventh day, the world shifted. There was no sunrise—just a curtain of obscure, grey clouded darkness.

Jax climbed up to the roof, squinting into the distance. Moments later, we all felt the familiar vibration from our watches or mediums given to us respectively. It was funny seeing Jax stare down at his wrench from up over the roof.

“Eh?” he muttered, flicking open his display. His eyes rolled back slightly as he groaned. I was already motioning for him to hop down.

“This... is unexpected,” Ito muttered, clicking his tongue. “Capture the totem flag far in the distance before the ninth day. Coordinates are...” he skimmed past the string of numbers and skipped ahead, “Reward... huh. It actually tells us the reward this time.”

Tao opened his own display, picking up where Ito left off.

“Reward: A weapon of choice from the next battlefield. A skill of choice among many. A boon of favor. An increase in ability. A power to some... and nothing to one.”

I couldn’t help but click my tongue, catching a glimpse of Ito nodding. It sounded like a riddle, but it wasn’t—not really. Seven rewards for seven people... and one of us would walk away with nothing.

That wasn’t exactly pleasant.

But why make it a riddle at all?

Cliché.

I was the first to speak, summoning my chain blade from the air and holding it up for everyone to see.

“This is what I gained from killing the ghost. I can summon my weapon now. I’m not really big on skills or boons... and you’ve all been through this kind of thing before. So, I’ll look to you as seniors, and I won’t ask for anything.”

A few flinched. Others opened their mouths like they wanted to object—but no one said a word.

I wasn’t surprised.

People aren’t inherently selfish, not always. But I made a point—these people had history. They’d fought together, bled together. Me? I was the new guy. If all six of them got something useful, it wouldn’t just be a linear boost to the team. It would multiply our survival chances exponentially. That mattered. That could mean the difference between death and making it to the next challenge in one piece.

Tao and Ito both gave approving nods. Either of them probably would’ve taken the fall for the team if I hadn’t spoken first. Leaders know when a sacrifice needs to be made—and more importantly, they understand morale. Give six people a reason to fight, and they will. Leave one behind, even silently, and it gnaws at them.

But I wasn’t done.

“However…” I added, watching their heads turn again, “That doesn’t mean I’m selfless. I still want to see what’s available. I want to know what this world has to offer. It'll help me when I go hunting for something specific later on.”

Ito didn’t object. “Smart,” he said. “Good to know what path you're walking.”

He smiled after saying it. I could tell he liked people who thought ahead—and even more so, people who didn’t hesitate.

Putting myself up to receive nothing, volunteering to face the ghost... yeah. I had earned a couple of brownie points.

Not that it would save me.

But it sure as hell didn’t hurt.

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Slashing downward with a whirl of the blade linked by the chain in my hand, it cast a faint cascade of light across the surroundings.
Swish swish
              The faster I swung, the faster things vanished before me. With every slash, the damage amplified—thanks to the skill Ten Thousand Fold Slayer. The creatures rising from the murky depths of the earth were beheaded one after another, even as Ito moved beside me, struggling to keep pace.

We moved in a loose triangular formation, with Tao and Kito at the center. Their steady stream of blessings and magical boosts gave us increased speed and endurance, letting us maintain momentum for hours on end. The road ahead was never going to be easy—this much we knew—but if it were simply about distance, the coordinates would’ve been much farther away. The lack of a time limit meant something else entirely.

Undead continued to pour from the ground, sure—but with our relentless speed, most never even made it out of the dirt before being trampled or passed by.
Despite the overwhelming momentum, Ito’s voice cut through the haze.

“It’s too easy...” he muttered.

Everyone nodded in agreement, unease passing through the group like a cold draft. He was right. The creatures were slow, almost deliberately so. And this didn’t feel like a fight—it felt like a game. Like some twisted version of arcade whack-a-mole… except for mages and killers. And worse, it had started with the phrase seven bosses.

Not… this.

After nearly a full day of travel, our watches pinged—destination reached.

But it wasn’t a desolate swamp. Nor an eerie forest. No bones or black earth or tortured trees.

It was a field.

A wide, endless field of roses.

That’s when the dread hit harder.

Because if the destination looked this serene, this hauntingly beautiful... then the road back was guaranteed to be nothing short of a nightmare. A quiet hell after the calm.

At the center of the field stood a door—crafted from dark, beautifully carved wood that I didn’t recognize. Even with all I’d seen and absorbed, its material escaped me. Above it, in elegant golden calligraphy, arched a phrase:

“Six may enter.”

Everyone looked at one another. Then back at me.

I shrugged. “I meant it.”

No hesitation.

One by one, they stepped forward. Ito was the first to place a hand on the silver-coated doorknob. He turned it smoothly, and the door opened with a gentle creak. Without looking back, he stepped through.

*eEEerrr*
The door gave a reluctant shudder before finally closing with a hush. I sighed.

To come this far just to be left behind—not for the reward, but because I had convinced myself this was my duty—left a sour taste in my mouth. One I immediately tried to wash out with smoke as I lit up a fresh cigarette.

No undead. No creatures.

Hell, this rose field would’ve been a perfect place to relax. Maybe I earned that, at least.

With a puff, I dropped down onto the soft, lush ground and gazed out over the flowers.

They weren’t just roses.

The petals had a sheen to them, like mirrors rippling with gold and red. Some shimmered like they were dipped in metal. It wasn’t an illusion either. I even drove my chain blade into the ground just to be sure. Only roots.

“What are these?” I muttered, narrowing my eyes. “Don’t remember seeing anything like this before...”

My cigarette felt extra luxurious for some reason—smooth and slow—so I leaned back to savor it.

Then—

“What the—”

A frog emerged from the mist, slipping right through the haze of smoke I’d exhaled. I nearly had a heart attack.

“Frog! Don’t sneak up on me like that,” I muttered, patting his head before lifting him to my shoulder. He tilted his head once, croaked quietly, then dozed off like a lazy, smug prince.

“You know, little guy,” I murmured, “I guess it ain’t too bad. I did get that ghost heart... and that gave me a hell of a benefit.”

I summoned the chain blade from the air into my hand. Two glowing lightning runes flickered on my palm, and the blade’s own runes pulsed to match—crackling with bursts of electricity. If I snapped it through the air like a whip, it let out a thunderous crack that made the earth hum.

Damn thing was beautiful.

It wasn’t just a weapon—it was a mirror of me. If I had buffs, it had buffs. If I could fly, it could follow. If I was invincible... yeah, it was too.

Overpowered? Hell yeah.
Useful? Even more so.

With a flick of my wrist, my watch display appeared before me, casting a soft glow across the reflective roses behind it.

‘Material Augment: 5%’

The enhancement skill had crept up by 4% recently—just from use. It was starting to grow on me. Hell, a 5% bump to anything? That was basically a free 1/20th improvement across the board. If I used that wisely, it could break the game.

Especially because it applied to anything. Not all at once, of course—but the potential was scary.

Current Skill Set:

‘Mending’: Remake any broken material back together again. The larger the damage, the longer the mend will need to be applied.

‘Material Augment’: Enhance the properties or aspects of a material by a percentage.

‘Ten-Thousand Fold Slayer’: With each consecutive slash, gain a 0.1% damage increase. 10 slashes = 1%. 100 = 10%. 1000 = 100%.

‘Summon’: Summon an assigned weapon. Current: Chain Blade.

‘Eldritch Bane’: Imbues the Chain Blade with current buffs or skills in use, causing it to evolve in tandem with the user.

I exhaled a long drag and shook my head with a crooked grin.

“I really gotta say... I haven’t lost out all that much. I mean, what would I have even gotten inside there? A magic quill? A humble shopkeeper handing out blessings? Fuck me…”

Another drag.

“Sucks I couldn’t at least go in and look around. Maybe there was a humble library or something…”

Puff

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“Reward: A weapon of choice from the next battle field, a skill of choice amongst many, a boon of favor, an increase in ability, a power to some, and nothing to one.”

Tao read the message aloud again before peering into the vast, impossible space ahead of them.

“A shop, though?” Jax muttered, his voice more awe than disbelief. He stood still, bewitched by the scale of the room stretched out before them.

The space was colossal—hundreds of feet wide and stretching at least a thousand feet deep. But that wasn’t what made it monstrous. The ceiling? Nonexistent. Or maybe just lost beyond visibility. Towering rows of glowing shelves extended upward into a shimmering haze, lined with artifacts, relics, and objects too strange to name. The walls they saw weren't walls at all—just the borders of perception. The room bent reality around them, a prism of shelves and light.

“Hello!” a cheerful voice called out.

From behind a sleek obsidian shop desk, a man emerged, as if peeled from shadow. He moved with a casual air, but the suddenness of his appearance made everyone flinch. Ito had already drawn his blade and surged forward before the man had finished speaking, and Tao shouted his brother’s name, trying to stop him.

A strange force gripped the air. Ito’s advance halted a few feet from the man, arms shaking as though he were pushing against a storm.

“Stop it,” the man said gently, “This isn’t the place for that.”

“What is this?” Tao asked, narrowing his eyes. He could see Ito’s muscles tense with exertion. Something powerful was holding him back.

The man smiled pleasantly. “Well, the reward doesn’t have to come at the end, right? Why wait? Might help you in the next fight.”

The group exchanged uncertain glances. The man’s tone was casual, his posture disarming. He didn’t seem aggressive. He wasn’t wrong, either.

“How does it work, then?” Ito asked through gritted teeth. “The message said: a weapon of choice from the next battlefield, a skill of choice amongst many, a boon of favor, an increase in ability, a power to some... and nothing to one.”

“Yes, yes,” the man replied, waving it off like an old story. “I know the lines. But here’s the twist—you all get to choose an item... for the one you left outside. And he alone will bring it back for you.”

“What?!”

The word echoed, rebounding through the unnatural space as curses followed. Tension erupted like a frayed wire snapping under stress. The man stood unshaken, a small smile never leaving his face.

Ito glared. “You said nothing to one. But if six of us get nothing, why phrase it that way?”

“Ah,” the shopkeeper said with a sigh, “riddles are funny, aren’t they? It’s not just what you read—it’s how the situation reshapes the meaning. Nothing to one. Think about it.”

Tao's brows pulled together as his mind spun. Then his eyes widened. “It didn’t mean one person would receive nothing. It meant the odds of receiving anything were nothing.”

Silence. Everyone froze.

“Correct!” the man grinned. “Nothing to one. A clever twist, if poorly worded. If he fails, you all lose. If he succeeds, you all win. That’s the gamble. The gods are dramatic, but not cruel. Not entirely.”

He exhaled again, this time with a bit more gravity. “Where it says a power to some—that means three of you get to choose powers for him. So let’s not waste time. Each of you take a stick—it’ll tell you what category you’re picking from.”

With a motion, a bundle of thin wooden rods appeared, humming with quiet magical resonance.

“This is how it’s done,” the man said. “And don’t worry—time in this place doesn’t flow. You’ve got eternity if you need it. Take as long as you want. No rush.”

Tao observed his brother eyeing the shopkeeper, not with hostility, but with a strange focus—like recognition.

“Who are they?” Tao asked. “You keep saying ‘they,’ or ‘we.’”

The man smiled. “Since you’ve come this far, I suppose you’ve earned the story.”

He moved with a quiet grace to the center of the room, where a circle of plush, high-backed chairs materialized out of the misted floor. He gestured for them to sit. One by one, warily, they did.

“This year is... special,” the shopkeeper began. “It only comes once in a long while. A time when the gods descend to stir the world. Some do it for amusement. Others, for control. Some to test their creations.”

“They live on a higher plane than yours—but even that isn’t the top. No, the true manipulators exist even beyond them. The ones who allow gods to descend in the first place.”

He paused, letting the weight of that truth settle. His eyes shifted around the room, towards the ceiling as if awaiting a bolt of lightning to strike him. He let loose a sigh and continued.

“Usually, they place a single god in a city—turning that city into a sanctuary. But between those cities? Chaos. Conflict. War. The ruins you find? Remnants of lost gods.”

Tao nodded slowly. “We’ve found magical relics... artifacts. Powers that pass through generations—often flawed or twisted over time.”

“Exactly,” the shopkeeper said. “Handed-down powers degrade. The more they pass hands, the more unstable they become. Magic mutates. Lineages fracture.”

“Genome—you’ve heard of him? Yes. He doesn’t create bloodlines. He manipulates existing ones. Enhances humans with the essence of other races.”

Jax leaned forward, wide-eyed. “So those races... they’re real? Why haven’t we seen them?”

“They live on other worlds,” the shopkeeper replied. “Worlds the gods leave this one for. Genome travels to those places, gives your essence to them. He’s a curious one.”

Nobody had words. The silence that followed was cold, a vacuum of understanding.

“And in this special year,” the shopkeeper said, voice dropping, “the higher gods gather all divine races into a single city. Then... they wipe everything else clean.”

Gasps. Mouths parted, but no one spoke. Dread pooled in every stomach.

“I know,” the man said gently. “It’s cruel. But it’s part of a cosmic plan. The gods bring the strongest lifeforms from other worlds here. They condense them. Mix them. Let them thrive. Let them destroy. Until, eventually... a balance is found.”

Tao whispered, “So... the gods are just terraformers for us right now.”

“Yes,” the shopkeeper smiled. “Terraformers with delusions of artistry. Though those other places aren’t wiped out from existence, and this war isn’t to find the Apex of all that is. Those places…those darker sides of your material plane, are expanding, and you need to prove yourselves worthy of staying. The rest will tear themselves apart until nothing is left.”

“And the portals?”

“They create the Chosen. Each god picks one mortal. That mortal becomes their voice, their blade, their test. Whether they lead, unite, or conquer—it’s up to them. Everyone has access to them, but some are led.”

“Did Jaeger know?” Ito asked, his voice barely audible.

“No,” the man replied. “He had no idea. He simply chose. Willingly. Completely. Gave up everything without hesitation. Loyal. Fierce. Heartfelt. He isn’t a chosen though, I believe he is meant to help investigate some things that are needed to be made right…the truth that comes to light. I know not why, but that line pops into my mind when I think of him. That must be it.”

The weight in the room shifted. Guilt, admiration, sorrow—they all mingled like ghosts behind the eyes of every person seated there.

“So to sum up,” the shopkeeper said, rising again, “Your city has grown. You might’ve noticed—streets are longer. Paths that were once shortcuts are now roads into untouched sectors. Your old city? One hundred miles across with all its land beyond its walls. Now? Several thousand.”

“Holy fu—”

“Don’t finish that,” the shopkeeper cut Drek off, and Drek slapped a hand over his own mouth.

“This world has been chosen,” the man went on. “Chosen to grow. Chosen to host. And the portals, the fog, the blessings—they’re real. But they are also preparation.”

“What now?” Ito asked.

The shopkeeper clapped his knees and smiled. “Now... you make decisions your friend won’t know about.”

Ito turned toward where the door had once been. It was gone—just a blank wall now. The guilt pressed against his chest like an anchor.

That should’ve been him.

But fate had already sung. The blade had already fallen.

“His chances are good,” Tao said, resting a firm hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Let’s make them better.”

“Come,” the shopkeeper called. “Let us choose.”

As they followed him toward the back of the impossible shop, Drek glanced sideways.

“Hey, shopkeeper… you mentioned Genome a lot. Does he go by any other name?”

The shopkeeper’s smile flickered. His eyes darted around the room.

“The man immo—” he started, then stopped. “It doesn’t really matter.”

And just like that, he turned and disappeared behind the counter once again.

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