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Theta-9 | Camp Blackthorn | 05:51 AM Earth Sync
The prefab walls of the briefing tent hummed faintly with residual static. Outside, the world remained cloaked in perpetual gloom, a dull gray mist that filtered the light into shades of dead ash. The forest beyond the wire perimeter groaned with wind that didn't feel like wind, and every so often, something howled in the distance—too deep to be a hound, too primal to be human.
James Aston stood at attention, back straight, jaw clenched. It was a pose. An act. Inside, he was a tangle of nerves and raw adrenaline.
He was not alone.
A group of seventeen trainees stood in a loose formation around him, arranged more by fatigue and fear than discipline. Most were older by a year or two. Some by more. Their faces were pale, lips chapped, eyes sunken with exhaustion. Every one of them held a weapon—makeshift or salvaged: a rusted machete, a broken baton, sharpened scrap metal taped to pipe. One girl carried a crowbar reinforced with bone grafts, the handle wrapped in braided human hair.
No one spoke. No one coughed. The only sound was the low hum of the projectors and the distant creaking of Theta-9's unnatural woods.
Captain Lin entered.
The air shifted.
She walked like a storm given shape—her dark coat swept behind her like a flag, boots thudding against the metal flooring. She was flanked by two field officers, armored in matte black combat suits bearing the Consortium insignia partially burned off. A red sash hung from Lin's waist, each knot signifying confirmed kills in field leadership roles.
She didn't need to speak. Not at first.
Her presence said enough.
But then she spoke anyway.
"You want Tier One?" she asked, voice low but firm. "You want rations that aren't powdered insect. Armor that won't break the first time something claws you. Class unlocks. Skill draws. Field credit. You want the stuff that matters?"
Her eyes swept across them all. They landed on James. Held for half a second longer than on the others.
"You earn it. With blood."
She stepped aside, revealing a projection on the back wall. A 3D topographical map of Theta-9 appeared, etched in static blue light. One zone flashed red.
[Zone: Theta-9, Sector E-12: Bramble Hollow]
"You get one mission. One opportunity. Enter Bramble Hollow. Secure one confirmed kill. Return. Alone."
Gasps and murmurs rippled through the tent.
"No team-ups," Lin added. "No alliances. No deals. I catch you helping someone? You fail. We take your badge and kick you back down to zero."
A trainee near the back raised a shaking hand. "What are we fighting?"
"Stalker Hounds," one officer replied. "Rotwolves. Spinebacks, if you're really unlucky."
James's stomach clenched.
Another officer stepped forward, holding a satchel filled with softly glowing cubes.
"Tally Crystals," he said. "Press it to the creature after you kill it. It logs your class signature. Tamper-proof. Bring it back intact."
The cube placed in James's hand was warm. He swore it pulsed.
Lin paced in front of them like a predator. "You have two hours. That's it. Survive, or die trying. Either way, we get our data. Questions?"
James raised his hand.
Lin didn't stop pacing. "Speak."
"What if we don't find anything to kill?"
She smiled thinly. "Then you become the thing someone else kills."
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System Update
[Mission Added: Beginner's Kill]
> Objective: Secure 1 Confirmed Kill in Sector E-12
Time Limit: 2 Hours
Restriction: Solo Only. Assistance = Disqualification.
Reward: Tier 1 Clearance, +1 Skill Draw, Bonus EXP
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Sector E-12: Bramble Hollow
James entered the forest alone.
Bramble Hollow was nothing like the rest of Theta-9.
Here, the trees bent inward like closing fingers. Thorns jutted from every surface, many of them pulsing faintly with green liquid. The canopy overhead was dense and twisted, suffocating the light and casting everything in permanent twilight. The ground squelched when he stepped, a mixture of moss, rot, and something thicker.
[You are now in: Hostile Zone - E-12 Bramble Hollow]
[Class: Assassin-Type Initiate | Stealth Bonus Active]
[Weapon Equipped: Rusted Combat Knife | Condition: Poor]
His fingers tightened on the knife.
He moved slowly, each step calculated. Avoid the vines. Don't touch the black moss. Keep low. He'd learned fast how important terrain awareness was in this world. Theta-9 didn't forgive mistakes.
Ten minutes passed.
Then twenty.
Still nothing.
But the forest was watching him. He could feel it. Eyes in the leaves. Shapes behind the mist.
Then he heard it.
A low growl.
James ducked behind a thorn-wrapped tree and peeked around it.
A Stalker Hound.
It prowled through the clearing, claws scraping the stone beneath its feet. Its body was malformed: muscle stretched over exposed bone, with eyes that glowed faintly orange and a maw filled with too many teeth.
[Threat Identified: Stalker Hound | Class: Lesser Rift Beast]
> Level: 2
HP: 120/120
Aggression: High | Perception: Medium | Armor: None
Weak Points: Throat, Eye Cluster
[Combat Tip: Recommended tactic: Stealth attack. Avoid frontal engagement. Fatal bite damage.]
He licked his lips. Heart hammering.
This was it.
He waited. Watched. Tracked the hound's movements. It sniffed the air, sniffed the ground, then trotted off toward a cluster of fungal growths.
James moved.
[Skill Triggered: Shadowstep]
He flowed forward, fast and silent.
The knife came down.
But the beast turned.
It saw him.
It shrieked—a sound halfway between a dog's bark and a human scream—and lunged. James ducked, slashing at its side. Black ichor sprayed across his coat.
The hound rammed into him. They tumbled. James landed hard on his back, pain spiking through his shoulder.
It pounced.
He rolled. The knife came up, slamming into its throat.
[CRITICAL HIT - Throat Cleave Successful]
The creature twitched. Spasmed.
Collapsed.
James didn't move for several seconds. He stared up at the canopy, breath ragged.
Then he sat up, gagging.
He pulled the Tally Crystal from his pocket and pressed it to the corpse.
[Kill Confirmed: +1]
[Class: Assassin Initiate | EXP +10]
[Level Progress: 30%]
He wiped the knife clean.
And he vomited.
Again.
---
Camp Blackthorn: Extraction Point
James emerged from the Hollow an hour later. Blood stained his coat. His face was pale.
But he walked on his own two feet.
A few others had returned.
Some were missing limbs.
One was carried.
Captain Lin waited at the center of the camp. Behind her, a data array hovered, flickering with names and kill logs.
James approached and handed her the crystal.
She scanned it.
It glowed.
"Welcome to Tier One," she said.
Her voice didn't congratulate. It confirmed.
---
System Update
[Tier Upgrade Achieved: Tier One Combatant]
> +1 Free Skill Draw
+5 HP, +2 Stamina
Skill Tree Access Unlocked
Assassin Path Expanded
[Choose 1 of 3 Starter Skills Below:]
1. Backstab (Common): +50% damage when attacking from stealth.
2. Ghost Veil (Uncommon): Grants 3 seconds of true invisibility. 1-minute cooldown.
3. Maim (Rare): Bleed effect on melee strikes. 20% chance per hit. Stacks up to 3x.
James stared.
Three options.
Each meant something. Each was a path.
He chose the middle.
[Skill Chosen: Ghost Veil (Uncommon)]
[Skill Installed.]
The rush came like cold fog through his veins.
He gasped.
Then stood straighter.
Mercer found him later that evening, sitting by the fire, staring into the flames.
"You survived," Mercer said, handing him a ration bar.
James took it.
"Felt like luck," he said.
Mercer shook his head. "Luck doesn't stab back. You earned it. First blood is the worst. After that, it just becomes... part of the job."
James chewed in silence.
Then: "I saw something in its eyes, Mercer. Like it knew me."
Mercer didn't laugh.
"They do," he said quietly. "The Rift watches us. We stare into it. It stares back."
James looked up.
And in the night sky above, a second moon rose.
Except it wasn't a moon.
It blinked.
---