Russell stared at the mission completion notification glowing softly on his datapad.
MISSION COMPLETE
HUNTER EXPERIENCE POINTS (Cs) AWARDED: +15 <<
The numbers hovered there, clean and precise, as if they carried some grand meaning. And yet, the longer Russell looked at them, the more hollow they felt. The victory was real. The exhaustion in his muscles was real. The memory of the Hollow's splintering core was real.
But the reward?
It might as well have been written in a foreign language.
He lowered the datapad slowly and glanced sideways at Gareth. His friend was wearing the exact same expression—half pride, half confusion—as if he'd won a prize but had no idea where to redeem it.
"But…" Russell began, exhaling through his nose. "I don't know how to use these Cs points."
The words tasted bitter. After everything—the fight, the risk, the near-death moment—it felt absurd to be stopped by something so simple.
Gareth blinked, then scratched the back of his head. "Yeah. Same here."
They stood there in silence for a moment, the distant hum of The Crucible's machinery filling the gap.
"So…" Gareth added slowly, "…what do we do?"
They looked at each other.
The answer came instantly.
Without another word, they turned and headed toward the training grounds, their boots echoing against the durasteel corridors. The wide, open space offered a rare sense of privacy—no mission handlers, no spectators, just the cold floor and towering walls scarred from countless battles and drills.
Russell stopped near the edge of the arena and took a breath.
"This feels stupid," Gareth muttered, lowering himself to sit. "We literally killed a Juggernaut, and now we're stuck on step two."
Russell didn't reply. He pulled out his datapad again, thumb hovering for a moment before selecting a familiar contact.
The screen flickered.
Salvador's face appeared—stern, tired, and already irritated.
"What is it now?" Salvador snapped, eyes narrowing. "If this is another question about stance alignment—"
Russell spoke fast. He explained everything.
The mission.
The Hollow.
The Juggernaut classification.
The victory.
The Cs reward.
And finally, the problem.
Salvador listened in silence.
When Russell finished, Salvador pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long, heavy sigh.
"You defeated a Juggernaut-class Hollow," Salvador said slowly, "and you don't even know how to use your hard-earned Cs."
His tone was exasperated—but beneath it, unmistakably, was pride.
"Fine," Salvador continued. "Listen carefully. Both of you."
Russell straightened instinctively.
"Sit down," Salvador ordered. "On the floor. Now."
Russell and Gareth exchanged a glance.
"…This is going to get weird, isn't it?" Gareth whispered.
Russell shrugged and sat.
The cold durasteel pressed through his clothing as he lowered himself cross-legged. Gareth followed suit, shifting uncomfortably.
"Close your eyes," Salvador said. "Clear your mind. Stop thinking about your body, the floor, the air. Focus on the very center of your consciousness."
Russell obeyed.
Darkness swallowed his vision.
"At the place where your will resides," Salvador continued. "The part of you that decided to stand up after being knocked down. The part that chose to fight."
For a moment, nothing happened.
Russell became acutely aware of his breathing. The faint ache in his legs. The echo of distant machinery.
Then—
Something tugged at him.
It wasn't physical. It felt like gravity had shifted inside his chest. A gentle but irresistible pull, drawing his awareness inward.
The world fell away.
Russell felt himself stretch—thin, weightless—like being drawn through a narrow tunnel made of light and shadow. His sense of direction vanished. Up and down lost meaning. Time blurred.
Then—
He was there.
Russell opened his eyes.
Or rather, he felt like he did.
He gasped.
He stood in a vast, ethereal expanse unlike anything he had ever imagined. The ground beneath his feet wasn't solid, yet it supported him—a shimmering mist of silver and gold that swirled softly with each step.
Above him stretched an endless sky, not blue, not black, but alive—cosmic currents of light folding into themselves, constellations forming and dissolving like thoughts.
And before him—
A tree.
Colossal.
Golden.
Its trunk was impossibly thick, ancient beyond comprehension, etched with glowing veins that pulsed slowly like a living heart. Six massive branches extended outward from its core, each one broad and dormant, reaching into the metaphysical sky like paths waiting to be walked.
The sheer presence of it stole Russell's breath.
"Wha…" he whispered, his voice echoing strangely, as if spoken inside a vast cathedral. "What is this?"
He turned sharply, scanning the space. "Gareth? Where are you?"
There was no answer.
Then Salvador's voice echoed—not from any direction, but from everywhere.
"Good," Salvador said. "You've reached your Tree."
Russell spun in place. "Uncle—?"
"And don't worry," Salvador added calmly. "Your friend is at his own Tree. This place is unique to every Hunter."
Russell swallowed hard.
"What… what is all this?" he asked, awe flooding every word.
Salvador's tone shifted, becoming instructional. Grounded.
"Listen carefully. Your skill tree is not a menu. Not a screen you tap."
The golden tree pulsed once, as if responding.
"This is reality," Salvador continued. "A deeper layer of it. Every Hunter's skill tree exists in the shared Metaphysical World—a plane of consciousness and potential."
Russell stared at the tree, his heart pounding.
"That tree before you," Salvador said, "is your potential. Its six main branches represent the first six fundamental abilities you can unlock."
Russell stepped closer, feeling the tree's presence press against him—heavy, ancient, patient.
"Now focus," Salvador instructed. "Not with your eyes. With your heart."
Russell closed his eyes again.
"Feel the proof of your battle," Salvador said. "The value of your effort."
Russell remembered.
The vine tightening around his ankle.
The split-second decision to swing rather than struggle.
The weight of Emma in his hands.
The final thrust.
The shattering core.
The earning of it.
Something stirred.
When he opened his eyes again, shimmering silver orbs floated before him.
One.
Two.
Three.
Dozens.
They drifted gently, each pulsing softly, like captured moments of effort made tangible.
Russell reached out instinctively—but stopped himself.
"Those," Salvador's voice intoned, "are the Cs you have earned."
Russell's breath caught.
"Your currency in this realm," Salvador continued. "To unlock an ability, you must will the required number of orbs to merge with the branch you wish to awaken."
The orbs responded subtly, vibrating as if aware of his attention.
"Choose wisely, Russell," Salvador said quietly. "Your first step defines your path."
Russell lowered his hand.
He looked from the floating silver orbs to the six dormant branches of the golden tree.
The power was no longer an abstract number.
It was real.
It was waiting.
And for the first time, the future wasn't just something that would happen to him.
It was something he would choose.