[Shiro Kage POV]
Jam wasn't moving.
At first, I thought he was pretending. He did that sometimes — eyes half-lidded, body propped against a tree trunk as if he'd paused reality and the world had politely agreed. But minutes passed. The jungle breathed, leaves rustled, distant thuds marked unknown movements — and Jam stayed on the ground.
His body looked whole. The Black Apple had done its job. I'd seen the cracks seal. Seen reality snap back into him like an error in a corrupted file being corrected.
And yet…
"Jam?" I asked, kneeling closer, enough to feel the heat radiating from him. Not fever, not chill. Just… exhaustion stretched beyond normal limits. Like metal repeatedly bent and now reluctant to spring back.
His eyes twitched slightly.
"I can hear you," he said. Flat. Calm. Unflinching, as if speaking were the only thing his body could do.
"You're hurt again," I said.
"No." His voice stayed smooth, quiet. "I'm… inconsistent."
Inconsistent. The word lingered like smoke.
I looked at him properly, noting the small tremors when his fingers flexed, the even breaths that betrayed the chaos inside. He'd hunted platform users yesterday — no, more than yesterday. Hours of forced motion, combat, mental strain, and now the aftereffects had finally caught up. His body simply refused commands.
"You pushed yourself," I said carefully. "And now you can't move."
"That is accurate."
I swallowed. The jungle seemed suddenly claustrophobic.
"You can't complete quests like this."
"I won't," he replied. "Not for a while."
Relief tried to bubble, but it sputtered and died before it could reach the surface.
"We have enough tokens," I said softly. "You don't need to—"
His gaze flicked upward. A translucent window unfolded above him: the store.
Jam stared. Too long. Eyes narrowing on a single item: Complete Recovery — 2 Gold Tokens.
"That's expensive," I said.
"It is," he replied. The words barely lifted from his throat, but something about the inflection made my heart ache — a blend of pride, stubbornness, and resignation.
He didn't move. He didn't have to. The system obeyed the command as if it knew the intention.
Then he looked at me. Really looked. That piercing gaze that could reduce one to a curious, excited puddle.
And he bought it.
The potion appeared, glass humming faintly, light bending inward instead of exploding outward. He crushed it, and his body shimmered — no fatigue, no pain, no exhaustion. Whole. Complete. Perfect.
And still, he didn't move.
"Jam."
"I am restored," he said softly. "But my body has no precedent for this workload. Restoration does not equal adaptation."
I let out a slow breath. "So… you need rest."
"Yes."
For once, he didn't argue. He didn't debate. He didn't try to force his body past limits.
I nodded. "Then rest. I'll take care of things."
Silence fell, heavy, layered with the sound of the jungle: dripping water, snapping twigs, wind through impossibly dense canopies.
"I still have resources," he murmured.
"You don't have to prove anything," I snapped before thinking better of it.
No reaction. Instead, another translucent window unfolded: Trade.
Silver counters ticked downward, gold ticked upward. Five thousand silver tokens converted. He had five gold tokens now, total.
A system-wide announcement rolled through the air, neutral, cold, mechanical: Platinum thresholds achieved. All players alerted.
I felt my stomach drop. "This is bad," I said quietly. "Everyone will try to hunt us now."
He shrugged. "We were already being observed."
Not comforting. Not at all.
He opened the store again. Clothes. Food. Tools. Weapons.
Winter suits appeared — two, heavy, insulated. One slid to me. Noodles, steam curling gently in the humid jungle air. A mini water tanker materialized, palm-sized but heavier than expected.
"It purifies," he said. "Five hundred liters."
I blinked. "Palm-sized? Really?"
He smirked faintly. "Prepared for inevitability."
Next appeared a lighter. No fuel. No spark wheel. Humming faintly. Atmospheric gas consumed as fuel.
I looked at him. "You're spoiling me."
"Call it… preventative indulgence," he muttered.
The next item: an obsidian blade. Long, sharp, endless endurance, temperature adapting to surroundings. I didn't touch it — didn't dare.
Then, a toolbox — dimensional, compact, deceptively deep.
When the window closed, his silver had dropped, gold intact. Ten gold. One platinum. A key to the next phase.
I wrapped my arms around my knees, absorbing the weight of the jungle around us. "People are dying."
"Yes." He sounded perfectly calm. Too calm. "So are earthquakes."
I hated that answer
Somewhere else, Divine ran. Chaerin stumbled beside him, breath ragged, muscles burning, eyes wide with panic. The T-rex thundered after them, every step a pulse through the ground, claws tearing foliage like the jungle had grown teeth overnight.
"Faster! Faster!" Chaerin yelled, arms flailing, her scream ricocheting off tree trunks like a panicked symphony.
Divine's hands shook around the advanced gear ⛮ sniper he'd bought with his last gold token. The air smelled of ozone and fear. One shot fired — a bullet vaporized part of the T-rex's tail. Chaerin blinked. "You… actually did something?"
"Partially effective," he muttered flatly, eyes scanning the approaching doom. "It's… inconveniently huge."
The T-rex lunged. Divine lost hope. One bite, one snap, and it would be over. Chaerin screamed, a raw, ragged sound, pure terror on human form.
Then the idea struck him — not clever, not safe, not sane. Force. Concentrated. Law. Smite.
He fired again. The sniper, glowing faintly, hummed. The shot carried all his desperation, all his adrenaline, all his refusal to die in a mundane way.
The world exploded. Literally.
A mountain vaporized behind them, debris and rock dissolving into nothing. The T-rex itself turned to mist, a swirl of scales and scorched earth. Divine collapsed, barely conscious, Chaerin clutching him like a lifeline. Platinum token claimed. Phase 2 opened.
Elsewhere, chaos brewed. Forty platform users had fortified a base, their laughter, arguments, and fear blending into cacophony. PRB and Soamja argued over timers while Misty laughed far too loudly. Halal hesitated, indecision painted on his every twitch. Sweggy, as always, carried the weight of execution without complaint.
"Are you guys for real?" Sweggy said, voice cold, steady. "We're doing this now or never. Bomb goes in."
"Wait! Wait! I misread the timer!" Soamja panicked, hands flailing. PRB muttered something low, incomprehensible, growled at the world.
Misty laughed. "You two are idiots. Absolute idiots."
Sweggy pressed the trigger. Silence, then a firestorm. The mega bomb detonated. Forty platform users were gone in a single, smoky breath. Tokens distributed automatically. Ten each. Platinum achieved. Phase 2 opened.
Sona clung to Soamja like a drowning thing, trembling. Whispered, "I… I don't want this anymore."
Soamja said nothing. Held her. That was enough.
Back with Jam, now fully recovered, he surveyed his remaining resources: 5k silver tokens, 5 gold tokens.
Conversion: 1,000 silver = 1 gold. He traded 5,000 silver for 5 gold tokens. Gold counter updated. Platinum tokens unlocked.
System announcement: "Player conversion complete. Platinum eligibility achieved. Phase 2 available."
He opened the store. Winter suits purchased — 1,300 silver each. Noodles, 300 silver. Mini water tanker — 200 silver, palm-sized but purifying 500 liters. Lighter, 200 silver — draws fuel from the atmosphere. Obsidian blade — 1,700 silver, endless endurance, temperature adaptive. Spatial toolbox — remaining 1,300 silver. Ten gold tokens total — platinum user key obtained.
He glanced at me, smirk tugging faintly at the corner of his lips. "Expensive day, isn't it?"
"You spend like a man who wants to die in style," I replied, dry, but amused.
"Only style I know," he said.
Divine, now with 3,000 silver tokens and one leftover gold, opened the premium shop. Items screamed expense. He purchased an advanced gear ⛮ sniper and a free packet of bullets.
"Perfect," he muttered. Chaerin, still clinging, looked unconvinced.
Then the T-rex appeared again. The chase repeated. Divine fired once. Tail partially vaporized. Almost eaten. Chaerin screamed again, more shrill than before.
Then came the blast. Smite concentrated through the sniper. Mountain vaporized. T-rex dissolved. Both ascended to Phase 2, unconscious but alive.
Back at our jungle base, Jam unpacked his acquisitions, moving with methodical flair.
"Water tanker purifies five hundred liters," he said, presenting it like a trophy. "You may bow."
"I'll consider it," I replied, flicking a leaf from my shoulder.
"You enjoyed that T-rex scene, admit it."
"I… did not," I said, smirking despite myself. "I liked the explosion part. Dramatic chaos, you know."
"I live for dramatic chaos," he said, eyes sparkling faintly. "Preferably with someone to watch me not die."
"I'm not babysitting you forever," I muttered.
"Forever?" he said, eyebrow twitching. "Try at least until the next mountain vaporizes."
"You are impossible," I said, shaking my head, smiling despite it all.
System announced token standings:
Divine — platinum achieved.
Jam — platinum achieved.
PRB/Soamja/Misty/Halal/Sweggy — platinum achieved.
Multiple phase triggers engaged.
Jam reviewed every resource — silver, gold, platinum. Every purchase, every trade, meticulously noted.
I watched him, dark amusement curling at my lips. "You do know you could just sleep and let me handle things, right?"
He glanced at me, exhaustion and mischief in his eyes. "And deprive you of watching me spend an obscene amount of tokens? Never."
Sona clung to Soamja, trembling. "I don't want to fight anymore," she whispered.
"Then don't," Soamja replied simply, holding her. Comfort more powerful than any weapon.
Jam finally allowed himself to lay back against the tree. Body rested, mind ticking. For the first time in hours, he let himself breathe.
I sat beside him. Blade across my lap, lighter humming, noodles cooling. Fingers brushed accidentally. Eyes met. A faint smirk.
Dark humor lingered. The world crumbling. Thousands eliminated. Platinum thresholds breached. And yet…
A moment to breathe. To tease. To live.
System continued counting deaths, announcing eliminations coldly.
Jam didn't watch. I did.
Divine and Chaerin awakened somewhere in Phase 2, disoriented, alive.
PRB, Soamja, Misty, Halal, Sweggy regrouped, platinum in hand, chaos settling into strategic tension.
Sona hugged Soamja. Trembled. Phase 2 began for all.
The world was larger now. Deadlier. But the players who survived had resources, cunning, and… each other.
And somewhere, ancient, indifferent, something noticed. Not the explosions, not the tokens, not the violence.
It noticed who stayed standing when the ones who carried the weight finally lay down.