The plaza quieted when the gate responded.
It was not silence, not truly. The crowd still breathed, shifted, whispered. But the sound dimmed, like the world had lowered its voice out of instinct.
The gate stood taller than before. Or maybe it always had. Its surface folded inward, layers of light overlapping like glass submerged in water. Symbols carved into the frame rearranged themselves slowly, never settling into a shape the mind could hold for long.
"This is Aetherfall," a voice announced.
A platform rose near the front. An officer stepped onto it, uniform immaculate, posture rigid. His voice carried without amplification.
"You are here because you chose to be," he said. "Or because you ran out of alternatives. The gate does not care which."
A few nervous laughs followed. They died quickly.
"Aetherfall is not a dungeon," the officer continued. "It is not a battlefield. It is not an opportunity."
He paused, letting the words sink in.
"It is a world."
Screens ignited behind him. Maps appeared. There are jagged landmasses. Floating regions suspended by forces no one fully understood. Cities marked in faint light, others crossed out entirely.
"Everything beyond this gate is real," he said. "Weather, hunger, injury, pain, death. None of it resets because you want it to."
I felt my wristband hum faintly. The System synced smoothly for most people. Mine lagged by half a breath, then caught up.
"Time flows differently in some regions," the officer went on. "Do not assume rescue will arrive when you expect it. Do not assume return gates will remain open."
The maps shifted into another.
"Early mortality is highest among initiates," he said. "Most deaths occur within the first thirty days of arrival."
A number appeared on the screen: 38%
No reaction from the crowd. People understood statistics only when they became names.
"Those who survive past six months have a significantly higher chance of long-term survival," he continued. "Those who survive a year rarely quit."
Another number appeared. 12%
I swallowed.
"This is not discouragement or whatever you wanted to think," the officer said. "It is disclosure."
The screen changed again.
Names filled it. Hundreds of them.
Some had dates beside them. Some had only locations. Others were marked with a single word, unrecovered.
"These," the officer continued, "are the ones who won't return."
The plaza was completely silent now.
"Some bodies cannot be retrieved," he continued. "Some souls cannot be anchored again. Some regions do not give back what they take."
The names scrolled slowly.
People leaned forward, searching. Hoping. Fearing recognition.
"This list updates weekly," he said. "If you disappear, it will not be immediately clear why. That uncertainty is part of the cost."
My chest felt tight. I noticed something then.
My vision flickered, just slightly.
The names blurred for a fraction of a second, then sharpened again. For everyone else, the list remained static.
For me, a few entries shifted.
Not removed but reordered.
I frowned and focused harder.
Some names carried faint markers. Not visible to the eye, but present all the same. Like unfinished sentences. Records that had not been closed properly.
I looked away.
The officer raised a hand.
"Do not misunderstand," he said. "Many of you will return. Changed, but alive. Some of you will find purpose. Some of you will find power."
The screen dimmed.
"But none of you will be the same."
He stepped back and the gate responded.
Its surface rippled outward, forming an opening that showed sky unlike any I had seen. Pale, fractured light. Clouds stretched thin and distant, drifting in ways that defied wind.
Aetherfall.
A presence pressed against my senses the moment it opened. Not hostility nor welcome. It's recognition.
Around me, people reacted differently.
Someone gagged and doubled over. Another clutched their head, swaying. A few stared forward, eyes wide with awe.
I felt none of that.
Instead, something inside me settled. Like a piece clicking into place.
My wristband vibrated again.
[Realm Synchronization: In Progress]
[Status: Delayed]
Of course.
"Crossing will be done in groups," another officer announced. "No heroics. No rushing."
One by one, people stepped forward. Some hesitated at the threshold. Others walked through without looking back. A few never made it across.
Not dead. They just… been refused.
The gate rejected them quietly, pushing them back with gentle force. Medical teams moved in, already trained for this outcome.
I watched it all with detached focus.
This was not my first beginning. Just the first that mattered.
When my section was called, I moved with them, head down, steps measured. The gate loomed closer, its light washing over us.
As I crossed the threshold, the pressure intensified.
Not pain but weight.
The sense of being measured by something vast and indifferent.
For a heartbeat, I thought of my parents. Of the street. Of the wrongness that had taken them.
I stepped through. The world folded over.
Sound vanished.
Then returned.
I was standing on unfamiliar ground beneath a fractured sky. The air smelled sharp and clean, carrying an undercurrent I could not name. Around me, others staggered, gasped, laughed nervously.
I stood still.
Behind us, the gate shimmered.
Ahead, Aetherfall stretched endlessly.
And somewhere in this world, answers waited. Whether they wanted to be found or not.
~~~
The landing zone spread out beneath the fractured sky, marked by temporary barriers and floating markers that pulsed with soft light. Officers moved through the crowd with practiced efficiency, dividing people into lanes.
"Group formation begins now," one of them announced. "Participation is required but you may leave any group at any time. You are responsible for your own survival choices after all."
A ripple of movement followed.
This part mattered.
To form a group, you had to show something. Not everything, but enough. A partial stat projection. Combat aptitude. Support capability. Potential, as the officers called it. Interested parties could view what you allowed, then decide if you were worth the risk.
And they could walk away without explanation.
I stayed near the edge, adjusting my projection to the bare minimum allowed. No embellishment. No highlights. Just numbers focusing on my intelligence.
It did not help.
People my age glanced at the display and scoffed openly.
"Is that it?"
"Why are you even here?"
One of them laughed, loud and sharp. "That can't be real. Did you fake it?"
Others reacted differently. A few bowed politely, awkward smiles on their faces.
"Sorry," one said quickly. "Good luck."
They left as fast as they could.
Older participants were worse.
Some did not bother hiding their irritation. One man clicked his tongue and shook his head.
"You'll slow people down, can even cost them their life," he said. "Don't take it personally but it's a fact and you know it."
Another stared at me like I had insulted him by existing.
Then the whispers started.
Someone had seen more than they should have. A gifted Observer, maybe unregistered, maybe just careless. He leaned toward a small group nearby and spoke loud enough to carry.
"Strength barely registers."
"…Agility's a joke."
"Vitality too…"
Laughter and snickering followed.
"Must be relying on brains alone."
"That won't last a week."
The words spread. Not fast, but efficiently. Like rot.
People who had not even checked my projection avoided my gaze. Some smirked. Some shook their heads like they had already attended my funeral. A few looked at me with pity, but did not do anything else.
The officers watched from a distance.
They did nothing.
They were not here to intervene. They were here to record outcomes.
Without a group, entry into deeper zones would be restricted. Solo initiates rarely survived long, and the rules reflected that reality. No escorts, shared resources and no fallback.
I clenched my jaw.
This was not fear.
It was frustration.
I had prepared for danger, for pain, for death. I had not prepared for being discarded before I even started. For not even given a chance to try.
I stood there, useless thoughts circling without direction, thinking of a way how can I contribute to a group, when I felt a light tap on my shoulder.
Not forceful. Not demanding. Just enough to get my attention.
I turned.
"Come join us," a soft voice said.
Madison stood there, biomask still in place, amethyst eyes calm and unreadable. Up close, she looked even more unreal, like the world had smoothed its edges around her. She gestured slightly behind her.
Ten people stood there.
A mixed group. Men and women. Some leaning casually, others checking gear. One looked bored enough to yawn. Another gave me a quick nod. Someone else grinned, unapologetic and curious.
Their ages varied. Early twenties. Late twenties. Maybe one or two brushing thirty, but no more than that.
No one looked impressed.
No one looked disgusted.
They just looked… ready.
"You don't have to stay if you don't want to," Madison added, as if inviting me to sit at a table rather than risk my life. "But we're heading in soon."
I hesitated.
This was exactly what I did not want.
Attention. Association. Being seen next to someone like her.
And yet.
Every other path led nowhere.
I glanced around. The officers were watching again now, interest flickering briefly before fading. The crowd had already moved on, satisfied with its verdict.
I looked back at Madison.
She waited, patient, as if she already knew my answer.
"…All right," I murmured then added, "Thanks."
This is what I need.
A few members of her group shifted, appraising me. One gave me a thumbs-up. Another shrugged like it made no difference either way.
Madison stepped aside, letting me pass.
As I joined them, the noise around us dulled, just slightly. Not silence. Just distance.
For the first time since arriving, I was no longer alone.
I did not know why she had chosen me.
I did not know what she saw.
But as the gate shimmered faintly behind us, I had the strange feeling that this decision, small as it seemed, had already changed the shape of things to come.
~~~
We moved a short distance away from the main crowd, toward a section marked for provisional teams. The noise thinned there, replaced by quieter conversations and the low hum of the realm's air.
No one rushed to speak.
That alone told me this group was different.
Before anyone could start introductions, a voice cut in from behind us.
"Madison Ultima."
I turned slightly.
The speaker was a tall young man dressed far too carefully for someone about to enter a lethal realm. His posture screamed pedigree. His wristband glowed faintly with layered enhancements. The kind people paid fortunes for.
His name tag flashed briefly as he stepped forward.
Lucien Valecrest.
One of those families.
He smiled, confident and practiced, already extending a hand, as though they were closed associates. "I didn't expect to see you joining as an initiate. My family has several active teams. I'm sure we could arrange something far more suitable than—"
He did not finish.
One of Madison's team stepped sideways, smooth and effortless, blocking the path.
Lucien blinked. "Excuse me?"
The man blocking him did not move.
"I said excuse me," Lucien repeated, irritation creeping in. "Do you know who I am?"
"I do and it doesn't mean a shit," the man replied. "You're not invited."
Lucien's smile tightened. "My family sponsors three supply routes into Aetherfall. I'm sure your leader would appreciate—"
Madison did not even look at him. She was checking something on her wristband, expression unchanged, as if he were background noise.
That seemed to anger him more than rejection.
His gaze flicked to me. Then he laughed.
"This?" he said, pointing openly. "You're telling me this is the standard now? Someone with stats like that?"
The air shifted.
One of the women in the group leaned forward, her voice low and sharp, barely contained.
"No one questions Her Ladyship's choice."
The words were whispered but landed like a blow.
Lucien froze. The color drained from his face, not fear, but realization. He took a step back, jaw clenched, pride bruised beyond repair.
"This isn't over," he muttered.
No one answered.
He left.
The silence that followed was heavier than before.
Two others lingered near the edge of our group, clearly meant to fill the remaining slots. They exchanged glances, uneasy.
One of them scoffed weakly. "I mean… it's fair to ask, right? We're risking our lives here."
Madison finally looked at them.
It was not anger but rather a dismissal.
Her eyes settled on them for less than a second.
Both men stiffened.
Their mouths opened, then closed. One swallowed hard. The other looked away as if struck.
"No," Madison said quietly. "It isn't."
Neither spoke again.
Eight of the group turned their attention back inward, as if the interruption had never happened.
Then, introductions began.
The man who had blocked Lucien went first.
"Rowan Hale," he said. "Field control."
Next to him, a woman with short ash-blonde hair gave a nod. "Iris Calder. Recon and mapping."
Another woman followed, taller, dark-skinned, eyes sharp. "Mireya Solin. Medical support."
A man with a relaxed grin leaned against a crate. "Jax Morrell. Logistics and improvisation."
Beside him, a broad-shouldered man with quiet eyes spoke next. "Owen Price. Defensive combat."
Another male member adjusted his gloves. "Felix Rourke. Ranged support."
A woman with braided copper hair smiled faintly. "Nadia Keene. Environmental analysis."
The last of the eight inclined his head slightly. "Silas Venn. Tactical planning."
They stopped there.
No one opened their status.
No one asked for mine.
No curiosity. No judgment.
Just acceptance, quiet and absolute.
Madison looked at me last.
"You already know my name," she said.
I nodded.
"That's enough, then."
The officers signaled from a distance. Team confirmation was being logged.
Twelve slots.
Filled.
As the marker above us shifted from provisional to locked, I felt it again.
That strange sense of inevitability.
I did not know why I had been chosen.
But I knew one thing.
Whatever lay ahead in Aetherfall, this group was not accidental.
And neither, I suspected, was I.