The officers gathered us near the edge of the landing zone, where the ground leveled into a wide stone platform marked with faint guiding sigils. Beyond it stretched an open expanse, pale and uneven, dotted with low ridges and drifting fragments of land that floated just high enough to cast moving shadows.
An officer stepped forward, older than most, his armor worn smooth at the edges.
"Listen carefully," he said. "This is not a test. It's a passage."
He gestured outward.
"You will cross that expanse."
The land ahead looked calm. Too calm. No visible monsters or storms just distance.
"For veterans," he continued, "this takes two days if they move carefully. High-leveled hunters can finish it in half a day."
His gaze swept across us.
"For initiates like you, one week is the expectation. Some will make it faster. Some will take longer. Some will not arrive at all."
No one laughed.
"The expanse filters people," he said. "Not by strength alone. By judgment. By endurance. By how you respond when nothing attacks you, but everything drains you."
He let that settle.
"At the far end is your first destination. A town."
The screen behind him activated, showing a settlement built along a massive stone outcrop. Solid walls. Trade banners. Familiar architecture mixed with materials that did not exist back home.
"This town maintains direct contact with your world," he said. "They know who you are. They know when you arrive. They have prepared for you."
Prepared to judge you.
"The ones who reach the town," the officer went on, "are considered survivors."
That word again.
"In that town, you will be offered choices."
The screen shifted.
"Functions," he corrected. "Not classes, this is not some sort of game."
Images flickered. Roles defined not by weapons, but by purpose.
People who bound oaths into the ground to hold territory together.
Those who interpreted hostile environments and bent them into safe paths.
Individuals who negotiated with remnants of dead gods for borrowed authority.
Others who carried concepts instead of tools.
"These functions exist because Aetherfall demands specialization," he said. "Without one, you remain unanchored. You survive as you are, but you do not grow."
A murmur rippled through the group.
"Taking a function allows the System to open additional pathways," he explained. "Expanded stat growth. Skill access. Adaptive traits. Without it, your progress plateaus quickly." He paused. "You may refuse."
That drew more attention.
"No one forces you to choose," he said. "Some remain unaffiliated. Scouts. Messengers. Independent explorers. But understand this clearly."
The officer's voice hardened.
"Refusing limits you. You will be slower. Weaker. Less resilient. Aetherfall does not reward hesitation."
I absorbed the words quietly.
Jobs were not just identity. They were permission.
Permission for the System to invest more into you.
Around me, people shifted. Some excited. Some terrified. Others calculating.
"Your performance crossing the expanse will be observed," the officer continued. "Not graded. Remembered. The town will see how you arrive. Together or fractured. Careful or desperate."
His eyes lingered on our group briefly.
"Teams that reach the town intact have better options."
Madison stood at the center of us, hands folded, expression unchanged. The Eight listened without comment, already understanding what most of us were only beginning to grasp.
I felt it too.
This was not about fighting. It was about lasting long enough to be acknowledged.
The officer stepped back.
"You move at first light," he said. "Supplies are limited by design. If you rely on abundance, you will fail early."
The briefing ended.
People broke into hushed conversations. Plans formed. Arguments sparked. Some groups restructured immediately, weaker members quietly edged out.
No one in our group moved.
Rowan spoke first. "One week pace," he said calmly. "No rushing."
Iris nodded. "I'll map deviations. The expanse isn't static."
Mireya checked her pack. "Fatigue management will matter more than wounds."
No one looked at me, asked if I could keep up.
That, strangely, made it easier to breathe.
As the crowd dispersed, I looked back toward the expanse.
A week.
Seven days of walking through a place designed to strip people down to what they really were.
At the end of it waited a town. And after that, a choice.
A function. A path.
I did not know what role I would take.
I only knew why I needed to reach that town alive.
Because somewhere beyond it lay answers.
And because this time, dying early would not fix anything at all.
As the briefing ended and the crowd thinned, another truth settled in.
I could barely keep up with them.
I did not need to test it to know. My body told me every day. A short run left my lungs burning. Climbing too fast made my vision blur. My muscles responded, but always late, always with effort that others never seemed to notice in themselves.
On paper, I was average.
In practice, I was a burden.
Rowan could walk for days without slowing. Iris moved like terrain barely touched her. Even the quiet ones carried a kind of endurance I did not have. In a place like this, where the land itself drained you slowly, my stats were not just bad.
They were dangerous.
I understood why people had rejected me earlier. The blunt laughter. The polite apologies. The sharp stares. None of it felt unfair now.
If I had been in their place, looking at those numbers, I would have done the same.
I would not have chosen myself either.
That realization hurt more than the scorn.
I glanced at Madison's back, at the way the others naturally oriented around her. They had not asked for payment. They had not asked for proof. They had simply taken me in.
I owed them more than I could afford.
And yet I had nothing to give.
I could not fight. I could not run. I could not shield anyone when things went wrong. If I fell behind, they would slow. If they slowed, they would risk more than they should.
How was I supposed to repay that kind of debt?
Then another thought followed, colder and harder to ignore.
If I died here, would I come back?
The System had failed me once already. It had moved my checkpoint forward and locked it. That was outside the realm.
Inside Aetherfall, the rules were different. Heavier. More absolute.
If the error with my endless returns worked here, then death would only cost time.
If it did not, then this would be the end.
No reset or correction.
Just silence.
I looked out at the expanse again, stretching endlessly toward a town I might never reach.
For the first time since joining the group, I felt something close to fear.
Not of dying.
Of failing the people who had chosen me when they had every reason not to.
~~~
The first zone of the expanse began without ceremony.
One step past the marker and the ground changed. The soil darkened, roots tearing through the surface like exposed veins. Trees rose too close together, their canopies overlapping until the light fractured into thin, uneven bands. The air felt heavier. Not hostile. Just demanding.
Madison stood at the front but she was not leading.
Rowan was.
He moved a few steps ahead, eyes calm, already measuring distance, angles, timing. Iris flanked him, marking routes with quiet gestures. Silas murmured adjustments rather than commands, and the group flowed around those words naturally.
Madison walked with us, never issuing orders.
Yet everyone moved as if responding to her all the same.
That unsettled me more than if she had spoken.
The pace picked up quickly.
Trees turned into stepping stones. Branch to trunk, root to stone, never pausing longer than a heartbeat. Felix and Iris were already moving above ground level, checking ahead. Jax called out counts. Owen stayed slightly behind the center, instinctively covering the rear.
I tried to keep up.
At first, I managed.
Then my lungs burned, my legs lagged, steps landing just a fraction too late. The world narrowed to breath and pain. Every jump demanded more than my body could give. My vision blurred at the edges.
Ahead of me, Madison moved.
She barely touched the ground. Her steps were light, precise, like gravity hesitated before claiming her. Her breathing never changed. Her expression stayed soft, detached, almost serene.
I stumbled.
No one noticed immediately.
By the time Rowan glanced back, my knees buckled.
The ground rushed up.
Darkness followed.
Death came quietly.
No pain. Just the sudden absence of strain. Then light.
I gasped awake mid-step, body whole, lungs full, already running. It surprised me that my reset here in Aetherfall has no saving point. I simply reawaken a few minutes, sometimes only moments, before my previous death. The window is short, barely enough time to change anything. It forces me to think fast.
Five minutes later, my heart seized.
Another death.
Reset.
Run.
Ten minutes later, my legs gave out completely, my body shutting down as if someone had pulled a switch.
Third death.
Reset.
This time, when I opened my eyes, the world was still moving.
I was slung over someone's shoulder.
Owens'.
I dangled like a ragdoll, arms limp, head bouncing lightly with each step. Owen's pace never faltered.
"Still breathing?" Jax asked casually.
"Yes," Owen replied.
I groaned weakly.
"Good," Jax said. "That's an improvement."
We slowed eventually, stopping near a cluster of massive roots that formed a natural platform. The group regrouped smoothly, Iris marking the spot.
I slid off Owen's back and collapsed onto the ground, chest heaving.
My body was whole. Rested. Healed.
And still exhausted.
The last thirty minutes of movement pressed into me like a memory my muscles refused to forget. The System had reset me, but it had not erased the distance already traveled since my last return.
No one commented, not one of them asked even the two extra joiners.
To them, I had stumbled, blacked out, and been carried.
That was all.
A faint window flickered at the edge of my vision.
Not the usual one.
[Status Update]
The text hesitated, then stabilized.
[Number of Deaths: 80]
I stared at it.
Counted. For the first time.
My breath caught, not from exhaustion, but realization.
The System had always pretended not to notice.
Now it was keeping score.
The window vanished before I could focus on it further.
Around me, the group prepared to move again. Rowan and Iris discussed the next stretch. Mireya knelt briefly beside me, checking my pulse, her touch light.
"You'll need pacing," she said quietly. "Not speed."
I nodded, unable to speak yet.
Madison stood a short distance away, watching the canopy, not me. Her expression had not changed.
She did not react.
She did not speak.
But for a brief moment, I had the unsettling feeling that she already knew.
That she had always known.
The group moved out again, slower this time.
I forced myself to stand.
Eighty.
My deaths were no longer invisible.
And something told me the System would not look away again.
We stopped when the light began to thin.
Not sunset. Aetherfall did not do sunsets the same way. The fractured sky dimmed unevenly, colors fading at different speeds, like someone lowering several lamps one by one.
Rowan raised a hand. The group halted without a word.
We chose a shallow basin formed by overlapping roots and stone, naturally sheltered on three sides. Iris traced the perimeter, checking for distortions. Nadia pressed her palm to the ground and listened, eyes half-closed.
"Stable enough," she said. "For a few hours."
That was as close to reassurance as Aetherfall offered.
We settled in with quiet efficiency. No one complained. No one asked how far we had come. Jax distributed rations. Mireya moved among us, checking pulses, posture, breathing.
She paused in front of me.
"You pushed too hard," she said softly.
"I know."
She studied me for a moment longer, then nodded and moved on. No scolding. No pity.
I sat near the edge of the camp, back against a root that still felt faintly warm. My legs trembled, muscles aching in a way reset could not erase. Fatigue clung to me like damp cloth.
I focused on breathing.
In. Out.
Nearby, voices carried, low and unguarded.
"He won't last at that pace," someone said.
Felix. Flat. Observational.
"Not alone," Jax replied. "With us, maybe."
"That costs time," Owen said. No judgment. Just fact.
Time.
Everything here was paid for in it.
I already knew this. I had known it since the first jump, the first burning breath. I was dragging them down. Every adjustment they made for me increased risk elsewhere.
If roles were reversed, I would have made the same call they were quietly weighing.
Cut losses early.
"Everyone slows something," Iris said. "Terrain. Weather. Bad calls."
Silence followed.
I kept listening, because pretending not to hurt took less energy than pretending not to care.
A soft crunch of footsteps approached. Someone sat beside me.
Madison.
She never announced herself.
For a while, neither of us spoke. The air between us felt different. Not heavy. Just still. Like the space around a deep lake.
"You're measuring yourself against them," she said.
Not a question.
"I don't belong here."
She looked toward the expanse, where shadows stretched and folded. "Belonging isn't decided by speed."
"That's easy to say."
She didn't react.
"You think usefulness is only physical," she said. "That's common."
"I can barely walk without passing out."
"Yes," she said. "And yet you're still here."
The words hit harder than I expected.
"I don't want to cost them their lives," I said quietly. "If something happens because I slow them down…"
"It won't."
I looked up.
Not reassurance. Not comfort.
Certainty.
"You don't know that."
"I do."
Her eyes met mine. For a heartbeat, I felt that same strange pull, like standing too close to something vast.
Then it passed.
"You don't owe us repayment," she said simply. "Not yet."
"Yet."
She smiled faintly. "You will."
I swallowed. "Then why help me at all?"
She shrugged slightly. "It seemed reasonable."
"Reasonable isn't a word people use for me."
She didn't deny it.
"Is it because of the doctor?" I asked.
Her gaze shifted.
"Dr. Hartmann. I saw him talk to you. That day. Before you left." I hesitated. "That's when you noticed me."
Silence stretched.
"There's nothing about me worth noticing," I said quickly. "My stats are bad. I'm slow. I pass out when I run too long."
She opened her mouth. Stopped.
For a heartbeat, it felt like she was about to say something heavier.
Then she closed it again.
"Maybe," she said.
"Maybe?"
"Or maybe not."
She looked back toward the darkened expanse.
"You shouldn't dwell on it. Thinking too much about reasons doesn't help you survive."
"What matters," she added, "is that you cross the expanse alive."
She glanced at me once more.
"And that you claim a real Aetherfall function."
"That assumes I make it that far."
"You will."
Statement again. Not encouragement.
She stood and walked away.
I stayed where I was, staring into the fire until the shapes blurred.
Maybe.
Or maybe not.
Above me, the fractured sky shifted, stars rearranging themselves into unfamiliar patterns.
I wasn't sure what unsettled me more.
That someone like Madison Ultima had chosen me.
Or that she refused to explain why.
The night deepened.
I lay back and stared at the broken sky, thoughts circling without rest.
Eighty.
The number sat quietly at the back of my mind.
I wondered how many more it would take before Death stopped pretending not to notice.
And whether, when that happened, anyone around this campfire would still be here to see it.