The last mile was a harrowing sprint through streets that felt increasingly… watched. The ruins seemed to have eyes. Glimpses of movement flickered in broken windows—pale faces that ducked away, shadows that melted into doorways. They weren't being attacked, but they were being *observed*. It was more unnerving than the gnawers.
Greenhaven Park, when it finally came into view, was not what Lucas expected.
It wasn't a fortified camp. It wasn't a military bunker.
It was a shimmering, translucent **dome** of faint blue energy, like a giant soap bubble settled over the park's fifty acres. It hummed with a low, constant frequency that vibrated in Lucas's teeth. Through the haze of the field, he could see figures moving on the other side. Humans.
The source of the field was a towering, crystalline structure in the center of the park—a spire of glowing, geometric rock that pulsed in time with the dome's hum. A [System Obelisk].
At the main entrance—a gated arch where the dome met the ground—a crowd was gathered. Not a welcoming committee. A chaotic, desperate throng of maybe fifty people, pressing against an invisible barrier. Lucas could see a few figures in what looked like makeshift uniforms on the *inside*, speaking through the energy field, their voices muffled and distorted.
As Lucas's group approached, the scene became clearer. The people outside were shouting, pleading, holding up wounded companions.
"...my daughter is sick! Please!"
"We have skills! I'm a [Laborer]!"
"Just let us in! We have food to share!"
One of the figures inside, a woman with a buzzed head and a stern face, held up a hand. Her voice boomed out, amplified. "The Safe Zone is at 87% capacity! We are processing entrants based on System-assigned contribution scores, rare classes, and immediate utility! Form an orderly line! Attempts to breach the field will be met with lethal force!"
Contribution scores. Utility. Processing.
It was a queue. For salvation.
Lucas's heart, which had begun to lift, sank again. He pulled his party to the edge of the crowd. "Stay together. Don't get separated."
They joined the ragged line, earning suspicious or desperate glances from others. Eyes lingered on Mem, Volt, and the book on Lucas's back. Whispers spread.
"Look at those things…"
"Is he a [Summoner]?"
"Freak…"
Lucas ignored them. He focused on the process. One by one, people would step up to a marked spot before the gate. A beam of light from the Obelisk would scan them. The guard inside would consult a glowing tablet, then announce a verdict.
"[Builder]. Contribution Score: Low. Admit."
"[Scavenger]. Score: Moderate. Admit."
"[Civilian]. Score: Negligible. Denied."
The denied man wailed, beating his fists against the invisible barrier before being pulled away by friends.
It was brutal. Efficient. It was the System, administered by humans.
Finally, it was their turn. The stern woman looked at them, her eyes narrowing at the Thralls. "Group approach. State your leader."
"I am," Lucas said, stepping into the scan zone.
The beam washed over him. Text flashed in the air, visible to all.
[SCAN: Lucas Rowan]
[CLASS: Chainlord (Unique)]
[LEVEL: 3]
[CONTRIBUTION SCORE (Est.): High]
[NOTES: Command of multiple bound entities. Unique class variant.]
The guard's eyebrows shot up. "Chainlord? Hmm. Proceed." She motioned him to a holding area just inside the barrier. "Your… entities must remain under your direct control at all times. Any loss of control will result in their immediate destruction and your expulsion."
Lucas nodded, stepping through. The energy field tingled over his skin. He turned, expecting his party to follow.
"Remaining members, step forward individually," the guard barked.
Eleanor went next. The scan flashed.
[SCAN: Eleanor Petrov]
[CLASS: Caretaker (Basic)]
[LEVEL: 2]
[CONTRIBUTION SCORE: Very High]
[NOTES: Healing skill confirmed. High priority asset.]
"Welcome, Caretaker," the guard said, her voice noticeably warmer. "Please proceed to the triage tent immediately for registration. Your skills are urgently needed."
Eleanor looked back at Lucas, worried. He gave a tight nod. "Go. We'll find you."
Mark stepped up, pale.
[SCAN: Mark Jenkins]
[CLASS: Civilian]
[LEVEL: 2]
[CONTRIBUTION SCORE: Low]
[NOTES: No combat or essential survival skills.]
The guard's face went flat. "Denied."
"What? No! I'm with them!" Mark pleaded, pointing at Lucas and Eleanor.
"Group affiliation does not override capacity and utility regulations," the guard stated robotically. "You may wait outside the perimeter. If capacity frees up or you develop a needed skill, you may re-apply."
Mark looked at Lucas, eyes wide with betrayal and terror.
Lucas's mind raced. He couldn't leave Mark outside. He'd die. He looked at the guard's tablet, at the cold logic of the System. Then he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
"He's my [Apprentice]!"
Silence fell. The guard looked skeptical. "There is no [Apprentice] class."
"Not yet!" Lucas insisted, the lie taking shape. "My unique class… it has a progression path. [Chainlord] leads to [Overlord]. I can designate followers. He's my first. He carries my gear, maintains my… entities." He gestured wildly at Mem and Volt. "It's a support role for my unique skill set. If you deny him, you reduce my operational effectiveness—a 'High Contribution' asset."
He was talking complete nonsense, weaving game terms into bullshit. The guard stared at him, then at her tablet, which was presumably recalculating.
After a long moment, she scowled. "Fine. Pending verification. He is your responsibility. Any trouble, you're both out." She jerked her thumb. "Move."
Mark stumbled through, looking like he might faint from relief.
They were in.
The Safe Zone wasn't paradise. It was a crowded, muddy refugee camp organized around the glowing Obelisk. Tents and lean-tos sprawled everywhere. People looked exhausted, shell-shocked. But they were alive. There was a semblance of order.
A man with a clipboard approached. "New arrivals? Follow me for orientation and tent assignment."
As they were led away, Lucas looked back at the energy dome, at the desperate faces still pressed against it. He had gotten in through a combination of a rare class, a useful healer, and a fast-talking lie.
He had saved his party. But as he looked at the crowded, struggling safe haven, he realized something.
The tutorial was over. Now he was in the endgame social hub. And it was every bit as dangerous as the streets outside.