I continued to trail a few steps behind Lia, trying to surreptitiously read my notifications without doing anything stupid to confirm her patronising view of my capabilities.

  [System Update: Level Up Achieved]

  Progress recorded. Elijah Meddings has advanced.

  Threshold Anchor: [Unstable]

  Guardian Authority: [Not Detected]

  Integration: [Delayed | Irregular | Alert. Loop Error]

  ---

  Abilities Updated:

  Stubborn Constitution – Level 3

  Pain tolerance elevated. Grit response increased.

  - You now resist minor bleeding, fatigue effects, and environmental strain with greater reliability.

  - Also, you really ought to sit down for a bit.

  [New Skill Acquired]

  Skill: Weighted Argument [Combat | Blunt Weapons]

  You have shown emerging proficiency with solid, unsharpened implements.

  - Bonus damage when wielding branches, clubs, staves, or other persuasive planks.

  - Increased stagger chance. Reduced elegance.

  Note: Skill synergy detected with Iron Provocateur Class.

  ---

  [System Advisory: XP Allocation Adjusted]

  You did not land the fatal blow.

  Partial Experience Awarded: 45%

  Combat Impact: Moderate

  - You engaged. You survived. You almost mattered.

  - Progress still noted. The bar still ticks.

  ---

  [System Alert: Inheritance Loop]

  Title: Warden – Recognition status: Pending | Caching | Caught in recursive delay.

  Guardian Override: Not available

  System Pathways: Obstructed

  Access Node: Obscured

  Attempting recalibration via Liminal Proxy…

  [Error: Proxy is Elijah Meddings. Circular logic encountered.]

  [System Error: Reality may be misfiled.]

  Note: Progression continues to outpace Integration. Please resolve Warden Authority to avoid long-term realm paradox. The Veil will not survive without stability.

  Carry on.

  That all felt like a bit of good news, bad news.

  I really wasn’t wild about all those error messages at the end. In fact, I was beginning to take them a bit personally. It’s one thing to be told your existence is provisional or that you’re not supposed to be here—it’s quite another to have it logged in triplicate by a glitched-out omniscient interface and filed under “reality may be misfiled.” That one in particular had a real “admin’s gone to lunch and left me in charge of the apocalypse” vibe.

  Still, what was I supposed to do? SI couldn’t exactly fix any of it. Not yet. The golden carrot dangling ahead of me was simple: survive the day. That would grant me ‘formal recognition’ as Warden, which would hopefully stop all this crap.

  On the plus side, though, I’d levelled Stubborn Constitution again, which wasn’t exactly unexpected. I’d just been chewed on by a beast the size of a Vespa and kept enough presence of mind to ask it not to do that again. If tanking pain was an attribute, I was apparently stacking it. And I’d added another Skill to the party, which felt like a net win.

  So, yeah. Survive the day. Simple. The Veil would just have to hold itself together for another twenty-two and a bit hours. Which, statistically speaking, was starting to feel wildly optimistic.

  I abruptly stopped my pondering as I sensed a change in the atmosphere. The previous calm of the woods had transformed into something far more eerie now. There were no wolves that I could see, but no birds anymore either. Instead, there was just the sound of us squelching through the wet undergrowth. Now I was not stuck deep in my notifications, I was able to read the room. And the room read like we were walking straight into the heart of a medieval, European horror film.

  “You're going to want to keep up,” Lia called back, not breaking her stride. “If you’ve not noticed, we’ve crossed into a new area.”

  “I’m keeping up,” I said, quickening my pace. I already wasn’t wild about her looking down on me, so the last thing I needed was her thinking I couldn’t walk through a forest without needing someone to hold my hand. There’s a line between being ‘endearingly scrappy’ and ‘a full-time liability,’ and I feared I may be tap-dancing on it.

  Mind you, it was not like keeping up with her was exactly a breeze. Lia moved through the undergrowth like the trees owed her rent. She was infuriatingly sure-footed as she vaulted a fallen trunk like it was barely there, whereas I ended up scrambling over it like a drunk trying to mount a mechanical bull.

  I was finding the disparity between us frustrating. I’d been in far worse places than this—literal war zones, safehouses experiencing a siege, and a nightclub in Bratislava where there’d been at least three different agencies trying to recover the same asset. I’d survived those with nothing more than finely honed instinct, a lot of grit, and, back to Bratislava again, a sharpened teaspoon. So, sure, I was apparently low-levelled, undergeared, and being aggressively outpaced by someone in plate armour, but I needed to up my game.

  We carried on at quite a pace for a while longer. It killed me to keep up with her, but I managed it, even if doing so caused Stubborn Constitution to level up again. It struck me that if keeping up with Lia was doing the same to me as being savaged by a wolf, there was a chance this hike might have been something of a test . . .

  “So,” Lia finally said, stopping dead in the middle of the track and turning around. “You’re not totally without merit. You say this world’s new to you? How’s that possible?”

  I hesitated, not sure how much of what I thought was going on was a good idea to share. I had no idea how someone in this realm would react if they heard the Guardian of the Threshold was dead and gone. Especially when I was the one who’d been tagged in. “Yeah. Just... dropped in, I guess. Haven’t really figured out all the details about how this all works yet.”

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  “Does that mean that there is peace where you are from? As a Level 1, no matter how brave, it does not seem like you have experienced much fighting, sir.”

  “Fighting? No, not really,” I said. Which was technically true. Well—truth adjacent. Fighting had always been a last resort for me. Or, as Griff used to say, “Fighting’s the final refuge of the unprepared. Or the poor sod who forgot where he put his Glock.” Given a choice, I’d always preferred slipping away before it came to blows. A bit of misdirection, a touch of diplomacy, occasionally enhanced with minor blackmail or a creatively forged exit strategy. In my experience, getting into an actual scrap meant something had probably gone very wrong.

  “Unless you count keyboard warrioring,” I added, giving a half-smile that was only about 40% deflection. The other 60% was nostalgia for all the digital flame wars I’d won from the safety of anonymous handles and a quality VPN.

  “Are these keyboards mighty weapons?

  “Actually, no. Not really. I mean, there’s an argument that the pen is mightier than the sword, so I guess, in a metaphorical sense, yes. But in a very real, wolf-killing, literal way? No. Not at all.”

  Lia stared back at me like I was a dog that had just shown her its newly designed nuclear reactor. “I don’t know what most of that meant, sir, but you’re going to need more than fine words if you want to survive out here. Especially without any levels behind you. Perhaps you should spend a little longer focusing on your progress and less on . . . a keyboard.”

  Funny, I was suddenly back to every interaction I had with my parents as a teenager. But Lia had clearly finished our team bonding, and instead just shrugged and continued walking, her eyes always scanning the forest, her hand never far from the hilt of her sword. I didn’t miss that we were keeping a more acceptable pace this time.

  Part of me wanted to ask her more—how long she’d been in this world, what her Class was—you know, like a proper conversationalist. However, I didn’t know anything about Lia beyond the fact that she could kill wolves with terrifying efficiency. And let’s be honest, that’s not usually the kind of person who wants to share their life story with complete strangers.

  So, we kept walking, the silence stretching out between us again, broken only by the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. As we went, I felt the reality of this new world pressing down on me. Say I made it through the rest of the day and obtained my Warden title. What next? How long was I likely to be stuck here for before I was remotely ready to take on the role Aunt M had left for me? And what was going on back in Halfway Hold? Was time passing the same way? – in which case, I presume someone, probably another someone trying to kill me, might be going to come looking soon. Or was there some sort of time-dilation effect going on? The Pevensie kids had time to grow up in Narnia and still tumble back through that wardrobe in the same second they entered.

  If I couldn’t pull off what was expected of me here, was that my future? To bum around here for a lifetime and then return to Wendmere with a complete absence of grieving mourners at my funeral? Or, if I couldn’t stand in the breach – whatever that meant – were both of these realms going to come to a crashing halt.

  That was a lot of pressure . . .

  But, hey, good news! A bunch more growling has started! Possibly lethal distractions are the best therapy!

  The sound came from somewhere off to our left, and was all sorts of menacing and visceral. Lia was already in a defensive stance, her hand on her sword and her eyes fixed on the treeline. Then there was another rumble, this one much closer.

  “Stay behind me,” Lia ordered.

  I wasn’t sure about that. Sure, it might keep me out of harm’s way, but once whatever it was got close enough to be hit by my aura, it would make it go insane. I wasn’t wild about dragging Lia into all that. So, I backed up away from her, trying to put enough distance in, whilst looking at the trees for any sign of movement.

  Then, they emerged. Not one, but three wolves, all bigger than the one Lia had dealt so effectively with earlier. And all Level 7s. That seemed like a major issue. Saliva dripped from their jaws at the sight of the tasty snacks they had happened upon.

  Impotently, I stooped and picked up yet another hefty stick, my knuckles white and unsure what I could do to help here without making things worse. But Lia didn’t seem to have any such concerns. With a fluid motion, she drew her sword, a blue light igniting down its length as she swung it up. The wolves snarled in response, fanning out to flank her.

  “Stay back,” Lia said with no little sangfroid. “I’ve got this.”

  I wanted to believe her. I really did. But three wolves? And Level 7s? That seemed... unlikely.

  Then, just as the wolves crept closer, Lia let out a sharp whistle. The sound seemed to disorientate the creatures, and for a moment, the wolves hesitated. Was that some sort of Fear Skill? If so, it wasn’t much, but it was more than enough opening for the little warrior who could.

  The first wolf didn’t stand a chance. One sweep of Lia’s sword, and its head parted company from its body like it had been an afterthought. Blood geysered across the grass in a fetching festive red arc. It was all very dramatic and extremely final.

  The remaining two wolves howled, not in grief – somehow, I doubted they were sentimental types - but in outrage. Then they launched at her in perfect unison, jaws wide and claws scrabbling the ground for purchase.

  In response, Lia moved like liquid death, she sidestepped the first, twisted between the second, and lashed out, her blade carving deep into its flank as they passed. The second wolf yelped and recoiled, blood matting its fur as it cringed away, but – importantly - it didn’t seem like it was about to drop down dead.

  Then the third wolf was in behind her, and snapped down to attempt to take her wrist off. At the last moment, Lia caught the attack with the pommel of her sword just in time, but the force staggered her, which was the first real stumble I’d seen from her. She backpedalled fast, sword raised, but two wolves circling was too many. I could see it. Lia was good, yes, but not invincible. Her defence was tight but fraying, the way a taut rope starts to give.

  And me? I was stood there like a spare part at a wedding, wondering if now was the moment to heroically intervene or idiotically die. Spoiler: I did both.

  “Hey!” I shouted, running forward before I could talk myself out of it.

  Both wolves twisted toward me. Both. Simultaneously.

  Ding.

  [Ability Activated: Aggro Magnetism]

  Your very presence is an affront to reason.

  Enemies within your aura can’t help but notice you. Then fixate. Then froth.

  [Rage – Lvl 2] applied to two hostile targets.

  The air around me shimmered like something had shifted and the wolves’ pupils shrank to pinpricks. One snarled and the other one outright screamed. I barely had time to brace before they charged. Both of them.

  One leapt for my throat. The other went for my legs. I dropped into a crouch and swung my stick wildly, catching the first one mid-leap with a solid thwack. It yelped and fell sideways, crashing into the second, a bit of luck which was honestly the only thing that saved me,

  The second wolf was caught mid-pounce by its suddenly airborne mate. They collided in a blur of fur and teeth, snapping at each other. I took the opportunity to jam my stick into the ribs of the one closest to me. It howled, turned, and lunged—only to get a faceful of its brother’s tail.

  The Rage debuff, it turned out, is not just a cosmetic blinking effect.

  I danced around them parrying one with my arm (not ideal), kneeing another in the jaw (also not ideal), and bellowing a lot of things I don’t think were words. Even considering these beasts were more intent on savaging each other than they were me, my health bar was plummeting. I was sure Stubborn Constitution was doing its thing, bless it, but glancing blows from Level 7s did not come here to play.

  I was going to die. I could feel it. One more lucky scratch, one good bite, and that would be it. My second death in less that four hours. Griff would lose his mind.

  Then a blur of silver light tore through the space beside me.

  Lia.

  Her sword flashed left and right. One wolf went down mid-snarl, gurgling on its own blood. The other turned to snap at her, but was far too slow and her boot connected with its jaw, flipping it several feet in the air. She moved in like a storm given legs, ending the last beast with a downward thrust straight through the back that went about a foot into the ground on the other side.

  Silence crashed down like a dropped anvil.

  I was on my knees, panting, blood dripping from one elbow, the rest of my hoodie torn and gone. I looked up, and Lia was stood over me, framed by suddenly dazzling sunlight and bloody murder. She gave me a long look as she sheathed her sword. Not angry. Not annoyed. But definitely... assessing.

  “You okay, Level 1?” she asked.

  “Define ‘okay’,” I said, standing and wiping wolf blood from my lip. “I mean, I’m not soup.”

  “And that’s your standard, is it? Not being soup?”

  “Look, it’s been a weird day.”

  Lia didn’t laugh. But something in her posture relaxed, just a little. Like the part of her that had been expecting me to crumple into a smear on the forest floor had adjusted its estimates slightly upward.

  “You want to tell me what happened back there?” she asked. Not accusing me of anything. Not exactly. But definitely curious. Professional curiosity. Like someone trying to identify a rare but potentially rabid dog.

  “I... I think I made them angry?”

  “They were already angry. Then they got stupid. That was Rage.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Apparently that happens around me sometimes.”

  She gave me a long look at that. “You a wizard?”

  I shook my head.

  “Hunter, then? Maybe a Beastcaller build?

  Another shake.

  “Paladin? Some weird Oath variant?”

  “I mean, sure, if my holy relic is a broken tree branch and an attitude problem.”

  That got something from her—just a flicker of amusement at the corner of her mouth. But then it was gone. “Right,” she said. “Then either you’re a fool, or you’re something I’ve never seen before.”

  “Is there an option C?” I asked.

  “There’s always an option C.”

  And just like that, she turned and walked away. Not fast. Not storming off. But with purpose. I stood there for a beat, watching her go, wondering what she was thinking. Wondering what I was. Then she turned back to me. “Come on, Level One. Let’s get you patched up.”

  Then I limped after her.