Class Selection

  Blue moonlight spilled across their elevated camp, turning blood-crusted weapons into silver sculptures and casting long shadows. Kyle sat cross-legged at the perimeter, his mind reeling—not from the carnage they'd left behind, not from the Sixteen beasts they'd slaughtered, but from the message still burning behind his eyelids.

  [Congratulations, you have reached Level 10] [Class Selection available]

  The words hovered in his consciousness, brighter than the oversized moon, more significant than the mountain of corpses they'd built. Class selection. Finally something fucking new.

  Across the camp, Dex paced, the red energy beneath his skin pulsing with each agitated step. The same notification had hit him simultaneously—Kyle could tell from the way his friend's eyes darted side to side, reading information only he could see. Marcus sat motionless, back straight, frost energy creating tiny ice crystals in the air around him that melted before touching ground.

  Between them, curled in the shadow of their shelter, the cub watched with unblinking golden eyes. It had followed them back—keeping distance, freezing whenever they looked its way, advancing only when they moved ahead. Like playing that childhood game of red light, green light, except with stakes measured in life and death.

  Little fucker's learning already.

  "Four choices," Kyle said, the words scraping his throat raw. "Four fucking paths forward."

  "Three for me," Dex spat, like he'd been personally insulted by the discrepancy.

  "Four." Marcus's voice carried no inflection, just information delivered without emotional packaging.

  Kyle closed his eyes, focusing on the interface that had become as familiar as his own heartbeat. The options appeared, each one accompanied by descriptions that stirred something primal in his chest.

  Chronovoid Warden (Intermediate) A guardian at the edge of time and space, wielding the void as a weapon and gravity as an impenetrable shield. Commands the battlefield by slowing enemies and creating pockets of nothingness to erase threats. To stand against this warden is to fight against inevitability itself. Attributes: Will, Strength, Agility, Unbound

  Astral Sovereign (Intermediate) A ruler of cosmic forces, bending reality at will. Shapes gravity to crush foes, manipulates time to outmaneuver them, and calls upon the void to unravel existence. Presence alone distorts the battlefield, making escape impossible and survival uncertain. Attributes: Will, Intelligence, Agility, Resilience

  Singularity Warrior (Intermediate) An unstoppable force of collapsing stars, wielding the crushing pull of gravity and the relentless march of time. Moves with unnatural speed, and delivers devastating strikes that pull enemies into oblivion. A living cataclysm in motion. Attributes: Strength, Agility, Intelligence, Dexterity

  Reality Nomad (Advanced) The Reality Nomad is a roving force of chaos and control, a figure unbound by the laws that shackle lesser beings. Drifting through the fabric of existence like a shadow on the wind, they wield time, void, gravity, and space as tools of survival and domination. To their foes, they're a blur of impossible speed and unseen strikes; to their allies, a fleeting savior who bends the battlefield to their will. Neither fully here nor there, the Reality Nomad dances on the edge of reality itself, a wanderer whose every step warps the world around them. Attributes: Unbound

  "Fuck me," Kyle whispered, the implications hitting him like a sledgehammer to the chest. This wasn't just an upgrade or new skill—this was identity. Future. Destiny, if such a thing existed in this blood-soaked realm. "What are you guys seeing?"

  Marcus looked up, eyes reflecting the campfire. "Frost-based classes. Frostkin, Cryomancer Enforcer, Winterborn Scion, Frostfang Stalker."

  Dex's jaw worked side to side, the tell that accompanied difficult decisions or impending violence. "Ragesoul Tyrant, Wrathblade, Berserker Revenant. Two intermediate, one advanced." His eyes narrowed, focusing on Kyle. "What about you?"

  "Three intermediate, one advanced," Kyle replied, sensing the immediate shift in Dex's posture—the competitive edge that had defined their relationship since childhood sharpening once more. "Chronovoid Warden, Astral Sovereign, Singularity Warrior, and Reality Nomad."

  "Of fucking course you get more options," Dex said, but there was no real heat behind the words—just the familiar banter that had survived bullets, monsters, and whatever the hell this place was.

  Kyle ignored the jab, focusing instead on what mattered. "We need to choose carefully. This could change everything."

  The fire crackled between them, throwing shadows that danced across their faces—faces that had hardened, angled, transformed during their time in the Cosmore. No longer boys from Spanish Harlem but something else. Something more dangerous. Something still becoming.

  "What's your gut say?" Marcus asked, his question directed at Kyle but hanging open for any of them to answer.

  Kyle studied the options again, weighing them against what he understood of this place, of its rules, of the path they needed to walk to... to what? Survive? Escape? Conquer? The endgame remained murky, but the next step crystallized with unexpected clarity.

  "Reality Nomad," he said, the name feeling right on his tongue. "It's the advanced option, and it says 'unbound' for attributes." His fingers traced invisible patterns in the air between them. "Whatever's controlling this place, whatever put us here—it's trying to funnel us into specific paths. The bounded ones feel like...like following someone else's script."

  Dex nodded slowly, understanding lighting his features. "You're thinking outside the box. Breaking the rules." His grin turned feral. "Guess that makes me Berserker Revenant then. My advanced option."

  Marcus remained silent longer, eyes distant as he processed his choices. "Frostfang Stalker for me," he finally said. "Not the advanced option, but it fits. Hunter, planner, careful." The slightest smile touched his lips. "Someone's got to keep you two idiots alive."

  "So how do we—" Dex began, but Kyle was already reaching for the interface in his mind, selecting Reality Nomad with the same certainty he'd once felt pulling a trigger.

  The change hit like an avalanche—not physical pain but displacement, as if his consciousness had been temporarily ejected from his body and shown the universe from outside. Kyle's hands gripped stone, as reality twisted around him. The camp, the moon, his brothers—all blurred into streaks of color and light before snapping back into focus with terrifying suddenness.

  Knowledge poured into his mind—abilities, techniques, understandings that had been there all along but locked behind doors he couldn't perceive. Silver light traced intricate patterns beneath his skin, branching through veins and nerves in geometric designs that seemed to function outside normal dimensionality.

  When Kyle could speak again, his voice sounded strange to his own ears—deeper, resonant with harmonics that hadn't existed before. "Holy shit."

  Across the fire, Dex convulsed as red energy engulfed him completely—not the controlled manifestations they'd practiced but total immersion, as if he'd been submerged in liquid rage. His body arched backward, spine bowing at an angle that should have broken bone. A sound escaped him—neither scream nor laugh but something that contained elements of both.

  Marcus's transformation manifested differently—frost spreading from his heart outward, encasing him in crystalline patterns that refracted moonlight into prismatic displays. His eyes turned pure blue, glowing from within as temperature around him plummeted until breath fogged even in the jungle's oppressive heat.

  The cub cowered deeper into shadows, whimpering at the display of power it couldn't comprehend.

  Kyle felt his abilities settling into place, each one distinct yet connected, forming a constellation of potential within his core. When he reached inward, focusing on the silver spatial energy that had always come most naturally, he found it transformed—refined, concentrated, weaponized in ways that made his previous manipulations seem childish.

  Time: Double Speed (Passive) – Enhances movement speed to twice the normal rate, allowing rapid repositioning and overwhelming agility. Constantly drains core energy while active. (~20 Core per second) no Cooldown

  Void: Shadow Snap – Unleashes a burst of void energy that briefly blinds and muffles all enemies within a 3-meter radius, disrupting their awareness for a short duration. (~2s, ~20 Core) Cooldown short

  Gravity: Cosmic Pull – Generates a powerful gravitational surge, pulling all enemies within a 5-meter radius to a single point, disrupting formations and setting up follow-up attacks. (~30 Core) Cooldown short

  Spatial: Warp Jab – A strike that ignores distance, landing a punch up to 10 meters away as if the target were within arm's reach, bypassing space itself for a seamless attack. (~25–30 Core) Cooldown short

  Fucking impossible. Totally impossible. Totally beautifully fucking impossible. The abilities defied everything Kyle had known about physical reality, yet they felt as natural as breathing, as familiar as the streets he'd grown up on.

  "I can..." Dex's voice drew Kyle back to the present. His friend stood encased in a nimbus of red energy, eyes bright with realization. "I can come back, Kyle. If I die, I come back. One time, at least." He laughed, the sound bordering on manic. "The Return—that's what it's called. Take a killing blow and just...refuse it."

  "Wraithbound Fury, Unyielding Wrath, Haunting Roar," Dex continued, listing his other abilities with the enthusiasm of a child who'd just gotten his first weapon. "Every hit makes another ghost hit. Taking damage makes me hit harder. And I can scream so loud it freezes fuckers in place." His grin stretched wide enough to split his face. "We're fucking gods now."

  Marcus's approach remained measured even in transformation. "Glacial Ambush, Icicle Volley, Permafrost Veil," he recited, frost still clinging to his eyelashes. "Stealth, ranged attacks, defense. Balance."

  Kyle pushed himself to his feet, feeling the new power humming through his system. Without conscious decision, he activated Double Speed—the passive ability that had appeared in his mind. The world around him seemed to slow, movements becoming languid, predictable. He crossed the camp in what felt like a casual stride but must have appeared as a blur to the others.

  "Jesus Christ," Dex breathed when Kyle deactivated the ability and returned to normal perception. "That's what you get? Super speed?"

  "Just one piece," Kyle replied, the words inadequate to describe what he now understood. "I can bend space, Dex. Create gravity wells. Snapshot void energy. It's like—"

  "Being a superhero?" Dex suggested with a snort.

  "Being whatever the fuck we need to be," Kyle corrected, his mind already racing ahead to applications, combinations, strategies that would carry them through whatever came next. "Whatever this place is, whatever it wants from us—we're not just players anymore. We're changing the game."

  Marcus watched the cub, which had ventured cautiously from deep shadow to merely dark shadow. "Question is, what game are we playing? And who else is at the table?"

  The question hung between them, impossible to answer yet impossible to ignore. Kyle remembered the beasts they'd slaughtered, their crude camps, their primitive language, their first steps toward energy manipulation. Were they players too? Pieces? Something else entirely?

  "Doesn't matter," Dex declared, red energy still dancing across his skin. "We're stronger now. Strong enough to take whatever comes next."

  Kyle nodded, but uncertainty lingered. Power meant choices. Choices meant consequences. And consequences, as they'd learned both in Spanish Harlem and here in the Cosmore, had a way of tracking you down when least expected.

  The cub whimpered again, drawing Kyle's attention. Its golden eyes reflected firelight, pupils contracted to vertical slits. For a moment, just a heartbeat, Kyle saw recognition there—not of him specifically, but of what he represented. Power. Change. Future.

  "Tomorrow," he said, turning back to his brothers, "we test these abilities. Push the limits. Figure out what we can really do."

  "And then?" Marcus asked, already knowing the answer.

  Kyle smiled, the expression feeling strange on a face that had forgotten joy but remembered purpose. "Then we find out what's at the center of this place. Why we're here. What it wants from us."

  "And if we don't like the answers?" Dex challenged, leaning forward.

  Kyle met his gaze without hesitation. "Then we change the questions."

  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Preparation and Departure

  The Cosmore's sun colored their camp a thousand variations of blue while Kyle slid through shaded reality itself, trailing silver residue across air no resistance, no friction, no limits.

  I could get addicted to this shit.

  Fifty yards away, then instantly beside Dex, who flinched despite his own newfound power. Then back across the camp in less time than it took his brother in arms to curse. Double Speed burned through Kyle's energy reserves, but the rush it delivered surpassed any high he'd experienced in his previous life—better than sex, better than victory, better than watching rivals retreat with fear etched across their faces.

  "Show-off," Dex growled, but admiration tinged his words despite the complaint.

  Kyle deactivated the ability and reality snapped back to normal speed, the sudden shift leaving him momentarily disoriented. His core energy meter showed the cost: 395/636. Twenty per second added up faster than he'd expected.

  The morning stretched before them, humid and thick with jungle sounds, but different now—everything different since the classifications had burned themselves into their souls. The world hadn't changed, but their relationship to it had transformed utterly, completely, irreversibly.

  "My turn," Dex announced, red energy collecting around his fists in dense, angry coils that seemed to writhe and whisper.

  Three days since their awakening, and Dex had already mastered Wraithbound Fury—his signature ability that generated a spectral which doubled every physical attack. He selected a dead tree at the camp's edge, launched himself forward with a roar that shook leaves from branches, and struck.

  His fist connected with splintering impact, but the real devastation came a microsecond later when spectral duplicates followed the same trajectory. Where physical knuckles broke bark, phantom fists shattered the trunk's core. The tree—thick as Kyle's waist and triple his height—toppled backward with an echoing crash that sent jungle creatures scurrying.

  "Not bad for a morning stretch," Dex said, inspecting knuckles that remained unbloodied despite the violence they'd delivered. His energy meter barely registered the expenditure: 190/220.

  Marcus approached from the other side of camp, the cub trailing behind at cautious distance. Unlike Kyle and Dex, who had spent days testing the flashiest aspects of their new powers, Marcus had focused on subtler applications—especially his Glacial Ambush ability that rendered him nearly invisible while surrounded by a frost cloud.

  "We're scaring away anything worth killing," he observed, voice soft but carrying. Yesterday they'd slaughtered their way through six different species, dozens of individual creatures, and gained exactly zero levels.

  Kyle nodded, acknowledging both the statement and the underlying question. What now? hung between them, unspoken but urgent.

  The truth had become increasingly obvious with each passing day: they had outgrown this territory. Hunting had transformed from challenging survival to casual slaughter. Nothing here could touch them anymore.

  Four days of testing abilities, pushing boundaries, identifying limits—and they'd found precious few. Cosmic Pull created gravity wells that trapped entire groups of smaller creatures; Shadow Snap disoriented larger predators long enough for killing blows; Warp Jab delivered death at distances that defied physical laws.

  And boredom, heavy and insistent, settled over everything.

  "I've been thinking," Kyle said, settling cross-legged on stone worn smooth by their passage. "About moving on."

  The words landed without surprise. They'd all felt it—the restriction of familiar territory, the call of unknowns beyond their map's edges, the certainty that greater challenges waited elsewhere.

  Dex cracked his neck, a habit that had survived death and rebirth and transformation. "Yea we all been thinking it. Nothing here worth killing anymore."

  "We go southeast," Marcus added, not a question but a statement of fact. "Toward the bigger energy sources." Something they felt 2 days ago while training.

  Kyle nodded. The decision, it seemed, had already been made in each of their minds independently. Brotherhood through synchronized thinking.

  "What about..." Kyle's eyes flicked toward the cub, which had edged closer to their circle while remaining just beyond arm's reach.

  In four days, the creature had developed a tentative routine—watching them from shadow, accepting food left at increasingly shorter distances, studying their movements with intelligence that became more apparent with each passing hour. Its golden eyes tracked them constantly, absorbing information, learning, adapting.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  "It comes with us," Marcus said firmly, no room for argument in his tone.

  Surprisingly, Dex didn't object. His initial hostility had gradually melted into grudging tolerance, then bemused interest, especially after the cub had begun mimicking his aggressive stance during ability practice.

  "Going to need a way to carry it," Dex said instead. "Thing gets tired fast."

  Marcus nodded, frost energy already dancing between his fingers as ideas solidified. "I can build something. Carrier with cooling properties, not just for him but for other things."

  By afternoon, Marcus had constructed a crude but functional backpack-like carrier using materials harvested from their kills. The frame consisted of bones lashed together with sinew; the body formed from cured hide treated with his frost energy to maintain lower temperature. Even in the jungle's oppressive heat, the interior remained cool to the touch—a small mercy for a creature designed for hunting rather than long-distance travel.

  The cub investigated the contraption with typical caution, sniffing each component before backing away, then approaching again. Its wariness had a familiar quality that reminded Kyle of kids from the Five-Eight—the ones who'd learned early that gifts often came with hidden costs..

  While Marcus refined his creation, Kyle and Dex sorted through their accumulated weapons and supplies. Four weeks of hunting, killing, and crafting had yielded an impressive arsenal—far more than they could reasonably carry on an extended journey.

  "Take only what matters," Kyle said, selecting his twin spears—The Spine and The Fang—along with the curved knife Beast Bite, and two others.

  Dex followed suit, choosing Soul Splitter and Blood Letter, plus a smaller blade he'd named Throat Tickler, his grin white and sharp in the blue light filtering through leaves. "Essentials only."

  Their armor selections followed similar logic—the best pieces, the most significant trophies, the items that had proven most effective during hunts. Everything else would remain behind, artifacts of their evolutionary journey from prey to predator to something beyond both categories.

  Kyle surveyed their camp—stone sanctuary transformed by will and blood into home. The fire pit that never went cold. The sleeping platforms elevated above wet ground. The weapons racks displaying trophies from dozens of kills. The storage areas sorted by material and potential. The perimeter stakes angled outward to discourage visitors, a precaution rendered unnecessary by their current power.

  And now we leave it all behind. Moving forward, never looking back

  A kingdom built from nothing, to be abandoned for greater conquest.

  "Should leave a note," Dex suggested, surprising Kyle with his consideration.

  Kyle found a smooth section of wood, using Beast Bite to carve a message into its surface. The words flowed from his knife—simple instructions, warnings about dangers, encouragement for survival—but when he finished and stepped back, confusion replaced satisfaction.

  Safe haven. Take what you need. Leave what you can. The jungle gives and takes.

  The symbols covering the wood weren't English.

  "The fuck?" he muttered, running fingers over markings that should have been familiar but appeared entirely foreign—complex symbols containing arrangements of lines and curves his mind recognized while his eyes perceived them as completely unknown.

  Marcus examined the carvings, head tilting slightly. "You wrote this?"

  "In English," Kyle confirmed, discomfort crawling up his spine like centipede legs. "But this isn't... I don't know what this is."

  Dex leaned closer, brow furrowing. "Try writing something else. Something specific."

  Kyle thought for a moment, then carved Two simple letters into a separate section of wood: J-T. These appeared as expected—the English alphabet rendered in his familiar angular handwriting.

  "It's translating," Marcus concluded, frost crystals forming briefly at his fingertips as excitement overrode control. "General communication becomes Cosmore language. Specific names remain unchanged."

  The revelation struck Kyle harder than any physical blow. How long had this been happening? Were they speaking English to each other, or some cosmic tongue their transformed minds interpreted as familiar? Had the beasts actually spoken English during their observation, or had some universal translator function converted alien sounds into recognizable words?

  "Fuck me," Dex whispered, for once subdued by implication. "We're deeper in this shit than we thought."

  Kyle stared at the carved name—JT—rendered in letters from a world that felt increasingly distant. Their brother's memory, preserved in symbols immune to the Cosmore's translation matrix, somehow made his absence more profound.

  "Add his full name to the message," Marcus suggested softly. "So others will know."

  Kyle carved carefully: JULIUS THOMAS RIVERA. The letters remained true, a small rebellion against whatever system controlled this place's communication.

  The cub chose that moment to approach their gathering, its movements still cautious but less hesitant than previous days. It studied the carved wood, nose twitching at fresh-cut scents, then settled at the edge of their circle—not touching any of them, but closer than it had ventured before.

  Dex glanced at it, then in a move that shocked both Kyle and Marcus, broke off a small piece of dried meat from his rations and placed it halfway between himself and the creature. The cub watched the offering, unmoving, golden eyes calculating risk against reward.

  "Might as well learn to hunt with us if it's coming along," Dex said defensively, avoiding his brothers' surprised expressions. "Better than carrying dead weight."

  The cub inched forward, snatched the meat, and retreated to safe distance before consuming it in three quick bites. Kyle noticed how its posture mimicked Dex's aggressive forward lean, how its eyes narrowed in concentration just like Marcus during planning sessions. Learning, adapting, becoming.

  Just like us.

  Morning arrived without ceremony, dawn filtering through leaves in scattered beams that turned dew to sapphires on green canvas. They packed efficiently—movement muscle memory despite new burdens. The cub allowed itself to be placed in Marcus's carrier after minimal coaxing, settling into frost-cooled confines with nervous energy that gradually subsided into watchful acceptance.

  Kyle stood at their camp's edge, spears secured across his back, gear distributed for optimal weight balance. Dex and Marcus flanked him, their stances mirror images of readiness.

  "Southeast," Kyle confirmed, finger tracing their intended path on a crude hide map.

  Dex rolled his shoulders, red energy flickering beneath his skin like blood through veins. "Toward something fucking worth fighting."

  Marcus adjusted the carrier's straps, frost energy maintaining comfortable temperature for their reluctant companion. "Toward answers."

  Kyle took one final look at the sanctuary they'd built from nothing—stone and wood and will transformed into temporary kingdom. Everything essential packed, everything valuable brought, everything else abandoned for whoever or whatever might follow their path.

  The message board stood prominent near the camp's entrance, carved symbols, and below those alien markings, in letters from a world they'd left behind, a single name:

  JULIUS THOMAS RIVERA

  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Subject: Kyle "Alvin"

  Age: 24

  Level: 10 (Tiet 1)

  Race: Human (Basic 1)

  Class: Reality Nomad(Advance 1)

  Civian Class: None

  Affinities: Void, Spatial, Gravity, Time.

  Affinity Rating: 38.4

  Core Type: Cosmic Basic 2

  Energy: 636/636

  [Stats]

  Will: 24

  Strength: 12

  Intelligence: 17

  Vitality: 13

  Agility: 13

  Dexterity: 13

  Resilience: 13

  Unbound Points: 0

  [Skills]

  Tracker (Intermediate 9)

  Survivor (Advance 1)

  Spear (Intermediate 7)

  Fighting (Intermediate 4)

  Stonehand (Novice 8)

  Hidesmith (Novice 3)

  [Abilities]

  Time: Double Speed (Passive)(Basic 1) – Enhances movement speed to twice the normal rate, allowing rapid repositioning and overwhelming agility. Constantly drains core energy while active. (~20 Core per second) No Cooldown

  Void: Shadow Snap(Basic 1) – Unleashes a burst of void energy that briefly blinds and muffles all enemies within a 3-meter radius, disrupting their awareness for a short duration. (~2s, ~20 Core) Cooldown Short

  Gravity: Cosmic Pull(Basic 1 – Generates a powerful gravitational surge, pulling all enemies within a 5-meter radius to a single point, disrupting formations and setting up follow-up attacks. (~30 Core) Cooldown Short

  Spatial: Warp Jab(Basic 1 – A strike that ignores distance, landing a punch up to 10 meters away as if the target were within arm’s reach, bypassing space itself for a seamless attack. (~25–30 Core) Cooldown Short

  [Spells]

  [Items of Significance]

  Spear- The Spine (basic) no enchantment

  Spear- The Fang (basic) no enchantment

  Knife- Bleeding Edge (basic) no enchantment

  Knife- Beast Bite (basic) no enchantment

  Shin Guards- Stonefang Greaves (basic) no enchantment

  Arm Guards- Reaper’s Clasp (basic) no enchantment

  1 Vials of substance (unidentified)

  Spatial Beads: 12

  Gravity Beads: 8

  Void Beads: 4

  Time Beads: 2

  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Journey before Destination

  Water guided them southeast, Kyle's throat burning drier with each step through jungle heat that condensed time into a single endless moment of sweat and breath and forward motion. The stream they followed curved through unexplored territory, widening then narrowing sometimes clouded with silt that spoke of unknown tributaries feeding in from lands they'd never walked.

  How many others made it this far? The thought settled cold in his gut.

  Dex, hacked through a particularly stubborn wall of vegetation. His blade sliced plant matter and opened passage simultaneously, a zeugma of destruction and creation "This shit never ends,"

  Kyle nodded, conserving moisture, saving speech. The water led somewhere—water always led somewhere—and Kyle's instincts hummed with certainty that following this liquid road would deliver them to whatever waited beyond their map's edge. Keep going. Keep pushing. Keep leaving everything behind.

  Evening brought relief from the sun but birthed new discomforts—insects swarming in hungry clouds, nocturnal predators announcing territories with calls that stretched across octaves Earth creatures never reached, shadows between trees deepening from blue to black to something darker still. They made camp fifty paces from water's edge, high enough to avoid flash floods yet close enough for protection if needed.

  Marcus set the cub down from its carrier, the creature stretching legs cramped from hours confined, golden eyes surveying their temporary territory with increasing confidence. It sniffed each pack, each weapon they placed, before settling near the fire Marcus conjured with a casual flick of frost-rimmed fingers.

  When darkness claimed the jungle completely, stars emerged through gaps in the canopy—constellations unknown yet increasingly familiar, points of light that seemed closer here than they ever had in Spanish Harlem's light-polluted skies. Kyle tracked their positions, marking time's passage with astronomical precision while Dex and Marcus slept, then yielded his watch when the brightest star crossed a particular tree branch he'd selected as marker.

  Morning arrived without fanfare, without reprieve from humidity that clung to skin like regret to memory. They ate quickly, packed faster, and resumed their southeast trajectory before the blue sun fully cleared the horizon. The cub entered its carrier with only token resistance now, settling into frost-cooled confines with a chirping sound that might have been complaint or might have been gratitude—impossible to know, unnecessary to decide.

  They paused at midday where the stream widened into a pool deep enough for swimming, clear enough to see bottom, cool enough to tempt even Marcus despite his natural frost affinity.

  "Been too long since I've been clean," Kyle said, stripping armor and weapons with methodical motions, placing each piece within arm's reach despite the apparent safety of their surroundings. Old habits, street habits, jungle habits—survival transcending context.

  Dex followed suit, his body now mapped with scars that hadn't existed when bullets found them on 58th Street. "Think anything in there might try eating us?"

  "Nothing in this entire fucking jungle would dare try anymore," Kyle replied, the truth in his words carrying neither pride nor regret.

  They entered the water together, brothers baptized in blue, cool liquid shocking overheated skin and pulling breath from lungs accustomed to humidity's weight. The cub watched from shore, whiskers twitching with curiosity but paws firmly planted on dry land, its reluctance manifesting in flattened ears and wary eyes.

  "Water won't hurt you," Marcus called to it, voice gentler than Kyle had heard since their arrival in the Cosmore. "Come."

  The creature remained unmoved, unconvinced, unwilling to surrender solid ground for liquid uncertainty. Smart enough to fear what it doesn't understand, Kyle thought. Smarter than us, maybe.

  Refreshed and somewhat cleaner, they resumed their journey, following the stream as it curved gradually eastward, its bed widening with each tributary feeding into its flow. The vegetation changed subtly—leaves broader, colors shifted toward purples so deep they bordered black, trees growing taller with fewer low branches, creating cathedral-like spaces between trunks wide enough for three men to encircle with outstretched arms.

  "Place feels different," Kyle observed as afternoon stretched toward evening. "Older."

  "Stronger," Dex added, red energy flickering beneath his skin in response to something neither named nor needed naming. "Can you feel it?"

  Kyle nodded, cosmic energy within his core responding to external stimulus like plants turning toward sunlight, like moths seeking flame, like addicts sensing their drug of choice. Something waited ahead—something vibrating at frequencies, something calling without voice, something promising without words.

  "Time to play," Dex suggested, eyes lighting with familiar hunger when a beast emerged from undergrowth fifty yards ahead—a creature resembling the horned nightmares they'd hunted before but larger, its scaled hide gleaming metallic blue beneath filtered sunlight, its movements betraying awareness of potential threats.

  "Why not?" Kyle agreed, silver energy already threading through his system, anticipation sharpening senses dulled by hours of monotonous travel. "Marcus?"

  "I'll watch our stuff," Marcus replied, frost energy creating delicate patterns across his forearms. "And the kid." His eyes flicked toward the carrier where the cub had fallen asleep, tiny chest rising and falling with dreams Kyle couldn't imagine.

  Kyle and Dex advanced in tandem, movements synchronized from years fighting together—first on concrete corners, now on jungle floors. The beast sensed them, massive head swinging toward their approach, nostrils flaring as it processed unfamiliar scents. It backed away one step, two, instincts warring between fight and flight.

  "Warp Jab?" Kyle suggested, silver spatial energy gathering around his fist.

  "After you." Dex grinned, red energy intensifying around his own hands.

  The ability activated with mere thought, reality bending as Kyle's fist connected with the beast's skull from ten meters away—bypassing physical space, ignoring distance, delivering impact without crossing intervening ground. The creature staggered, stunned by impossible attack from impossible distance, blood leaking from nostrils suddenly Orange against blue-scaled hide.

  Dex followed instantly, Wraithbound Fury manifesting as he closed physical distance and struck with rage-enhanced strength. His fist connected with the beast's flank, but what should have been single impact multiplied—spectral duplicate following identical trajectory, each carrying force that cracked scales and bruised flesh beneath.

  The beast recovered enough to roar challenge, lowering wickedly curved horns and charging toward Dex with speed belying its massive size. Dex sidestepped casually, red energy transforming his movements into liquid grace, his laughter cutting through jungle silence with cruel edge Kyle recognized from street fights where victory had been certain from first blood drawn.

  Black void energy erupting from Kyle palm to engulf the creature in momentary blindness, in sensory deprivation that froze it mid-charge.

  The beast stood paralyzed, vulnerable, helpless—a statue carved from flesh and scale and bone, waiting for whatever fate its hunters chose to deliver. Kyle circled it slowly, admiring how completely his ability had neutralized it.

  "Too easy," Dex complained, deflating slightly as challenge evaporated. "Fucking boring."

  Kyle nodded agreement. "Finish it?"

  "Might as well," Dex sighed, delivering a killing blow with perfunctory efficiency, red energy dissipating as the beast collapsed lifeless at his feet. Small White motes formed and sunk into them, the sensation. Pitiful

  They returned to Marcus, who had used their absence to construct rough lean-to from branches and broad leaves. The cub had awakened, now exploring their temporary camp with growing boldness, occasionally glancing toward Marcus for reassurance that its wandering remained permitted.

  "Nothing worth hunting," Kyle reported, dropping cross-legged beside their small fire. "No challenge."

  "We need something bigger," Dex added, frustration evident in the set of his shoulders, in the tightness around his eyes, in the way his fingers tapped restless rhythm against his thigh. "Something that makes us work for the kill."

  Marcus's head lifted suddenly, eyes focusing on something beyond visual range. "Feel that?"

  Kyle felt it immediately—energy signature unlike anything they'd encountered before, powerful enough to register despite distance.

  "East," Kyle confirmed, all fatigue vanishing beneath new alertness. "Strong."

  "Very fucking strong," Dex agreed, already gathering his weapons with renewed purpose. "We leaving now or waiting for morning?"

  Kyle glanced at the darkening sky, at shadows lengthening between massive trees, at the cub now pressing against Marcus's leg. "Morning," he decided, street instincts still whispering caution despite newfound powers. "First light."

  Their fire burned through darkness while jungle sounds—normally background noise now. Kyle maintained first watch, scanning shadows, cataloging movements and sounds. His thoughts circled the energy signature they'd detected, wondering what could generate such power, what might await them when they reached its source, what answers might finally emerge from this world of endless questions.

  When Marcus took second watch, the cub abandoned its usual sleeping spot to climb awkwardly into his lap—a vulnerability it had never before displayed, a need for contact it had previously avoided. Marcus allowed it, one hand absently stroking between its ears while frost energy maintained comfortable temperature despite jungle heat.

  Morning arrived with unusual gentleness—soft light filtering through canopy, dew coating vegetation in jewel-like droplets, air momentarily cooler before sun reclaimed its dominance. They broke camp quickly, packed thoroughly, checked weapons compulsively.

  The cub entered its carrier without prompting, but when Marcus adjusted the straps, it climbed higher than usual, tiny paws gripping his shoulder with unmistakable intention. Won't be separated, Kyle noted, not today, not going toward that energy.

  "Let it ride there if it wants," Kyle suggested, adjusting his own pack's weight distribution. "Seems important to it."

  Marcus nodded, making no move to dislodge the creature from its perch. "Been acting different since yesterday. Since we felt the energy."

  "Maybe it knows something we don't," Dex suggested, only half-joking.

  They abandoned the stream, turning directly east toward the energy source that called with silent insistence, with gravitational inevitability, with cosmic certainty. The jungle thinned gradually, massive trees spaced farther apart, undergrowth less dense, terrain rising in gentle slope that became steeper with each kilometer traveled. Sweat pooled and evaporated and pooled again beneath Kyle's armor, beneath his pack's straps, beneath his resolve that hardened with each step toward whatever waited beyond the horizon.

  "Close now," Kyle murmured when they crested another rise, the energy signature strengthening from distant whisper to imminent shout. "Very close."

  The cub trembled on Marcus's shoulder, tiny claws digging into flesh protected by armor, golden eyes wide with emotion Kyle couldn't name but recognized from mirrors in the Five-Eigh

  They reached the summit of a final ridge and halted as one, breath catching, eyes widening, minds struggling to process what sprawled across the valley below. Not random wilderness, not chaotic jungle, but deliberate architecture—a structure built of stone blocks larger than their elevated camp had been, arranged in patterns suggesting purpose beyond mere shelter, adorned with symbols, embellished with carvings depicting figures neither human nor completely foreign, guarded by statues whose features combined recognizable and impossible in equal measure.

  "A tomb," Marcus whispered, the cub now pressed so tightly against his neck that its fur blended with his hair.

  They descended carefully, approaching the structure with caution born from lifetimes navigating threats both concrete and jungle. Massive Stone doors yawned before them—darkness promising secrets within, promising answers, promising change, but before the entrance stood a stone twice Kyle's height, covered in symbols identical to those he'd carved without understanding.

  His mind translated without effort, without question, without hesitation:

  TOMB OF THE FALLEN: THOSE WHO ENTER SEEK POWER THOSE WHO LEAVE KEEP IT. RECOMMENDED: TIER 1 PARTY SIZE: 8