The group moved quickly, apparently having recovered their will to live. Not wanting to be hurried, Luca lingered at the back of the line, handing his suitcase to the employee before climbing aboard.

  According to the mail, his seat number was ‘02.’ He passed rows of occupied chairs –black, simple commercial seats, some occupied for the other rookies, until he crossed through a red velvet curtain and reached a new ‘zone’. Here, everything looked quite comfortable plush cushions, nature paintings, and neatly arranged refreshments on a small, long table on a side. A bakery bag sat on this table alongside a large orange juice bottle.

  So, this was the premium section. How kind of Pendulum to make such a difference for them.

  Both Sam and Tim were already seated. Judging their awkward, rigid posture and their eyes, it seemed that they were quite nervous. Not a surprise. It should be their first time flying –and to an uncertain destination.

  Without paying them more than a sweeping glance, Luca took the last empty seat next to the window, leaving the thermos on the handler. It would be nice to have something warm to drink later on.

  Seconds after he settled in, a mechanical voice crackled through the cabin speakers.

  “Welcome to Flight 244 from Pendulum Airlines. Please fasten your seat belts. We will be departing in just a few seconds.”

  Flight 244. Luca couldn't put his finger on the feeling he was currently having.

  As everyone followed the simple instruction, the plane hadn’t even started its engines yet outside the window, the world began to blur, colors smearing together like paint in a wet canvas. The horizon tilted, and the hum of the aircraft grew louder.

  No one else seemed alarmed. Their faces remained blank, staring straight ahead as though hypnotized. Even Sam and Tim sat perfectly still, their hands resting lightly on the armrests. Luca felt compelled to stay like that. This feeling… The unnatural grip on him, like a hand pressing him into the seat.

  Glancing out the window, Luca watched as dark and washed gray clouds stirred past. Beyond them, lightning split through the sky in erratic zig–zags, creating a beautiful image. The storm seemed violent and not far off—yet no turbulence bothered the plane. It was as if they were flying alongside a vivid painting or picture.

  The sharp clicks of heels against the floor snapped his attention inward. The red–haired woman–Lacerta–emerged from the entrance at the area. She strode to stand beside the screen at the front. With her there, it felt like the grasp over him had faded a handful of levels of intensity.

  “I didn’t introduce myself properly earlier,” Lacerta began, her voice smooth but carrying an undercurrent of something sharp. “I’m Lacerta from Delta–01–or ‘Delta–L’ if you prefer. We’re one of the three squadrons dedicated to the starting levels.” Her gaze lingered on Sam for a moment, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips. “I’ll give you a rundown of how we operate before we arrive. Unfortunately, due to… circumstances, you’ll be starting today.”

  Ah, yes. This. New recruits usually had three days to acclimate before being thrown into the field. Starting immediately felt wrong –dangerously so. Because it was. It meant something had happened on Pendulum’s, something fallen and they had to run to solve it.

  An anomaly? Sure, you could call it that.

  “But don’t worry,” Lacerta continued, her tone light and dismissive, as though discussing nothing more serious than a last–minute schedule change. “The first time is always the easiest. We only lose a few of you each time. Consider this a good warm–up.” Without missing a beat, she gestured to the air and a single word appeared floating in middle of the room.

  In bold, blood-red letters: COLLECTORS.

  “So,” she said, her smile widening just enough to show teeth, “let’s talk about what you’ll be doing. Your primary objective is simple: collect data. You’ll use this.” She rolled up one sleeve, revealing a thin silver bracelet encircling her wrist. Its surface gleamed, reflecting the dim light of the cabin like liquid mercury. “It has a camera function, activated by pressing a button. Simple, right?”

  She adjusted her sleeve back into place, the movement smooth and practiced. Then, images spread around them, dancing in front of their eyes. Bioluminescent plants of strange shapes, a misshapen creature opening its maws, a futuristic box floating amidst swirling blue threads, a purple jalape?o farm tended by a long–haired, genderless figure, and a horned man holding a pitch–black trophy. They were chaotic and seemed unrelated to each other.

  “... Taking pictures?” Tim asked, skepticism clear on his voice. He leaned forward slightly, frowning. “That can’t be all there is to it. Right?”

  Lacerta tilted her head, her expression unreadable. “Each image captures the essence of whatever you photograph —the raw data that defines it. You won’t be snapping selfies or documenting your morning coffee. Unauthorized uses will result in penalties. And trust me, you do not want to lose points. Each one is earned with your blood, sweat, fear and pain.”

  She made another gesture of her hand and the images faded away, replaced by people.

  “Now, let’s talk about the system. Specifically, the Role System. Ever been to a costume party or acted in a play? It’s like that. Each time you enter a Mystery, you’ll be assigned a random fictional identity that integrates you into the world. Your missions will depend on the role you’re given.”

  She paused, as if recalling something, then added, “While you’ll always have a primary objective, secondary missions are common. These are intrinsically tied to your role. And yes, they matter –and they pay.” Her gaze swept across the room, sharp and assessing. “Sometimes, you’ll have to choose between them. Don’t be stupid. Take the one that keeps you alive, alright? Negative points are better than having your soul sucked dry. Or worse, enslaved.”

  “.... Enslavement?” Tim repeated under his breath. Sam frowned.

  Or worse, Luca thought.

  “Now, before you get too worked up, let’s jump into a topic everyone loves.” She changed the slide again, and numbers filled the screen, neatly organized into rows and columns.

  “I’m sure some of you are already familiar with this, thanks to the Tutorial. Someone even managed to rack up a tidy 40k as a starter, hmm?” She didn’t elaborate or glance at anyone in particular, but Luca felt her gaze brush over him. He kept his expression neutral, refusing to react. It wasn’t like he’d enjoyed a single dime of that money–it had gone straight to paying off his debts.

  And then, as the images dissapeared as smoke, a table appeared

  “As you can see,” Lacerta explained, her voice taking on a lecturing tone, “the numbers of points you earn for task depends not only on its rank but also on the difficulty of the world it takes place in. An E–rank task in a 1-star world might earn you 7 points–but in a 4-star world? Twenty. The stakes rise accordingly.”

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  Before they could even think too much about the numbers, the table changed and a sole world floated in middle of them.

  PERFOMANCE

  “Before you get excited, let’s get into something critical,” Lacerta began, her voice sharp and no–nonsense, cutting through the room like a knife. “This is what trips up most rookies: Performance. It’s not just about completing the mission–it’s about how you complete it. Let me give you an example. During the Tutorial, two of you figured out the clues for the ‘hidden mission’ and reached the right conclusion. But one of you got a ‘good’ rating, and the other got ‘excellent.’ Same with the main mission–three of you survived, but only one walked away with ‘excellent.’ The other two? ‘Good.’”

  She paused, letting that sink in, her gaze sweeping across the room like she was sizing them up. “So, what do you think made the difference?”

  Samantha raised her hand slightly, speaking carefully. “I’d guess it’s about the number of clues you find –at least for the hidden mission. If you got all the newspapers, you’d score higher, right?”

  “Exactly,” Lacerta said, nodding. “Now, the main mission sounds straightforward, doesn’t it?You have to survive -don't die. But how do you score survival? Truth is, we don’t know. Only Pendulum’s System does. We’ve got some theories, though. The big one? Don’t break the rules. The cleaner your run, the higher your score.”

  “Rules?” Tim interjected, leaning forward. “What kind of rules?”

  “Death Rules, Omen Rules, Split Rules,” Lacerta listed, ticking them off on her fingers. “You’ll find more about it once we hit the island. You heard me telling you before, right? Mysteries are self–contained worlds. They’ve got their own logic, their own laws. We’ve mapped some of them –Death Rules, mostly. Break one of those, and you’re done. But we’re still figuring out others. For all we know, you could be breaking three Omen Rules just by walking into a room.” She shrugged, her tone matter–of–fact. “Point is, tread carefully.”

  “So we’ll know the Death Rules before we go in, right?” Tim asked, a hint of nervousness on his voice.

  “Some of them, yeah,” Lacerta said, her tone firm. “Unless you end up as a Scout down the line–then you’ll be the one figuring them out. But for now, don’t sweat it too much. You’ll be working one–star worlds. They’re about 70% mapped, and the rules are minimal. Stick to the manual, keep your head on straight, and you’ll be fine.” She paused, her expression hardening. “But don’t get complacent. We've lost too many rookies that thought they are greater than bread and died the first ten minutes for sheer stupidity."

  "Take a quick look at this."

  “Here’s the thing: you want to hit at least Average if you’re looking to make a decent paycheck. In one–star worlds, that’s doable –happens about 80% of the time. But if you slip into ‘non–good’ territory? That’s where things get dicey. Surviving’s great, but it’s not always enough.” She gave them a hard look, her tone turning stern. “And if you rack up three ‘non–good’ marks–or God forbid, an ‘abysmal’–you’re in deep trouble. Don’t let the benefits fool you.”

  She made a gesture and the information changed again.

  EXPERIENCE

  “Another thing will earn for each mission you complete: ‘Experience’–or simply ‘EXP.’ You might already be familiar with this concept from games. It works the same way. You get a fixed amount of EXP based on the rank of the missions you complete and the world you’re in. As you level up, you’ll grow stronger, smarter, faster–whatever your stats lean toward. But most importantly, your M-Level goes up.”

  This time, Mystery Level appeared in bold letters.

  “This is what you want to focus on. The M-Level is a mysterious indicator –excuse the wordplay. But we know it influences the level of worlds you may be able to enter, which means your rank won’t go up if your M-Level isn’t high enough, no matter how strong your stats are.” She frowned, a flash of anger crossing her face for a moment.

  "Now, you’re probably wondering how to level up your M-Level. The answer’s straightforward: participate in Mysteries, fulfill missions. That’s the premise. But everyone progresses at a different pace.” She paused, considering her words. “Each of you has an M-Level higher than average, so you’ll climb faster than most. So, don’t worry too much.”

  She reached for the orange bottle on the table, pouring herself a glass of water in a fluid motion despite the small turbulences. “I’ve been talking for a while now. Any questions?”