Unable to bear it, I burst through the conference room’s doors in pursuit, my lungs stinging from the lingering disinfectant smell and the metallic tang of mana. My heart thundered at the sight unfolding in the corridor: Jacob’s frantic silhouette stumbled on the gray carpet, and a pack of Lumic Beetles surged after him. Their crystalline shells flashed in the corridor’s dull overhead light, menacing shards clicking in unnerving rhythm.

  He wasn’t far ahead, just a dozen paces away—but panic had consumed him. He kept glancing back, eyes wild with terror, barely watching where he was going.

  Jacob, no…

  “Jacob!” I shouted, my voice echoing in the narrow hallway. My own footsteps slapped against the carpet as I tried to close the distance. Behind me, I heard Barry, Claire, and Trevor spill out of the conference room. Ned and Izzy lingered by the door, grappling with the last of the Beetles still inside.

  One of the Lumic Beetles flashed a blinding burst of light. My retinas flared, spots dancing in my vision. I threw up my arm to shield my face, hearing Jacob let out a choked cry. By the time the glare subsided, I caught a glimpse of him staggering to the side, disoriented. Another Beetle skittered underfoot, hooking its serrated mandibles around his ankle.

  He tumbled forward, arms flailing as he tried to shake it off.

  “Stop—get off me!” His voice cracked, raw with desperation.

  My Enhanced Neural Threshold skill hammered at my senses, every sound magnified into a disorienting cacophony: his ragged breathing, the scrabble of chitinous legs, the distant hum of the building’s failing lights. Still, I pushed forward, forcing my body to override the sensory overload. I swung my makeshift chair leg in a desperate arc, managing to smack one Beetle off his calf—but another latched on immediately.

  A second wave of light erupted from a Beetle, forcing me to blink away the searing glare. Jacob’s scream tore through the corridor. Even half-blinded, I heard the dreadful wet sound of mandibles meeting flesh. My vision cleared in time to see him collapse to his knees, his body convulsing as multiple Beetles swarmed around him, mandibles snapping.

  “Jacob!” Trevor was behind me, voice choked with horror. He brandished his mop handle but couldn’t find a clear angle past me. Barry sidestepped, trying to push in from the other side. Claire slipped forward, weapon raised. The hallway was too narrow, the Beetles moving too fast.

  A lumic flash disoriented me once more, leaving ghostly afterimages swirling in my sight. By the time I regained focus, the corridor was spattered with crimson. One Beetle had severed Jacob’s leg in a grisly, surgical motion. Another impaled him through the chest, its crystalline carapace gleaming with lethal precision.

  His eyes widened—frozen in sheer terror—before life flickered out of them. The corridor lights sputtered, as though even the building recoiled from the carnage. Claire and I lunged in, smashing at the Beetles surrounding him. My chair leg connected with one, sending it skidding against the wall where it dissolved in a shimmer of particles. Barry battered another until it cracked under repeated blows.

  [Enemy Defeated: Lumic Beetle. XP: +1. XP Progress to Level 2: 2/2 XP. Overflow XP: 5]

  [Notification: Loot Extraction in Progress…]

  [Loot Acquired: Lumic Flash Skill Scroll. Try not to blind yourself while learning this.]

  My arms trembled, adrenaline surging in a nauseating wave. We killed or chased off the last few Beetles around his body, but too late.

  Jacob lay on the floor, eyes wide, unmoving. His clothes were a shredded, bloody mess. And he didn't dissolve into glowing particles like the beetles. He just… lay there. Motionless. Bleeding.

  Izzy, who had followed with Ned once the conference room was momentarily clear, caught sight of the scene and collapsed to her knees, tears spilling down her face. “No… no, no, no!” Her sobs echoed in the corridor. I noticed her injured hand, likely due to holding back the beetles with Ned. Barry placed a steady hand on her shoulder, his expression grim.

  Trevor’s usual humor vanished; he just stared, mouth half-open, as if words failed him. Ned stood behind him, face ashen, the pen he always fidgeted with forgotten at his side.

  Claire’s gaze hardened as she breathed out, “Jacob…” She looked away for a moment, swallowing back the horror. Then she exhaled, her voice firm despite the strain. “We need to secure the area and prevent more deaths. Trevor, help me with— with him. Izzy, stay close to Barry. Ned, watch our flank.”

  Trevor nodded, though he moved stiffly, as if each step cost him effort. He and Claire carefully dragged Jacob’s lifeless form toward the corridor wall, away from the portal’s line of sight. Blood trailed in a jagged line across the carpet, a haunting reminder of how quickly things could go wrong. I resisted the urge to retch.

  A hush settled, broken only by Izzy’s quiet sobs and the distant hum of flickering lights. My chest felt tight. I couldn’t look at Jacob’s body for longer than a second without nausea climbing my throat. The same thought echoed in my mind: This is the cost of inaction. He panicked, we hesitated, and now we’d lost one of our own.

  A holographic panel flickered across my vision, the System’s snark jarringly out of place:

  [Participant Eliminated: 1. Remaining: 7. Cause of Death: Lumic Beetle (Level 1, Common).]

  I gritted my teeth, fighting a wave of anger. The System kept track of our deaths like bullet points on a performance review. Even Trevor’s attempts at sarcastic commentary died in his throat. The group stared at the text, equally disturbed.

  “He’s… gone,” Izzy whispered, voice trembling with shock. She curled into herself, tears streaming. Barry stayed by her side, a silent sentinel, though his fists were clenched white-knuckled around his metal rod.

  Claire took a breath, forcing composure. “We have to stay focused. We can’t change what happened, but we can make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  Ned, still visibly shaking, managed to speak. “Th-this can’t be real. We can’t let that—” He gestured weakly at Jacob’s body. “—happen again.”

  I swallowed hard, forcing calm. “We… we survived wave two, right?” My voice sounded hollow to my own ears. “Is that it? Are we free?”

  As if in response, the portal in the conference room behind us began to sputter, its swirling darkness fluctuating between expansions and contractions. A fresh notification blinked into my field of view:

  [Trial 1 Progressing. Time Remaining: 4:30. Objective Met: Kill 1 or More Monster(s). Waves cleared. Finalizing…]

  Trevor huffed out a shaky laugh. “We completed the objective. But the clock still says four and a half minutes?”

  Claire straightened, scanning the corridor for any lurking threats. “It might be tying up loose ends. Or waiting to see if we’re still in danger.”

  Gerald, who stood behind us with the makeshift club in his grip, let out a heavy breath. “So… does that mean we passed the trial?” He glanced at the battered door leading into the conference room, then down at the remains of the Beetle he’d killed. “I guess I— I did kill one. Is that enough to survive?” His voice trembled with equal parts relief and guilt.

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  Before Claire could respond, a final notification flickered into sight:

  [Trial 1 Complete. System Access Granted to Participants Who Eliminated Hostiles. (Ethan, Barry, Trevor, Gerald, Claire). Remaining Participants: 7.]

  [Ned: No Hostile Kills. Access Denied. Izzy: No Hostile Kills. Access Denied.]

  A wave of tension rippled through the group, each name reading their panel. Ned’s face fell. “Access… denied?” Izzy fidgeted uncomfortably, tears still brimming in her eyes as she stared at her own locked interface.

  Barry’s gaze flicked over the text, stoic as ever, but the slight narrowing of his eyes betrayed concern for Ned and Izzy. Gerald exhaled, half in relief, half in shock. He had also had System access now, though the cost overshadowed any sense of triumph.

  Claire, scanning the ephemeral lines of her new menu, turned back to us. “We have bigger problems. Jacob’s…” She closed her eyes. “He’s gone, and we still don’t know what the next step is. The portal might vanish, or we might have a wave three.”

  I clenched my fists, a swirl of anger, sorrow, and quiet determination taking root in my gut. “We need to hold it together. If that portal so much as twitches, we’re going to be ready. No more losses. This… this can’t happen again.”

  The tension in the corridor gradually ebbed once the second wave of Lumic Beetles had been thwarted, but our relief was stained by Jacob’s death. The air felt stifling, weighed down by horror, exhaustion, and the System’s unrelenting presence. With no new enemies spilling out of the portal, we guided each other back into the conference room, letting the battered doors shut behind us.

  Gerald hovered near the wall, still breathing heavily after his unexpected kill. His gaze lingered on the dissolved remains of the Beetle he’d crushed, the reality of having genuinely contributed leaving him pale and shaken. Barry closed his eyes for a moment, as though centering himself, while Trevor—ever the jokester—had lost all spark of humor. Izzy and Ned stood side by side, outwardly uninjured, but their faces betrayed a deeper, raw vulnerability.

  Claire cleared her throat. “Let’s take a moment to check our statuses, if the System is granting us full access now. We need every advantage.”

  [Think 'System' or 'Main Menu' to access your interface. Unless you enjoy fumbling in the dark—no judgment.]

  A flicker of residual adrenaline made my pulse pound, but I forced myself to breathe slowly. System, I thought, testing the mental command.

  [System Menu: Status | Skills | Wallet]

  A faint hum vibrated behind my eyes, and then a holographic panel materialized in front of me, semi-transparent yet perfectly legible. The words “Main Menu” hovered at the top. I swallowed hard, remembering how partial my access had been before, how I’d been locked from leveling up. Now it seemed I had more options.

  “Okay,” I murmured, half to myself and half for the others. “It’s… letting me see everything.”

  Barry gently nodded as though reading his own panel. “Same here. I’m in.”

  Trevor let out a shaky breath. “Guess it’s official… I’m part of this messed-up world now.”

  Ned and Izzy exchanged glances, each looking forlorn. Their screens remained locked—no kills meant no leveling, no new features. Ned’s pen tapping resumed in quiet frustration.

  I mentally nudged the “Status” tab, and a swirl of text resolved into a crisp table:

  I swallowed, a flood of contradictory emotions washing over me. So, I’m at Level 2, almost at Level 3. And I have 5 attribute points… The System turned me into a literal game character.

  Gerald exhaled sharply, presumably seeing something similar. “This is unbelievable,” he muttered. “I’m… I’m halfway to level two?” His tone was torn between confusion and a thread of pride.

  Trevor glanced at me with a half-quirked brow. “I’m still level one, but at least I see a full menu. That’s… something.”

  Claire pursed her lips. “It’s not just about levels. We need to be smart about distributing points. We don’t know how many more waves we’ll face.”

  She looked to Ned and Izzy, regret flickering in her gaze. Neither of them had kills, so neither had new stats to allocate. Ned shifted his weight, trying to mask his disappointment. Izzy’s eyes drifted to the floor, tears still clinging to her lashes as she wrestled with the pain of Jacob’s death.

  I turned my attention to the Skills Panel next. My mind conjured “Skill Details,” and a second table appeared:

  I studied the lines with a knot in my stomach. Even at just twenty-five percent, the heightened senses teetered between helpful and overwhelming. I couldn’t imagine how intense it might become if fully unlocked. What happens if we face an even bigger wave? Could I handle that?

  Barry, having apparently done a similar check, looked over at me. “You’ve got that skill that enhances your senses, right?” he asked quietly. “Any change?”

  I shook my head. “Still partially unlocked. Says it can evolve. Not sure if that’s good or terrifying.”

  A subdued hush lingered as we each dealt with the new reality of rummaging through intangible screens for the sake of survival. Meanwhile, Claire set aside her own panel, her features taut with responsibility.

  “This helps us,” she said, her gaze flicking between me, Barry, Gerald, and Trevor—all of us with at least some form of growth. “We can handle more threats if they come. But the Trials… they’re real. We can’t forget that Jacob didn’t get this chance.”

  Trevor’s mop rested across his knees as he sat on a toppled chair, forehead creased. “Jacob panicked. We couldn’t save him.” He exhaled slowly, pressing his lips together. “I—I can’t blame him. But…”

  I nodded, finishing for him. “But we have to learn from that. No more running blind.”

  Gerald flexed his fingers around the battered club he’d used to kill a Beetle. He looked more subdued than ever. “I guess… synergy or not, we’re stuck in this together.”

  Claire let her gaze drift to the conference room door, where Jacob’s body lay shrouded somewhere in the corridor. The weight of loss was still fresh, pressing in on all of us like a suffocating veil. Then she inhaled, posture resolute. “We need to prepare. The Trial might throw more at us—waves, or something else. I refuse to see anyone else dying under my watch.”

  Izzy sniffled, wiping her cheeks. “What’s next then?” she asked, voice cracking from sorrow.

  Claire’s eyes hardened. “We fortify. Secure this floor, gather supplies, and figure out if that portal can spawn anything else without warning. We use the time we have before the next wave—if it comes at all.” She paused, acknowledging the tension in the air. “And we face it. Together.”

  A faint static hum rattled the overhead lights once more, but nothing emerged from the portal. For the moment, the swirling vortex seemed dormant, flickering like a half-powered machine waiting for its next command.

  In that moment of quiet, we clung to the small reassurance that at least we had some power—some stats, some skills, some plan. Even if it all felt like a twisted cosmic joke, we weren’t going to be helpless pawns. The System had turned our office into a battlefield, but we had a chance to fight back.

  None of us spoke it aloud, but the promise was there in every glance: we would face the Trials head-on, forging synergy not by Gerald’s meaningless presentations but by sheer necessity. The cost of inaction had already been stamped into our memories, and we wouldn’t let it claim another life.

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  Stay on your Path, and Ascend.

  Stardust Nexus