It was scarcely an hour after a tense, near silent breakfast that the entirety of Last Bastion was called to begin their training as a team by that stupid intercom.

Nothing of much value had been said or established. It was, for all intents and purposes, an entirely useless exercise. 

Atlas specialized in those.

So, full of animosity, and mistrust, and eggs, the group had been instructed that they would need to report immediately to begin assessing and integrating the team.

The blood was still drying on the carpet. It probably would still be tacky by the time they got back, if the cleaning service didn't get to it first.

It was almost funny. 

Almost.

Atlas was pulling his new black, spandex gym shirt over his head when it happened. A string of orange text flashed in the center of his room, sudden and jarring. It was still blindingly bright this time around, even though he should have been used to it by now. Atlas squinted.

[ATLAS CANE, DO YOU WISH TO SEE THE TUTORIAL?]

[YES]or [NO]

The tutorial? What was the point of doing that now, when he had nearly died in that S-Grade? How would it even differ from the things he was learning, piece by piece, from Phi? Would it differ at all?

Atlas stared at it for a moment, eyes narrow and tired. He waved it away.

“You didn’t think that might have been useful in the portal?” He said. Because apparently, no matter how he conveyed it, his Skill knew what he was thinking. What he wanted. It was unsettling to think about for too long.

The text materialized almost instantly.

[YOU DID NOT NEED A FULL TUTORIAL IN THE PORTAL.]

Atlas paused, pulling the bottom of the shirt down and laughing. Something cold and dry and familiar. The ‘are you serious? Well, maybe I shouldn’t be surprised’ laugh. “Whatever you say. I still think it might have been useful at literally any other prior time. You don’t think knowing what I was doing would’ve helped me survive?”

[IT WOULD HAVE BEEN A WASTE OF LIMITED MANA TO SHOW YOU THE TUTORIAL THEN. IT WAS NOT WISE.]

“So Phi doesn’t cost mana, but you do? You’re internally inconsistent.”

[PHOENIX IS SEPARATE FROM THE SYSTEM. PHOENIX KNOWS OF THE SYSTEM, BUT IS NOT A PART OF IT. PHOENIX WAS LEFT FOR YOU.]

“That doesn’t make any sense. What do you mean she’s separate from you? Who would leave her for me?”

There was a short, almost petulant pause before he got a response.

[ATLAS CANE, DO YOU WISH TO SEE THE TUTORIAL?]

[YES]or [NO]

“Are you ignoring me?”

The text itself went bold, blinking several times, brighter and larger with every pulse. Atlas rolled his eyes. “You can’t just ignore me, you’re meant to serve me. That doesn’t make any sense. Doesn't that violate your code or whatever?”

The text flashed again. It did a jaunty little spin, following him around the room at he stormed to his nightstand.

Atlas stuck two middle fingers into the air and slapped the [YES] before he could think better of it.

[MP: 900/1,000]

[WELCOME TO THE H.I.V.E. SYSTEM TUTORIAL. ACCESS CODE: PHOENIX, USER: ATLAS CANE.]

An orange screen unfolded, curved along the edges with a series of graphs and dials monitoring Atlas’ status. It was a variant of his own status screen, with substantially more detail. The text from before was a paler, less jarring yellow in the center of the screen.

Before Atlas could ask any questions, the window cleared itself, and posted a fresh message. 

Atlas threw his hands into the air. “Why am I only seeing this now? What are you? Where did this “game system” come from, and what does it have to do with portals?”

Atlas sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the screen through splayed fingers as he held his head in his hands. The message faded away slowly. “You won’t explain anything, huh? What kind of tutorial am I getting, then?”

“What are you, an automated phone menu?”

But the box went quiet, folding swiftly away with a pleasant little ‘pop!’ that was as cheerful as it was mocking.

Phi had slept through the whole thing on the edge of his bed. She slept a lot, he realized. More than even normal, everyday animals who weren’t composed of light and code and mana.

Atlas swung his duffle bag of whatever equipment he’d impulse-ordered online, hand wraps and wrist bands and protein bars, put on his hat, and hauled himself to the elevator without gathering any of the others.

He just…needed a minute to think.

It had been a long time since he really had to digest how strange the sudden, calamitous change was. He hadn’t felt, in a long time now, the gravity of what it meant to truly discover something novel and new and nonsensical.

But the feeling was back, and it was familiar. The unsettling, uneasy questions of those early days after the Great Collapse. It had been a deeply unsettling time, one he had sometimes regretted surviving — when they understood virtually nothing about what was happening, and why.

Over the years, he — and most people -- had resolved that it was something determined to happen by nature. A natural order of things that they simply had to endure and navigate. Maybe latent, or brewing, for thousands of years — but always destined.

But the terminology of this system, we, and players and game, meant that there was very possibly something more organized and deliberative behind what happened.

Something that, somehow, he’d been giving a meager measure of power in.

Atlas didn’t understand any of it. What it was. Who was behind it. How Phi had been left to him, and why.

The elevator came to a smooth stop at the bottom of the building, and he exited with his hat pulled low. He didn’t want to use the sky bridges. He wanted to smell the fresh air. The street. 

It was a mistake. He knew it was instantly, when he spotted several cameras and reporters lingering near the doorway. They were kept on the sidewalk by Portal Group security, but could be pushed no further.

He strode past, looking the opposite direction, moving too quickly and casually for them to make note of.

There weren’t many public facing photos of Atlas. Especially not recent ones. He would have a measure of privacy, at least initially. He would have to use it while he could.

The walk to the Sparring Grounds — E this time, since it was still raining — was only a few blocks. The streets were sparse, but not empty. It was drizzling just enough to dampen his hat and shoulders. 

He made it in record time, too nervous to check behind him for any more observant journalists who may have followed a hunch.

Thankfully, the entire campus was coded to their biometrics for simplicity’s sake. Atlas scanned in the front door with his palm print, and made the trek to the training area, avoiding the looks of the other hunters as he passed.

It was a long walk. Boring. Boring enough, in fact, that he didn’t notice Senka had joined him halfway at first. 

She was eerily quiet. Her steps didn’t make a sound, no matter what shoes she was wearing, and she was small enough that Atlas didn’t spot her until he’d turned a corner.

Atlas jumped, and grabbed hold of one of the railings on the stairwell.

“Senka, when did you get here?”

“I have been behind you for roughly three minutes.”

Atlas took a long, steadying breath and continued his walk up the stairs. Senka continued to follow behind him, almost impossible to detect even now that he knew she was here.

Sparring Grounds E was a much smaller facility. It was mainly utilized for Skill assessments and other early strength and team-building exercises. As a result, it wasn’t particularly fancy, or designed to accommodate the obscene damage of most Skills.

It was a gym.

A fancy one, but a gym all the same.

He could see the rest of the team filtering in through the special elevator from the sky bridge as he approached. 

It felt…destined, somehow. Like everything had conspired together to create this moment. A starting shot, an opening frame in Atlas’ otherwise unremarkable life.

Senka stopped behind him, waiting patiently for him to enter. She did not press him. She never had.

The system suddenly whorled back to life. The text unscrolled itself across the double doors, thick and bright. 

[ARE YOU READY TO BEGIN?]