They stepped through.

Light parted around them, and the air changed — cooler, heavier, alive with a faint hum that vibrated through bone. Their HUD flickered:

[ ZONE 01 ]

When they blinked again, it was gone.

Behind them, Elysium’s gold light faded to a distant glow. 

Ahead stretched a vast plain of pale grass that glittered like crystal dust beneath a red-tinged sun.

The air shimmered with heat and quiet — no birds, no wind, only the faint echo of something breathing far away.

Saiya’s eyes narrowed. “So this is Zone 1… doesn’t look like hell. Dunno why those NPCs made such a fuss about coming here.”

Issan brushed the strange grass. The glassy blades chimed faintly under his palm. “Energy saturation’s off the charts,” he murmured. “Even the soil’s alive.”

Then the first screams split the silence.

A squad of Skyfallen sprinted across the plains, weapons drawn — uncoordinated, terrified.

Something invisible chased them, its path marked by ripples through the grass.

A flash of silver burst upward.

One screamed mid-stride, impaled at an angle and yanked into the air.

The rest scattered.

Another fell — the crystal vegetation swallowed her whole, leaving only her fading cry to the wind.

Takara’s breath caught. “That’s… intense.”

Saiya’s markings flared, faint red arcs sparking along her arms. “And they still think this is a tutorial.”

Issan’s tone was dry. “They spared no expense on realism.”

The survivors sprinted toward the barrier. The same light that had welcomed Sephoric moments ago turned opaque, cold, unyielding.

A man turned, hammering the barrier with his fists. “HEY! Please! Open—!”

A voice resonated through the air — smooth, mechanical, divine:

“Unauthorized retreat detected.”

A pulse ran through the plains — deep, resonant. The survivors ran in a panic but froze mid-step as a beam erupted from beneath them and the light consumed them.

When it faded, only ash remained where they had stood.

Silence.

Zenobia’s voice wavered. “It… did it just erase them?”

Issan stepped forward slowly, eyes reflecting the barrier’s glow. His brow furrowed — the kind of look that searched for logic where there shouldn’t be any.

“Did… the act of running trigger something?” he said quietly.

Saiya’s tone was flat. “I’m questioning how they even beat a Guardian.”

Mirai glanced at the barrier. “We grind a bit before testing that.”

They moved on. No bodies remained — only shallow impressions and faint ash drifting upward like breath in cold air.

The light had passed, but the air still burned with static.

They crossed into a new land — a field of mirrored stone and pale grass that shifted colors like oil on water. Far off, crystal ridges curved toward the horizon, humming faintly.

“Beautiful. I want to sketch this later.” Takara muttered.

Mirai whistled. “Paradise. Keep moving though standing still’s an easy way to R.I.P”

Zenobia scanned the surroundings. “Something’s here.”

They advanced carefully, steps crunching on the crystal like freshly fallen snow, weapons half-drawn, scanning for signs of movement.

“Hey, make sure our perimeter flank is secure — that’s where that thing was.” Mirai called.

“Covered.” Issan replied.

Zenobia’s ears flicked — distant hums, soft vibrations rippling beneath the soil.

“Under us!”

Nothing moved for half a heartbeat.

Then the ground twitched.

A ripple spread outward — the grass folding flat, sound collapsing with it.

Then came the scream.

A crystalline beast erupted from below — all razored limbs and mirrored plates, its body half-glass, half-bone.

A low-frequency shriek vibrated through the air, shattering nearby rock into dust as it swung.

Saiya sidestepped, electricity crackling across her marks. “Those limbs are a problem! Take them out and try to fight it close!”

“On it.”

Mirai’s sword shot forward — suspended mid-air by invisible force — sweeping in a perfect horizontal arc that cleaved through two of the creature’s arms before his hand even moved.

Zenobia dashed in next, sliding beneath its counterattack, claws carving molten lines across its underbelly.

“Watch your back!” Takara shouted.

The creature’s remaining blade-arm snapped toward Zenobia — she gasped, caught mid-momentum.

A bolt of red lightning cracked across the field, freezing the monster mid-motion.

“Don’t worry about it,” Saiya said sharply. “We’ll refine technique later.”

Zenobia caught her breath, nodded quickly. “Right. Sorry. I’ll get the rest.”

She darted forward again, slashing through the creature’s legs — shards scattering like embers.

Takara’s glaive followed in perfect rhythm — elegant, deliberate — striking the exposed joints cleanly.

The beast reeled, shrieking in fractured tones, as Mirai’s floating sword kept its attention split, weaving unpredictable feints around its head.

Issan planted his lance into the earth, voice calm as still water. “Anchor point—now.”

The lance erupted and impaled the creature from below, pinning it mid-scream.

Saiya lifted her middle and index finger together lazily, eyes half-lidded. “Die already.”

Red lightning spiraled outward, detonating through its core.

The shards fell like snow.

Silence followed.

The field settled, only their breathing left. The world didn’t cheer, didn’t reward — just watched.

Mirai exhaled, a half-grin forming. “Okay. That was more of a tutorial than the rib breaker back there. Pretty tame.”

The shards had barely finished dissolving when the adrenaline began to fade.

Zenobia still trembled — her claws stained faintly with light, her breathing uneven.

Mirai sheathed his sword with a flick, the blade dematerializing in a ripple of particles. 

“Not bad for our first real encounter,” he said, trying to sound light. “Don’t worry about it, Zenby.”

Saiya’s gaze lingered on Zenobia a moment longer than usual. “You hesitated when it lunged.”

“I—I didn’t mean to,” Zenobia said quickly. “I couldn’t tell where it was aiming—”

She lowered her ears, nodding. “Sorry.”

Takara stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Zenobia’s shoulder. “You did amazing, thanks for your support. We all lived. That’s what matters.”

Issan was already analyzing data on his gauntlet, expression unreadable. “Still, Saiya’s right. The enemy’s movement patterns were adaptive. We’ll need better coordination next time.”

Mirai stretched, smirking faintly. “So what, bootcamp in paradise?”

“Exactly,” Saiya said.

She was still watching the fragments dissolve.

“What’s wrong?” Takara asked softly.

Saiya’s brow furrowed. “Still nothing. No EXP. No items.”

Issan adjusted his glasses. “Hm. Could be day-one troubles. Not too atypical to suspect — especially in this era of gaming.”

“Maybe by time we finish and get back to the safe zone whatever’s going on should be patched out,” Takara offered.

“They’ll patch in basic functionality once half the player base riots,” Mirai replied. “But for now—”

He turned.

“Let’s grind a little bit more just to be safe.”

They pressed deeper into the zone.

Hours passed. The light shifted from gold to violet, then to dusk-blue.

At last Issan raised a hand. “Hold.”

Half-buried ruins jutted from the ground — rusted tools, stone carvings, shattered tents.

Takara brushed one clean. “A camp?”

Zenobia crouched beside her, tracing a spiral etched into the stone. “Same markings as the priests’ robes. But the scent’s… different.”

“Scent?” Saiya asked.

“My nose is sharper now,” Zenobia said softly.

At the center lay a crystal lantern, still faintly pulsing with light.

When Issan touched it, a recording flickered to life — holographic, warped with static:

“If the gods forbade these ring perimeters… why does the light call to us?

We will reach beyond the second horizon. Even if death strikes us down.”

Silence followed.

Issan pocketed the fragment as it dissolved into light. “Interesting. Could be of use.”

Mirai stretched with a yawn. “Anyone else feeling sore? Okay, let’s head back before the next glitch finds us.”

No one disagreed.

They turned toward the glow of Elysium — unaware that its heartbeat had already begun to Falter.