With the exception of the subtle crackling of the fading fire and the sporadic rustle of leaves in the night air, the camp had fallen into a peaceful calm. With their shared back against a tree, Jacob and Connor sat together — as always — Connor's head tilted slightly to keep watch while Jacob leaned into the warmth of the fire, eyes drifting closed.
A few feet away, Lyle lay on his back, arms folded behind his head as he stared at the stars. "A million people and only one winner," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Hell of a way to test someone's resolve."
"You're assuming it's a test," Aria murmured, pulling her coat tighter around her shoulders. "For all we know, this could just be a sort of population control for whoever put us here."
Connor glanced at her. "You think something's watching us?"
She shrugged. "Wouldn't surprise me. We're probably just pieces on a board to whatever's out there. But the system… it's everywhere. It doesn't just feel like we're being watched—it feels like we're being played. Maybe there's no puppet master. Maybe the system itself is running the show."
Nobody had an answer. The thought lingered like a dense mist. One by one, they drifted into restless slumber. It wasn't comfortable, but it had to be enough.
As the first golden rays of sunlight peeked through the trees, Jacob stirred first, dragging Connor along with him. Their bodies moved in tandem, even in sleep — when one woke, the other inevitably followed.
"Slow down, Jacob," Connor mumbled groggily, his voice low. "No one else is awake yet."
Jacob looked around. Everyone was still unconscious. Only Connor and him. His heart sank. What good was getting up early if there was no one to share the thrill of a new day with?
Then, his eyes lit up with mischief.
He grabbed a loose branch from the ground and began banging it against Connor's prosthetic leg — the one that replaced what they lost together. The clang echoed through the clearing.
"We're under attack! We're under attack!" Jacob bellowed, his voice cracking with forced panic.
Connor jerked upright, his head snapping toward his brother. "Jacob, you absolute idiot! Stop it!"
But it was already too late. The camp erupted.
Finn shot up with a dagger in hand, Markus crouched defensively, Lyle blinked the sleep from his eyes with a groan, and Aria fumbled to her feet, coat half hanging off her shoulder.
Then, silence.
Every single pair of eyes landed on Jacob, who was grinning like an idiot. Connor sat beside him, looking like he'd lost all faith in his brother's ability to act like a functional human being.
Markus scowled. Finn smirked, entertained. After a few grumbles and curses, the group gathered what little they had — seeing as most gear had to be summoned via the system — and set off into the wilderness, Finn leading the way.
The landscape was both breathtaking and ominous, with lush greenery, strange flora, and creatures moving in synchronized harmony. Each part of the ecosystem played a role in an intricate, dangerous balance.
The group moved cautiously through the dense forest, the air alive with the chatter of unseen birds and the distant cries of simian creatures. Each step was deliberate, the ground damp beneath their boots.
Connor's gaze lingered on the path ahead, but his thoughts drifted behind them — to the place where he'd lost his leg. Where they had lost his leg. A dull weight settled in his chest as he glanced down at the prosthetic. It wasn't just his loss; it was Jacob's too. They'd both felt the pain. They always did.
Jacob, as always, seemed oblivious to Connor's brooding. His eyes were wide with excitement, fixed on something ahead. A creature unlike anything he'd ever seen fluttered in the distance.
It looked like a butterfly, but its glistening pink wings flowed and shifted like liquid silk. The veins in its wings pulsed with weak bioluminescence, little rivers of light weaving through its body. Each time it moved, its colors flashed and changed, reacting to something unseen.
When it took flight, it emitted a soft, musical hum — a sound that made the world feel slower, dreamlike.
Jacob's instincts took over. His identification skill activated before he even realized it.
Faequill – Level 2
Without thinking, he reached out his hand.
"Jacob, don't!" Connor hissed. "You don't know if that thing's dangerous!"
Jacob barely heard him. His heart was pounding too loudly. The faequill drifted closer, unafraid. A notification flickered in his mind:
Beast Taming requirements met. Do you wish to tame this beast? Yes or No?
Jacob's breath hitched. This was it — his first real step as a beast tamer.
Yes!
The faequill shimmered, then reappeared beside him, its wings casting a soft, ethereal glow. It was his now.
The group stared in stunned silence.
Connor blinked. "How did you—"
Jacob grinned, smug. "Remember? I'm a fucking beast tamer."
Connor opened his mouth, then shut it. Opened it again. "But—but—"
Jacob clapped a hand on his shoulder. "I'm awesome."
The faequill flapped its wings as if in agreement.
And then — the earth trembled beneath their feet.
A thunderous roar shattered the silence, sending birds screaming into the sky as smaller creatures vanished into the underbrush.
From the depths of the tangled forest, something colossal forced its way into view.
Its body blazed a deep crimson, marked with jagged black stripes that looked less like patterns and more like old, earned wounds. Towering above the trees, its wings unfurled—a 25-meter span of ember-lit membrane, glowing like the dying breath of a star.
It was dragging itself out of a crude trap, the restraints splintered and smoldering, far too weak to hold a beast of its scale. At the center of the trap, faint but unmistakable, a skull-shaped soul sigil flickered.
The creature paused, casting a glance toward the mark—not in fear, but in something close to amusement.
As if mocking the attempt.