The jungle had a heartbeat.
It pulsed through the ground, through the trees, and into their bones. The survivors followed Bernad in silence, each step echoing louder than the last. No one spoke of the golden surge. No one dared.
"That... wasn't supposed to happen," muttered Rayan at last. "You were ranked F. You shouldn't even be alive."
"I know," Bernad replied, his voice low. "But I felt something. Like a door opened. And someone... was waiting behind it."
They moved through thick vines until they reached a clearing.
It wasn't natural.
The ground was too flat. The trees were too evenly spaced. At the center stood a broken statue—half-buried, overgrown with roots. It wasn't just stone. It pulsed with energy, faint and cold.
The system chimed again:
"Warning: You are being watched."
Before anyone could react, five figures emerged from the shadows.
They weren't like Bernad and his group.
Their clothes were worn, their eyes cold, and every movement screamed precision. One of them, a tall woman with silver hair tied back, stepped forward. She didn't smile.
"You're new," she said flatly.
"Who are you?" asked Rayan, raising his fists.
"Survivors. Like you. But we came long before you did." Her eyes lingered on Bernad. "The island accepted us. Changed us. Broke us."
A younger man behind her, scarred across the jaw, added, "We saw your trial. No F-ranked should survive that. And no one awakens 'Golden Command' unless the island chooses."
Bernad tensed. "What do you mean—chooses?"
The woman circled him slowly. "This place... it has a will. A logic. It watches, tests, reshapes. The ranks? They're just the surface. But beyond that… there are powers even the system fears."
Rayan stepped forward. "Why didn't we see you before?"
"We stay in the outer ruins," she replied. "Hidden from the system's core. Away from its manipulations. But when someone like you appears, it sends ripples."
"Ripples?" Bernad asked.
She nodded. "A golden flare like yours? It doesn't go unnoticed. You just painted a target on your back. Every empire, every faction, every corrupted survivor—they'll be coming."
Silence fell.
"But..." she continued, voice lower now, "there's more. Long before your plane fell, there were others. Hundreds. All vanished without trace. Most… didn't survive. Some became something else."
Bernad's chest tightened. "Are we… just next on the list?"
She stared into his eyes. "That depends. On you. On the island. And on how long your soul can hold the weight of what's coming."
Suddenly, the air changed.
The ground vibrated again—stronger this time. The statue at the center cracked, light seeping from within.
The system screamed:
"Caution: System Breach Detected."
"Unstable Zone Activated – Tier: Unknown."
The woman stepped back. "We need to move. Now."
But it was too late.
From the cracked statue, a figure rose—glowing with shifting colors, face hidden by a mirrored mask. Unlike the armored beast before, this one floated. No sound. No presence.
Yet it felt… absolute.
Bernad couldn't breathe.
The system glitched, its interface flickering.
"Entity: ???"
"Threat Level: Not Calculable."
The silver-haired woman grabbed his arm. "You're not ready for this. None of us are. Run!"
But Bernad couldn
't move. The figure turned its head toward him.
And then—everything went black.