The wind rustled through the trees like a whispered warning.
Jett stood still, sword drawn, as the red alert faded from his vision. No enemies had appeared yet—but the Tower was rarely so merciful. Whatever the "Beasts of the Ridge" were, they were out there now. Watching. Waiting.
He slowly lowered his blade.
"Let's move," he said quietly.
The three of them set off down the narrow mountain path, boots crunching against frost-laced stone.
The terrain of Floor One was strikingly different from the endless grasslands of the tutorial town. Here, the air was thinner, cooler, and tinged with the scent of pine. Snow dusted the shadows between trees, and sharp ridges jutted out above them like jagged teeth, obscuring much of the sky.
No signs. No markers. Just forest, stone, and uncertainty.
They passed a frozen stream, its surface cracked where something heavy had once crossed. Emily paused, knelt, and ran her fingers over the ice.
"Claw marks," she murmured. "Something big."
Jett crouched beside her, nodding.
Lyra was already ten paces ahead, scanning the canopy with bow in hand. "We're being tracked," she said flatly. "Same eyes since we landed. Haven't attacked yet."
"They're waiting," Jett muttered, "or driving us somewhere."
Neither option was comforting.
After nearly half an hour of hiking, they reached the wooden outpost they'd seen from the gate.
It was small—less a town and more a defensive checkpoint. The outer walls were built from rough-cut logs, reinforced with stone at the base. The gate was shut but not locked. A watchtower loomed above, its windows empty and dark.
Jett pushed the gate open slowly.
No system alert. No enemies.
Just silence.
Inside, the outpost had a central square surrounded by a blacksmith hut, a mess hall, and a barracks—all quiet. A cracked stone statue stood at the center, covered in snow. Its features had been worn smooth by wind and time, but its form was unmistakably humanoid—an armored figure, sword raised toward the sky.
Jett brushed the snow from the base.
Guardian of the First Gate.
There was no further explanation.
"Creepy," Lyra muttered, turning toward the barracks. "We sleeping here?"
"Better than the woods," Emily replied, already heading toward the mess hall.
Jett stood by the statue a moment longer. Something about the silence here felt… staged. Not abandoned. Just waiting.
He followed them inside.
They split up to explore.
The barracks were usable—dusty, but intact. Dozens of bunks lined the walls, each with folded wool blankets and stone storage chests. Jett tested the door. It locked. The windows had arrow slits, not glass.
A fortress, not a resting place.
Emily's search of the mess hall turned up dried rations: hard bread, jerky, water flasks. Enough to last a few days. No signs of people. No blood. No clues.
In the blacksmith hut, Lyra found a grindstone and basic forge tools—but no weapons, and no blacksmith.
Jett sat near the firepit and examined the system map. It was still blank. Fog of War Active. But their position was marked—Outpost 1-A.
"Means there are more," he said aloud. "Other outposts."
Emily sat beside him. "I think this place was meant for early groups. Like a test."
"Could be." Jett looked at her. "You doing okay?"
She didn't answer right away.
Then: "Yeah. Just... adjusting. It feels real now."
Jett nodded. "Yeah. It does."
Lyra dropped beside them, tossing a pouch of jerky into Jett's lap. "Eat something, hero. You're not useful dead."
He smirked faintly. "Thanks."
For a while, they sat in silence, the fire crackling in the center of the square. It was the first moment that felt even remotely safe.
Then the howl came.
Not a normal howl.
It rose from deep in the woods—long, guttural, and intelligent. It echoed once, then was joined by two more from different directions.
Emily stood immediately. "They're coordinating."
Jett grabbed his sword and moved toward the gate. "They waited for nightfall."
Lyra was already on the watchtower ladder. "Three groups, closing fast."
Emily's eyes lit with the faint glow of pre-cast mana. "We should defend from the courtyard. It's tight—they'll have to come in waves."
"Agreed," Jett said. "Lyra, ranged from above. Emily, take center. I'll intercept first wave."
They moved quickly.
No hesitation.
No debate.
It wasn't planning—it was instinct. A rhythm forming between them already.
The first beast came into view at the treeline.
Its body was low and hunched, covered in sinewy fur with patches of scaly hide. A narrow snout ended in jagged teeth, and its eyes gleamed with cold calculation. Not a mindless monster—something worse.
Then the others appeared.
Six in total, flanking, probing.
"Smart," Lyra called down. "Testing our defense."
"They're not going to wait long," Jett said, planting his feet near the gate.
The lead beast growled once.
The others charged.
Jett moved first.
He stepped into the lead beast's path and activated Windpiercer. His blade blurred—a single, fluid motion that swept from low guard to vertical slice. The beast tried to shift, but the form was faster. Cleaner.
The sword cut through its neck in a blink.
Blood hissed against stone.
He pivoted immediately, redirecting momentum into a follow-up slash. The second beast lunged and caught the edge of the blade across its flank—wounded but not dead.
It shrieked.
Lyra's arrow silenced it a second later—clean shot through the eye.
A third beast barreled through the gate—but Emily was ready. She slammed her staff down, releasing a burst of kinetic force. The creature was thrown back into the wall with a crack.
More poured in.
But so did coordination.
Lyra's arrows rained from above, each precise, buying seconds.
Emily alternated elemental bursts—fire for crowd control, ice to slow.
Jett danced between them, sword carving arcs of pressure and motion, Windpiercer flowing from form to form with instinctive timing.
There was no talking. No fear.
Only movement. Precision. Trust.
It ended quickly.
Six bodies sprawled across the outpost floor, steaming in the cold night.
None of them spoke for a long moment.
Then the system rang out.
[COMBAT COMPLETE – FIRST ENCOUNTER CLEARED]Bonus Experience Earned: +500Loot Added to Inventory.Skill Proficiency Increased.
Jett sheathed his blade slowly.
Emily sat down against the wall, catching her breath.
Lyra exhaled sharply. "Well," she said, wiping sweat from her brow, "that was more fun than archery drills."
Jett chuckled quietly. "We make a good team."
Emily nodded. "For now."
They all smiled a little at that.
But even as the moment settled, Jett glanced toward the woods beyond the gate. There had been six.
How many more waited?
He didn't know.
But he was ready to find out.