Darius and Houston remain seated in the chairs, the atmosphere shifting the moment Alonso disconnects.

"You knew."

Darius' smile changes—no longer the warm, easygoing expression he wore with Alonso, but something more amused, almost teasing. Yet, he says nothing.

"So you faked it all along?" Houston's voice tightens with frustration. "You… you made us waste six days of progress for that philosophical game of yours?"

"Houston, what are we?"

"Oh, don't start with that brotherhood crap—"

"No. What are we to Alonso?"

"Darius, don't change the topic. There's no justi—"

"We are the car, Houston. We are the car. Nothing more."

Houston exhales sharply, rubbing his temples.

"A car does not fix itself," Darius continues. "But if a car never breaks, the owner never learns how to repair it. A car cannot improve itself—only its owner can tune it." He pauses, leaning back, his voice steady. "The time for Alonso to learn is not when a blade faster than his own is aimed at his neck… it's now. The stronger his foundation, the better it will serve him. A few days of delay mean nothing in the grand scheme of things. The Tower won't end tomorrow, Houston. Not in weeks, and maybe not even in months or years. The moment we can use is now."

Houston clenches his jaw but remains silent.

"Alonso must learn to fix his own mistakes, to build a foundation as solid as it can be," Darius continues. "And what he realized today? It's worth more than weeks of training. The First Pillar State is nothing. Even the Second is nothing. But true comprehension—of the sword, of the self? That's something we can only hope for, but may never achieve. There are no guides for that, no masters who can teach it. But today, Alonso took a step toward it."

Houston's frustration falters, something unreadable flickering across his face.

"You may not see the practical effects just yet," Darius adds, his voice softer now, "but I'll tell you two things. One, Alonso's progress with the sword will improve. And two, his progress on the Pillar Path will follow. Just like when he chose between the path of a scholar and the path of a warrior back then."

Darius leans forward, his gaze sharp.

"Today, Alonso is getting closer to his true path. And that, brother… is priceless."

Houston remains silent, letting seconds pass without a word.

"So, how far is it? How far is your comprehension of the Pillar Path with that approach?" he finally asks, his tone serious.

"Far enough to never be a burden, dear brother," Darius replies with a smile.

Houston shakes his head. "Why not at least tell me?"

"What would it have changed? And would you have insulted me so creatively otherwise?" Darius chuckles.

"Fuck off."

I smile as she approaches.

"You look even more beautiful than yesterday."

She shakes her head. "You say that every day."

"Maybe it's that new cream you've been using? You know, the shocky one," I smirk.

She rolls her eyes. "What, getting an early start on your dad jokes?"

I place a hand over my heart, feigning offense. "Dad jokes? Ayu, please. I'm in my prime."

She snorts. "Yeah, prime embarrassment."

I chuckle, shaking my head. "Fine, fine, I'll spare you my brilliance."

"So, what's the happy occasion?" I ask, noticing the wide grin on her face.

"Can't I just be happy to see you?" She tilts her head, teasing, hands crossed behind her back as she leans in just slightly.

"Oh, of course. My mere presence brings joy to all," I say, placing a hand over my chest in mock pride.

She snorts. "Right. That must be it."

I grin, tilting my head. "Or maybe you just missed me?"

"Missed you?" She feigns deep thought. "Hmm. Maybe a little."

"Just a little?"

She shrugs, lips twitching. "More like… I was incredibly bored, and you seemed like the most entertaining option."

I sigh, shaking my head dramatically. "Ah, so I'm just a distraction to you."

She hums playfully. "Mhm. A very handsome one."

I quickly scan the area with my waves, making sure no one is around. Satisfied, I use my EM waves to loosen my right gauntlet, sliding it off and letting it hover beside me as my hand moves to Ayu's cheek.

Contrary to what I expect from her playful nature, she doesn't pull away. She lets me touch her, her skin warm against my palm.

Her eyes remain fixed on mine—teasing, inviting.

I guess she's been holding back just as much as I have.

The shrinking stage has made it impossible to get any real privacy these past few days, and, for some reason, training in the Body Path seems to have cranked up our libido. I don't know if it's just me and Ayu, considering we used to do it every day before, or if it's affecting the others too. Not that I'll ask.

I wet my lips as I lower my head to kiss her, but just then, I sense vibrations approaching.

Ayu tenses slightly, but I just grin—and kiss her anyway, catching her off guard.

The kiss lingers for a few seconds before I step back.

She pouts at me.

Well, whoever's coming isn't here yet anyway.

I turn toward the source, and my waves finally register the familiar signature.

"Oh, you guys are here," Lukas says as he reaches us.

"Are we finally moving up?" Ayu asks, her eyes glinting with excitement.

"Yep," Lukas nods. "It's time. The stage is getting too small, and we're running low on supplies."

"Awesome," Ayu grins.

"Good to see morale is high," Lukas chuckles. "I already feel sorry for the creatures in the next stage. So, how's your progress on the Body Path?"

"Great. I've made solid progress toward the Second Body State," Ayu grins.

"Wow, I'm jealous," Lukas says, scratching his head. "I feel like the Second Pillar State is still miles away for me. And Chiara's practically a fish in water with her whole scientific approach to the path. And you?" He nods at Ayu. "You're tearing through the Body Path like it was made for you. Our two prodigies. Feels like The Tower might've taken girl power a bit too seriously," he chuckles.

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Ayu crosses her arms, smirking. "What can I say? Some of us are just built different."

Lukas sighs dramatically. "Yeah, yeah, rub it in. Next stage better have some miracle shortcut waiting for me."

I shake my head. "If The Tower hands out shortcuts, let me know. I'd like to file a complaint."

Lukas laughs. "Alright, jokes aside. We're gathering at the stairs in an hour. Make sure you're ready."

Ayu stretches, rolling her shoulders. "Can't wait."

The Tower, Tier 2, Stage 1, Oasis

It had been two weeks since Pablo arrived at the Oasis.

Contrary to his initial apprehension, the stay had been… peaceful. Most of the time, at least.

Heads still rolled daily in the arena. More people arrived, yet somehow, the population never seemed to rise. If anything, it felt like it was shrinking.

He also knew some factions had already moved to the next stage. And yet, for reasons unknown to him, The Shadows remained. They were more than capable of leaving, but they hadn't.

Pablo still remembered the time a new faction grew bold—too bold. Their leader was a ruthless, well-known fighter in the arena, feared by many. But he had made a mistake. He killed a man outside the ring, supposedly over a dispute involving a woman. That was obviously against the rules. And… The Shadows sent someone.

Not a group. Not a squad. Just one man in a black cloak.

What happened next, Pablo would never forget.

The man didn't just challenge the faction leader—he challenged the seven strongest members of that group. A one-versus-seven. Pablo had thought he was insane. Sure, The Shadows were the undisputed number one, but seven against one? That was suicide. And those seven weren't weaklings—they were at peak Stage Progress.

And yet… the match was a disappointment. Not because the underdog lost, but because it was so utterly, mind-numbingly one-sided.

One strike.

One strike per opponent.

The man's blade moved with an eerie precision, his enemies almost drawn to it, their bodies reacting as if magnetized—like they had willingly leaned into their own deaths. It was surreal.

But the most absurd part came after.

The man crouched down and absorbed all seven orbs on the spot.

Silence fell over the entire Oasis.

No one moved. No one even breathed.

It wasn't just that he had won—it was that he had started the fight at a massive Stage Progress disadvantage… and still annihilated them.

Later, Pablo learned from Henry that the young man's name was Ray. He wasn't even a full-fledged member of The Shadows—just a recruit on probation. The reason he hadn't received human orbs before? He hadn't earned them.

Until now.

Pablo couldn't wrap his head around it. Did Stage Progress mean anything to these people? If that was a recruit on probation, then what about the elite members? A cold chill ran down his spine.

Before this, he had seen them as disciplined, almost soldier-like—well-mannered, respectful, structured, like a military unit back on Earth. They trained every day with quiet precision, some refining their sword stances, others making knives float in the air, and some simply meditating. But after that fight, he couldn't look at them the same way.

Not even Henry, the only one he spoke to once in a while.

And something else disturbed him even more—something Henry had once let slip when Pablo asked about Leonie.

He still remembered the exact words.

"You mean Alpha?" Henry had chuckled. "Well, she has a nickname around the camp. One I think she doesn't like, and one that I'll chop your head off if you ever tell her I said it."

He had paused then, a wicked smile creeping onto his lips, like someone sharing a dangerous secret. His eyes gleamed—not just with respect, but with something sharper, something almost amused.

"The Bloody Queen."

Pablo swallowed hard.

The what?!

He spent the rest of the day trying—and failing—to reconcile that name with the strikingly beautiful and charismatic woman. A title like that wasn't earned by sitting at a desk and smiling at people.

Over the past two weeks, she had summoned him a few times. And yet, their conversations had been… normal?

She asked about Alonso—what he was like, how they met. But she also asked about him. About his life back on Earth. How he was adjusting to the camp. Whether anyone had disrespected him. She even asked about his family, about everyday things that had nothing to do with The Tower.

The conversations were always brief, never longer than five minutes, before she sent him off again. She always seemed busy, constantly occupied.

Perhaps talking to him was just her way of taking a break.

Either way, Pablo couldn't reconcile her with that title. He refused to. Maybe Henry had just been messing with him.

And so… time passed.

He spoke with others in the Oasis, including some from his old party. The way they looked at him had changed. Lina even begged him to introduce her to The Shadows, but he had no desire to, nor did he believe his words carried any weight there. He didn't owe her anything. In fact, he didn't even have a good opinion of her, so he simply turned her down.

Later, he heard from Eric that she had managed to join a faction as a ticket and had probably already made it back to Earth—with a generous paycheck arriving every month.

Good for her, he supposed.

As for the rest? Some had joined factions as warriors and left already. Others had died in the arena. And some were still waiting.

He had also met other Spanish speakers in the camp, including people from Spain, but he never really connected with them.

Most of them looked at him oddly.

His connection to The Shadows set him apart.

As for himself, he had been treated well—just as a guest, as Leonie had said. She had kept her word.

Not only had he been given the seven human orbs, but over the past two weeks, he had also received 49 shark orbs and 49 spider orbs, pushing his Stage Progress to its current limit. It reached a point where Pablo almost felt ashamed—like a spoiled child, receiving handouts while others fought for every orb with their lives on the line.

Still, he appreciated the gesture. His mind felt sharper, his body stronger than ever. With his Stage Progress now firmly past 3%, he could finally grasp just how different he had become from a normal human.

And that thought haunted him.

How would he interact with others if he made it back to Earth? What about his family? Would they see him the same way? Would he?

Questions like these kept him awake at night. He needed something to occupy himself, something to stop his thoughts from spiraling.

And so… he found it.

Pablo had taken to studying the creatures of the island, methodically dissecting their brains and bodies, trying to understand their physiology. His enhanced mind allowed him to store detailed mental notes, forming a clear picture of how vastly different they were from Earth's animals.

But the more he studied, the more things felt… off.

For one, their brains—while centralized like Earth's vertebrates—lacked a key component he couldn't quite identify. They functioned, but something was missing. It was as if their nervous systems were designed to rely on an external factor, a connection that should have been there but wasn't. Strangely, this absence was precisely where the orb resided.

Was the orb compensating for that missing element? Was it acting as their true neural core? He needed more data to confirm the theory—or, ideally, a live subject. But that was a request he wasn't willing to make.

Only three species on the island remained after death and could be studied: sharks, scorpions, and panthers.

Their muscular structures were nothing short of unnatural—far denser and more efficient than anything he'd seen on Earth. Sharks, for instance, had layered muscle fibers with an almost elastic quality, allowing them to accelerate with shocking speed and efficiency in water. Scorpions, despite their rigid exoskeletons, had an internal musculature structured like coiled springs, enabling explosive bursts of movement that defied their bulk.

The panthers, however, were the most perplexing. Their muscles had an intricate, woven structure, granting them a combination of immense power and an eerie fluidity in motion, as if they were built for both brute force and unnatural agility.

But despite their physical superiority, their brains were small—underdeveloped compared to their Earth counterparts. The panthers, for instance, lacked the cognitive complexity of real-world big cats. They were fast, deadly, but… simple. No strategy. No learned behavior. Their actions were entirely instinct-driven. The same was true for the sharks and scorpions.

That led to another observation: they didn't communicate.

Pablo spent hours watching them hunt, interact—if it could even be called that. There was no pack coordination, no signs of social behavior, no herd mentality. They didn't even seem to acknowledge one another.

That was unnatural.

Even solitary predators on Earth displayed some level of social awareness. But these creatures? It was as if they existed in complete isolation, locked in their own bubble, driven by nothing but the raw instinct to kill humans. No hierarchy, no territorial disputes, no mating behaviors—just mindless aggression.

Then there was the digestive system. He had never seen one eat. And even if they did, what would they eat? The ecosystem here could only, perhaps, support herbivores, and while one could argue that they fed on humans, that wasn't possible—human bodies disappeared after death. So… they didn't need food. Yet they had digestive tracts. Why? A leftover trait from whatever designed them? Or something else entirely?

And the respawning.

Even with a large lake, more than five thousand sharks had been killed in a single week. That wasn't sustainable in any natural system. The only way it made sense was if they were being generated, clustered somewhere out of sight and then deployed.

The more he studied, the more everything screamed artificial. Like a video game with well-designed models but lazy world-building. A system meant to be convincing at a glance, but one that fell apart under scrutiny.

Still, he kept going. Research gave him something to do—something to keep his mind from spiraling into all the existential questions that would otherwise keep him up at night.

And so, the two weeks passed, finally bringing him to today—Henry standing before him, expression flat as ever.

"What happened?"

"Pack your stuff, kid. We're leaving."

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