Ayu opened her eyes.

The world around her unfolded with such clarity, it made her feel as if she'd been blind and deaf until now. Every blade of grass—even those hundreds of meters away—was so sharply defined it felt like they were within arm's reach.

The sounds were more nuanced too. She could sense the flow of nearby streams without turning her head, feel how the water curved around rocks, how fish darted in short, sudden bursts beneath the surface.

Her senses had sharpened past the reach of her waves. She no longer needed to emit pulses to know what surrounded her—she could simply feel it.

She closed her fist, feeling the strength coiled within her limbs. She knew she had gained more mass again, but strangely, gravity no longer pulled on her the same way. It was like her body had adapted—resisted it—effortlessly.

So this is the Second Body State…

A slow grin spread across her lips.

She'd done it. Finally.

She stood, brushing off a few specks of dust, and glanced at the horizon. She wasn't sure how long she'd remained in that focused, meditative state—it had to be several hours at least. And yet… nothing had approached. No raptors. No tiger-like creatures. Not a single predator had come near.

Odd.

But her instincts remained quiet. No warnings. No tension. It felt safe.

So she didn't give it another thought.

Instead, she fixed her gaze forward. The river continued in a soft arc through the plains. With no other clear direction to follow, it made sense to stay close to it.

Too much open space around here. No landmarks. No trails. Just… vastness.

She took a deep breath.

And then she started running.

And she ran fast—very fast—and yet it still felt like a comfortable pace, like she could keep it up for hours without even breaking a sweat.

It felt fantastic.

If only… he was here to share the good news.

But it was okay. She knew he'd be fine, wherever he was. They'd meet eventually. So while she missed him—a lot—she wouldn't let that dampen her mood. Not now.

For the moment, her focus was simple: get stronger, explore this stage, and face whatever challenges came her way. Sooner or later, they'd all reunite. She was sure of it.

So she kept dashing forward, blurring across the vast plain. Each stride carried her several meters. The wind hit her sharply, slicing along the seams of her armor, but she barely felt it.

Minutes passed. Then an hour. Two. Three.

And then—she noticed it.

Her eyes narrowed as she came to a stop. No strain. Heart steady. Breathing calm.

She focused.

There was movement up ahead. Distant, but distinct. Several figures were creeping low through the tall grass—approaching a wild beast. And they looked…

Human?

But they weren't reacting to her. And they weren't wearing the black armor her team used.

Ayu chose not to send out any waves. Not yet. No need to alert them unnecessarily.

She crouched low, staying light on her feet, and began to move forward with care. There wasn't much cover out here—but she wasn't worried. If things got ugly, well, she'd beat the shit out of whatever came her way.

Honestly… she kind of hoped they would try something.

She was itching to see what her new body could do.

So she slowly got closer. As she did, she started picking up more details.

There were six of them, and they appeared to be on a hunt.

The first thing Ayu noticed wasn't their weapons or movements—but their bodies. They weren't normal humans.

One had fur along the forearms and knuckles, short and coarse like animal hide. Another had long ears—narrow, pointed—twitching slightly with each gust of wind. A third, leaner, had a tail, thick and low, shifting behind him like a counterbalance.

One crouched by a rock, weight evenly distributed across all fours. He didn't stand to move—he prowled, spine low, stepping forward like a stalking cat. Claws tipped his hands.

They looked like a blend of human and beast.

Their weapons were crude but purposeful—sharpened bone tips, long staves wrapped in sinew, teeth-lined blades with grips carved from horn or hardened wood. No metal plating whatsoever. Just tanned hide. Layered strips of leather and fur, stitched into cloaks, shoulder wraps, and waist guards. Feathers tied to cords. Carved bone looped across their belts. All of it hand-made, worn, and weathered.

Then came the hunt.

One of the women twisted across the grass and dropped low, then sprang forward on all fours. Fast—too fast for a human gait. Another circled wide, her spear held low and steady.

The target was a creature halfway between a reptile and a deer—long limbs, scaled flanks, with narrow hooves and a tail that whipped side to side. Its head was flat, wide-eyed, with short tusks curling outward from its lower jaw.

It tried to bolt—but the hunters were already moving.

A man leapt from a ledge above, his body tucked tight, then extended mid-air. His spear plunged downward as he dropped, catching the beast near the ribs. A second hunter slid under the animal's belly, kicked off the dirt, and thrust his weapon into the rear leg.

The creature shrieked—high, hoarse—and staggered sideways.

Blood sprayed across the underbrush.

Ayu narrowed her eyes. She could take them. One-on-one, easy. Two or three, maybe. But all six?

Risky.

So she waited.

They finished the kill and hauled the beast aside, tying its limbs with cords and dragging it across a simple sled. Two crouched low again—eyes scanning, postures tight.

That's when Ayu stood.

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She rose slowly, posture relaxed but not careless.

She stepped forward. One pace. Then another.

The first one noticed her. Then the others turned sharply.

They quickly reached for their weapons. Not raised—yet—but ready. One hand on a spear, another adjusting grip on a curved blade. Their eyes locked on her. Alert. Wary.

They weren't calm, but they weren't directly hostile either.

Ayu's instincts didn't scream danger.

They seemed more cautious than hostile. And… curious, too.

She didn't have fur, or claws, or a tail—like them. That alone probably threw them off.

From her experience so far, everything that wasn't one of them—a climber—had been an enemy. Direct. Aggressive. No warnings. No questions.

But these ones felt… different.

She remembered Lukas's words back in the waiting rooms. "Maybe not everything in the Tower is meant to be fought. We don't know yet. So be cautious in the later stages. The creatures are getting smarter, more realistic. It wouldn't be surprising if, eventually, intelligent, human-like beings appear—ones we could communicate with, maybe even befriend. Some might help us overcome certain challenges. That's just a theory, of course. We have to be ready for anything. But I'm pretty sure fighting won't always be the answer."

She thought back to that briefing.

Ayu studied the group again. The way they spread out. The way their gazes moved.

Probably not enemies.

Probably.

And if she was wrong—well, she'd fight it out. She was faster than them, and stronger now too. She could run if needed. She didn't mind either option.

So she moved forward—calm and steady. Letting the distance close.

Slowly, they adjusted—spread out, but kept their distance.

One of them—stockier, with wolf-like ears and something like thick fur around the neck—let out a sound.

It felt like a sharp exhale crossed with a bark.

The others twitched in response.

Ayu stopped. She tilted her head, kept her body relaxed. Her hands remained where they could see them—open, empty, by her sides.

Then, she retracted her helmet with a soft pulse.

It hissed back, folding into a black collar around her neck.

And the change was instant.

The tension didn't disappear—but it dipped.

Their eyes widened. Just slightly. She caught the change in posture. Some of them straightened. One even tilted their head, almost mirroring her.

Huh.

That helped?

She glanced over them again—really looked this time. Their skin tone was close to hers. Darker, but not far. Their builds, too. Not tall. Small and built like runners. Like her.

But the beast-like traits still stood out. The fur. The ears. The claws. The long canines flashing under parted lips.

Weird, yeah. But honestly… kind of cool.

Ayu raised one hand and gave a small wave.

That made a few of them tense again—one even half-shifted into a crouch—but she didn't flinch.

Instead, she pointed to herself.

"Ayu," she said, slow and clear.

Then pointed to them. Raised her brows.

Nothing.

Okay…

She tried again. Tapped her chest. "Ayu."

Then held both hands out in a sort of wide arc, mimicking their earlier kill. She pointed to the beast, then gave a thumb up and a smile.

Still nothing. But they were watching closely.

She took a breath and dropped into a squat—arms relaxed across her knees.

One of them—a young woman with thick braids tied back with bones—cocked her head and said something. Sharp vowels. Clipped syllables. It didn't sound angry. But she did not understand a thing.

Then she pointed to Ayu.

"Ayu," Ayu repeated, nodding.

Another bark-laugh from the tail-wielder. He mimicked her tone: "A-yu."

The others murmured. Quiet. Like they were debating her existence out loud.

The short one with the long claws took a step forward. His nose twitched. He leaned closer, almost sniffing.

Ayu didn't move.

Then he gave a strange sound. Like a grunt crossed with a hum. Almost amused.

He raised two fingers and tapped them to his forehead, then pointed at her.

Was that… a greeting?

She blinked.

"Right back at you, wolf boy."

She copied the motion.

More murmurs. Less tension now.

They didn't smile—but they didn't bare their teeth either.

Progress.

She caught the look exchanged between two of them—then a sharp, brief sound, like a whistle. The tail-wielder slung the beast over his shoulder. Another flicked a hand, and they began to move.

Not away.

Alongside her.

Not quite walking with her—but definitely not chasing her off.

Ayu glanced sideways at them.

"Alright," she muttered.

She might as well tag along and see where this goes. They seemed kind of nice—and her instincts didn't disagree.

This was going to be interesting.

"Doesn't look too shabby," I say with a grin, eyeing the makeshift cottage we've thrown together in record time using timber from the nearby trees.

The structure stands solid—simple, but sturdy. Wood beams locked in place with wedged joints, the walls padded with woven grass and bark sheets to keep the wind out. The sloped roof leans with the river breeze, giving it a half-decent silhouette.

"It looks great," Diego says with a lopsided grin, brushing dirt from his forehead—only to smear it worse. His hands are still muddy. I don't say anything. Let the man have his moment.

Sari's stacking the last batch of supplies inside—water and food containers, clothes, some rope, whatever scraps we salvaged. Greg is nearby, adjusting the angle of a support beam.

"So," I turn to the group, "how's the language going?"

"I'm okay," Arjun says, arms crossed. "Should be able to speak normally. Enough to get around, at least."

Imani and a few others nod. Mei gives a soft thumbs-up. Even Sari looks confident.

I smirk.

"Alright then," I say, cracking my neck. "Let's see how ready you all really are."

I take a breath, then shoot off a quick line in the new tongue—something absurd and completely off-script.

"Ma'alob k'iin—tak'inil k'uch in chi'! Yaan u mejen si'ipil jats'uts' ku ch'uy u chi."

Which, to be clear, might mean something like: "Good day—the gold has arrived in my mouth! A tiny lizard blessed my lips with justice."

There's a beat of silence.

Then Arjun squints at me with a knowing smile, but says nothing.

Diego doubles over, wheezing. "No way that's in the glossary!"

Mei just shakes her head, smiling faintly. "That lizard sounds enlightened."

Sari smiles. "Profound wisdom."

"Honestly," Greg mutters, "this explains so much."

"Hey," I say, raising both hands with a grin, "don't knock it. The locals might respect gold-mouth wisdom."

Imani stares at me—rare grin creeping across his usually stoic face. "Should I tell Ayu about this lizard that blessed your lips?"

Okay… that was a good one.

The group laughs again—louder this time.

It's a good moment.

I let it linger a second longer, then exhale and pull the small artifact from my satchel—the one the short guy from before gave me.

"Alright," I say, quieter this time. "Let's see what happens."

I channel a wave. A greeting, followed by a brief update in their language: we've built our shelter, we've studied their language, and we're ready for the next step.

The artifact pulses softly in response.

And just like that… we wait.

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