Chapter 17 – 72-Hour Countdown
The trek back to their home base was a race against the clock and the trembling earth. Kellan and Bramble moved as quickly as their tired bodies allowed, leaving the defeated Node far behind in the predawn darkness. Above the treetops, the night sky was alive with unnatural color: ribbons of aurora-like light draped the heavens, a direct result of the three unified Tier-1 keys. The swirling blues, greens, and reds illuminated their path in an eerie twilight that persisted even as dawn approached. It was beautiful, but also a constant reminder—like a giant hourglass turned over in the sky—that time was running out.
Kellan's breath puffed in the cool early morning air as he jogged through familiar woods. Each footfall was accompanied by a distant rumble from deep underground, as if some slumbering giant beneath the realm was stirring. The quakes were still minor tremors for now, but they set birds skittering from the canopy and left ripples in every puddle they passed. Bramble loped at his side, matching pace despite the slight limp in his hind leg from the battle with the Alpha Wolf. The dog refused to slow down or show pain; through the Party-Link, Kellan felt only steely resolve and an urgency that mirrored his own.
They paused only once, at a hilltop clearing, to catch their breath and take stock. From this vantage a few kilometers out, Kellan could actually see the thin column of smoke rising from the direction of their base's fire pit—a comforting sign that everything was as they left it. But beyond that, new and disconcerting sights greeted them. Across the landscape, columns of light beamed into the sky at various distances: some white, some blue, one a vivid red. These "resource flares," as Kellan immediately thought of them, hadn't been there before. It was as if the world itself was highlighting points of interest for the final days—perhaps caches of materials or latent treasures surfacing now that Tier-1 was ending. For a moment, the gamer in Kellan was intrigued, tempted by what those flares promised: rich ore veins thrust to the surface by quakes, clusters of medicinal plants blooming with unnatural speed, maybe even pre-placed supply crates from whoever designed this world. But practicality won out swiftly. He tightened his grip on his spear-haft walking stick and shook his head. "No time," he muttered. Chasing those flares could take hours he couldn't afford. Their priority was survival and preparation, not treasure hunting.
Bramble whined softly, nose in the wind as if he too sensed the strange changes. Kellan knelt beside him and placed a reassuring hand on his companion's back. "Home first," he said firmly. "We've got what we need waiting for us there." The dog gave a short bark in agreement, and together they pressed on.
Not long after, they forded the shallow creek that marked the final approach to their valley. Here, they encountered evidence of the world's upheaval: a fresh fissure had split one bank of the creek, turning water flow into new mini-waterfalls. One of Kellan's earlier makeshift snares along the game trail had been dislodged by the shaking ground, lying slack and empty. The forest felt restless. They were forced to detour around a clump of fallen pines that had slid down the slope—an omen of the larger quakes likely to come.
At last, by mid-morning, the familiar thorny barrier that ringed their base came into view through the trees. Kellan sighed in relief. The living thorn fence was intact, though its woven branches shivered as another tremor rolled by. The entrance gate—a sturdy lattice of branches reinforced with bronze pins—still stood, closed exactly as they'd left it.
Home.
They slipped through the gate and into the clearing before the cave. Immediately, Bramble broke into a sprint, circling the area with an urgent, almost managerial air. He sniffed at the fence, checked their water barrels and the mud-brick smoker, and even pawed at the entrance of the cave to ensure nothing had disturbed it in their absence. Kellan smiled despite the gravity of the situation. Bramble was making his rounds, just as Kellan often did upon returning from any outing—truly a partner, the second half of their little garrison.
Satisfied that no creature had intruded while they were away, Kellan finally allowed himself a brief rest. He dropped his pack by the old tree stump they used as a worktable and took a long drink from the water barrel. The water was cool and fresh; he silently thanked past-Kellan for always covering the barrels with lids—thus no debris had contaminated their supply even if dust or leaves had been shaken loose by tremors. Bramble padded over and lapped eagerly from his own stone bowl nearby.
They had maybe 70 hours left now. The HUD timer glowed insistently at the edge of Kellan's vision: 70:43:10…70:43:09… counting down second by second. He dismissed it with a thought—having it constantly in view was more nerve-wracking than motivating. He knew well enough how little time remained.
Without wasting another second, he got to work. The first order of business: intelligence. Kellan retrieved the macro-map schematic they'd recovered from that meteor-crater tech pod some ages ago. It was a flat metal tablet etched with faint grid lines and runes. Normally it looked inert, but now that the keys were synchronized, the map had come alive with softly glowing icons. When Kellan laid it on the stump and hovered his hand over it, projecting a trickle of core energy, a three-dimensional projection flickered above the tablet's surface. A miniature landscape appeared, like a ghostly hologram—this region of the Dyson-sphere world rendered in light.
Bramble sat on his haunches beside Kellan, ears cocked as if he too were studying the display. On the map, Kellan saw three pulsing red rings scattered around—quake zones. One of them encompassed a swath of terrain just north of their base, overlapping partially with the valley where that beaver dam lay along the river. He chewed his lip. A major quake there could breach the dam; he'd anticipated that possibility and now the map all but confirmed it. Another quake zone blinked near where Node 2's ruins were; the third was farther off by the southern mountains.
Numerous small green and blue markers dotted the projection as well—these corresponded to the resource flares he'd seen. Kellan tapped one near the base location: a text rune popped up indicating "Tin Bloom" with some numbers. Another marker glowed green closer to them and labeled "Herbal Infusion Grove". So the flares indeed marked concentrated resources or events. A cursory scan didn't reveal any immediate must-haves they lacked; he noted with satisfaction that their earlier efforts meant they had sufficient metal (bronze and even some iron) on hand, and enough medicinal supplies in stock that they could skip detours for herbs.
One thing on the map, however, caught his eye strongly: at the very center of the projection was an icon he hadn't seen before. It resembled a stylized pillar or column of light. A label hovered over it in runic script that made Kellan's heart skip: "Ascension Lift – Activates at Hour Zero." That had to be their exit, the way to Tier-2. It lay roughly at the midpoint between the three Nodes, which placed it about a day's journey from their base to the northeast, near the large meadow that stretched out under the open sky. Kellan committed the location to memory and traced a route with his finger. If they left early on the final day, they could get there in time—assuming bridges weren't down and terrain wasn't utterly torn up by quakes.
He shut off the map projection and carefully stored the tablet back in its hide sleeve. His mind buzzed with priorities. He spoke them aloud to Bramble—partly to organize his thoughts, partly because talking to his companion was second nature now. "Alright. We need to reinforce the cave so it can withstand whatever's coming—flood, quakes, maybe more panicked monsters. We need better weapons for close and long range. We have cores for healing, but maybe we can whip up a potion or two as backup. And traps… more traps to slow anything that comes."
Bramble barked once, trotting over to the pile of scavenged lumber and branches at the side of their clearing. He pawed at a particularly stout log—a piece of oak they'd dragged back last week. Kellan grinned. "Yes, exactly. New barricades." The dog's intuition for their fortification plans never ceased to amaze him; perhaps Bramble simply knew Kellan well enough to anticipate his next steps.
They spent the next few hours in a flurry of labor. Kellan stripped off his travel-worn outer tunic, working in his sweat-damp linen shirt as the sun climbed higher. The weather mercifully held calm for now, aside from the occasional tremor. With axe and hand-saw (tools they had forged from iron in earlier, calmer days), he cut the oak log into thick planks. Each stroke of the saw was steady and measured—he had long since gained a Carpentry skill of some basic level, and he found a rhythm that minimized wasted energy. Bramble meanwhile dragged over rocks—yes, actual rocks—from a rubble pile, using his teeth and forepaws to roll them. These would serve as additional weights and barriers.
By noon, they had erected a low stone-and-log bulwark just inside the thorn fence, reinforcing the entrance gate. It was like a secondary wall about waist-high. Not pretty, but sturdy enough to stop a charging beast or hold back debris carried by a flood. Kellan drove sharpened wooden stakes outward from it at an angle, creating a hedgehog of spikes that any unwelcome visitor would have to clamber through under fire. He also strung some leftover bronze wires (from the same coil that had made the wolf trap net) between trees as trip-lines. Any creature barreling in blindly might snag and possibly topple—he'd attached jangling bits of metal to them too, to act as an alarm.
Inside the cave, Kellan turned his attention to quake-proofing their dwelling. The cave had served well so far, but he worried about the ceiling during a major seismic event. It had natural supporting pillars of stone, but a severe shake could still bring down loose rocks. He and Bramble gathered all the spare lumber and struts they had. Kellan erected two stout support beams—basically tree trunks they had previously hauled for expanding the lean-to—beneath a suspicious overhang in the main chamber. Hammering wedges to tighten them in place, he prayed they would absorb enough shock to prevent a collapse.
Bramble helped in his own way: the dog nosed into their storage alcove and brought out coils of rope which Kellan then used to lash key trunks together and secure shelving. The last thing they needed was all their clay pots of provisions smashing to the floor mid-quake. Each time an aftershock shivered through the ground, they both paused, watching the ceiling dust sprinkle down, and exchanged a tense glance. But each time, the cave held. For now.
After hours of building and reinforcing, Kellan's arms burned and his stomach rumbled. He forced himself to stop for a quick meal in the late afternoon. No time for a fire-cooked stew; instead, he downed a strip of dried boar meat and a handful of salted nuts, washing it down with water. Bramble gnawed a smoked fish skin happily, tail thumping against the cave wall. The simple act of eating side by side in their home steadied Kellan's nerves. It reminded him that this wasn't just a mission area—it was theirs, the haven they had built piece by piece. They weren't going to let it fall easily.
With fortifications in decent shape, it was time to address their arsenal. Kellan took stock of their weapons and smithing supplies. On the weapon rack made of antlers near the forge hung his current collection: an iron-headed spear (his original iron spear that had served as backup to Stormpiercer), a couple of stone-bladed handaxes (legacy from early days, rarely used now), the crossbow and bolts, and a bone-handled skinning knife. They had done well with these, but Kellan knew the final stretch might demand more.
He decided on two additions: a proper short-sword for close combat and a new bow for range. The crossbow was powerful but slow; a composite bow could allow faster shots if they faced multiple threats or needed to hunt on the move during the chaos.
The bronze ingots they'd smelted two days ago were still stacked by the forge—roughly two kilograms of decent bronze. He ran a thumb over their surface, recalling the effort of mining tin in the southern creek bed to mix with their copper stores. Good, solid metal. He pulled on a thick leather apron and gloves, and then set about lighting the forge.
Their forge was a compact, semi-portable design—a "modular forge" built from clay bricks and metal lining, capable of reaching bronze-melting temperatures when stoked properly. Kellan shoveled in some charcoal, added a sprinkle of dried blue-core powder (something he'd discovered dramatically boosts heat when ignited), and sparked it with flint. The core powder caught almost instantly, flames roaring to life with a bluish tint. The forge's chimney vented heat out of the cave through a crevice, and soon the interior was filled with the familiar roar and glow of a smithy at work.
As the forge heated, he placed one of the bronze ingots into a crucible and set it in the heart of the coals. While it heated to a melt, Kellan prepped a simple sword mold. He didn't have the luxury of carving a detailed casting mold in stone for a complex shape—so he used the next best thing: sand casting. In a tray of packed fine sand, he and Bramble had earlier impressed the shape of a short sword blade using a wooden pattern. The mold was plain, double-edged and tapered, about 50 centimeters long and 5 centimeters wide at the base. Good enough.
It was during this prep that the first real quake hit.
Without warning, a deep rumble escalated into a violent shaking. Pots rattled off shelves; one of their water jars tipped and cracked. Kellan nearly lost his footing and braced against the cave wall. Bramble yelped and pressed low to the ground, claws scrabbling on stone as he tried to keep balance. Outside, the earth groaned. Kellan's mind leapt to the beaver dam. Was this the northern quake zone unleashing already?
It lasted perhaps twenty seconds, though it felt like minutes. When the shaking finally subsided, Kellan exhaled, realizing he'd been holding his breath. Dust filled the air; a few small rocks had come loose from the cave ceiling, but his added supports held firm—no major collapse. The forge fire still crackled, undeterred.
Bramble was already at the cave entrance, barking at something. Kellan rushed to his side and looked out. Across the valley, through gaps in the foliage, he saw an ominous plume of water mist spraying upward: the river. It appeared the beaver dam had partially given way—a powerful surge of water was now flooding downstream. Even from here, he could hear the roar of rushing water growing louder by the second.
Kellan's stomach clenched. The creek near their camp would swell. How bad might it flood their clearing? He quickly ran to the water channel outside; the creek, normally a gentle flow, was rising, dark and full of debris. Fortunately their cave was elevated a few meters above the floodplain, but still, he worried for their fence and lower area where their vegetable garden patch was. "We'll deal with it if it comes," he told himself. No turning back from nature's course now. At least his new barricade was stout—it might even act as a small dam to divert water away from the cave mouth if needed.
No sooner had they processed the quake's immediate effects than another problem manifested—though this one anticipated. The forge bellows had been knocked askew and the crucible had toppled inside the furnace. Bronze liquid was threatening to spill into the coals. Swearing, Kellan dashed back to salvage it. Using tongs, he steadied the crucible and peered in: the bronze had mostly melted, gleaming orange. Good, still usable.
He worked quickly now, aware more quakes could follow. With Bramble watching intently (and keeping a safe distance from the fiery workstation, as he'd learned), Kellan poured the molten bronze carefully into the sand mold. A satisfying sizzle and waft of metallic vapor arose as the liquid metal filled the cavity. He set the crucible aside and wiped sweat from his brow. Now came the waiting—letting the bronze solidify sufficiently to extract. He took the moment to calm himself, giving Bramble a pat for reassurance. The dog had his ears pinned back from the quake's noise but licked Kellan's hand, sensing that the immediate danger had passed.
While the casting cooled, Kellan decided to begin work on the composite bow. If another quake came, he could at least do parts of this outside where falling rocks weren't a concern. He retrieved a stave of wood he had set aside for the purpose—a length of yew wood. Yew was rare in these parts, but by luck the meteor-crater expedition months ago had yielded a fallen yew tree, and Kellan salvaged a section just in case. It had been curing slowly near the fire for weeks. Good springiness, no major knots. Perfect bow material.
He took the yew stave and a small clay pot of hide glue (rendered from deer hide scrap and resin) out to the workbench stump outside. The daylight was waning a bit into golden late afternoon, but the aura in the sky and occasional tremor reminded him it might be unwise to work too deep into night—who knew what nocturnal threats might roam during this upheaval. Better to finish as much as possible before nightfall.
Kellan clamped the stave down and began the shaping process. With a sharp iron carving knife, he shaved and thinned the wood along its length, forming the basic curve. As he worked, tiny yellow sparks flickered at the edge of his vision—each significant step in craftsmanship often triggered the system's acknowledgment of skill use. He welcomed those motes as silent encouragement. Bramble lay nearby, not resting exactly, but not interfering—his eyes tracking the tree line more often than Kellan's knife. The dog was on guard duty now, ears attuned for trouble while Kellan focused on the bow.
Once the wooden core of the bow was formed—a gently recurved shape about as tall as Kellan's own height—he prepared the composite layers. He didn't have horn to use for the belly (the part facing the archer), but he did have a coil of cured sinew from the elk he had refrained from killing but whose shed antlers he had later found (and one antler's sinewy attachments). Sinew would serve wonderfully for the backing (the part facing away, which experiences tension). He also had strips of that weightless alloy metal from the meteor—thin and flexible as copper foil, yet strong. A crazy idea struck him: perhaps he could incorporate strips of that metal along with the sinew backing to add strength. It was worth trying.
Working swiftly, Kellan applied a layer of hot hide glue onto the back of the wooden stave. The smell of heated collagen and resin wafted up—pungent but not unfamiliar. He laid the alloy strips down first, two narrow ribbons running along the limbs. Over these he layered teased fibers of sinew, pressing them into the glue. It was messy, sinew strands sticking to his fingers, but he got them all in place, creating a rough but even backing along the bow's length.
Normally, this would be the point where a bowyer would sigh and set the bow aside for weeks or months to let the glue cure fully. But Kellan had no such luxury. So he turned to the one force that had bent time for them before: core magic. From his pocket, he took out one of the refined white cores they had found in that tech pod. Refined cores were stable and potent—this one in particular glowed with a pearly inner light, signifying "advancement" in the Lexicon's terms. Perhaps it could advance time for this glue, or at least accelerate the drying process.
He held the white core a moment, focusing his intent like he had when imbuing enchantments. A system prompt glimmered faintly—something about Temporal Acceleration: Minor—yes, he'd seen that effect listed under white cores in the lexicon codex. This would do. He placed the core gently against the sinew backing and willed a release. The core dissolved into motes of soft light that sank into the bow. At once, the glue's shiny wet appearance began to dull, and the sinew fibers tightened as though months of curing passed in a heartbeat. Kellan watched in fascination as excess moisture steamed off. Within a minute, the backing looked and felt dry to the touch and bonded. A quick flex of the bow's limbs told him it had set properly—perhaps even gained a bit of extra springiness from the anomaly of time magic. He couldn't help but grin. Blue-tier Craftsman unlocked, the memory of the system message from when he first forged iron came to mind. He had certainly come a long way from banging rocks together.
Now came finishing touches: he scraped the grip area clean of glue for a comfortable hold and wrapped it tightly with a strip of leather for grip. He carved simple nocks at the limb tips for the bowstring. For the string, he chose a braided length of sinew that he'd prepared earlier. It was already strong, but on a hunch, he rubbed a thin coat of green healing salve along it. Sometimes, a tiny infusion of green core (life energy) in materials made them a tad more resilient. If nothing else, it would protect the sinew from drying out and cracking.
Stringing the bow took some muscle—always a test of a bow's poundage. Kellan set one end against the ground, used his foot and knee to bend the upper limb, and looped the string over the nock. It slid in snugly, the bow curving in a graceful arc. He eased off and held the completed weapon up, feeling its tension. A quick draw—he pulled it half-way—showed it had a stout draw weight, likely comparable to a war bow. He estimated perhaps 60 or 70 pounds of force at full draw. Enough to send an arrow clean through a man… or a lesser monster.
He glanced to the side to see Bramble watching him, tail wagging slightly as if he sensed the accomplishment. Kellan winked at the dog. "Not bad, eh?" Bramble barked twice, the equivalent of a cheer.
Dusk was falling now, and he knew he had to retrieve the bronze sword from the mold and finish it before dark fully set in. He moved back inside to the forge area where the bronze had long cooled in its sand. Brushing aside the sand, he extracted the rough-cast blade. It emerged dull and crusted with oxide, but intact. The form was as expected—slightly misshapen edges and extra metal from the pouring channel attached. Nothing a file and hammer couldn't fix.
Setting the blade on the anvil, Kellan went to work cleaning it up. He cut off the sprue, then reheated the blade until it was cherry-hot, and hammered gently to even out the edges and flatten any casting voids. Bronze was soft enough to work this way. Sparks flew (some more yellow skill pings danced at the periphery). After about an hour of alternating heating and hammering, quenching the blade in water, and grinding it on a stone wheel, the short-sword took on a far more formidable appearance. Double-edged, leaf-shaped like the old bronze swords of antiquity Kellan dimly recalled from history books, with a mid-rib for strength.
He crafted a hilt by taking two pieces of oak for grips and riveting them to the tang with small steel pins. The crossguard he kept simple: just a straight piece of iron flattened and slotted onto the tang before the grips. It wasn't ornate by any means, but when he gave it a few test swings in the firelight, the balance felt decent. The blade gleamed hungry and ready. Kellan gave it a personal touch by etching a tiny symbol near the guard: a stylized dog paw print on one side and a wolf's head on the other. Emblems of Bramble and the trials they overcame to make this weapon possible.
He sheathed the sword in an improvised scabbard of stiff canvas for now and belted it at his side. It felt reassuring there, a weight of authority and survival.
Night had fully fallen outside, but the clearing was aglow with a dim multicolored radiance from the celestial aurora and occasional sheet lightning flickering on the horizon. The air was heavy with tension. Small aftershocks still vibrated the ground every so often. Kellan was bone-tired, but there were still tasks to finish. He pulled a few of their homemade arrows from the quiver and tested them with the new composite bow. The first shot he loosed soared high and true, disappearing into the dark treeline with a satisfying thrum. Good. He adjusted the bow's string a tad to reduce twang and nodded. This would do nicely.
Bramble, who had been sniffing around at the darkness, suddenly went rigid. A deep, unfamiliar growl drifted from beyond the thorn fence. Kellan froze, hand moving instinctively to his new sword's hilt. The low growl sounded again, followed by the unmistakable coughing snarl of a large feline. Two yellow eyes caught a reflection of light between the brambles at the perimeter. The rogue cougar had returned.
Kellan's pulse quickened. This was the striped cougar that had been shadowing them for days, testing boundaries. It had never attacked outright—until perhaps now, emboldened by the chaos or hunger. Kellan realized the quake and flood might have disrupted the cougar's normal hunting grounds. Perhaps it was desperate. Nonetheless, it was here, and it had chosen its moment when day's bustle quieted and only the lonely night sounds and Kellan's forging glow gave them away.
Slowly, Kellan reached down and picked up his freshly strung bow instead of the sword. If he could scare it off or wound it from a distance, that might be enough. Bramble stood at his side, fur on end, a soft growl rumbling in his throat in answer to the cougar's challenge. "Easy, boy," Kellan whispered. Through the link, he felt Bramble's conflict: protect, but also something else—hesitation? Empathy? It was hard to parse.
Kellan nocked an arrow and called out toward the fence, "Get out of here! Hah!" His shout echoed off the dark trees. The eyes blinked, and a shape slunk into clearer view just beyond the thorns—a lithe, muscular feline form with a distinctive striped coat. It hissed at the sound, but did not retreat. Instead, it began to prowl left, circling the perimeter to find an entry. This big cat was not going to be intimidated so easily.
Fine. Kellan drew back the bowstring to his cheek, aiming for a point just in front of the moving silhouette. He loosed. The arrow whistled and disappeared into the night; a split-second later came a yowl of pain. He had hit his mark or near enough. The cougar snarled and charged forward, right into the thorn wall in its fury. The thicket shook as the beast forced itself partially through, snapping vines and thorns ripping at its fur. It was coming in!
Bramble sprang forward without waiting for instruction, rushing to intercept the intruder at the breech. Kellan tossed aside the bow and drew his short-sword with a steely rasp. Adrenaline erased his exhaustion in an instant. With sword in one hand and buckler on the other arm, he rushed to Bramble's side.
The cougar lashed out with a massive paw through the gap it had made, catching Bramble on the shoulder. The dog yelped, knocked aside by the blow, though his bronze shoulder plate likely saved him from a deep gash. Kellan saw a flash of striped fur and driven by protective fury, he slammed his shield forward into the gap to meet the cat. There was a thud as wood hit flesh; the cougar spat and withdrew a moment, then, with an agile bound, vaulted the lower section of the fence entirely, landing inside the perimeter with a heavy thump.
Now the animal was truly in their territory, a dark ghost crouched among them with ears flattened and tail lashing. It was bigger up close than Kellan expected—perhaps two meters from nose to tail tip, and half as tall as his chest at the shoulder. Its eyes were wild, and a broken arrow shaft protruded from its right haunch, explaining its rage.
It lunged at Kellan, fangs bared. He raised his buckler just in time; the impact was like being hit with a battering ram. He was driven back into the log bulwark, nearly toppling over it. Claws scrabbled at his shield, scraping the bronze rim, trying to get at the flesh behind. Kellan shoved back with all his strength, twisting to slash with his sword. The bronze blade sliced through the cougar's shoulder fur, drawing blood but only a shallow cut as the cat recoiled.
Bramble recovered and, lips pulled back in a snarl, went for the cougar's flank. He bit into the cat's rear leg, the same one already injured by the arrow. The cougar howled and kicked back, sending Bramble rolling, but the distraction allowed Kellan to reposition.
Sword and claw circled warily under the flickering aurora light. The cougar's tail twitched and its ears pinned; it was limping now on that hind leg, blood dripping from the arrow wound. Kellan had the advantage in that sense, but he felt a pang of reluctance to press it. This magnificent creature was not an evil monster spawned by the Lexicon. It was a native beast, fighting to survive the same chaos they were. In its eyes he saw pain and desperation, not malice.
The cougar feinted left then sprang right, faster than injured should allow, swiping at Kellan's midsection. He barely dodged, the claws tearing a line through his outer shirt. Before it could recover balance, he brought the pommel of his sword down hard between its ears. The cougar crumpled, dazed by the blow, one paw still feebly trying to bat at him.
This was the moment Kellan could end it. One thrust to the exposed flank or throat… The cat growled weakly, struggling to rise for another bout. Kellan raised his sword, heart hammering. Bramble limped to his side, panting, ready to back him up again if needed.
But Kellan hesitated, the point of his sword hovering over the cougar. The animal looked up at him and locked eyes. In those golden eyes, he saw not hatred, but a strange acceptance, perhaps even dignity. This proud predator would never beg, never flee—if he pressed the attack, it would fight to its last breath. But it also did not strike at this exact second; it just stared, chest heaving.
Bramble whined softly, drawing Kellan's attention. The dog stepped forward, interposing slightly between Kellan and the cougar, not aggressively but… protectively? He looked back at Kellan and through the link came a flood of impressions: Bramble's memories of playing chase with a fox in the bushes, of gently nosing a fawn that wandered near camp one dawn, of the times Kellan had calmed him and praised him for restraint around non-hostile wildlife. There was also something new—an almost human-like plea that Kellan not do this, not kill needlessly.
Kellan's grip on the sword slackened. The steel in his heart melted as he realized what he truly wanted. They had spilled enough blood to survive; maybe here, at the end of Tier-1, survival could be won by forging alliances too.
He slowly lowered his weapon. The cougar blinked in confusion, still crouched but wavering on its feet. "Go on," Kellan said in a low, gentle voice, sheathing his sword deliberately. "We don't have to do this. Go, heal, survive. Just… don't threaten us again and you'll have no quarrel from me." He prayed the animal could sense his intent.
He then did something risky: he stepped back, giving the big cat space, and motioned Bramble to stand down. Bramble obeyed, retreating to Kellan's side though he kept his eyes trained on the cougar.
For a tense few heartbeats, human, dog, and cougar remained still in the moonlit clearing. The cougar's ears slowly lifted from their pinned state. It sniffed at the air, perhaps surprised at this turn of events. Then with a chuffing snort, it limped backwards a few steps. Its gaze lingered on Kellan—cautious, puzzled, but no longer solely enraged. The tip of its tail flicked twice, and then it turned and hobbled back towards the gap in the fence. It paused long enough to bite the shaft of the arrow in its leg and yank it out with a twitch of its jaws. The cougar grunted at the flare of pain but continued on, slipping through the thorn breach and back into the darkness of the forest.
Kellan released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He felt Bramble lean against his leg, and he placed a trembling hand on the dog's head. "We did the right thing," he murmured, half to reassure himself. Bramble's agreement came through the bond, warm and approving.
He inspected Bramble under the glow of the banked forge fire— a shallow claw mark had raked the dog's shoulder where the bronze dog-plate didn't cover fully. It was already clotting and not too deep. Kellan fetched a bit of green moss salve and gently applied it, ruffling Bramble's fur. "You brave mutt," he said affectionately, "Always guarding me, hmm?"
As Kellan tended to the dog, a curious thing happened. At the broken gate where the cougar had breached, a small shape rustled. Kellan stood, ready in case the cougar came back for round two. But what emerged was far smaller and wholly unexpected: a red-furred fox poked its nose through the gap, sniffing cautiously. Kellan recognized it instantly by the white tip on its ear—this was the fox Bramble had befriended earlier in the summer. He had nicknamed it Soot because it often lurked near their fire pit hoping for scraps, and ended up with a dusting of charcoal on its coat once.
Behind Soot, a pair of timid rabbits edged forward, and above, on a low branch of an oak, an owl alighted, drawn by the commotion. It was as if the entire forest neighborhood had witnessed the confrontation and now came to see the outcome.
Bramble wagged his tail carefully (as not to aggravate his sore shoulder) and gave a soft bark in greeting. Soot the fox stepped fully into the clearing, eyeing Kellan with its bright, clever gaze before trotting over to nuzzle Bramble's snout in a familiar way. They had clearly crossed paths often—perhaps during Bramble's evening patrols, this fox had become a companion of sorts, chasing mice together or simply exchanging friendly signals across the woods.
One by one, the small animals crept into their camp. The rabbits kept a safe distance but nibbled on some clover by the fence, glancing about warily. The owl fluttered to the top of the thorn wall and perched, hooting quietly as if commenting on the state of affairs. Even an old badger emerged from under a bush, snorting as it waddled to lap at the water near the creek. None of these creatures displayed fear of Kellan or Bramble now; cautious respect, perhaps, but not blind terror.
Kellan was astonished. He and Bramble had worked hard to defend this territory, but in doing so they had apparently made it a haven not just for themselves but for other creatures as well—creatures who now seemed to tentatively accept them as part of the local circle of life rather than outside threats. Perhaps sparing the cougar, a top predator, had sent a ripple through the wildlife hierarchy, like some primal treaty being acknowledged by all.
He went back into the cave and fetched a few strips of dried fruit and meat. Kneeling down, he offered a fig to the fox. Soot tilted its head, then gingerly took the treat from his hand and chewed it. Encouraged, Kellan tossed a piece of jerky towards the rabbits; one boldly hopped forward to sniff it while the other kept watch. The braver rabbit began nibbling. Kellan chuckled softly. Had he become a feeder of forest creatures now, on top of everything?
Bramble sat proudly among his wild friends, looking for all the world like the captain of an odd little guard unit. Kellan could not resist a swell of pride and affection at the sight. Despite the grim countdown and looming perils, this moment felt like hope—community in the most unexpected form.
He didn't get a system notification for what had just transpired—no flashy "Animal Alliance Unlocked!" popped up. But he didn't need one. The evidence was right here around him in wagging tails, gentle hoots, and curious twitching noses. This was a quieter sort of magic at work, one that perhaps underpinned the entire system of the world: cooperation could be as powerful as conquest.
That night, Kellan decided to keep watch through the dark hours while Bramble and the animals rested. He sat by the faint glow of the forge, the new sword across his lap and the bow within arm's reach. Soot the fox curled up not far from Bramble by the cave entrance, and the rabbits nestled in a pile of leaves near the fence. Kellan could make out the silhouette of the cougar, just at the edge of the tree line, lying sphinx-like and observing the clearing. It hadn't left entirely. When Kellan met its eyes across the distance, it merely blinked slowly—a gesture of feline trust—before fading back into the shadows. Perhaps it too would play a part in guarding this place tonight, marking its territory in parallel with theirs.
Through the long night, punctuated by distant rumbles and one brief heavy rain shower, Kellan contemplated how much had changed since that terrifying first night he found himself in this world. Then, he had been utterly alone and every rustle in the dark was a threat. Now he had Bramble, and together they had made allies of the wild itself. He felt a deep ache at the thought of leaving this base they had built with such toil and love. But Tier-2 beckoned, and they would go—hopefully not alone, he mused, glancing at Bramble and the sleeping fox. At the very least, their bonds would travel with them.
By the time the auroras began to fade with approaching dawn on the final day, Kellan had dozed a little, still propped against the barricade. Bramble awakened him gently with a nudge as the first pale light crept into the clearing. The new day arrived to find their stronghold alive with small movements: the rabbits foraging quietly, birds fluttering overhead, and Bramble making his rounds alongside Soot as if conducting a morning inspection.
Kellan stood and stretched, armor and gear clanking softly. Far off, he heard what sounded like a long, resonant horn echo through the morning air. It might have been the wind… but a part of him believed it was the world's way of announcing the final daybreak of Tier-1. Hour Zero was approaching fast.
He inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of dew and the faint sweetness of crushed clover. He could almost pretend this was any ordinary peaceful morning at their home. But the slight tremor beneath his feet and the insistent blinking of 24:15:09 on the HUD when he checked reminded him: this was Lift-Day Eve, and by its end they needed to be gone.
"Let's get ready, Bramble," Kellan said with resolved calm. The dog trotted to him, the fox at his heels. They would break camp, pack what was essential, and gather their courage. The unknown awaited beyond that ascension platform—but they would meet it as they had every challenge here: together, hearts aligned, and with hope kindled by every friendship earned, be it human, animal, or something in between.
Chapter 18 – Lift-Day
Kellan woke to thunder and the smell of rain on the final morning of Tier-1. A slate-gray sky loomed above the clearing, the swirling auroras of the night before now dissipated into diffuse bands of color behind storm clouds. It was as if the heavens were gathering strength for a grand finale. A heavy drop splashed on Kellan's cheek as he stood at the cave entrance, surveying their camp one last time in the murky dawn light. Bramble pressed close to his side, silent but watchful. Around them, the motley collection of small animals stirred—the fox Soot stretching under the eaves of the lean-to, the pair of rabbits nibbling nervously at grass near the thorn fence, and a few sparrows fluttering among the tree branches. Even the striped cougar was out there at the edge of the clearing, just beyond the fence, its amber eyes occasionally visible when lightning flashed.
In the distance, a sonorous creaking groan reverberated—a gigantic tree falling somewhere in the forest, felled by saturated soil and repeated tremors. The ground underfoot vibrated almost continuously now with a low-frequency tremble, as if the whole land was idling, waiting to roar.
Hour Zero was only a few hours away. The HUD timer glowed in urgent red: 05:57:22… 05:57:21… Kellan had allowed himself a brief two-hour rest after last night's excitement, catching some sleep in shifts with Bramble and the fox keeping watch. It wasn't enough to fully refresh him, but his determination burned away any lingering grogginess.
He had work to do before they left this place forever. With a deep breath, Kellan turned back into the cave and knelt by the low light of a resin lamp. On the ground lay an array of items: a rolled bark scroll, tied with twine; a small leather pouch containing a handful of spare cores (two green, one blue, and one ordinary white—precious resources he could sacrifice for whoever might need them next); a flint and steel firestarter kit; and a simple bronze knife, one of the first they had forged together. These were the contents of his time-capsule cache, a survival kit and chronicle for any soul that might stumble upon this place after they were gone.
By the flickering lamplight, Kellan carefully unrolled the bark scroll one last time to review its contents. The writing was rudimentary—charcoal stick on cured bark, not the most elegant medium, but it would endure dryness and time better than plain paper (not that paper existed here). He had written in short, clear sentences:
To any survivor who finds this:You are not alone. This cave was our home. My name is Kellan, a human, and Bramble is my dog and partner. We survived here and ascended to the second tier of this world on Day 50 (Tier-1). Key lessons: Monsters drop colored cores with powers – Green heals, Blue crafts, Red strengthens, Yellow gives knowledge, White advances growth. Use them wisely. We built tools from stone, then copper, then bronze. Fire, shelter, water, and food are your first priorities. This cave is safe and reinforced. Thorn fence keeps most beasts out. Warning: Periodic events (quakes, floods) occur when trial timers end. Prepare before countdowns hit zero. We found three Lexicon Nodes (dungeon shrines) to earn our way out. Likely you must too. They are marked on the map inside the tech pod buried 10 paces north of the big oak outside. Help others if you find them. Trust your animal friends; Bramble saved my life countless times. You might find allies in unlikely places. We leave some supplies: cores, a knife, fire tools, and dried food in the clay pot. Good luck. Never lose hope. Perhaps we will meet someday beyond this place. – Kellan and Bramble.
Already, droplets of rain were blowing into the cave, pattering on the scroll and smudging a few fresh charcoal strokes. Kellan quickly rolled it up again and sealed it with a strip of tar cloth to keep moisture out. He gently placed the scroll into a clay pot along with the core pouch and fire-kit, then covered it with the knife and a wad of dry moss to cushion everything. On top of that, he set a flat shale stone as a lid, and tied the whole pot in a tight weave of vine to act as a carrier.
Outside, the wind was picking up. A gust sent leaves spiraling across the clearing and made the thorn-fence creak. Bramble helped Kellan dig a shallow hole at the back of the cave, under an overhang where it was unlikely to flood or collapse. Together they buried the cache, covering it with packed dirt and a stone slab. Kellan scratched a small X into the slab with the tip of his sword as a marker. It felt painfully inadequate—a few inches of earth separating these precious words from oblivion—but it was the best he could do.
Next, Kellan took a piece of charcoal and moved to the cave wall near the entrance. There, on the stone just beside the door frame they'd built, he scrawled a large symbol: two stick figures (one human, one dog) side by side, and a simple sun above them with rays. It was the same little "good luck" emblem Bramble had once paw-scratched in the dirt to cheer Kellan up (a memory surfaced of a rainy day when Kellan was frustrated, and Bramble drew something that resembled a smile). This pictograph would serve as a friendly welcome to anyone who found the cave.
Under it, Kellan printed in block letters of the common tongue: "SAFE SHELTER. FOOD & INFO BURIED HERE. YOU CAN SURVIVE." Even if someone who arrived couldn't read well, the symbols might guide them to the buried pot.
He stepped back and, satisfied with his final message, allowed himself a moment to feel the weight of it. This was goodbye. This cave, these walls darkened by soot from countless campfires, the scratch marks on the floor from Bramble's playful skids, the smell of herbs hanging to dry—this had been their haven. His throat tightened and he reached down to touch Bramble's head.
Bramble looked up at him, ears low. Through the bond flowed an echo of Kellan's sadness, but also reassurance. The dog gently mouthed Kellan's wrist in a gesture of comfort, then trotted outside and returned swiftly, holding something in his jaws. It was the crude stuffed doll Kellan had fashioned out of rags and straw for Bramble many weeks ago—a little "practice prey" toy to entertain him on quiet nights. Bramble carried it delicately and placed it at Kellan's feet, wagging his tail softly.
Kellan let out a small laugh that was half sob. "You want to leave this for them too, huh?" He knelt and petted Bramble's snout. The dog's eyes were soulful. Perhaps Bramble understood that new survivors might need a bit of comfort or simply he didn't want to leave part of his memory behind. Kellan picked up the toy and nestled it on a dry ledge just inside the entrance, visible to anyone who entered. A gentle souvenir of their time.
With that, preparations were done. It was time to go.
They gathered their gear, which had been pre-packed with care: a satchel with remaining dried meat, berries, and nuts; water skins refilled from the rain barrel; a coil of rope; the precious Lexicon map tablet; the enchantment table's rune etchings (Kellan had pried off a small portable panel with the key runes); and as many spare cores as Kellan dared carry without overburdening them. He had the hybrid Alpha core from the wolf guardian safe in a padded wrap at his belt—who knew what use it might have in Tier-2. Bramble wore his harness strapped snug, holding a little pack with his share of supplies (mostly some bandages, a small pouch of dried liver treats, and one of the refined green cores for emergencies).
Kellan donned his armor: a layered leather tunic reinforced with bronze scale patches over vital areas, the iron breastplate (their one prized heavy armor piece) fitted over that, and his trusty boots and greaves. He secured his new bronze short-sword at one hip and his long knife at the other, slung his composite bow and quiver of arrows across his back alongside the reloaded crossbow (it was heavy and awkward to carry both bows, but he decided to bring the crossbow for its sheer power if needed). Lastly, he slung on his shield and adjusted the straps of his pack.
Standing at the mouth of the cave, he looked every bit the seasoned ranger or perhaps a bronze-clad knight of this wild realm—a far cry from the ragged, disoriented man who had stumbled in here with nothing but a broken spear and a wounded dog weeks ago. Bramble moved to his side, wearing his little bronze chest plate and a jaunty green bandana around his neck (a recent gift from Kellan, dyed with herb extracts). On impulse, Kellan knelt and unclipped the bronze medallion they'd fashioned as Bramble's "dog tag" and pressed it into the soft earth by the entrance. It bore Bramble's name crudely engraved. If someone found this place, they should know who helped guard it. Perhaps it would even serve as proof to any future rescuer that someone had been here and moved on.
Thunder rumbled overhead and the patter of rain intensified. The allied animals had sensed the impending departure and gathered loosely around the clearing. The fox Soot watched from atop the log pile, the rabbits and a pair of squirrels huddled under the eaves of the storage lean-to, the owl perched on a fence post, feathers ruffled against the rain. Even the cougar had drawn nearer, just within sight at the far side of the creek, limping but determinedly upright. It was uncanny—like a small honor guard assembled to see them off.
Kellan approached the group of creatures. He extended his hand, palm up, in a gesture of gratitude and farewell. "Thank you," he said softly. He wasn't sure how much they grasped, but he put feeling into that simple phrase. They had helped more than they knew—with vigilance, companionship, or simply reminding him and Bramble that they were part of a larger world.
Bramble stepped forward and touched noses with Soot. The little fox gave a bark and ran in a circle around Bramble's legs, perhaps sensing the goodbye. The rabbits thumped their hind legs and dashed off into the underbrush—safer to hide than travel in the open storm, and that was fine. The owl took off suddenly, flying into the trees, perhaps scouting ahead. The cougar, eyes locked with Kellan's, dipped its head slowly as rainwater streamed off its whiskers. Kellan could almost imagine it was acknowledging them, and he bowed in return, rain plastering his hair to his forehead.
No more time could be spared. The latest map check indicated increasing quake frequency and water rising in low areas. Kellan knew if they did not leave now, they might lose their window to safely reach the Ascension Lift.
"Come on, Bramble. Time to move," he said, voice raised over the downpour. Bramble gave one last sniff at the air of their home, then shook off the wet from his coat as if shaking off reluctance, and bounded after Kellan as they crossed through the gate and out of their fenced haven.
Almost immediately the environment tested them. The once-familiar path from their cave down towards the central meadow had transformed. The trickle of a creek they had crossed countless times was now a chest-deep torrent, swollen by the broken dam upstream. Kellan led Bramble and Soot (the fox had decided to trail along for now) a bit upstream to a narrower section that wasn't raging as fiercely. There, a large pine had fallen across the banks, forming a slippery but serviceable bridge. One by one, they balanced their way over—Kellan first, using his spear as a staff, then Bramble, claws scraping but finding purchase in the bark. The fox hesitated, so Kellan quickly knelt, coaxing it. Soot leapt into his arms with a little scramble, surprising him, and he carefully carried the fox the rest of the way and set it down on the far bank. "Stay safe, little one," he whispered, giving it a final scratch behind the ears. The fox licked his hand once then darted off into a copse, looking back only briefly. It seemed that beyond the bounds of their camp, the wild creatures would peel away to survive in their own ways. Kellan hoped he'd meet this brave fox again, maybe in another place.
They pressed onward. Overhead, lightning spiderwebbed across the unnatural firmament, illuminating rolling clouds. The promised lift column was active now—Kellan glimpsed it in those flashes: a distant pillar of golden light connecting sky and earth at the center of the region. It pulsed, a beacon calling them.
The journey was both surreal and perilous. The forest heaved and shifted around them as if alive. In one grove, Kellan and Bramble had to weave through trees that were literally uprooting and tilting, their root networks pulling free of the soil with loud cracks. One enormous oak slumped down just moments after they passed it, crashing behind them and splattering mud for meters. The ground where it fell began to buckle, forming a new ridge—Kellan realized the earth was not just shaking but restructuring, possibly breaking apart to form floating chunks for the next tier or collapsing unused sections. It lent a sense of urgency: Tier-1 was literally coming apart at the seams now that its challengers had departed.
Navigating through this chaos, Kellan was grateful for the map's foresight earlier. The worst quake zones they avoided by skirting eastward around a valley that now resembled a crater. They did have to ford another spontaneous stream where water poured from a crack in a hillside—a new spring birthed by the shifts. Bramble bravely swam across with a rope in tow so Kellan could hold steady against the current, and they both emerged soaked but undeterred.
Allied help came in small but meaningful ways. The owl from camp reappeared and hooted insistently, circling above a certain direction when Kellan was considering another. He trusted the bird and changed course to follow its lead—and soon realized the owl had guided them away from a morass of quicksand-like mud that had formed in a low-lying hollow. Later, as they clambered over a pile of boulders that had tumbled from a broken cliff, a lithe shadow joined them quietly: the cougar. Kellan tensed momentarily, but the big cat merely watched as Kellan struggled to find a stable route for Bramble. At one point, Bramble slipped on slick rock and couldn't gain traction to jump to the next ledge. With a startling grace, the cougar bounded down, paused on a rock above Bramble, and extended a single massive paw—not with claws, but padded—to brace the dog's hindquarters, boosting him up. Bramble scrambled onto the ledge, then turned and gave a soft "woof" that might have been thanks. The cougar huffed and quickly leapt away, disappearing once more. Kellan could only shake his head in wonder. The "strange ally" indeed had chosen coexistence.
They encountered few living monsters—most of the usual predators seemed absent, likely sensing the impending upheaval and hiding or migrating. Once, a pack of small reptilian scavengers (creatures Kellan recognized as opportunists that usually trailed after great beasts) skittered across their path, but upon seeing Kellan and Bramble, gaunt and wide-eyed as the creatures were, they opted to flee rather than challenge them. It was as if even the hostile fauna had lost the will to fight in the face of the world ending around them.
The storm worsened as they closed in on the central zone. Sheets of rain pelted them, and the wind whipped so fiercely that branches tore off overhead and flew like spears. One such branch nearly struck Kellan, but Bramble barked a warning and Kellan raised his shield in time to deflect the jagged wood. The branch shattered against the bronze-banded oak, jolting Kellan's arm but leaving him unharmed. "Thanks," he gasped. Even in pandemonium, their teamwork persisted.
Finally, as midday approached (though the gloom of the storm made it feel like dusk), the treeline began to thin and the ground leveled out. They arrived at what once was a gentle meadow stretching toward the center of the map. Now it was a battlefield of elements. A large portion of the meadow was flooded; water cascaded in from two directions, forming a temporary lake dotted with debris—there, half-submerged, was the thatch roof of a structure or hut Kellan had never seen before (perhaps revealed by receding foliage or belonging to someone else?). Off to the right, a geyser of steam erupted from a crack, indicating perhaps magma not far below or a pressure vent releasing. The land was literally tearing open its secrets.
At the very center of this expanse stood the object of their journey: the Ascension Lift. It appeared as a circular stone platform about ten meters in diameter, raised on a dais of ancient granite blocks. Around its perimeter, monolithic pillars had stood—only two remained upright, the others fallen or leaning precariously. The platform itself glowed with a network of spectral glyphs across its surface, similar to those at the Lexicon Nodes but far more elaborate. They interlaced in concentric circles, all coalescing into a central sigil that shone bright white.
Above the platform, reaching up into the storm clouds, was the column of golden light Kellan had spotted. It wasn't solid; it shimmered like a beacon or a tornado of luminescence. Occasionally, streaks of energy crackled up and down within it, and Kellan thought he could see shapes—like floating stones or debris—being drawn upward within the column, vanishing from sight.
A profound hum filled the air, emanating from the lift—just at the edge of hearing, but felt in the bones. It reminded Kellan of standing under high-tension power lines back in his old world, an electric thrum of enormous potential.
Kellan and Bramble approached with both awe and caution. The ground around the dais was fractured but mostly stable, as if this spot was intentionally kept intact amidst the ruin. The last stretch was through knee-deep water swirling around chunks of stone. Kellan held Bramble's collar to steady him as they waded. Strangely, the closer they got to the platform, the calmer the water became, as if some force was smoothing it.
They reached the base of the dais and climbed the slick steps. Rain was coming down in torrents now, but as Kellan took the final step onto the platform's surface, he noticed he was suddenly dry. He glanced at Bramble—Bramble's sodden fur was now merely damp, drying rapidly. A translucent dome of faint light was emanating from the perimeter of the lift, repelling the rain. It was active, shielding itself and now them from the external deluge.
Bramble shook himself, water flinging off, and together they walked to the center of the lift. Kellan's heart pounded with a mix of excitement and trepidation. This was it. They had made it.
All around the dais, the world continued to collapse: one of the remaining upright pillars finally succumbed to gravity and toppled with a resounding crash; a bolt of lightning ripped through a nearby copse of trees setting them ablaze even in the rain; the floodwaters around the dais crept higher, forming a whirlpool where multiple currents met. But within the boundary of the platform, there was an eerie peace.
Kellan knelt and touched the central sigil. It was a triangular symbol interlocked with a circle—perhaps representing the union of the three keys. As his fingers brushed it, the humming sound intensified and the glyphs on the platform flared brighter. A gentle upward pressure began to build, like a buoyant force under his feet.
Bramble whined softly, looking up at Kellan. Kellan placed a hand on Bramble's back. "Ready, boy?" he asked quietly. The dog licked his soaked chin (somehow he always found the one spot the rain shield missed) and then faced forward, tail giving a single confident wag.
The final seconds ticked away. Through the thinning veil of clouds above, a beam of pure sunshine suddenly pierced down, striking the golden column and turning it incandescent. Hour Zero. The ground outside the platform bucked in a massive quake—Kellan's eyes widened as he saw the meadow's far side split open, a yawning chasm consuming the burning trees and the mysterious hut roof in one gulp. But the platform remained steady, locked in place by whatever power now governed it.
A resonant tone like a great bell sounded from everywhere and nowhere. The glyphs beneath their feet shifted patterns rapidly, as if calibrating. Kellan felt a weightlessness creeping over him. Pebbles and loose debris on the dais began to levitate a few centimeters off the surface. Bramble gave a startled huff as his front paws left the ground briefly; Kellan quickly wrapped an arm around him and held tight.
Slowly, with a grace that defied the surrounding chaos, the entire circular platform detached from its dais base and began to ascend within the column of light. Kellan's stomach fluttered; he had the sensation of being on a gentle rising elevator. He and Bramble were now floating upward along with the platform—beneath them, the ground fell away. Water and rocks slid off the edges of the rising lift, cascading back to the earth below.
The view expanded in dizzying panorama. They rose higher than treetop level, giving Kellan one last sweeping look at Tier-1. Much of the land was shrouded in storm and dust, but he could make out the glimmer of their distant valley, now an expanding lake; the ridges that had once housed Lexicon Nodes; and beyond, the curvature of the Dyson-sphere's horizon flickering with energy discharges. The world was resetting or disintegrating now that its challengers had departed.
Bramble pressed against Kellan's side, and Kellan wrapped an arm around the dog, anchoring them both on the platform's center. Neither truly needed anchoring—some gentle force kept them stable despite the lack of walls or railings. Still, the gesture was comforting for them both.
As they ascended through the broken cloud layers, golden light washing over them, Kellan's emotions swelled. They had survived. More than that—they had grown, and even helped others in their own small way. Tier-1 was ending not with their deaths, but with them moving on to new horizons.
He took one last look downward. Through the parting clouds he glimpsed a final sight: The entire Tier-1 landscape below glowed with a blinding light, as if inundated by an explosion or perhaps a grand reformatting. For a moment it was like looking at a sea of white and gold. Then the platform rose into a layer of dense fog and the view was gone.
Upward they went, faster now. The humming became a harmonious chord, and the golden light around them shifted to a stark white. Kellan's body felt paradoxically light and heavy at once—gravity itself transitioning. Bramble whimpered slightly at the odd sensation but stayed calm in Kellan's embrace.
Through the white glow around them, Kellan started to discern new shapes above—a patterned ceiling or floor of another realm coming into focus. Glyphs different from those of Tier-1 danced in his peripheral vision, perhaps welcoming sigils of Tier-2. The air changed too; what was damp and rain-chilled became thin, crisp, and tingling with energy, as though charged with a million ions.
Kellan realized he was holding his breath in anticipation and finally let it out. A laugh bubbled from his lips unbidden—relief, triumph, anxiety for the unknown ahead, all mixing together. He looked at Bramble, meeting the dog's bright eyes. "We did it, buddy," he said softly. Bramble gave a short, joyful bark. If there was ground, he'd probably be dancing in circles; instead his tail wagged furiously against Kellan's hip.
The radiance intensified, enveloping them fully. Kellan could make out nothing but swirling light now. The platform beneath their feet seamlessly melded into the glow. It was as if they stood in the heart of a star.
He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking of the cave, of the messages he left, of the friends and foes and wonders of Tier-1. It felt like both an eternity and an instant since it all began. Change was scary, yes, but this time, he felt ready. More than ready—eager. Whatever Tier-2 held, he and Bramble would face it together with all they'd learned and earned.
Kellan opened his eyes as the ascent slowed, a new surface solidifying beneath and around them. The whiteness began to resolve into distinct shapes, colors—new ground, new sky. His heart pounded with excitement and perhaps a touch of fear at the alien landscape starting to form.
He placed a hand on Bramble's ruff, steady and sure. Bramble leaned warmly into his side, ears perked forward, nose sniffing at the strange new air of Tier-2.
"Onward, then," Kellan whispered, a grin tugging at his face.
As the platform continued to rise and the world he knew fell away, Kellan couldn't help but grapple with a surge of bittersweet emotion. He peered over the edge of the ascending disk, through the fading rain, and caught a final glimpse of the ground below. There, amid the swirling floodwaters and crumbling earth, he saw a solitary figure that made his chest tighten: the striped cougar had climbed onto a high boulder and was staring upward along the beam of light. For a moment, through the haze of distance, man and beast locked eyes one last time. The cougar let out a resonant roar — whether a farewell, a blessing, or a challenge, Kellan could not say. It echoed up the lift column until the roar became part of the thunder.
Kellan raised a hand in salute, his throat too constricted to speak. He hoped, absurdly, that the fierce creature might somehow survive the cataclysm below, or that the system would give it some merciful release. Bramble pressed comforting weight against Kellan's leg, sharing in the poignant goodbye. Through the link flowed a gentle understanding: we carry their memory forward.
It struck Kellan then that leaving Tier-1 was not just about leaving a place, but leaving behind friends — wild and strange as that word might sound for them. Each had played a part in his and Bramble's story. He thought of Soot the fox, so clever and bold; of the owl guiding them through the storm; of even the shy rabbits and how their timid hope had given him quiet comfort. He thought of the countless nights by the fire with Bramble at his side, of scribbling notes on bark by flickering light, determined to decode the Lexicon runes. All of that was now behind them, existing only in memory and in the marks they'd left for others.
A subtle chime drew his attention — a delicate series of notes ringing inside his mind. Startled, Kellan realized it was the system interface offering something it had not before: a summary. Perhaps because they had completed a Tier, the constraints on knowledge were loosening. Translucent text scrolled before him, faint against the bright surroundings:
Tier-1 Trial Complete!
Achievements:
Survivor: Tier-1 Cleared (First Cycle) Lexicon Adept: All Node puzzles solved without external aid Beastfriend I: Form alliance with local fauna
Skills Improved: Blades (Bronze) – Proficient Bowcraft – Adept Smithing (Metallurgy) – Adept Survival (Wilderness) – Expert Party Bond (Canine) – Rank II
Overall Level: 5 → 6
Rewards: Allocated in Tier-2 inventory.
Kellan blinked in amazement, trying to absorb the list as it faded quickly. A warm pride blossomed in him—these dry words represented so many stories, so much effort. He glanced at Bramble. "Beastfriend," he murmured with a soft smile. "Looks like the system noticed after all." Bramble tilted his head, not understanding the specifics but sensing Kellan's tone, and gave a short happy bark, as if agreeing that yes, they were friends to beasts—and to each other most of all.
The mention of Party Bond Rank II resonated; at that moment Kellan felt a surge of even greater empathy flowing between him and Bramble. The psychic link was strengthening, expanding in a way that he sensed might allow deeper communication. In Tier-2, who knew what they might achieve together—perhaps full spoken thoughts or new combined abilities. The thought excited him.
Another line from the summary lingered in his mind: Rewards allocated in Tier-2 inventory. He wondered what that entailed. Would gear or supplies be waiting for them? Or perhaps attribute boosts? The system remained cryptic, but at least it confirmed they wouldn't start the next Tier empty-handed. They had earned boons, and Kellan resolved to put them to good use.
Buoyed by that knowledge, he allowed himself to fully face forward, toward whatever lay ahead above. The fear of the unknown still fluttered in his stomach, but it was tempered by confidence. If Tier-1 had been any indication, he and Bramble possessed the resourcefulness and heart needed to overcome what came next. And this time, they carried wisdom with them: experience hammered in fire, lessons written in blood and friendship.
The white brilliance around them began to soften into distinguishable colors. In that transitory light, Kellan saw his own reflection faintly superimposed—a lean, weathered face with determined eyes, Bramble's silhouette beside it. They looked every bit like a seasoned adventurer and his guardian hound from a saga. How many others like them were ascending now from other corners of this Dyson-sphere world, rising from other platforms? The smoke column on the ridge so long ago suggested other survivors. Perhaps Tier-2 would bring them face to face with those fellow travelers. The idea filled Kellan with anticipation. He imagined exchanging stories with another person around a campfire, pooling knowledge of the system and maybe even finding camaraderie beyond Bramble. The prospect of new allies—and alas, possibly new rivals too—awaited.
As the last tendrils of Tier-1's storm peeled away, Kellan gave himself permission to grieve briefly for what was lost. A tear mingled with the light on his cheek as he whispered a goodbye to the only world he had known here so far. "Thank you," he breathed, echoing the sentiment he'd scratched onto the cave wall. Thank you to the soil that fed them, to the river that watered them, to the foes that honed them and the friends that helped them endure. Tier-1's hardships had sculpted him from a desperate survivor into a true explorer and protector.
Bramble nudged him gently, breaking his reverie. Kellan realized the ascent was nearly complete; shapes solidified above—a vast expanse of land, fresh and green under a strange new sky coming into view. He stood upright, shoulders squared, and rested his hand on the pommel of his sword in a gesture of readiness.
He looked down once more, but nothing remained visible of Tier-1—just bright cloud cover below, like a veil drawn over a finished chapter. "Farewell," he whispered, not in sadness now but in respect. Then he faced forward again, heart thundering with excitement.
They passed through a shimmering boundary—like the surface of water—and suddenly the platform floated to a gentle halt. The blinding light dimmed to a golden sunbeam, and the world of Tier-2 greeted them in full.
Colors surged into reality: the sky was a rich gradient of lavender and turquoise with two soft-glowing orbs (perhaps twin suns, or a sun and a large moon) hanging opposite each other. Air that smelled of spice and ozone filled Kellan's lungs. Before them stretched rolling hills carpeted in tall grass the color of amber, dotted with enormous trees whose canopies swirled in fractal patterns. In the far distance, impossibly tall mountain peaks encircled the horizon, their sides glinting with what might be cities or crystal formations. High above, floating archipelagos of rock and water drifted lazily—literal islands in the sky, connected by what looked like vines or bridges of light. It was breathtaking and alien and beautiful.
Kellan noticed details rapidly as his senses adjusted. Enormous iridescent insects flitted among the grass—one, resembling a dragonfly the size of a sparrow, whirred past his shoulder, its gossamer wings leaving a trail of shimmering pollen. In the middle distance, a herd of creatures cresting a golden hill caught his eye; they moved like deer but were taller and bore multiple pairs of slender horns that crackled with tiny sparks. Far above, he could make out shapes gliding between the sky-islands. At first he thought them birds, but their wingspans were far too broad—perhaps flying reptile-like beasts or even artificial craft designed by whatever intelligence shaped this world. The notion sent a thrill through him.
On one of the nearest floating isles, he spotted a structure jutting against the sky—a graceful arch or tower spire, gleaming white and gold. Civilization of some kind existed here. Whether it was abandoned like the Lexicon ruins or thriving with inhabitants, he would soon discover. The faint sound of a distant horn or trumpet drifted on the breeze, so ethereal he wondered if he imagined it or if someone, somewhere, was truly signaling the dawn of Tier-2.
Not far from where they stood, a smooth black monolith rose knee-high out of the amber grass. It bore a single rune on its face, glowing softly. Kellan approached and recognized it as the same triangular Tier emblem of the keys that had been on the Ascension platform. Below it, in flowing script, was an inscription in common language: "Welcome, Challenger, to Second Ring." Kellan read it and exchanged a look with Bramble. The journey's next phase was officially underway.
They stepped off the platform onto soft, springy ground—Tier-2's grass felt like a carpet underfoot. The platform that had carried them dissolved behind them into motes of light, having delivered its passengers and fulfilled its duty.
For a moment, Kellan and Bramble simply stood side by side, gazing out at the new frontier. Both were damp-eyed—whether from emotion or the residual sting of bright light, it did not matter. Kellan rested a hand on Bramble's head. "We made it," he murmured. The words were half a statement, half a vow.
Bramble answered with a short, happy yip and nudged Kellan's hip, urging him onward. There was an entire new world waiting to be discovered, after all.
Kellan adjusted the strap of his pack, feeling the reassuring weight of their hard-won tools and treasures. He could already see nearby what looked like a path of strange luminescent stones winding into a grove of colossal ferns. A sign? An invitation? The system's way of guiding newcomers on Tier-2? He chuckled. "Well, partner, shall we see what adventure Tier-2 has in store for us?"
Bramble bounded ahead a few steps, then turned to look back at him, tongue lolling in a doggy grin. Through the link came a pulse of eagerness—Forward! it seemed to say.
Kellan took his first step onto the path, Bramble trotting at his side. Behind them, the last traces of the ascension light winked out, and with it, the final remnants of Tier-1 faded into memory.
As man and dog ventured together into the unknown wilds of Tier-2, the storm in the lower realm gave way to the promise of a bright new chapter. Whatever challenges waited beyond those fern trees—be they fiercer monsters, deeper mysteries of the Lexicon, or other survivors—the two were ready. They carried with them the legacy of all their trials, the strength of their bond, and the simple, profound hope that had seen them through the darkest nights.
Together, Kellan and Bramble advanced, hearts unyielding, into the dawn of a new world.