We walked in silence for most of the morning.
It wasn't awkward — just… quiet. The kind of quiet that comes when everyone's trying to listen to a world they don't fully understand yet.
The storm had passed, but the air still crackled with something cold and ancient. Like the land itself wasn't done punishing us.
The snow stretched endlessly in every direction, untouched and gleaming under a pale, glassy sky. Somewhere far off, a shape that might've been a mountain — or something worse — cast jagged shadows against the horizon.
"How big is this quadrant, exactly?" I asked, adjusting the strap on my pack.
"This entire map is four times the size of your Earth," Lyssira answered without slowing her pace. "Each quadrant is vast beyond measure. But the terrain shifts. Changes. What you see today may not be there tomorrow."
"So... nothing is stable."
"Nothing except the center," Tairo added. "The Tree."
I'd seen it once, faint and distant — a silhouette stretching into the heavens, too far to reach, but impossible to ignore. Even from here, it felt like it was staring at me.
"Is that where the tournament ends?" I asked.
Tairo gave me a sideways glance. "No one knows. But every quadrant points there. We assume... it's important."
The snow crunched beneath our feet, but even that small sound was swallowed by the vastness around us.
And maybe that's why I heard it.
Faint. Barely a whisper.
A click.
I stopped walking. "Did you hear that?"
Lyssira paused beside me, head tilting slightly.
"What was it?" she asked.
"Like… clicking. Metal on stone. It was fast."
Tairo turned slowly, eyes narrowing.
"We're being watched."
I scanned the ridges around us. White. Endless. Silent.
But then I saw it — a flicker. A gleam of something not natural. Something too sharp to be ice.
A tall, thin figure, almost like a silhouette of wires and bones, crouched on a distant ledge. Its head twitched, then vanished.
"What the hell was that?" I breathed.
"Stalkers," Tairo said grimly. "They belong to the Phasari Brood — a race of sentient parasites. They don't engage unless cornered. But if they think you're weak..."
He trailed off.
"They swarm."
We kept moving after that. A little faster. A little quieter.
The snow no longer looked peaceful. It looked like cover. A hiding place for things that didn't breathe, didn't sleep, and didn't care if you screamed.
"How many races are aggressive like that?" I asked eventually.
"Over half," Lyssira said. "Especially in the early phases. The longer you survive, the more organized your enemies become. The first culling stage is already underway."
"Culling?" I echoed.
"This map isn't infinite," she explained. "And neither is time. The tournament won't wait for the weak to catch up. Every few weeks, an environmental surge, monster wave, or systemic collapse clears out the lower ranks. If you're not evolving... you're eliminated."
I didn't respond.
Because the truth was—I hadn't evolved since the Titan.
And I didn't know if I could do it again.
Later that evening, we made camp near a shattered ice canyon. Lyssira erected a barrier of woven mana that shimmered like glass and smelled faintly of wildflowers. It kept the cold out and noise in.
I sat by the fire again, staring at my hands.
"You're not weak, Zavier," she said, as if reading my thoughts. "But you're still new. You don't know this place yet."
"I don't know anything," I said. "About the races. The way things work. This whole multiverse thing... it's too big."
"It is," Tairo said, stirring the fire with a long, charred branch. "Most people are born into it. You were thrown in blind."
"So how do I survive it?"
He looked up, meeting my eyes.
"You learn. You adapt. And when the time comes… you decide what you're willing to become to stay alive."
That night, I dreamt of the Tree.
It stood tall in the center of a burning battlefield, branches reaching across space like arms trying to hold reality together. Around it — shapes. Races. Beings made of flame, bone, light, void.
They fought endlessly beneath its roots.
And above it all — four enormous seals.
Dragons.
Chained. Watching. Waiting.
And in the middle of them… was me.
Eyes glowing.
Changing.
Becoming.
I woke in a cold sweat.