The Guardian sat cross-legged on the broken floor three feet in front of her.

  He raised one hand and moved it slowly through the air.

  Sound followed. Gears turned somewhere deep in the structure. Massive. Grinding. The noise echoed through the chamber, like machinery forced awake after centuries of silence.

  "Thank you," the Guardian said, his voice carrying that same warmth that contradicted everything she'd just witnessed, "for giving me a few minutes of your time."

  She didn’t respond. She just watched him. Napoleon’s legs tightened against her shoulder.

  He gestured around the chamber at the destroyed floor, the bodies, the dust.

  "You have a short time to speak with me, then you need to leave this place."

  She could feel the vibration through the floor now as whatever machinery had started was growing stronger.

  "I should introduce myself," the Guardian said. "We are the Guardian. A part of him."

  He went silent and just sat there, watching her with that smooth white face.

  The vibration of the machinery filled the gap between them.

  She didn't understand why he'd stopped talking or if he was waiting for something.

  Is he expecting me to speak?

  "I'm called the Operator," she said finally. "Or I call myself that."

  Behind her, sound changed as stone ground against stone. She turned and saw the massive rocks that had been blocking the main entrance moving, being pushed outward by something she couldn't see. The entrance opened wide and clear with nothing beyond except darkness.

  She turned back. "What’s…”

  "Given the limited time we have," the Guardian said, "this zone will transport to where it needs to be, and the process has already begun."

  He looked at one of the six clones standing nearby and gave a small nod.

  The clone moved immediately, walking to where her pack and supplies sat against the wall, gathering everything in its arms, and bringing it all back to place in front of her.

  The Guardian raised his hand again.

  A barrier formed around them, enclosing her, the Guardian, Napoleon, and the six clones.

  Then wind came from the giant entrance, strong and pulling backward, sucking inward instead of blowing out.

  The hundreds of bones scattered across the floor began to move, sliding and tumbling toward the darkness while oxidized metal parts followed along with debris and dust, all of it getting pulled toward that black opening and disappearing inside.

  Within seconds, the floor around them was clean.

  The Guardian continued as if nothing had happened. "May I see the hammer? I assure you I will return it."

  She looked at him. At the six clones. At the wind still pulling debris past their barrier.

  If I say no, what happens?

  She didn't want to find out.

  She pulled the hammer from where she'd secured it and held it out.

  The Guardian took it with both hands and turned it slowly, examining the surface, the engravings, the weight of it while his fingers traced the words carved into the handle.

  "Simple words," he said quietly. "But perhaps, with time, you will learn to read the words between the words."

  He looked up at her. "This hammer is anything except simple."

  "What do you mean, words between words?"

  He didn't answer and just opened his eye.

  The black eye split wide across his face and everything changed.

  The air around her became thin and hard to breathe, like the atmosphere had been sucked away. Everything moved in slow motion: the wind pulling debris, the dust particles floating past, Napoleon's legs shifting on her shoulder, all of it crawling through time at half speed while the Guardian's eye stayed fixed on the hammer in his hands.

  Then he closed it.

  Everything snapped back to normal. Air returned and time moved right again.

  He handed the hammer back to her.

  "You are the first I have seen," he said, "where a First Alloy cried for its new owner."

  She took the hammer. The metal felt warm against her palm.

  "This is the fourth First Alloy," the Guardian continued. "Congratulations. And thank you for allowing me to see it. The other three owners, when they received theirs thousands of years ago, never let them leave their hands. Even for a moment."

  She opened her mouth to ask what a First Alloy was.

  "I am unable to tell you how the relationship between a First Alloy and its owner will develop," he said before she could finish forming the question. "That depends entirely on you."

  He paused.

  "One piece of information I can provide: what you did earlier with the hammer, don't expect that to happen again for some time."

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  She started to ask another question. He raised his hand.

  She closed her mouth.

  So much mystery about everything. Great. Just great.

  His attention shifted as he looked at her chest now, staring at the center of it.

  Her hand moved instinctively to cover the spot. "What are you…”

  He stood and walked toward her while his eye opened again.

  That same feeling hit her as the air thinned and time slowed, everything crawling.

  She felt Napoleon tense and felt his legs shift as he prepared to attack.

  "DON'T," she said, her voice sounding stretched in the slow-motion air. "Napoleon, don't do anything."

  The Guardian reached out with one hand as his fingers moved toward the center of her chest.

  Then his hand went through her skin with no resistance, no blood, no tearing, his hand just passing through like her body wasn't solid, like she was made of smoke.

  Pain exploded in her chest, sharp and tearing, like something was being ripped out from the inside.

  It lasted one second.

  He pulled his hand back out and between his fingers sat a tiny fragment, purple and glowing faintly, the piece the alpha spider had put in her heart to heal it.

  Her shirt had torn where his hand passed through with the fabric hanging open, but there was no blood and no wound, like nothing had happened.

  "Your organ is fine," the Guardian said. "You no longer need this." He looked at the fragment. "And I cannot allow you to remain connected to the system."

  He opened his eye and dropped the fragment into the black void inside.

  She had questions, so many questions, but every time she started to form one in her mind, she got the sense that asking would be pointless, like he already knew what she wanted to ask and had decided against answering.

  The Guardian's attention shifted again. "Tera," he said. "That is correct, yes?"

  He moved one finger and her HUD activated, the display she thought was private and that only she could see appearing in the air between them where both of them could view it clearly.

  "Although I am an enemy of the system," the Guardian said, "there are rules that governed this place long before the system arrived. One of those rules is that the competition must be fair for all participants."

  His voice changed. Became heavier and more commanding.

  "I demand that you stop hiding the Operator's level. It is acceptable that you block the system's access to her. That is useful to me. However, it is only fair that all participants know the levels of everyone competing. Including her."

  He paused.

  "This is an order."

  Letting everyone see her level meant they would all know she wasn't Level 0 hiding somewhere. They would know she was active. Killing and evolving. Moving through the trial like everyone else.

  They would hunt her.

  "Isn't it unfair that something like you attacks the participants?" she said. "Even if you're an enemy of the system, you're still interfering."

  The Guardian tilted his head. "I operate under two rules. The first, you do not need to know. It involves the security of this entire evolution zone from entities that would seek to control or damage it. In this case, the system itself."

  He raised a second finger.

  "The second rule: the evolutionary competition must remain fair for all. As it has been for thousands of years."

  He lowered both fingers.

  "My first directive sometimes requires me to bend the second. There will come a point where many of those competing could become stronger than I am."

  "That's hypocrisy," she said.

  "I am aware," the Guardian replied. "This is one of the rare moments where I can enforce my second directive properly. And I demand that it be fulfilled."

  She didn't care about his reasons. Didn't care about his rules or his directives or any of it.

  She looked at him with pure anger. "Tera. Do it."

  Done, Tera said.

  The Guardian opened his eye and looked upward. After a moment, he closed it again.

  "Confirmed," he said. He looked back at her. "Everyone outside now knows that the engineer is evolving. They are responding."

  He stood. "I appreciate your time, and you should leave. You have twenty minutes before this entire area transports to another location."

  The Guardian turned and began walking toward the wall he'd emerged from earlier.

  She stood as well. "WAIT."

  He stopped and turned slightly.

  "If everything here operates on the principle that it must be fair for everyone," she said, her voice rising, "then I demand an explanation. What's happening outside? Why are they fighting each other? The evolution. All of it. Everyone out there seems to know except me. I demand to know why I'm going to be fighting."

  The Guardian turned to face her fully. "Your question is valid. I will answer it. This is common knowledge."

  He gestured around the chamber.

  "Everyone fights to evolve as much as possible. Evolution decides everything for millennia: who leads outside this zone, who survives, who rules. The group that achieves the highest evolution gains the power and strength to defeat all others, and those strong enough can claim..."

  He pointed at the hammer in her hand.

  "A First Alloy, like the one you hold, which you obtained without fighting for it, without the battles that left hundreds dead in this chamber. In all that time, only four First Alloys have been awarded."

  He paused.

  "The arenas made the decision to give you a First Alloy. Which tells me your achievements, Operator, are connected to actions you took before you arrived here. Wherever you came from."

  The Guardian turned again and walked toward the wall while the six clones followed him. They reached the stone and passed through it like ghosts, disappearing one by one until only empty air remained.

  She stood there, processing what he'd said.

  If they find out about this hammer...

  If they know what it is...

  What they'd do to me for it.

  Then the Guardian's voice came from nowhere. From everywhere. Like it was coming through the walls themselves.

  "One final piece of advice, Operator."

  She spun around. He wasn't visible anywhere.

  "When you reach Level 10," the voice continued, "if you reach it, do NOT accept the evolution tree."

  She opened her mouth. "What do you mean…”

  Silence.

  He was gone.

  "Tera," she said quickly. "Start a countdown from when he said twenty minutes. We need to get out of here."

  Countdown initiated, Tera responded.

  She dropped to her knees and started going through her supplies.

  Her mind wouldn't stop replaying the Guardian's words.

  First Alloy. Hundreds of people killing each other for it. And I just... have one.

  She pulled out a piece of fabric from her pack, and grabbed another. Started laying things out.

  She needed a better way to carry everything as the scattered packs and loose supplies wouldn't work. She needed something consolidated, something she could run with.

  A backpack.

  She pulled out one of her papers and used a pen to sketch quick lines: basic structure, straps, main compartment, side pouches.

  Tera should add another ability: CAD drawing hands.

  The joke fell flat even in her own head as the pressure of what she'd just learned sat too heavy.

  She grabbed the dagger she'd taken from the Apex's owner and started cutting while the leather from the old packs came apart in strips, thick enough to be useful and thin enough to work with.

  "Napoleon," she said. "Look at this sketch. Can you help me sew?"

  "Yes, Operator."

  She cut more strips, smaller ones for stitching, and handed them to Napoleon along with the first pieces of leather she'd prepared.

  Napoleon began joining them together with his legs, moving quickly while she cut and prepared the next sections. They worked in rhythm: her cutting and handing pieces over, him stitching them together.

  The backpack took shape.

  Seven minutes remaining, Tera said.

  She finished the last cut and Napoleon completed the final stitches. The backpack wasn't beautiful or perfect, but it would hold everything and she could wear it while moving.

  She started packing: the hammer went in first, then tools, the remaining leather scraps she might need later, food, water container, everything she had.

  The pack settled onto her back, heavy and manageable.

  The machinery sound around her had grown louder and the floor vibrated constantly now.

  Five minutes remaining.

  She looked at the spear where it lay against the wall. It was too long, too awkward, impossible to carry with everything else.

  She left it there and ran toward the holographic wall that hid the stairs.

  The chamber hummed as the sound of gears had become almost deafening.

  If I'm still here when this place moves...

  She didn't know what would happen and didn't want to find out.

  She hit the stairs and started climbing up toward the forest, toward whatever waited outside, toward everyone who now knew her level.