The Nexus lights faded behind them, leaving the team blinking in the sterile corridor. The silence felt

  heavier than usual, filled only by the hum of recirculated air. Rixor broke it first.

  “Two powers,” he said, thumping a fist against his chest plate. “I’m telling you, unstoppable.”

  Nyra rolled her eyes. “Give it a day before you start glowing again.”

  He grinned wide. “Can’t help it. Feels good.”

  They reached the cafeteria, the smell of nutrient rations mixing with the sharp tang of solvent from

  freshly cleaned armor. The group slid into their usual corner booth, trays forgotten halfway between

  bites. Rixor was still talking.

  “Lightning and Durability. No one’s gonna touch me out there.”

  Nyra shook her head. “Two days ago, I didn’t have any unlocks. Now I’ve got two. Still can’t believe

  it.”

  Liora looked up from her cup. “Unlocked my second one yesterday. Didn’t think it’d ever happen.”

  For a moment, they all smiled, tired but proud. Then the talk faded, all eyes shifting to Bash.

  “So,” Rixor said, “what’s the plan tomorrow?”

  Bash leaned back, calling up the projection from his wrist display. “Next highest distribution: Damage over-Time/Poison at ten percent, Force at six. After that, Thorns and Reflective Shell, both around 1.7

  %.”

  He paused, letting the numbers hover between them. “After those, the rest drop below half a percent.

  Unlocking anything from that pool is practically chance.”

  Calen leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Then why bother? We’ve already got a lineup of abilities

  that work. Why not focus on refining what we’ve got?”

  Nyra cut in before Bash could answer. “Because Bash hasn’t unlocked yet.” Her tone was matter-of fact, not pitying. “We keep going until everyone does.”

  Liora nodded immediately. Darik followed with a quiet “Agreed.” Even Taren, usually neutral, gave a

  slow nod.

  Calen’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

  Bash gave Nyra a small nod of acknowledgment. “Then we keep moving. S-C, options?”

  Portal 531 hosts DoT-dominant fauna, the voice answered in his mind. Forty-five percent probability of

  Tier One or higher resonance. Portal 769 contains Force and Reflective Shell types, thirty percent

  combined Force, seven percent Reflective Shell.

  Bash repeated it aloud. “Five-three-one gives us better odds, but seven-six-nine adds coverage for two

  traits.”

  Rixor shrugged. “We’re hitting both eventually. Pick one.”

  Bash nodded once. “Then we start with 531, follow the probabilities down.”

  The decision hung there a second, final and unchallenged.

  They finished their meals in relative quiet, trading low jokes about frogs and lightning-proof dragons

  before heading back to the dorm wing.

  Morning came fast.

  The team’s gear checks were mechanical now, quick, precise, practiced. Power cells, ammo counters,

  hydration lines, armor vents. Every motion had weight but no hesitation.

  By the time they reached the portal registration hall, they were a blur of coordinated efficiency.

  “Squad 09-Kappa,” Bash said.

  “Authorized for portal 531,” the drone replied. “Another team entered the same portal yesterday. No

  return signal logged.”

  That drew a few looks.

  Rixor raised a brow. “Still in there?”

  “Status unknown,” the drone said flatly.

  The team exchanged silent glances. Bash made the call. “Then we go 769. No point doubling risk.”

  The drone produced a familiar white extraction beacon. Bash clipped it to his belt.

  The escort led them to the assigned chamber. Fifty portals lined the walls, all pure white, identical,

  silent. Theirs pulsed faintly at the far end.

  No one spoke.

  They stepped through.

  The disorientation hit like always, weightlessness, spin, then impact.

  Bash landed on his feet this time, mud splashing up his legs. “Think I’m starting to get the hang of

  this.”

  One by one the rest appeared around him, shaking off dizziness.

  “Status,” he said.

  “All green,” Taren replied. “Vitals stable. Gear intact.”

  The smell hit next, wet earth, decay, stagnant water. A swamp stretched in every direction, thick with

  reeds and moss-coated trunks. Huge trees rose from black pools, their roots twisted like skeletal hands

  gripping the mud. Insects swarmed the air, their hum blending with the croak of unseen creatures.

  “Map,” Bash said.

  A pale grid unfolded before him, dotted with markers. “Pack five klicks north.”

  They all thought the same thing, the summoner’s pack from before, but no one voiced it.

  “Not likely,” Bash said anyway. “Let’s check it out.”

  They moved through knee-deep sludge, boots sinking with every step. The humidity clung to their

  armor vents; faint mist rolled across the surface of the water.

  When they reached the coordinates, the swamp opened into a patch of solid ground ringed by twisted

  trees. Fifteen massive warthogs rooted through the mud, their hides thick and gray, eyes glowing faint

  yellow.

  “Force types,” S-C confirmed.

  “Fifteen targets,” Bash said. “We hit fast.”

  The team spread out and descended.

  It was over in minutes. Every strike landed clean. Calen’s arrows pierced skulls; Nyra’s rifle thundered

  in rhythm with Taren’s pistols. Rixor’s hammer shattered ribs in single blows. Liora and Darik cut

  through the flanks like dancers, blades carving arcs of precision.

  Bash moved at the center, silent, efficient, each knife throw snapping back with surgical precision.

  Every kill sent pulses into his chest. Force types confirmed, S-C relayed, emotionless. Tier One

  Common. No unlock detected.

  He didn’t answer.

  When the last beast fell, the air stilled.

  “Too easy,” Rixor said, laughing.

  “Way too easy,” Calen added, kicking a carcass.

  Their motions had been fluid, no wasted effort, no stray shots. It was almost disappointing.

  They harvested the tusks quickly, the fifteen fragments stacked and logged before Bash opened the map

  again.

  “Another pack, three klicks east,” he said.

  The swamp thickened into wide canals. Lightning flickered faintly above the treetops, reflecting across

  the water. As they approached, ripples spread, then shapes emerged beneath the surface.

  Crocodiles. Dozens of them. Some thirty meters long, others even larger, scales glinting like armor.

  “Force types again,” S-C noted.

  “Looks like fifty, maybe a hundred,” Calen said.

  “Positions,” Bash ordered.

  The first one lunged before he finished speaking. The fight exploded.

  Calen and Nyra dropped targets in perfect sequence, bullets and arrows splitting skulls. Rixor waded

  into the shallows, each swing of his hammer breaking bone and throwing geysers of black water. Liora

  and Darik tore through the sides, weapons grinding through scale and muscle.

  Bash’s knives cut through the air, the Razorvein dragging through flesh before snapping back in trails

  of steam.

  Pulse after pulse hammered into his chest, constant, numbing, relentless.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “Tier One Greater,” S-C reported. “Resonance stable. No unlock.”

  He barely heard it over the chaos.

  Fifteen minutes later, the canal was still. The water ran red, corpses drifting like massive barges.

  The team stood in the shallow current, breathing hard but unscathed.

  “That it?” Rixor asked.

  “Looks like,” Bash said, voice flat.

  They harvested quickly, pulling teeth and storing the fragments in sealed pouches, ninety-seven in total.

  “Target marker, two klicks west,” Bash said after checking the map. “Single reading.”

  “Let’s move,” Nyra said.

  The trees thinned until the swamp opened into a wide basin of still water. Mist clung low to the surface.

  “Nothing,” Liora said after ten minutes of searching.

  “Map’s wrong,” Calen muttered.

  “Maybe under the water,” Bash said.

  Nyra raised her rifle and fired a round into the center of the lake. The blast sent ripples outward,

  nothing else.

  Rixor laughed. “If you want to find what’s down there, you gotta make it nervous.” He crouched at the

  edge, pressed a palm to the surface, and let a spark jump from his fingertips. Lightning spidered across

  the water, then vanished.

  He jerked his hand back with a grunt. “That actually stung.”

  Reflective response detected, S-C said immediately. Likely Reflective Shell variant.

  The water erupted like an explosion, throwing mud and reeds in every direction. The turtle broke the

  surface in a thunderous surge, its massive shell glistening like wet stone. Every breath it took sounded

  like the grinding of mountains.

  “Positions!” Bash shouted, dropping into a crouch as the beast’s roar shook the ground.

  The creature’s neck extended, jaws slamming down where Rixor had been standing a heartbeat earlier.

  The impact sent shockwaves through the swamp, uprooting trees and spraying black water in sheets.

  “Keep it physical! Anything else will bounce back!” Bash relayed instantly.

  The team moved like a machine.

  Calen’s blades cut through vines as he sprinted left, drawing its focus.

  Nyra’s rifle cracked, the shock-round biting into its eye ridge with a burst of sparks.

  Rixor followed the opening, hammer slamming into its jaw with enough force to split stone, but the

  blow only staggered it.

  “Shell’s too dense!” he shouted.

  “Then hit the gaps!” Bash barked.

  Darik and Liora darted in from opposite sides, slashing at its exposed limbs. Sparks flew where steel

  met scale, the strikes scoring shallow grooves but no real damage. The creature bellowed, sweeping its

  massive head in a wide arc that sent a wall of water crashing over them.

  Taren’s pistols flared, controlled, rhythmic, each shot a healing burst that reinforced their armor’s

  resilience.

  “Keep your spacing!” she warned. “Those limbs will crush anything in reach!”

  The turtle’s foreclaws slammed down again, gouging craters into the swamp. Mud and debris erupted

  skyward.

  Bash dashed through the chaos, knives snapping from his hands in silver arcs. One embedded in the

  creature’s throat, another at the hinge of its jaw. Triggering Razorvein, the blade grinding deep before

  snapping back, leaving a smoking line across its flesh.

  The turtle hissed, the sound like steam under pressure. Its shell flared with a faint shimmer, light

  bending along the surface.

  Reflective resonance active, S-C reported. Avoid energy projection entirely.

  “Already on it,” Bash muttered, ducking as a massive tail swept past, missing by inches.

  Rixor roared, lightning dancing along his hammer as he swung, but the reflection threw the bolt back,

  slamming into the ground at his feet. He twisted, using the rebound to vault upward, driving the head of

  his hammer into the beast’s eye. The impact shook the swamp, ichor spraying in arcs.

  “That got through!” he shouted.

  “Press it!” Bash commanded.

  Nyra’s rifle snapping with each shot. The bullets ricocheted off the shell but forced the turtle’s head

  lower, exposing its throat again.

  “Now!” Bash yelled.

  Liora and Darik surged in tandem. Their blades carved twin lines along the creature’s neck, meeting in

  the center in a burst of black blood. The turtle screamed, its head thrashing wildly, tail lashing through

  the trees.

  Bash moved.

  He leapt onto the ridged shell, sprinting toward the head as Rixor slammed another strike into its flank.

  The beast turned, mouth open wide in fury.

  Bash didn’t hesitate. He threw a knife straight down its gullet. Razorvein ignited, the sound of metal

  grinding against bone echoing through the swamp. The turtle convulsed, thrashing once, twice, then fell

  still.

  The shockwave of its death rolled through the water, pushing ripples to the tree line. Bash dropped to

  one knee, catching himself against the shell as the final pulse tore through him, deep, resonant,

  overwhelming.

  Reflective Shell signature confirmed, S-C said in his mind. Tier One Apex. No unlock detected.

  He didn’t answer. The pulse had left him shaking, but he forced his breathing steady, scanning the

  others. All standing. All calm.

  The massive corpse hissed faintly, steam curling off the surface where its energy still bled away.

  “Hell of a fight,” Rixor said, slinging his hammer over one shoulder.

  “Long one,” Liora added. “Felt like hitting a wall that hit back.”

  “Yeah,” Bash said quietly. “But we broke it.”

  The swamp was silent again, save for the slow hiss of rain hitting cooling stone.

  He didn’t respond.

  Rixor exhaled, mud-splattered but grinning. “Big, but slow.”

  “Long fight, not a hard one,” Liora said, wiping her blade clean.

  They pried a single sharp tooth from its jaw, the fragment, still flickering faintly with light, and Bash

  held it until it condensed into a small trinket. He pocketed it silently.

  The trek back to the portal took two hours. They moved in near silence, the air thick with humidity and

  fatigue. Bash counted the weight of the fragments in his pack, fifteen Common, ninety-seven Greater,

  one Apex.

  At the gate, the white portal pulsed like a beacon through the mist.

  “Let’s go home,” he said.

  The transition was smooth, the chill of the Ark replacing the swamp’s suffocating heat.

  They turned in their fragments, then endured the Nexus scan. S-C blurred the same truths, smoothed

  the same fractures, hid the same pain.

  By the time they reached the cafeteria again, even Rixor’s energy had dulled.

  “Nothing,” Calen muttered, stabbing at his food.

  Nyra sighed. “It’ll happen. We’ve gone through half the ability sets already.”

  Bash didn’t answer. His eyes were fixed on the reflection in his cup, still, empty, unreadable.

  When the payouts came, each received thirty-four fragments. It barely felt worth it.

  They finished quietly, each lost in thought, and drifted back to their dorms.

  Tomorrow would bring another portal. Another fight. Another chance.