Chương 19: Era 4

The morning sun didn't rise in the Ironwood forest so much as it invaded. It pushed its way through the interlocking canopy of grey branches, filtering down in thin, anemic beams that offered light but very little warmth. Zander opened his eyes. He was perched forty feet in the air, nestled in the crook of a massive, petrified-looking branch. The rope securing his waist to the trunk was taut, digging slightly into his hip, but he barely registered the discomfort. It was Day 10 after the System's arrival.

The first week had been a blur of adrenaline and near-death experiences. It had been a chaotic scramble to understand the rules of this new reality before it chewed him up. But chaos, if survived long enough, eventually settles into a pattern. Zander unclipped his safety line with efficient, practiced movements. The forest below was a sea of grey trunks and shadows, silent as a graveyard.

"Breakfast," he muttered, his voice raspy from disuse. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a strip of dried meat. It was dark, almost black, and as hard as boot leather. Stone-Hide Bear meat. He bit into it, his jaw working hard to tear the fibrous muscle. It tasted like old jerky seasoned with dirt and iron, a far cry from the processed foods of his old life. But as he swallowed, he felt the heavy thrum of energy hitting his stomach. It was dense fuel for a dense body.

He washed it down with a swig of tree sap he had collected the night before. The sweet, amber liquid cut through the taste of the meat. He sat there for a moment, legs dangling over the abyss, chewing methodically. Hunt. Eat. Sleep. Refine. The routine had calcified. The forest was no longer a nightmare realm that defied logic; it was just his office. It was a hazardous workplace, sure, but one with rules he was beginning to master.

He knew which roots were hollow, which shadows hid teeth, and exactly how much noise he could make before attracting a Stone-Hide Bear. Over the last couple of days, he had methodically dismantled a half-dozen straggling beasts, mostly oversized beetles and a very unlucky, overly aggressive badger, grinding out the final bit of experience required to push himself to level 9. He finished the last bite of bear meat and wiped his hands on his pants. He was about to swing down to the trunk when his vision glitched.

It wasn't a dizzy spell. A rectangular blood-red window manifested silently in the center of his field of view, overriding the grey bark of the Ironwood tree. [Planetary Integration Status Report] System Date: Era 4, Cycle 9, 402, Day 215 Local Time: Day 10 of Earth-7 Integration Initial Population: 8, 274, 065, 924 Sanctuary Protocol (Age < 10): 1, 247, 203, 481 Status: Successfully transferred to Nursery Planet Sigma-4. Subjects are in stasis pending return to Earth-7.

Casualties: 1, 756, 715, 611 Current Active Participants: 5, 270, 146, 832 Survival Rate: 75. 0% (Within Expected Parameters) System Assessment: Earth-7 Integration Proceeding Standardly. Average Survivor Level: 4 Highest Recorded Level: 38 Mana Density: 12% (Rising) Note: A cycle is 400 days, and each era has lasted millions of cycles so far. Zander stared at the floating text.

"Era 4," he whispered. The numbers were incomprehensible. If a cycle was 400 days, and an era lasted millions of cycles... He did the mental math, and a cold chill that had nothing to do with the morning air settled in his marrow. The System had been running for hundreds of millions of years. Earth wasn't just late to the party; it was a speck of dust on the timeline of a machine that was older than the continents he walked on. Earth-7.

He hadn't particularly focused on that designation, which was also on his status. It implied six previous iterations. Had there been six other Earths? Or just six other planets in this specific sector? And if this machine had been grinding for eons, where were they now? His eyes dropped to the casualty count. 1, 756, 715, 611 One point seven billion people. Dead. In ten days. That was nearly a quarter of the human race, wiped out in less than two weeks. It was a number so large it defied imagination.

But for the System, it wasn't a tragedy; it was a statistic. Survival Rate: 75. 0% (Within Expected Parameters) System Assessment: Earth-7 Integration Proceeding Standardly.

"Standardly," Zander hissed, his grip tightening on the rough bark of the branch. To the System, the extinction of nearly two billion lives was just a Tuesday. It was "within parameters." It was a cold, unfeeling verification that they were nothing more than data points in a cosmic simulation. There was one mercy, though. The Sanctuary Protocol. Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators! 1. 2 billion children. They weren't dead. They were in stasis.

"Nursery Planet Sigma-4." Zander didn't have children, but the relief that washed over him was palpable. He imagined the playground silences, the empty schools... at least they weren't being digested by Ironfang Squirrels. Parents would be losing their minds, desperate and grieving, but there was hope. A promise of return. Then, Zander looked at the levels. Average Survivor Level: 4 He nodded slowly. He was level 9. He was ahead of the curve, sitting comfortably in the upper percentile.

That validated his struggles. The pain, the near-death fights, the constant refining of his skills; it was paying off. But then he saw the next line. Highest Recorded Level: 38 Zander froze.

"Thirty-eight?" The number felt like a slap in the face. He had fought tooth and nail for every scrap of experience. He had killed beasts and turned himself into a living weapon just to reach level 9. Who the hell was level 38? Was it a human who spawned in a nest of easy XP? A military unit with heavy weaponry that actually worked? Or was it something else? A monster that the System counted as a "participant"? Whatever it was, the gap was terrifying.

If he ran into a level 38 entity right now, his chances of survival would be slim.

"I'm not the apex predator," Zander realized, the arrogance of the last few days evaporating instantly.

"I'm just a slightly bigger fish in a very, very deep ocean." The notification flickered and vanished, leaving Zander alone with the silence of the Ironwood forest. The sense of insignificance lingered, but then came a new resolve. The System didn't care much if people lived or died. It considered a 25% mortality rate "standard."

"Screw that," Zander growled. He wasn't going to be a casualty statistic. And he wasn't going to settle for being level 9 while someone else was already level 38. He needed to check his own progress. He needed to make sure his math was right. Because if he was going to survive in a universe that viewed billions of deaths as "standard procedure," he needed every single point he could get. He brought up his status.

Name: Zander Edwards Level: 9 Class: BloodForged Lord (Rare) System Coins: 520 Unspent Stat points: 2 Stats Might: 22 Resilience: 20 Will: 55 He stared at the unspent stat points. There was a beautiful, symmetrical number 2 sitting there.

"The math checks out." Back at level 5, he had theorized about his class progression. The BloodForged Lord class granted him a massive 5 points of Will per level, plus "1 Free Point for every 4 Will points gained." That meant he was accumulating a fraction of a point with every level up. Level 6 left him with 0. 25. Level 7 left him with 0. 50. Level 8 left him with 0. 75. Level 9...

"Completes the circuit," Zander said, a smile returning to his face.

"One full extra point." Now came the allocation. He stared at his physical stats. Might: 22 Resilience: 20 The urge to balance them was strong. The fight with the Stone-Hide Bear a couple of days ago was still fresh in his mind. He remembered the bone-rattling impact of its paw, the way he had been swatted into the cave wall like a ragdoll. Even with his Resilience brought to 25 via [Mind's Dominion], the kinetic energy had nearly turned his organs to jelly. Logic dictated he should pump Resilience.

Survival meant enduring.

"No," Zander murmured. Enduring was a losing game. The System's report had made that clear. 1. 7 billion people had likely tried to endure, and they were dead. The level 38 out there somewhere hadn't gotten there by tanking hits. Or maybe he or she did, Zander thought. His fight with the Centipede, and later the Bear, had taught him a valuable lesson, though. The fights he finished quickly, the ones where he acted as a hammer and a scalpel, were the ones where he walked away with the most Health.

"Dead things don't hit back." He needed to hit harder. He needed to be strong enough to crack the granite plating of a bear without needing a running start. He needed to be fast enough to put the dagger in the brain stem before the enemy knew he was there. He focused on Might.

"All in." He dumped both free points into the stat. Stats Might: 24 Resilience: 20 Will: 55 Zander flexed his fingers. He didn't feel a sudden surge of Popeye-like strength, but he felt a tightening in his core, a sense of density in his muscle fibers. With [Mind's Dominion], he could transfer 10 points of Will into Might instantly.

"Twenty-four base," he said.

"Plus five from the transfer. That puts me at twenty-nine combat Might." Satisfied, Zander dismissed the screen and pulled his backpack onto his lap. It was getting cluttered. He rummaged through the contents, organizing the dried meat, the water bottles, and the trophies he had collected. His hand brushed against cold metal. He pulled out the [Ring of the Scavenger]. The simple copper band glinted in the dappled light. +10 Dexterity. It was a king's ransom of stats for a piece of jewelry.

For a normal person, this ring would turn them into an Olympic athlete overnight. He sighed and slipped it onto his finger, just to check. Maybe level 9 changed something. Maybe his blood had mellowed out.

'ding' Foreign magical influence detected. [BloodForged] has nullified its effect. Zander felt... absolutely nothing. The surge of agility the ring promised was strangled in the crib by his own bloodline.

"Stubborn," he muttered, pulling the ring off and tossing it back into a side pocket. It was a useless trinket to him, nothing more than currency for a civilization he hadn't found yet. Next, he pulled out the [Stone Heart]. The fist-sized crystal pulsed with a slow, grey light, heavy with earth mana. It felt like holding a condensed brick. [Identify] still insisted it could be used as a "Crafting Material."

He briefly considered trying to eat it, his stomach had handled poison bulbs and raw monster meat, but chipping his teeth on a rock didn't seem like a wise start to the morning. He shoved it back into the bag. Finally, he drew the [Ironfang Dagger]. This was the only "gear" that mattered. No magic, no enchantments. Just a piece of extremely hard, extremely sharp bone wrapped in leather.

"Good morning to you too," he whispered. Physical tools for a physical fighter. That was his lane. Zander sheathed the dagger, untied the safety rope from the trunk, coiled it with practiced speed, and shoved it into his backpack. He stood up on the branch, balancing easily on the grey wood, and took a deep breath, tasting the ozone and pine.

"Time to go." He looked down. Forty feet of grey trunk separated him from the forest floor. A week ago, this would have been a terrifying descent. Now, it was just a commute. He swung himself over the edge, digging his fingers into the rock-hard bark to control his slide. He dropped the last twenty feet in a free fall. Thud. He landed in a crouch, his reinforced shins absorbing the impact with the indifference of hydraulic shocks. He didn't even feel a sting. He checked his mental compass.

The Apex Predator quest tugged at his gut, a relentless magnetic pull leading him deeper into the grey.