Thorne stared at me like I’d just sprouted a second head.
Arms crossed. Jaw tight. Eyes sharp and suspicious.
She wasn’t just curious.
She knew something was wrong.
“You want to explain where the hell you just came from?” she said flatly.
I swallowed hard, my mind scrambling for something—anything—that didn’t sound completely insane.
The aftershocks of the glitched portal still clung to me, a faint static hum under my skin, like reality hadn’t fully let me go.
“I—”
I cleared my throat, trying again. “I was… nearby?”
Thorne raised one unimpressed eyebrow.
“Nearby?” she repeated slowly, tasting the word poison on her lips. “Felix, you didn’t walk up. You didn’t teleport in. You just… appeared. No portal. No spell trail. No system marker. One second there was nothing, the next—” she flicked her fingers in the air, “poof. There you were.”
I shifted my weight, forcing my breathing to stay steady. “Maybe… you just missed the portal?”
“No.”
Her voice was sharp, certain, leaving no room for argument. She took a step closer, the tension rolling off her in waves.
“I don’t miss portals, Felix.”
I opened my mouth—then closed it.
Because… yeah. That was the problem, wasn’t it?
She should have seen it.
Even if the portal was unstable, even if the dungeon was glitched… she should’ve seen something.
Except—
I blinked, the realization hitting me like a punch.
The portal hadn’t been normal.
It wasn’t the usual shimmering blue of a solo instance.
It had been darker.
Deeper.
Purple.
I’d never heard of a purple dungeon portal before. Not in my research, not in rumors, not even in the crazy tall tales that got passed around by Chosen desperate to one-up each other.
Maybe it wasn’t just glitched.
Maybe it was invisible—to everyone but me.
The orb in my pocket pulsed.
A slow, cold knot tightened in my gut.
Thorne was still watching me, arms crossed so tightly it looked like she might crack her own ribs.
Waiting.
Judging.
I rubbed a hand down my face, stalling for time.
“I found a dungeon,” I said finally, picking my words carefully. “It wasn’t like the normal ones. It was… broken.”
Thorne’s eyes narrowed. “Broken how?”
“Glitched,” I said. “The portal barely stayed stable. The whole place was flickering in and out. The system didn’t recognize it properly.”
I hesitated.
“And maybe… maybe it wasn’t visible to anyone else.”
Her jaw tightened. “That’s not how portals work.”
“Yeah, well,” I muttered, “apparently no one told this one.”
I left out the parts about the corrupted messages.
The warning about the reset cycle.
The fact that the system itself had called me an unknown variable.
No need to freak her out more than necessary.
No need to admit how deeply, irreversibly screwed I probably was.
Thorne stared at me through squinted eyes. “And you thought it was a good idea to dive headfirst into a glitchy, invisible dungeon all by yourself?”
I offered a weak, sheepish smile. “In hindsight… probably not my brightest moment.”
She exhaled through her nose, slow and heavy—the sound people made when they were trying very, very hard not to strangle someone standing right in front of them.
“I swear to the gods, Felix. One of these days, you’re going to get yourself erased.”
“Not today,” I said, forcing my grin to stay in place even as my chest tightened.
She didn’t smile back.
 
The silence stretched between us, brittle as glass.
I shifted my weight, suddenly hyper-aware of every heartbeat pounding behind my ribs.
Thorne didn’t say anything. Just kept watching me with that same steady, unnerving stare, like she was waiting for me to crack under my own weight.
And maybe I was.
Because if that portal wasn’t visible to her…
If it wasn’t registered by the system…
If it had only appeared to me…
Then it wasn’t just a glitched dungeon.
It was something else.
Something meant for me.
My fingers twitched at my sides. I tried to tell myself I was imagining things—that maybe it had glitched for other people too, that maybe it was just unstable and weird and unlucky.
But deep down, I already knew better.
The portal had been waiting for me.
The artifact had hummed when I found it.
The dungeon hadn’t just appeared.
It had called to me.
The system had made sure no one else could follow.
No one else could even see it.
I wasn’t just wandering into accidents anymore.
Something was pulling me deeper.
And I had no idea if it was trying to help me…
Or bury me.
 
Then Thorne tilted her head slightly.
“You gained levels.”
It wasn’t a question.
It was a fact.
I hesitated. Then nodded.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “A lot.”
Her mouth pressed into a thin line.
“You’re what now? Level twelve? Thirteen?”
“Thirteen,” I admitted.
Her eyes flickered, something unreadable passing across her face.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Not jealousy.
Not admiration.
Worry.
Real, honest worry.
And for the first time since stepping out of that glitched nightmare, a flicker of fear twisted low in my gut.
Because if Thorne was worried—
I should be terrified.
 
I shifted awkwardly under Thorne’s stare, the weight of everything I wasn’t saying pressing heavier and heavier against my ribs, threatening to burst out.
She crossed her arms again. “You’re hiding something.”
“Not—” I started, then caught myself.
Because lying to Thorne was about as useful as throwing daggers at a brick wall.
She just kept watching me, steady, patient.
Not demanding an answer.
Not threatening.
Just… waiting.
I hated how much that made me want to spill everything.
Instead, I just shrugged helplessly. “It’s complicated.”
Her mouth twitched. “Seems to be a common theme with you.”
Before I could figure out what the hell to say next, a cold ripple ran down my spine.
A system notification.
I stiffened instinctively, the hairs on the back of my neck rising.
And then—
the text flashed across my vision.
 
[System Quest: Unauthorized Entry]
Status: Active
Objective: Explain your presence in a restricted area.
Description: You entered a location that was not designated for Chosen access. The system has flagged this anomaly for review.
Certain individuals may seek to investigate your actions.
Warning: If left unaddressed, this may escalate.
Failure Consequence: Potential Death.
 
I blinked.
Read it again.
Nope. Still terrible.
The words Potential Death burned at the bottom of the message, cheerful as a gravestone.
My stomach twisted into a hard, cold knot.
Thorne was still talking, still asking something—but her voice sounded muffled, like I was hearing her from underwater.
I barely registered it.
Barely heard anything at all over the roaring in my ears.
The system didn’t hand out quests like candy.
It didn’t warn you unless something serious was coming.
And this?
This wasn’t a warning.
This was a death sentence with my name already halfway written on it.
“Felix.”
Thorne’s voice snapped me back to the present, sharp and cutting.
She stepped closer without me noticing, her face suddenly way too close, her eyes searching mine.
“What’s wrong?”
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
I could tell her.
I could show her the quest.
But some small, stubborn part of me clamped down, hard.
This wasn’t her problem.
I wasn’t going to drag her into whatever mess I’d just unleashed.
Instead, I forced a shaky smile.
“Nothing,” I said. “I’m fine.”
Thorne stared at me for a long, long moment.
Then she shook her head and turned away, muttering something under her breath about idiots and death wishes.
The moment she wasn’t looking, I pulled the system notification up again, rereading every line.
“Explain your presence,” I muttered. “What the hell does that even mean?”
Who was I supposed to explain it to?
The system itself?
A guild official?
Some cosmic bureaucrat who handed out death penalties for fun?
No answers.
No hints.
Just a timer I couldn’t see ticking down over my head.
 
I stood there, the quest still burning against the inside of my eyelids, feeling like the ground under me wasn’t quite real.
I couldn’t just stand here frozen. I needed information.
Anything that could tell me how screwed I really was.
And if Thorne knew something—even if she didn’t realize why I was asking—
I was gonna squeeze it out of her.
I cleared my throat, trying to sound casual. “Hey, uh… random question.”
Thorne, who was already a few steps ahead on the trail, glanced over her shoulder. “That’s never a good sign.”
I ignored that. “You ever hear of the system handing out quests? Like, official ones? Not dungeon quests. I mean… something weirder.”
Thorne slowed a little, frowning. “Weirder how?”
“Like…”
I fumbled for words.
“…Like, punishing someone. For doing something they weren’t supposed to.”
Thorne raised an eyebrow. “You planning on doing something stupid?”
“Not today,” I lied brightly.
She shook her head but humored me. “Yeah, I’ve heard of it. It’s rare. Really rare. Usually only happens if you break a system law. Like assaulting someone in a neutral zone. Stealing relics you’re not supposed to touch. Fiddling with something that’s classified.”
My throat went dry.
Stealing relics.
Fiddling with classified things.
Like, say… pressing random buttons in a glitched dungeon the system clearly wanted to pretend didn’t exist.
I forced my voice to stay steady. “Okay, but if that happens… who comes after you?”
Thorne’s frown deepened.
She studied me for a long beat, like she was trying to figure out where this was going.
Finally, she said, “Depends how bad it is. Minor infractions? You get fined. Maybe banned from guild access for a while.”
She paused.
“But if it’s major?”
Her voice dropped.
“The system sends Enforcers.”
I swallowed. “Enforcers?”
Thorne nodded grimly. “Chosen, usually. But not normal ones. High-level. System-licensed. Their job is to… handle problems.”
I stared at her. “Handle?”
She met my gaze.
Didn’t blink.
“However they need to.”
I kept walking, numb; the words echoing inside my skull.
Enforcers.
Chosen whose sole purpose is to remove threats to the system.
And if one was coming for me… if I’d triggered something serious enough to be classified as a problem…
Then I wasn’t looking at a warning.
I was looking at an execution.
Thorne must’ve picked up on something in my face, because she slowed her pace, falling into step beside me.
“You okay?” she asked, voice unusually careful.
I nodded automatically. “Yeah. Fine.”
Because what else was I supposed to say?
No, actually, I’m a walking Anomaly now and someone might show up to erase me from existence?
Yeah.
That would go over well.
 
I kept my head down as we walked, keeping my steps casual.
Or at least, casual enough not to make Thorne suspicious.
Inside, though?
Inside, my thoughts were sprinting circles around themselves.
Enforcers.
A system quest threatening death.
An artifact in my pocket, humming like it had a mind of its own.
And worst of all?
I had no idea what any of it actually meant.
I needed more information.
Badly.
Because walking blindly into whatever storm I had just stirred up?
Yeah, that was a fast track to getting myself vaporized.
But I couldn’t exactly pull Thorne aside and go,
“Hey, so hypothetically, if you picked up a magic orb that wasn’t supposed to exist and accidentally poked a hole in reality, what would you do?”
That was a one-way ticket to her either running for the hills—or worse, reporting me herself.
I clenched my jaw, feeling frustration gnaw at me.
I needed to find someone—or something—that could help me understand what I was messing with. Without waving a giant red flag over my head in the process.
Thorne was still walking ahead, whistling low under her breath, her shield bouncing against her back.
She seemed… fine.
Like none of what we just talked about had raised any suspicions.
And honestly?
That almost made me mad.
I wish I could be as calm as her.
She hadn’t spent the last few minutes imagining armored executioners busting down her door.
Or maybe I was just jealous she was that much stronger than me.
 
We reached the crossroads where our paths split—her back toward the training fields, me toward Casanaro. Towards home.
Thorne slowed to a stop and glanced over at me.
“You sure you’re good, Felix?” she asked, voice quieter now. “You look… weird.”
I plastered on my best fake grin. “Weird is my default setting.”
She snorted. “Fair enough.”
For a second, I thought she was going to push again—ask questions I wasn’t ready to answer.
But instead, she just gave me a lazy two-fingered salute and said,
“Stay alive, Shadowborn. I need more people like you. People who actually know not to stand in the fire.”
Then she turned and sauntered off down her own path, like this had all been just another normal morning.
I watched her go until she disappeared behind the treeline.
Then, finally alone, I let my shoulders sag.
Let the grin fall away.
I stood there for a minute, breathing in the crisp air, letting the quiet of the forest settle around me.
Trying to gather myself.
Because the truth was, it didn’t matter how much I wanted to act like everything was fine.
It wasn’t.
Not even close.
And pretending otherwise was only going to get me killed faster.
I straightened, my fingers unconsciously brushing against the orb hidden deep in my pocket.
Its hum was quieter now.
Not urgent. Not panicked.
Just… waiting.
I shivered.
No more waiting.
If I was going to survive whatever I had stumbled into, I needed to get smarter.
Stronger.
And fast.
No more playing it safe.
No more assuming things would just work out because I was lucky enough to scrape through the Judgment Trial.
I needed answers.
Real ones.
Because the system wasn’t just going to let this go.
And when it came knocking?
I damn well needed to be ready.
 
I made my way back toward the city, keeping my hood up and my head down.
The dirt road stretched out ahead, winding between thick trees and old stone markers half-sunken into the ground. A few Chosen passed me by—armed, armored, laughing about their dungeon clears like it was just another day.
Normal.
Ordinary.
Not a single one of them had any idea what had just happened.
What I’d seen.
What I might have unleashed.
And for the first time since waking up as a Chosen, I felt like I was carrying a secret too big for my own skin.
My fingers tapped against my thigh as I walked, restless energy leaking out of me in sharp bursts.
What was I supposed to do?
I couldn’t tell my mom. She’d freak out. She was already terrified enough after my first dungeon.
I couldn’t tell Thorne.
Not yet.
She was sharp, but the second she thought I was a threat—or worse, a liability—she wouldn’t hesitate to cut me loose. Maybe literally.
No.
If I was going to figure this out, I had to do it carefully. Quietly.
On my own.
 
I drifted into the city proper, blending into the steady flow of foot traffic.
Market stalls lined the main streets, hawking enchanted trinkets, repair scrolls, mana potions. The smell of roasting meat drifted through the air, mixing with the sharper tang of blacksmith forges and alchemist brews.
Everything seemed normal.
I tried to let the noise and life of the city wash over me.
Tried to lose myself in it.
But I couldn’t stop scanning the crowds.
Looking for anyone out of place.
Anyone watching me too closely.
Every shadow felt darker now.
Every glance lingered too long.
Was I being paranoid?
Maybe.
But after what the system just told me?
I figured a little paranoia might be the only reason I stayed alive.
I ducked down a quieter street, away from the bustle.
A narrow alley lined with worn stone walls and rusting iron lanterns.
Here, away from the crowds, I let myself breathe a little easier.
I needed a plan.
I needed information.
If glitched dungeons like that existed, if artifacts like my orb existed—someone, somewhere, had to know something.
Maybe a scholar.
Maybe a merchant dealing in forbidden goods.
Maybe an old Chosen who had survived long enough to remember the parts of the system everyone else wanted to forget.
I didn’t know yet.
But I was going to find out.
Going into whatever comes next without a plan?
Not an option.
Not anymore.
I paused at the end of the alley, watching a few Chosen hurry by, chatting animatedly about a bounty board update.
New raids posted.
New treasures found.
New rumors of high-tier artifacts.
Normal stuff.
Things I should’ve cared about.
Things I might’ve cared about yesterday.
Now?
It felt like background noise.
Because the real threat wasn’t some dungeon boss or raid event.
The real threat was the system itself.
And whatever secret it was trying so hard to bury.
I tightened my grip on the orb in my pocket, feeling it pulse once, softly, like a heartbeat.
Not guiding me this time.
Just waiting.
Just watching.
Like it knew something was coming.
Then I turned, heading for the part of the city where people whispered instead of shouted.
Where forgotten things went to gather dust.
Where stories too dangerous to be spoken aloud still lingered in the corners of old buildings.
If there were answers to find, I was going to find them.
And I’d better find them fast.
Because one thing was crystal clear now:
I wasn’t just another Chosen anymore.
Not to the system.
Not to whoever might be watching.
And sooner or later?
Someone was going to come knocking.