Abyssal Border Wall Protocol: Ch 5 (rough draft) (Patreon)

Chapter 5: Stars

I woke up before the light came, not because the house creaked, but because the world that I was now in was humming or sort of buzzing.

At first, I thought it was the generator from old man Tom’s place or some leftover sound from the TVs that used to run twenty‑four hours. It wasn’t. There were no TVs, no generator, nothing electrical at all. The sound was in the air itself. A kind of low thrum like the note you feel instead of hear when a train passes on the tracks a mile away. It was soft, far away, yet felt just at the edge of awareness.

My eyes snapped open. It was pitch black, but not the normal black of my bedroom at night when the streetlights outside leaked around the curtains. This was a primordial dark, thick and absolute, and my brain screamed that I was still asleep, still dreaming. I sat up and winced at the stiffness in my neck from sleeping on the couch. The hum grew, and then, as abruptly as if someone had thrown a switch, light washed over the world.

Not sunlight. Not the soft blues of twilight. White light poured from the sky like someone had cracked open a fluorescent bulb the size of the sky. It was there and then gone, replaced by color. And holy shit whas it colors.

I stumbled to the back door, pushing it open. The horses in the yard stirred, their heads rising, ears flat. They felt it too. Cold air hit me. I stepped outside and looked up.

The sky wasn’t a sky anymore. It looked like somebody had taken the ceiling off reality and replaced it with a transparent ocean. Instead of stars on a black background, there were swirling galaxies, not far away, but trapped in giant, shimmering spheres that hung like bubbles. A hundred, a thousand little universes suspended above, each one twisting slowly, colored gases and millions of tiny sparks swirling inside their glassy prisons. Between them, ribbons of light flowed, slow and thick, like glowing rivers pouring across a landscape. They twisted in colors I didn’t have names for. Purples that bled into gold, greens that shifted to neon blue, crimson that blinked like heartbeat pulses. It was like every aurora borealis video on YouTube had melted and spilled across the entire dome of the sky.

My breath fogged in front of me. I swore softly. This can’t be real. That’s not the Milky Way. That’s not our universe. That’s… multiple universes? My fingers were numb, but I couldn’t bring myself to go back inside. The hum faded until only the horses breathing and my own heartbeat filled the silence. The rivers of light moved at their own speed, indifferent. It was beautiful and horrifying. Beautiful because it was impossible, horrifying because it meant we were somewhere else now, and there were things, big things moving around in the flowing rivers of light. I shuddered. We weren’t under the stars I grew up with. We were in some in‑between place where the multiverse hung like decorations in the night sky.

“System,” I whispered, and my voice came out raw. “What is that? The sky—what am I seeing?”

System help answer:

The abyssal border continuum: Reality iteration alpha 437‑T‑369 has been repositioned within the planar continuum. Visual anomalies observed are manifestations of adjacent realities, energy flows of the sea of chaos, and abyssal containment fields within the multiverse. Exposure is nonharmful. Observation authorized.

Nonharmful. Right. Tell my nervous system that. I laughed, a small hysterical sound that vanished in the cold. I lowered my gaze and looked at the horizon. There was no sun rising. Light, yes, but it bled in from somewhere like the dome itself was a massive softbox. The day would arrive because the System said it would, not because the Earth rotated anymore.

Strider bumped me with his nose. He wasn’t looking up. Horses don’t care about the sky if it doesn’t involve rain. They care about food and predators. His breath puffed against my shoulder. I reached up and rubbed his face. “Morning,” I whispered. “Yeah, it’s weird up there. No, I don’t get it either.”

The hum faded completely. Light continued to brighten, a pale wash that made the grass silver. Dawn in the abyssal border wall. Weird.

I looked back at the house. Mom wasn’t there. Alison wasn’t there. Liz wasn’t there. They were probably staring at a grey wall as alien light crept through some vent in their cell. I swallowed hard. This was supposed to be an amazing summer when Liz and I finally took the next steps. Now I’m staring at cosmic soup in the sky.

The cold hit me suddenly. I’d stepped outside in a T‑shirt, and the temperature was probably forty degrees. I went back inside, closed the door, and rubbed my arms. My clock hovered on the edge of my vision. It said 05:17. seven hours until noon. seven hours until two monsters appeared. Two slugs if the System held to its promises. Two slugs, each worth thirty XP. I had 75 XP left from yesterday after buying the clock and sending a few credits to Mom and Liz. Two kills would put me at one hundred and thirty-five XP if I didn’t spend anything else.

I glanced at the table. My arrows were laid out, eleven with broadheads, and twelve with practice tips. The naginata, Liz’s staff with my broken mall sword bolted to it, leaned against the wall near the door. Old Bessy sat next to the couch. My bike with the chain still dry leaned by the front door. My backpack, filled with supplies, lay on the floor.

XP. Time. Miles. Monsters. Wait until noon. Then kill. Then plan. I sighed. Don’t waste the morning, Justin.

I went to the kitchen and poured water from a jug into a pot. No stove. No microwave. I grabbed an old camping stove from the garage that ran on wood chips or branches and set it up on the porch. I gathered a handful of sticks from the yard, struck my ferro rod, and blew until the little fire caught. The smell of wood smoke and boiling water filled the air. It steadied me.

Mom used to make pancakes on mornings like this. I had granola bars and a jar of peanut butter. I ate half a bar, slathered peanut butter on it, and forced it down. My stomach was a knot.

I took inventory again. Food: eight cans of beans, six granola bars, five cans of peaches, three cans of green beans, one jar of peanut butter, two jars of honey, and a box of salt. Water: three full water bottles, two five-gallon jugs, two camelbacks.

My Gear: hatchet, pry bar, sledgehammer, naginata, bow, arrows, two kitchen knives, my sleeping bag, tent, two tarps, rope, a small first aid kit, a length of chain, duct tape, and nails. Bike. Two horses. My backpack. Hank’s saddlebags. Old Tom’s shop was still full of tools. I would need to go and get them today. Hank’s barn is full of feed, harnesses, and a horse cart. I needed to go back for that cart. It would make moving fifty miles with two horses, supplies, and a bike much easier. I made a mental note of the chorus I needed to get done today.

Messages. I needed to talk to Mom, Alison, Liz. I could only text at a cost of one XP per ten words. It was cheaper than voice. The thought reminded me of the old, ancient stories of when texts cost ten cents per text, the ancient ones talked about.

I scrolled through my message log. Mom had responded with “We’re okay. Sister with me. Be careful. We watch, hear.” Liz had told me about her cell, the bonus for breeding more warriors, the crafting system, and the rage she felt at being caged. I needed to tell them about the sky, the plan, and that I was about to fight again. But I also needed the XP. Two slugs at noon would give me sixty XP total. I decided to save the XP I had.

I turned my head up as the crazy lights of the multiverse changed to the pale light of dawn. “Mom, I love you. I'm going to save XP for now.”

“Liz, I love you, saving XP for now.” It felt so weird to talk to the sky; hell, I did not even know where they could see me from.

I stood, shaking my head, enough of that. The horses needed attention. I pulled on my boots, took a bucket of grain and a halter outside. Strider and River both nickered when they saw me. They hadn’t been turned out since I brought them home the previous evening. I filled their buckets with oats and added a scoop of Hank’s special mix from the sack I’d taken last night. While they ate, I inspected their hooves, checked for cuts, brushed them, and scratched their necks.

The System message from yesterday had said I’d gained Animal Handling at level 5. And it felt odd, the actions I took felt like muscle memory now. The knowledge it gave me was mostly what I already knew, but there were a few new pieces of information in my mind. I could anticipate their movements better. I sensed Strider’s tension before he shied, and I stepped to the side automatically, avoiding getting stepped on. River’s eyes were wide, but a few strokes and a calm voice settled her.

“You two might save my life,” I said in a calm tone. “That means I need to take care of yours, too.”

After they finished, I led them to the creek to drink. Their hooves churned the bank, but they drank deep. The creek hadn’t changed, at least not yet. It still wound through the trees like it always had, gurgling over rocks we had balanced as kids to change its flow. I looked at our fort. The collapsed fort looked so small now. The creek area would be the first spawn site at noon.

I went back to the shed and pulled my bike onto the driveway. It was coated in dust, and the chain was stiff. I found an old can of chain lube and shook it. Nothing. I rummaged through Dad’s toolboxes until I found motor oil. Not ideal, but lubrication was lubrication. I dripped oil onto the chain, spinning the pedals backward, and worked each link until it moved freely. I checked the tires and topped them off with the hand pump from the garage. They held air, at least for now. I spun the wheels, listening for any rubbing. The brakes worked. I tightened them a bit anyway. The handlebar grips were torn, but who cared? The gears still shifted. I loaded the bike with a small rack from Dad’s old mountain biking days. It wasn’t much, but I could strap a bundle of gear to it. Not ideal for off‑road, but if I have to ride on the old highway, this will save me energy.

While I worked, my mind wandered to the night sky again. Galaxies trapped in bubbles. Rivers of energy. I tried to imagine Mom and Alison seeing it. Mom would pray quietly. Alison would call it “so cool” and ask if each bubble was like a marble she could hold. Liz… Liz would probably want to map them. She’d always had that curious streak, always wanted to understand systems. Even this. I smiled and then felt the smile break because she wasn’t here. She was in a grey box, a tower thing, waiting.

Keep moving, I told myself, repeating the mantra from yesterday. One task at a time. Don’t think too much or you’ll freeze. When I was done with my morning chores, the dawn light had turned into full early-morning sun, though there was no sun. I went back inside and checked the time. 08:02. Four hours until spawn. I needed to figure out a trap.

Yesterday I’d flown by the seat of my pants as to what I was going to do and ended up shooting the slug with Liz’s arrows. Today was going to be much the same. There would be two monsters, which would take two to four or maybe more arrows to kill both. Tomorrow there will be four monsters, and that’s what I started planning for.

I needed to make sure that the first monster spawned in the same spot, which should be based on what the system had said so far, but I wanted to double-check. If that held true, then after I killed the two, I would need to create two traps for the first two slug monsters and then wing it for the second set of slugs that appeared.

I spent the morning organizing. My plan was to go and get the horse-drawn cart after my monsters spawned in. I wanted to pack everything I needed. I went back and forth between Tom's shop and my house, gathering his hand tools and lining them up on the porch. None of the electrical stuff came, but the chisels, rasps, and hand drills did. His collection of screws, nails, bolts, washers, and nuts came as well. I had to use a few of moms empty jars to pull some from drawers, but in the end I gathered everything from the shop.

At 11:25, I went into the house to make my final preparations.

“System, show me my status,” I said. It wasn’t really a prayer, but it felt like one.

Abyssal Border Warrior Status Page:Name: Justin Barnes.Age: 20.Race: Human.XP Pool: 75.Level: 0.Star Rank: 0 Stars out of 10.Border Title: Drafted: grants system access.Health: 100 percent.Mana: 0.Mana regeneration: 0.Aspects:Body: 0Recovery: 0Motion: 0Sense: 0Mind: 0Will: 0Mana: 0

Warrior Dispensation: None.

Skills:Archery: Level 1, Novice.Linked Aspects: Sense, Motion, Mind, Will.Aim: Level 1, Novice.Linked Aspects: Sense, Mind, Will.Blunt Weapons: Level 1, Novice.Linked Aspects: Body, Motion, Will.Animal Handling: Level 5, Novice.Linked Aspects: Sense, Mind, Will.Technique: Calming Presence.Digging: Level 5, Novice.Linked Aspects: Body, Recovery, Motion.Technique: Clean Cut Earth.

Level zero. No Stars. Drafted. The thousand XP to Level 1 didn’t look like one giant wall anymore, not after the System explained it. It was ten smaller walls stacked on top of each other. One hundred XP bought one Star. Ten Stars sealed into an aspect Pattern, and that Pattern became Level 1. I had 75 XP, which meant I was three-quarters of the way to my first Star. If I killed both slugs at noon, I’d have 135. Enough for one Star. Body, Recovery, Motion, Sense, Mind, Will, Mana. One choice. One little piece of myself changed forever because some nightmare slug decided to crawl out by my childhood fort.

But XP wasn’t just growth. XP was messages. Transfers. Maps. Timekeeping. Little scraps of help that were sold back to me while the world burned down without fire. Spending XP meant I might become harder to kill. Saving XP meant I could talk to Mom, Alison, and Liz when it mattered. I stared at the numbers until they blurred. Seventy-five XP. Zero Stars. Level zero. Drafted. “Yeah,” I muttered, picking up Liz’s bow. “That sounds about right.”

I stepped back outside. 11:30. I moved Strider and River up to the front of the house. I just hoped the second slug monster would not spawn up here. I thought that where I had hitched them was far enough away, but I had no way to be sure,

I didn’t want them spooking during the battle that was about to happen. I stroked their necks. “Stay,” I whispered. “I’ll be right back.”

I placed the Naginata and old Bess on the back porch along with the quiver of arrows.

I went to the creek and waited.

numbers crawled: 11:45. 11:50. 11:55.

Five minutes.

My heart thudded. The world felt like it was holding its breath. I gripped the bow in my right hand. The handle was smooth under my fingers. I tested its weight and draw. The mall sword blade glinted where it leaned against the porch railing. On my left hip, the pry bar swung. Old Bessy leaned next to my impromptu naginata. The hatchet hung on my belt on the other side. The quiver was slung over my back, arrows ready. I was a hardware store nightmare, but this was all I had.

System menu: Countdown: 00:00:05.

4…

3…

2…

1…

I braced. The world shifted as the monster appeared in reality. I scanned looking for the second. The first was in the same spot, “good,” I muttered.

I caught a wiggle of black tentacles to the right near the far right side of the yard. “There you are, you little…” I paused, realizing Alison might be watching, “Sugar monster…” It was lame, but hell, I would at least try to watch my language.

A head with ringed teeth opened like a blooming flower. Six tentacles whipped around it, slick with slime. It screamed, a wet, high screech that made my molars ache. It was here from wherever it had come, and it was angry.

“Okay,” I whispered, drawing the bowstring back to my ear. “Nice and slow. No hero shit. Shoot. Move. Shoot again.”

I loosed. The broadhead sank into soft flesh just above the mouth. Black ichor spurted. The slug shrieked and thrashed, but the arrow stayed lodged. I knocked a second arrow and fired. This one disappeared into the ring of teeth. It must have hit something vital because the slug convulsed, tentacles flailing and scoring furrows in the mud. I stepped back as it thrashed. The body spasmed, then went still, collapsing in on itself as it started to dissolve into black dust.

XP Gained: 30-XP.

the System’s clinical voice chimed in my head. My vision flickered with the XP increase. I didn’t have time to bask in the kill as I targeted the second slug thing.

Farther up the lawn, on the right side near the apple trees, the grass bowed as something big pushed through. Its glossy body slid over my mom’s herb garden. It was glistening black, with feelers whipping over its head. It turned toward me and charged. Well, it started slowly, slugging and squishing toward me; if I stood still for an hour or so, it would reach me.

“Not today,” I muttered, sprinting across the yard. My boots slipped on wet grass. My shoulder ached where the strap of my quiver dug in. I drew mid‑run, lungs burning, and loosed an arrow. It clipped a feeler. The slug screeched and whipped its tentacles towards me. I ducked behind the stump of the old oak tree, counted to two, then popped up and shot again. The arrow went straight into the slug’s eye, if that milky orb counted as an eye. It sank deep. Black fluid spurted. The slug writhed, mouth gaping.

I kept moving, kept breathing. Another arrow. This one hit the fleshy ring inside its mouth. The slug reared up, and for a second, I thought it was about to do some special boss move or some shit, but no, instead, it shuddered, collapsed, and started dissolving before it hit the ground. Its tentacles flopped uselessly. Black dust hung in the air like soot before vanishing.

XP Gained: 30 XP.

Skill gained:

Archery: Level 5, Novice.

Technique unlocked: Power Increase 1.

Aim: Level 5, Novice.

Technique Unlocked: Focused Shot 1.

I lowered the bow slowly, hands shaking. My arms burned from holding the draw for what felt like ages. I counted the arrows in my quiver; I’d fired 5. 6 broadheads left, and twelve with the practice target tips. Two monsters down. No acid burns. No puncture wounds. That’s a win.

The XP counter in the corner of my vision ticked up. 135 XP total. Seventy‑five from before. Sixty from these two kills. Enough to buy my first Star with change to spare.

A soft chime rang in my head.

System notice:Leaderboard data threshold reached.Initial category rankings available.

I froze.

“Oh, right,” I muttered. “The scoreboard of doom.”

I opened the leaderboard.

Abyssal Border Wall Leaderboard:Reality Iteration: Earth Prime Alpha 437-T-369.Border Zone: 0.5 Training Boundary.

Active Abyssal Border Warriors: 3,912,406,884.Dead Abyssal Border Warriors: 256,421,035.

I stared at the number. Two hundred and fifty-six million dead. Yesterday, that line had said zero.

The grass moved in the wind. The creek kept making its stupid little peaceful sounds behind me. A bird called from somewhere past the apple trees, like a quarter of a billion men hadn’t just been erased from the world.

“Holy shit,” I whispered.

The words didn’t carry enough weight. Nothing did, not for that kind of number.

I touched the first category.

Leaderboard Category: Level.Justin Barnes: Level 0.Current Rank: 1,102,884,721 out of 3,912,406,884.

I blinked.

“Still level zero and somehow not dead last. That’s… not comforting.”

I opened the next one.

Leaderboard Category: Monsters Killed.Justin Barnes: 4 confirmed monster terminations.Current Rank: 184,772,509 out of 3,912,406,884.

Four.

My slug yesterday. Two today. And old man Tom’s rock thing.

Old Man Tom’s rock thing had counted. Hank’s monster didn’t count. The System had given me the XP for Hank’s kill because he died before the monster dissolved, but the leaderboard knew the difference.

“Good to know,” I said.

I opened XP Gained.

Leaderboard Category: XP Gained.Justin Barnes: 181 total XP gained.Current Rank: 96,441,203 out of 3,912,406,884.

“That sounds better than it feels.”

The number should have made me proud. Top hundred million out of four billion sounded insane. Then I looked at the dead-warrior number again and felt sick.

My thumb hovered over the next category.

Progenitors Impregnated.

“Nope.” I said skipping that nightmare altogether.

I closed the leaderboard.

My stomach flipped. I need to pick an Aspect. But what? Body for strength? Recovery for healing? Motion for speed? Sense for awareness? Mind or Will for who knows what?

I thought about Liz trapped in her grey room, Mom and Alison watching me from some tower with the same System interface.

I have to pick right, I told myself. Don’t waste it on something stupid. But I was in no shape to make that call while my adrenaline was still flooding my veins. I pushed the thought aside. There would be time to obsess later tonight.

Three of my arrows were gone, dissolved along with the slugs.  The slug’s thrashing had cracked the shaft of the only remaining one, so at least I could take the hunting tip and put it on one of the others. I wiped black goo off the good one with a rag. I untwisted the hunting tip and put it on a new shaft, and put it back in the quiver. Eight hunting tips and eleven now with the practice ones. My hands shook less as the adrenaline bled away. I washed everything in the creek, including my boots.

I checked the horses. Strider and River watched me with wide eyes, but were unhurt in front of the house. I stroked their necks and murmured nonsense, letting my animal-handling skill and the technique that came with it calm them until they flicked their ears forward again. “See?” I said, more to myself than to them. “Distance. Distance is our friend. No  wrestling with slugs.”

When my heart rate finally dipped below a hundred, I stepped onto the porch and sank onto the top step. The artificial noon light was bright but cold. My shoulder throbbed from the tension of the shots. Sweat cooled on my neck.

 I opened my status page.

Abyssal Border Warrior Status Page:

Name: Justin Barnes.XP Pool: 135.Level: 0.Star Rank: 0/10.

I could almost feel the weight of that 100‑XP cost pressing on me. One star would be a permanent change. If I put it into Body, I might get stronger and hit harder. Recovery could help me heal faster. Motion would make me faster and maybe let me dodge a monster's attacks. Sense might sharpen my awareness, maybe I’d see monsters sooner. Mind and Will? No idea. Mana? I had zero and no magic yet.

This wasn’t a video game where I could respec. I had one shot. I closed the page. Not now. My brain was mush. I needed to eat something before I fell over.

I went inside, forced down a can of peaches for the sugar and a can of beans for the protein, and drank a quart of water.

Then I got back to work.

There were still chores. If I was going to survive four monsters tomorrow and then get the hell out of here before eight monsters came the day after, I needed to be ready. That meant a functioning bike and the horse cart to carry gear.

The bike tuning went quickly now that I’d oiled the chain. I tightened bolts, adjusted the seat, and strapped a pump and spare tube to the frame. I tied a small bundle of rope to the handlebars in case I needed to lash anything down in a hurry.

Next, Hank and Linda’s farm.

I saddled then led Strider to the hitching post, slung my bow across my back, grabbed an empty backpack and a length of rope, and mounted. River followed on the lead rope. The road to Hank’s place was quiet. No rock golems or wolves popped out of nowhere. The sky overhead stayed that uniform pale blue, the multiverse bubbles invisible in daylight. Wind rustled the dry corn stalks along the road. I passed Old Man Tom’s house, the blood still dark on the porch. I didn’t let my eyes linger.

At Hank’s barn, the smell of death had faded slightly. Flies buzzed where Hank’s blood had dried. His grave under the tree was a dark patch of disturbed earth. I looked at it for a moment, whispered, “Still sorry, Hank,” and walked into the barn.

The cart sat against the back wall, just as it always had. I hitched River to it, cinched the straps, and led her out. She stepped awkwardly at first, then settled into the feel of the shafts beside her, used to the burden once more.

I loaded the cart with what Hank had left that I hadn’t been able to carry yesterday: more feed bags, a bale of alfalfa, the rest of the tools and harnesses, the extra canvas tarps, and a small metal toolbox. I found a couple of grain scoops, the normal rusted metal tools that littered every barn, some leather repair kits, a few halters, and an old but sturdy pitchfork. I tossed it all in.

I went into the house briefly. Linda’s clothes still lay in the kitchen. Nothing had moved. I took a quilt from the hall closet, a couple of kitchen towels, and all the food from their pantry, stacking it in the cart.

On the kitchen table lay a set of county maps for the roads and one of the state. I stared at them, heart jumping. Maps had to be worth something. I rolled them up carefully and slid them into my pack. I didn’t have the XP to buy the System’s map. Paper would have to do for now. Forty‑eight miles. I traced the roads in my head. Route 22 west to the county line. “Then maybe north on Highway 5, not sure I want to stay away from people if I can,” I said, thinking about what way I would travel. I bet a lot of people would be traveling today. Eight monsters were a lot.

On the way back, a thought gnawed at me. Star allocation. I had to decide. I had to decide soon. If four slugs tomorrow hit harder or were faster, I needed every advantage. Recovery? Motion? Sense? I kept flipping between them like a broken record. Recovery would help with injuries. Motion might keep me from getting injured. Sense… sense could help me see them sooner. I gripped the reins until my knuckles whitened. Why am I making video game decisions about my body in the middle of the apocalypse? Because that’s what the System demanded. Because my life, Liz’s life, my mom's, and Alison’s lives depended on me making the right choice.

Back home, I unhitched River and led her and Strider into the back yard. I parked the cart along the side of the house. I tied a tarp over it to keep the dew off the gear. The sunless afternoon stretched long and thin. The light outside grew golden. It was only three in the afternoon, but my body felt like it had been awake for days. I sat on the porch steps, chewing on a piece of jerky, and opened the star allocation menu again.

“System,” I said softly, “explain what a star in Recovery does.”

System help answer:

Recovery Star: Improves healing rate and mana recovery. Increases physical resilience. increases fatigue recovery rate.

“What about Motion?”

System help answer:

Motion Star: Enhances speed, agility, and reaction time. Increases physical acceleration and deceleration. Improves balance.

“And Sense?”

System help answer:

Sense Star: Heightens perception, including vision, hearing, smell, and spatial awareness. Increases detection range and reaction speed to stimuli.

I rubbed my temples. They all sounded useful. I thought about the slugs’ barbed tentacles thrashing about. Recovery would help heal me if I got hit faster. I thought about the rock golem yesterday, the thing that killed Old Man Tom, and how slow it had been. If the monsters got faster, I needed to dodge; if they stayed like that, Body would let me smash them faster. Motion could save my life, though. How many monsters would really be that slow?

Sense and body. I did not need to hit harder yet, but the body would also make me tougher to hurt in the first place.

These weren’t numbers on a spreadsheet. They were parts of me I could enhance.

“Right, consider what you have, Justin,” I said out loud as I sat on the front porch. “I’m using a bow, have enough arrows for tomorrow, and maybe after….”

I pulled up the system skills I had gotten during the fight.

Archery: Level 5, Novice.

Technique: Power Increase 1. Shots fired from a bow have more power.

Aim: Level 5, Novice.

Technique: Focused Shot 1. While shooting or throwing, target tracking and focus are easier.

“At this point, I’m headed towards an archer build, though it is way too soon to call it a build… Sense would have the greats synergy at this point… tomorrow I’ll get another 120 XP if I survive… then motion, yeah… yeah, that’s what I should do for now.”

I made my choice and pulled up the system to buy my first star. “System purchase one star and place it in sense,” I commanded.

The system screen flashed through the changes, and then the energy hit. Just as the star appeared in sense, I felt the tingling, the burning. My eyes watered, and my ears popped harshly.

System message:

1-star assigned to sense. Adaptation complete.

“Holy shit,” I said laying back on the porch. I was dizzy, yet the feeling was quickly draining away.

Not all at once. Not clean. It went out of me like a fever breaking.

The porch boards under my back felt different. Rougher. I could feel each ridge in the old wood through my shirt, every tiny warped grain pressing against my spine. The wind moved through the apple trees, and I heard leaves scraping against each other. Not as one sound anymore, but as a thousand small sounds. Dry edges. Green edges. A twig tapping the fence. River shifting her weight in the yard. Strider chewing hay near the water trough.

My eyes watered again. “Fuck, this is like the most my mind can handle… Mind, right, need to put a point in that if I want to process all this new input adequately. No way I could do a second star at this point.”

I blinked.

The world sharpened.

The far fence snapped into focus. The old nail heads in the boards looked like dark eyes. A fly landed on the porch rail six feet away, rubbing its front legs together, and I could see the tiny hairs on its body.

“Nope,” I muttered. “That’s not creepy at all.”

System message:

100-XP deducted.

1 Star assigned to Sense.

XP Pool: 35.

Star Rank: 1 out of 10.

Aspect updated:

Sense: 1.

Minor adaptation effects detected:Improved vision.Improved hearing.Improved scent separation.Improved spatial awareness.Improved target focus.Improved monster stimulus recognition.

Skill resonance detected:Archery.Aim.Animal Handling.

Resonance seed formed:Monster Reading: Level 1, Novice.

I sat up too fast and almost fell off the porch.

“Wait, what? Monster Reading?”

System help answer:

Monster Reading:A survival skill formed through repeated observation and engagement with abyssal monsters.

Linked Aspects:Sense, Mind, Will.

Current effect:Minor improvement to detecting monster movement patterns, attack preparation, weak points, and hostile stimulus shifts.

I stared at the words until they faded.

“Oh, good,” I said, rubbing both hands over my face. “So now I can read nightmare slug body language better. Fan-Friging-tastic. Maybe I’ll start a book club.”

No answer came.

The System had the comedic timing of a brick wall.

Still, I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t useful. I’d killed three slugs now. The three I killed had taught me something. The mouth mattered. The tentacles were fast, but the body wasn’t. Their skin folded near the head before they snapped out. I hadn’t noticed that before. Now, thinking back on the fights, I could see it. A bunching. A tightening. A half-second of warning.

Half a second was a lot when something could rip a squirrel in half.

I opened my status again.

Abyssal Border Warrior Status Page:

Name: Justin Barnes.Age: 20.Race: Human.

XP Pool: 35.Level: 0.Star Rank: 1 Star out of 10.Border Title: Drafted: grants system access.

Health: 100 percent.Mana: 0.Mana regeneration: 0.

Aspects:Body: 0Recovery: 0Motion: 0Sense: 1Mind: 0Will: 0Mana: 0

Warrior Dispensations: None.

Skills:Archery: Level 5, Novice.Technique: Power Increase 1.

Aim: Level 5, Novice.Technique: Focused Shot 1.

Blunt Weapons: Level 1, Novice.

Animal Handling: Level 5, Novice.Technique: Calming Presence.

Digging: Level 5, Novice.Technique: Clean Cut Earth.

Monster Reading: Level 1, Novice.

I stared at it.

One Star.

It didn’t look like much. A single number in a list of zeros. But my ears were still ringing from the change, my eyes still burned, and the whole world hurt, sounds had edges, distance had shape. The backyard felt less like grass and trees and more like a map my body understood.

I had changed myself, the system had changed me.

That thought should have scared me more than it did. Maybe I was out of room for fear. Maybe fear was like a gas tank, and yesterday had burned through mine. No, that was stupid. I was still scared. I was scared of the four slugs tomorrow. Scared of eight the next day if I failed to move. Scared of the road. Scared of people. Scared of what hungry men would do when the old rules no longer applied.

But the fear had a new shape now.

See first. Shoot first. Keep distance. Move before the teeth get close.

That was the plan.

The rest of the afternoon became work.

I packed because packing meant I wasn’t sitting still. My backpack got two bottles of water, a can of beans, two granola bars, gauze, the little first aid kit, the rolled maps, Dad’s watch, and the photo of Mom, Alison, and me from last Christmas.  Mom wore that red sweater she loved. Alison had whipped cream on her nose from the hot chocolate. I looked like an idiot in the picture, half blinking, mouth open like I was about to complain. I took the one printed picture of Liz and me that we had taken at Future Rock.

I almost left it behind.

Then I shoved it into the inside pocket of my jacket.

Mom’s mala sat in the drawer beside the kitchen sink. I picked it up and held it in my palm. The beads were smooth from her fingers. Dad had bought it for her before I was born. I hadn’t prayed or meditated in years. Not really. Not in any way that counted. Still, I slipped it around my neck and tucked it under my shirt.

“Don’t get excited,” I said to the ceiling. “This doesn’t mean I’m signing back up.”

If Mom heard me, she was either laughing or crying.

Maybe both.

I checked the cart next. Feed bags first, then tools, then food, then blankets. Heavy stuff on the bottom. Lighter stuff wrapped in quilts. The cast-iron skillet went beside the small pot and the hand tools. I tied the pitchfork along the cart’s side. The rope, chain, tarps, nails, screws, bolts, washers, and leather repair kits all got packed in old boxes and jars. All the extra food I could find got stored. Before long, I looked like an old pioneer wagoner ready to head west in search of gold.

The arrows stayed with me.

I had eight with hunting tips and eleven with practice tips. Nineteen arrows total. The number sat in my head like bad math. Four slugs tomorrow could take four to eight arrows if everything went right. Everything never went right. After tomorrow, if I stayed, eight slugs would come.

Eight slugs would eat me alive or the horses.

“Yeah,” I said, tying the quiver strap tighter. “We’re leaving, definitely leaving.”

I looked over the map again on the porch table. Forty-eight miles. That number had become holy and hateful. Route 22 west was the straightest path to the county line. From there, Highway 5 ran north or south. Open road meant speed, but open road also meant people. Farms meant supplies, but farms meant dead men and monsters that might not be dead yet. Woods meant cover, but the cart wouldn’t handle deep trails.

“System,” I asked, “does the forty-eight-mile reset require straight-line distance or road distance?”

System help answer:

Distance requirement:Minimum required displacement from prior monster integration location:48 miles / 77 kilometers.

Measurement:Localized spatial displacement from the integration origin.

Road distance does not apply unless the road path produces a qualifying displacement.

I stared at the answer.

“Soooo… I can’t just wiggle around the roads and pretend I went far enough.”

System help answer:

Correct.

“Worth a shot.”

That meant I needed actual distance. No circling. No hiding in town. Get away from the yard, away from the creek, away from the fort where the nightmare slugs kept crawling into existence like they owned the place.

The artificial day slid toward dusk.

The light changed without a sun to guide it. Gold bled across the grass, then thinned into copper. The shadows stretched in the wrong direction because there was no single source above them. The whole world dimmed as if a giant hand lowered a lamp.

I used the last light to prepare the yard for tomorrow.

Digging felt different with the skill. It wasn’t magic, though close, but not exactly. The shovel still weighed what a shovel weighed. Dirt still clumped and stuck. Sweat still ran down my neck. But my body understood the cut of the dirt. The angle. The twist of my wrists. Clean Cut Earth wasn’t flashy, but every shovel full left behind a perfect hole, a perfect chunk of dirt removed. Non fell back in, nothing was left over.

I dug shallow trenches across the two open paths between the creek and the house. Not deep enough to stop the slugs, but enough to break the smooth slide of their bodies. Enough to make them bunch up and expose their mouth. I drove sharpened stakes into the mud at angles, then tied rope between two fence posts low enough that a slug’s feelers might catch.

Might.

That word was doing a lot of work with my traps.

I stacked cinder blocks near the porch, making a raised place to stand if one got too close. I set Old Bessy and the naginata by the back door. Bow on the table. My quiver was hooked to the chair. My hatchet on my belt. And the pry bar on the coffee table, which I knew would dismay my mother.

The whole setup looked insane.

I had turned Mom’s backyard into the world’s saddest medieval kill zone.

“Sorry about the herb garden,” I said, glancing up. “End of the world and all that.”

Night fell fully with a crackle of energy, then the sky shifted from a bruised purple and orange to darkness. Then the sky turned into its cosmic view of the multiverse.

It rolled through the ground first, through my boots, and up my legs. Strider lifted his head. River stamped once. I moved to them, placed a hand on each neck, and let Calming Presence settle through my voice.

“Easy. Easy now. It’s just the sky being stupid again.”

Their muscles trembled under my palms. Their fear had a taste to it now, sharp and hot in the air with the smell of horse sweat and hay. The Sense Star made that clearer, too. Not mind-reading. Nothing like that. Just more. More scent. More sound. More tiny signs that living things gave off naturally.

Night opened up, and the multiverse came back.

Galaxies hung above me in glassy spheres, turning in silence. Rivers of light crossed between them, blue and green and red, pouring through the dark like wounds in the ceiling of reality. Massive objects, one looking like a whale swam in the river of light. The sight was more alien now. My new eyes drank in too much. Each sphere had depth. Movement. Tiny storms of stars coiling inside them. The ribbons between them pulsed, with a chaotic rhythm if such a thing could exist. There was rhythm there. Massive and old and uncaring.

I sat on the porch steps and watched until my neck hurt.

“Liz,” I said, “if you can see this, I wish you were here. Not in a bad way. I mean, I wish we were seeing it together. You’d probably say something smart. I’d probably say something dumb. Then we’d laugh together.”

The sky gave no answer. The tower gave no answer.

I had 35 XP left.

Enough for three short messages and a little change. Enough to transfer some to Mom or Liz. Enough to buy nothing that would save me if the road went bad. I hated that. I hated that every word had a price now. I hated that saying I love you could be measured in dead monsters.

I opened the messaging menu anyway.

Then I closed it.

“No,” I whispered. “Save it.”

Guilt, that was all I felt, yet I knew it would not always be like this. If I lived long enough, I would have XP to spare.

I looked up where I imagined they were watching from.

“Mom, Alison, I love you. I’m alive. I killed two today. I spent the XP on Sense. I think it was the right call. I can see better now. Hear better, too. It’s weird. I’m fighting four tomorrow. After that, I’m leaving with the horses and the cart. I need to get almost 50 miles away before noon. I don’t know where I’ll end up.”

My throat tightened.

“Liz, I love you. I’m coming. I don’t know how yet, and I know that sounds like bullshit, but I’m going to find a way. I picked Sense because I need to see the monsters before they reach me. Before they reach anyone I’m with. That’s the first job, right? See the danger. Kill it before it gets close. It’ll help me aim at the very least, hell maybe by the time this is done I’ll be a better shot than you.”

The wind moved through the apple trees.

I heard every leaf.

I went inside before the dark got into my head any deeper. The house smelled like old smoke from the wood stove, and all the memories I didn’t have time to grieve. I checked the door locks, even though they didn’t matter much anymore. I set a chair under the back doorknob anyway. It made me feel better, and that counted for something, I guess.

The candle burned on the coffee table. A small gold flame, weak and stubborn. I sat beside it and traced the route on the map with one finger.

Route 22 west to the county line… maybe take… Highway 5 north.

Maybe head to the old campground.

Maybe the river bridge.

Maybe...

Forty-eight miles.

I counted it again. And again.

Four monsters tomorrow. Eight if I stayed. Nineteen arrows. Eight broadheads. One Sense Star. Thirty-five XP. Two horses. One cart. One bike. One guy who had no business being anyone’s warrior.

I laughed under my breath.

“Sun Blaze Sword Knight Star Mage,” I whispered. “You are out of your depth, buddy.”

The candle flame bent, then stood straight again.

I lay down on the couch with Dad’s old sweatshirt over my shoulders and Mom’s prayer beads against my chest. Old Bessy leaned within arm’s reach. The bow sat across the coffee table. The naginata rested by the door, ugly and homemade, and maybe the difference between life and death. Who knew who had failed to kill their monster, and now they would be roaming free.

“Tomorrow,” I whispered the word into the dark.