After what felt like an eternity, my body finally surrendered to rest, granting me the reprieve it desperately needed. Slowly, I began to stir. The first thing I noticed was the cool touch of grass beneath me, the earthy scent grounding me as I blinked my eyes open. Shafts of sunlight filtered through the dense canopy above, casting a mosaic of light and shadow across the forest floor.

I pushed myself up, my muscles stiff but functional. The woods stretched around me, tranquil yet alive with the subtle sounds of nature—rustling leaves, distant birdsong, the soft whisper of the wind. But amidst it all, I caught something else: voices. Not far away, faint yet unmistakable.

Where are Rodrick and Ivan?

Hope sparked within me as I moved toward the sound. It didn’t take long before I stumbled upon a campsite, one far more elaborate than I expected. The fire at its center crackled warmly, sending gentle wisps of smoke spiraling into the air. Around it, familiar figures went about their routines.

Rodrick sat on a log by the fire, his ever-relaxed demeanor complemented by a smirk that hinted at mischief. At a nearby table, Ivan and Hattori were engrossed in something, their heads bent low as they examined a map or diagram. By a towering tree, Brandon sat with his armor set aside, leaning comfortably against the trunk. Animals surrounded him, an almost surreal sight—birds perched on his arms, a rabbit at his feet. One small bird pecked at seeds he offered, and his broad smile radiated a rare, wholesome serenity.

I couldn’t help but pause and take it in. Huh. That’s… oddly wholesome for someone who looks like he could punch a mountain in half.

Shaking off my lingering grogginess, I moved toward the fire and sat beside Rodrick. He glanced up and, as if on cue, his face lit up with that trademark cheerfulness of his.

“Yo, good morning, bro! Hope you’re fully rested for today,” he greeted, his tone a perfect balance of casual and warm.

“Morning, Rodrick,” I replied, stretching slightly. My eyes narrowed as a smirk tugged at my lips. “Wait… so your name here is Noobmaster? Seriously?”

Rodrick burst into laughter, throwing his head back dramatically. “It’s NOOBmaster69 to YOU,” he declared, still chuckling at his own joke.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. Typical Rodrick. Noobmaster69 had been his go-to username for years. No matter the game, no matter the situation, he stuck with it, unapologetically owning the ridiculousness. Somehow, it never got old for him—or, admittedly, for me.

“So, how about you, Lance?” he asked, emphasizing my name with a sassy tone that made my eye twitch.

Ah, Lance. My new username. A far cry from the cringe-fest that was my old one: LolGetrektnoob69. I guess you could say I’d grown up a bit. No more edgy gamer tags to haunt me—just a proper name with a bit of flair. Still, something nagged at me.

“Wait a second,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “How do you know my name is Lance? I never told you.”

Rodrick leaned back, his grin widening. “Dude, come on. You think I wouldn’t recognize my own bro, even in this game?”

I frowned, glancing at him, then at the others. My focus flickered as I tried to examine the overlay, but as usual, all it displayed was a player’s level. There was no way for him to know my username unless I told him—or unless the game had more layers to its mechanics than I’d realized.

Something about that thought made me uneasy. Shrugging it off for now, I leaned back and gave Rodrick a side-eye. “You’re still just as insufferable as ever, you know that?”

“And proud of it!” he said, laughing as he threw an arm around my shoulder.

The warmth of his laugh, the camaraderie of the group—it all felt… good. But beneath it, a seed of curiosity began to sprout. How much did this game truly know about us? And how much had it already decided?

"Speaking of which, Rodrick," I say, narrowing my eyes. "How did you know my name was Lance?"

Rodrick pauses mid-laugh, his grin turning sly. "Hmm. Good question." He taps his chin theatrically, then smirks. "But, y’know, I think it’d be better if Ivan explained it." He raises his voice slightly, calling out, "Oi, Ivan! I know your noisy arse heard everything over here."

Ivan, sitting at the table with Hattori, doesn’t even look up. "Please don’t put me under the sun like that," he says, his tone smooth but slightly defensive. He stands, brushing off imaginary dust before joining us. "I just happen to know what’s happening around me at all times."

He lowers himself onto the log with an air of patience, adjusting his glasses before meeting my gaze. "The answer lies in the N.F.E. system," Ivan begins, his tone matter-of-fact. "There are three core systems every player should know: the level system, the class system, and the N.F.E. system. What you’re asking about falls under the latter."

I blink, trying to process the flood of information. There’s even more to this game than I thought. Every piece of knowledge we uncover makes this world seem less like a creation of human hands and more like some impossibly advanced phenomenon.

Ivan continues, his words pulling me back to the moment. "Right now, focus on us, Lance."

I nod, shifting my attention to Rodrick. Concentrating, I focus on him with intent. To my surprise, new information materializes in my vision—Rodrick’s username and level.

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Noobmaster69 – LV. 23

"Whoa!" I exclaim, losing my balance and tumbling off the log. "Holy moly, Rodrick! You’re seriously strong."

Rodrick laughs, rubbing the back of his head in mock modesty. "Gosh, Lance, you’re making me blush," he says, clearly relishing the compliment.

Ivan gives a small, approving nod before explaining further. "The N.F.E. system governs how and when you can see someone’s information. Unless you’ve directly asked for someone’s name or they consider you an ally, their name won’t be revealed. A stranger or neutral party will only show their level, while an enemy will display neither name nor level—no matter how hard you focus."

Rodrick jumps in, his tone teasing. "That’s why, when you fought Elaine, you couldn’t see her level or name. Subconsciously, you thought of her as an enemy—even if you didn’t realize it."

I nod slowly, pieces of the puzzle clicking into place. So, the system reads your thoughts, determining your perception of others to decide what information is available. That explains why, despite everything, Elaine remained a blank slate during our fight.

Rodrick smirks. "To be honest, Lance, we didn’t really see you as an enemy. You were more of… well, a harmless noob," he says bluntly, shrugging.

Ouch. His words hit harder than I expected. All that effort I poured into trying to face them like a hero, and they didn’t even see me as a threat.

Ivan picks up the explanation, his tone cool and measured. "Mindset is key. If the person you’re focusing on considers you a friend, but you see them as an enemy, you’ll still be blocked from seeing their information. Your own perception becomes the barrier."

I sit back, digesting the implications. This game doesn’t just transport you to another world—it knows your thoughts, your intentions, your very mindset. The level of immersion is… unsettling.

"And that’s only scratching the surface," Ivan says, his voice taking on an edge of intrigue. "The N.F.E. system runs deeper than most players realize. For example, if you’re sick in real life, you’ll perform weaker here. It also governs actions like opening menus, executing special attacks, and even boosting your abilities in battle when you’re motivated or determined. It’s the hidden engine behind the game."

"So," I mutter, piecing it together, "this system doesn’t just account for stats and skills. It factors in a person’s willpower and determination to win a fight?"

Ivan nods. "Exactly. It levels the playing field for new players, giving them a chance if their heart is strong enough."

I lean back, staring up at the canopy of trees. This world isn’t just a game. It’s something far more intricate—something alive.

"Man," I say with a shaky laugh. "No pressure or anything, huh?"

Rodrick claps me on the back, grinning. "Nah, bro. No pressure. Just, y’know, don’t slack off. We’re all counting on you to keep up."

His words are lighthearted, but the weight of the system lingers in my mind. Determination? Motivation? If that’s what it takes, then I’ll have to dig deep. No more falling behind.

Hattori signals Ivan from across the campsite, and with a quiet nod, Ivan rises to leave us. As he walks away, curiosity gets the better of me. I focus on him, and his details flicker into view.

Ivan – LV. 21

Not bad. Considering Rodrick is a fire type and his red theme complements his flames, I can’t help but speculate about Ivan. He’s blue, calm, and composed—probably an aqua type. And then there’s me, the third wheel of this supposed elemental trio. Pretty neat setup if you think about it. But as I glance around, I notice something off. The group is quieter than usual.

"What happened to the others?" I ask, breaking the silence.

Rodrick snaps out of what I can only assume were thoughts about girls—his signature daydream expression unmistakable. He blinks at me before replying.

"Strider went to the river to clean up, and the two girls are training," he says casually.

"Wait," I ask, raising an eyebrow, "in this game, do you actually stink if you don’t shower?"

Rodrick bursts into laughter. "Haha, no! It’s not like that. He’s cleaning his armor."

Now that he mentions it, Strider’s armor is mostly white. I grimace just thinking about how quickly white clothes get dirty. Ugh. I feel for the guy. But wait—something doesn’t add up.

"Can’t he just take the armor off? Wouldn’t that be simpler?" I ask.

Rodrick shakes his head, his grin turning into a knowing smirk. "Nope, he can’t. His ability doesn’t work like that. The armor—and the scythe, too—are part of his ability. When he summons them, they’ll repair themselves over time if they’re damaged, but dirt? That’s his problem."

I tilt my head, still not fully understanding. "That makes no sense."

Rodrick leans forward, gesturing animatedly as he explains. "Picture this: whenever Strider turns off his ability, the armor and scythe go back inside his body, like they’re being stored. Little repair helpers get to work fixing any damage. But dirt and grime? That doesn’t count as damage, so when he summons them back out, they’re just as messy as before."

"Oh," I say, the logic finally clicking into place. "So, he has to clean it manually. Got it. Poor guy."

As the conversation lulls, a new thought creeps into my mind. Speaking of abilities… where’s mine? Why don’t I have one yet? It’s starting to feel like I’m the odd one out.

"Hey, Rodrick," I begin hesitantly, "I checked my profile, and it says I don’t have an ability. What’s up with that?"

Rodrick chuckles knowingly. "Yeah, that’s totally normal for beginners. In this game, you’re not born with an ability—you unlock it. How that happens is different for everyone."

I nod, but he’s not finished.

"Oh! And another thing," he adds, holding up a finger. "Some abilities have more than one trump card. It’s super rare, but some players get two quirks tied to their ability. Take Strider, for example. His armor gives him insane strength and defense, but he’s also got his scythe as a secondary perk."

"Two quirks?" I ask, leaning in slightly. "That’s impressive."

Rodrick nods, a hint of pride in his voice. "Yep. But then there are miracles. And I mean very rare miracles. Once in a blue moon, someone gets an ability with three quirks. In all my time playing, I’ve only met one person like that."

I straighten up, my curiosity piqued. "Who?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Rodrick leans in close, a sly smile spreading across his face. His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper.

"...It’s Claire."