Dusty had abandoned them as soon as he finished explaining how to activate the Fey Crossing, claiming that his mission was over and that he was not allowed to travel any further. At least, they didn't have to fake heartfelt goodbye with the small guy, as he was equally happy to be done with them.

And so they went back to the mundane side of the Winter Island. Which unlike its Feywild side wasn't permanently covered in snow and had a pretty normal forest instead of a dead primeval nightmare infested with werewolves. And above all: it wasn't saturated with wild magic, which helped her companions breathe better.

Yet unlike the Spring Island they just came from, though mundane, the predators had not been hunted down to extinction. And so, to be safe, the team had chosen to stick to the edge and come around.

It took them longer than if they had gone through the forest or the open field. But the map was mentioning direwolves and animated scarecrows as the locals' apex predators. And they unanimously decided to avoid those threats as much as possible.

So predictably, they had been still around the edge when the fatigue caught up to them, somewhere around midday. They had not slept the entire night and barely had a chance to rest the day before. So in spite of the early hour, they chose to call it a day and set camp 'for the night.'

Each one of them eased up into their respective camp duty as a deeply ingrained habit from the previous floor. She would start the campfire and start cooking, while Moana and Paolo were setting up the camp. And Michel... a was still picking the wood, even now that Lono was gone.

Despite the months that had passed, the loss of their team fighter was still fresh in everyone's mind and a recurring subject that came back often at dinnertime.

"Thanks for the wood," Sophia said, as Michel sat before the fire, finally done for the day.

"Took you long enough," Moana commented bitterly.

And he did take longer and longer each time, bringing less wood each time as he did so. But Sophia had never said a word. He always brought enough and so long they were not found lacking, she would pull him some slack. But Moana was savage. And it wasn't her first time.

"What's your fucking problem?" Michel finally reacted, after weeks of taking it all in.

And Sophia suddenly found the soup she was stirring oddly fascinating. If anyone asked, she was on Michel's side. But she would rather stay neutral and out of trouble for as long as she could.

"Your grieving of my brother is the fucking problem." She shouted. "I'm the only one who hasn't given up on him and you make me look like a heartless bitch for believing in him. You've been discreet and silent so I said nothing. But it's getting ridiculous. He is my brother, not yours."

Sophia was even less willing to intervene right now, as Moana was completely oblivious to the boys' relationship, of which it wasn't her place to point out. They had been rather discreet about it. Although Sophia could tell the obvious sign.

They always volunteered together for this kind of task. And came back from picking wood panting with far too less for the competition they seemed to make of it.

"He was also our friend, you know?" Paolo interjected to Michel's defense.

"He isn't dead!" Moana screamed hysterically at Paolo's face.

'Yep. Wrong tense, dude. No one is going to save you from her.' Sophia thought, still concentrating on her task.

"And stop pretending!" Moana called her out. "I know for a fact that soup is already perfect. You're the worst hypocrite of them all."

There was sure no lost sympathy left between the two of them. And Sophia kept reminding herself not to lash out, cause they needed the girl more than she needed them.

"You know that the only one of us who might one day be able to confirm your brother's health and whereabouts is the one you chose to personally attack about his feelings, right?" She said coldly, dropping all pretense as Moana asked.

And it gave the proud field surgeon some pause.

Indeed, only their diviner could hope to get the scrying spell, which would let him spy on Lono, granted they were on the same plane of existence, which Sophia was not entirely too sure about. But if Lono was alive and it reached him, he would most certainly allow it. And there was a lot that could be learned within ten minutes.

However, the issue with that spell was how advanced it was. It would take forever for Michel to get his hands on that spell, by which time it was safer to assume he would be dead. Not that Sophia would ever mention that obvious flaw in her argument.

Moana opened her big mouth, mostly probably to shout something hurtful right at her face. But nothing came out. And growing increasingly frustrated with her own inability to find something clever to retort, Moana stormed out of the clearing and into the woods.

"Should we run after her before she got herself hurt?" Paolo asked.

"Nah." Sophia brushed it off. "She would only do something more stupid if you tried."

And then, the discussion died out. And she decided to make yet another system inquiry about the past floor mortality.

There is no one left alive on the first four floors. Hence the statistics for those floors are now complete.

For the record, only 34 people have died on the first floor, 149 on the second floor, and 207 on the third floor. 222 people have died on the fourth floor, adding to the overall death toll. The overall mortality had been updated to 10%.

The anomalous survival of the third floor was confirmed on the fourth floor. The previous estimated survival had been reinforced and updated, from 40% to 45 %. That would be 1.8 times better than your species' current best performance.

Unsurprisingly, there was no one left on the fourth floor. But the same could not be said of that floor mortality. It wasn't much compared to the floor's increasing challenge. And it explained the system's optimistic estimation about their survival odds. Yet, it was still hard to believe that her chance at survival had been multiplied by six.

10% had died on the lower floor. So it stood to reason that 20% should die to the middle floors. And then 40% to the upper floors. So their actual reasonable odds should be somewhere around 30% instead of 45%. Yet even with that more realistic estimation.... their odds had still increased by a lot.

And the system kept insisting that they were doing great, despite losing over 600 people. The equivalent of a hundred teams completely wiped out. And accounting for the fact one had to die thrice before appearing in those stats, it drove the point home of the true brutality of the tutorial, and the uncertainty of their survival.

How many survivors, like Lono, were currently on their last life? And how many dodged the bullet entirely?

She tried to make different system inquiries for answers. But the system refused each time.

Stats about survivors by number of lives? Denied. Total number of deaths per floor? Denied. Further information about the confirmed deceased and their cause of death? Denied. Clearly, there was something off about it. But Sophia could not put a nail on it.

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And so she decided to give it a rest.

It wasn't like she was going to unearth yet another clue about the tutorial torturing herself like this.

Besides, like her teammates, she had some crazy amount of sleep to catch up on.

★☆★

Sophia woke up in a strange place. She was in different woods. And the place screamed of Feywild with Golden and Bronze leaves, some levitating in the air, arrested in their fall. And then, a single leaf rose from the ground and reconnected to its branches, high up in a tree. A pretty normal occurrence on the Autumn Island, she guessed.

Except she had no recollection of getting there. The last thing she remembered was falling asleep at the edge of the forest in the material plane of the Winter Island.

And no sign of her team wherever she looked. She did not even have her backpack, her blades, or her bow, leaving her so vulnerable to potential attack that she felt naked.

And then, she spotted an unusual pile of stone that could only be man-made, or well... sapient-made. And as she walked to get a closer look, she saw another pile of stone in the distance. Feeling a hinch, she went for that second pile instead, and indeed, from there she spotted a third pile.

Those were landmarks a path through the forest and it couldn't be a coïncidence that she woke up on that path.

And so she kept going onward into the unknown.

The path through the forest made her cross a stream, going around a lonely hill and then the stone had been replaced by white wooden gates, Japanese style-adjacent.

It led her straight to a roofless kiosque covered in outgrowth. And in the middle of that structure, an elf-like creature covered in autumn leaves. They were tall and looked old. And Sophia had a feel they were male, though there was no obvious tell of the sapient's gender.

And they looked like a Buddhist monk, meditating, cross-legged, on the cold hard floor, seemingly uncaring of the world around them.

Until their eyes shot open, staring sternly right at her.

They had closed the distance before Sophia could even blink. And she instantly knew she was no match for them. Nor that she had any hope of surviving, should they prove hostile. It wouldn't even be a fight.

"You shouldn't be here." He said possibly, "You need to leave. Run away. As far as you can. Before it is too late."

Then, he pushed her hard.

And she woke up, back at the clearing, at the edge of the Winter Island forest, utterly confused. Cause though it was a dream, the sudden pain in her ribcage and struggle for air was feeling more than real enough for her.

She could tell that something was wrong, about her and about this place.

But she was utterly out of her depth.

And worse, it seemed like her surprised cry of pain had woken up the whole team too.

It was going to be a long early morning.

★☆★

After reluctantly sharing her experience, and the fact a dream had caused a real physical trauma, they had decided to leave the safety of the wood and go straight forward for their destination through the fields.

But that's also meant dealing with Animated Scarecrows.

Though Straw Golem would have been a better descriptor for the monster as they didn't have a mind of their own for Sophia to manipulate. They were also more numerous than the lava golem but used farm tools as their weapon instead of magic. And though mindless, they were surprisingly proficient in fighting with those tools.

But there was a catch: The Animated Scarecrows were a true menace with their forks, scythes, and shovels. But as soon as someone forced them to drop it, the Scarecrows lacked the mind to pick it back, making them an easy target.

The fights had then become a game once they figured it out, Sophia firing Decay Arrows imbued with Chilling Touch, one after the other. The arrows would fly straight through the material while the necromantic energy would cause the Straw to decay and rot, causing the Scarecrow's hands — and the weapons they wielded — to fall off like rotten fruits.

Then, the others would beat the crap out of the sitting duck Scarecrows. But to be honest, it was mostly Moana venting her anger, slaughtering the Scarecrows with their own Scythes.

"God! I love this weapon." The field surgeon cackled maniacally.

'A medic playing Grim Reaper... how original.' Sophia thought, rolling her eyes, bemused at her teammates' reckless charge and childish display.

It was improbable that Moana would be able to carry it over to the next floor. But the team could use a polearm user even if it wasn't what Sophia had in mind.

Her peers were so obsessed with swords that everyone seemed to have forgotten that spears had been the single most successful weapon in human history. If she had been forced into picking anything but bows, it definitely would have been her pick.

But Lady Silverhair had a thing for bastard swords, and so she ran with it, though she was barely using them at all. Actually, had she no fear for her main weapon, she would probably be shooting at point-blank range instead of wielding those blades.

"Nope. The team is already an affront to fashion. I'm vetoing all the edgelord stuff. " Michel vehemently disagreed.

It was so absurd that everyone exploded in laughter at the nonsensical comment.

Not accounting for their respawn suit, the tutorial only provided them with a single set of clothing, so it was already an issue of personal hygiene. Heck, they were even glad they had their respawn suit so they didn't have to make their laundry in their birthday suit instead. So fashion was well and truly out of the window.

"Moana is only loving this weapon cause it is so effective against this specific target." Paolo pointed out before he could not contain his laughter anymore. "I'm personally looking forward to her next pick."

"You are all so mean." The girl pouted crossing her arms and inadvertently making her pose even more dramatic.

"All? Prince and I said nothing." Sophia argued.

"As if you weren't about to do so." Moana retorted. "You are all like a pack of wolves, only waiting to strike from the right angle."

Yep. They did. No matter the circumstances, they were only picking a fight when they were almost nothing short of guaranteed to win and always strategized to min max their losses.

It was actually so true that it put an end to the argument, allowing everyone to get back on track for the next batch of Scarecrows.

But something was different this time. For some reason, the bigger one has a mind on its own. And Sophia would definitely not pass that opportunity to manipulate its nascent spirit.

It was time to lure sing the harvest.

★☆★

Unlike Spring Island under Astarot rule, Winter Island had many agrarian villages that dotted the map and supported the central city economy.

And so, while they were still far from the city, they managed to secure shelter for the night in one such village, just in the nick of time before nightfall.

Unfortunately, there were no inn, tavern, or stall for the traveler, and the locals were a little spooked at the sight of newcomers. But in the end, after swearing no less than three times that they would leave by first light, a farmer living outside of the city proper agreed to let them sleep in his barn, entirely for free, and insisted on quite literally sharing a bread between us and his family.

It was more symbolic than anything else and the farmer did not offer them a meal, nor did they ask. But it seems like the farmer was observing the local rules of hospitality to the letter, probably more out of superstition than anything else.

But at least, they had a roof above their head for the night without relying on Prince's enchanted collar. Plus, sleeping on fresh straws would be an entirely new experience for the lot of them.

"It doesn't feel really hygienic. But still better than the cold hard floor, I guess." Michel commented, reluctantly testing the makeshift mattress.

"It's actually pretty safe." Moana pointed out. "There are reasons broomsticks were made of straw, aside from the fact it's cheap. And cleaning properties aside, it's also good for insulation, preventing you from catching a cold."

Michel mumbled a thanks and they put the matter aside for dinner, which Sophia had once again reheated for convenience, before they agreed on calling it a night early, to keep their promise to their host.

Sophia was truly exhausted from all the combat and her previous poor night's sleep. And so she let her mind wander and fell asleep without any difficulty.

Only to find herself in the exact same dream as the day before, on the very path she had followed the previous night.

At first, she pondered the idea of going in the opposite direction to avoid the elven monk. But she soon found out it was impossible as the path ended about ten meters away from her starting point. It was either the path or the forest.

And knowing that she could be hurt in that dream made her choose the path without hesitation: she would better deal with the danger she knew first.

However, the walk to the kiosque felt a lot shorter now that she knew the way.

And when she got there, the elf was already there, standing, and obviously waiting for her as his posture shifted the moment their eyes met.

"So you chose to ignore my warning. Or you got particularly unlucky. Whatever." The elven stern elder remarked dismissively, "Please, make yourself at home 'cause you are going to live there for a real long time."

"What do you mean by a long time?" Sophia asked, trying to understand what was happening to her.

"Long story short: You got abducted by fairies. They will keep you asleep and feed from your dream for as long as you should live." He summarized, "I guess it wasn't what you expected, right? Trying to reconnect with your Fey Ancestry and all that..."

Sophia nodded while absorbing the new information. She wasn't trying to reconnect with her Fey ancestry but she did have the bloodline. And it appeared that the old elf was rather perceptive to be able to guess as much. She wasn't going to volunteer any information to prove him wrong, at least.

"Anyway, Sorry for yesterday's first impression. I've been alone for quite a long time, not that it should excuse my behavior but still. You are welcome."

"Nice to meet you, I guess?" Sophia replied tentatively, surprised by the sudden change of attitude. "You may call me Miirik."

She didn't bother to give him her real name for multiple reasons. First, she didn't want a repeat of her earlier conversation with Prince. And second, she didn't trust the Fey.

"Ilbryen Sildithas." The elf replied extending a hand for her to shake.