Eggings was a simple man.

Preferring to be called Tim by his friends, he always considered himself a charismatic person and one that never shied away from some hard work.

But there was hard work, and then the grueling crap the [Army Commander] made his [Team] go through.

And it definitely didn’t help that he had somehow become the de facto leader of their group for no merit other than being the only one with enough spine to have a proper conversation with the natives.

A group, he might add, that was forced upon him, solely because their [Classes] balanced themselves out.

It had been days since he had last seen that sweet lass that had been [Transferred] with him at the same [Temple].

So there he was, in a group of strangers, being trained by aliens, only so they could reclaim some kind of piece of Earth that had come to the [Nexus] with them.

It might sound grandiose, but all that surrounded him were dirt fields, with muddy puddles here and there, unassuming wooden structures pretty much everywhere the eye could see, and one side that was filled with thousands of temporary buildings, mostly tents; and let’s not mention the chasm not too far away from where he now stood that seemed to spew an infinite amount of [Mana] in the surrounding.

Which was great for his, and the others, recovery, but kind of made the air stifling.

Not that Tim could pay attention to that sensation right now, since he had just landed face-first into a puddle.

“Get up, you maggot! Now isn’t the time to be wallowing in the mud; you still have to complete the rest of the obstacle course!” Someone shouted from above him.

Timothy did get up, and not only because he was ordered to do so, but because the mud reeked of blood, blood that has been shed by thousands of people up until now, whenever it was their turn to go through this deadly version of ‘Takeshi’s Castle’… although ‘deadly’ was relative, since even chopped heads were seamlessly fixed an instant later, preventing any loss of life.

Not that it made the first few times of it happening any less traumatic… but they all weirdly found themselves less bothered by it than expected.

And ‘magic’ was the only response they ever got that was closest to an actual explanation for both the [Healing] and the retaining of their sanity.

He got back in line, behind the rest of his teammates that were waiting for their inevitable turn into the Blender, which wasn’t a name they had chosen, but their [Commander] had, and pretty aptly if he was allowed to say so: A maze of poles and misshapen object where everything was able to materialize spinning blades, or other similarly sharp implements, and chop anything that got too close.

At the [Temple] they had gotten an off-white attire that lacked any meaningful defense, which clearly explained their classification as [Beginner’s gear], but once they had been properly registered with the [Army] they all been outfitted with clothes that easily matched their roles, showing who was some kind of caster by the flowing robes, or melee fighter by the heavier armor.

Not that it mattered during their training, since the [Monsters] they were allowed to fight for [Levels] were relatively easy, and their courses were equaling taxing for all, since they seemed to be able to adjust its difficulty and specifications based on who was going through it.

This mainly translated into those who specialized in melee like him having a harder time on the preliminary courses, while magic users had it much laxer for now.

“Marvelous”, he muttered, watching once again one of the said mages of his group get chopped into pieces, but then be whole again even before his body had hit the ground.

“Quicker, maggot! We don’t have all day!” Shouted again the [Commander], with his always ‘oh so lovely’ voice.

At times, Tim thought that his instructors were there mostly to berate them, instead of teaching them anything useful or worthwhile, to begin with. He was honestly starting to think that becoming an [Adventurer] would have been a better choice, but the couple millions or so [Humans] there were reason enough to quickly dissuade any further stupid thoughts.

Millions. Maybe reaching 5 if you counted those that had decided to do something different from joining the [Army] and reclaim their rightful land. Less than 0.1% of Humanity had been [Transferred], and life in the [Nexus] seemed to only want to further reduce that number: Assassinations, unsolicited attacks, [Monsters], [Beasts], and other peril all coalesced into perils dedicated to threatening their lives; thankfully, there were a lot of powerful people that wanted to see them thrive, including [Gods] and [Demi-Gods], so there hadn’t been any losses just yet.

But the longer Timothy experienced those perils, the more convinced he got that it was only a matter of time.

The next gal gave her best attempt at getting through the death trap, her thin leather outfit identifying her as someone focused on [Dexterity], and fared slightly better than her predecessor, only getting bisected towards the latter half of the course by an almost invisibly thin metal wire that had sprouted from somewhere.

Those new random traps that came out from time to time were probably the worst thing about the Blender, since there was no way to prepare for them.

Why were they going through with this torture? Because the gains in [Stats] were ridiculous: Near-death experiences did great for early gains, and if their objective was to survive out there, they would surely need every advantage they could get.

Not that it wasn’t still a traumatic experience… at first, but they quickly learned that their heightened [Mental Stats], together with the ‘magic’ the instructors often referred to, actually helped with getting over it.

Timothy was pretty sure that he could play the homonymous game and not rage in the slightest anymore.

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Deciding to distract himself from the next guy in the Blender, he started reading his [Status].

Name:

Timothy Eggings

Race:

Transferred Human

Age:

26

Class:

Blood Brawler (Lvl. 3)

Sub-Class:

none

Job:

Private (Army)

He had turned 26 at some point, missing his own birthday during all this madness, not being able to keep track of it without the knowledge of how the calendar in this world worked, and the natives weren’t forthcoming with such crucial [Information].

[Lvl. 3] was nothing to scoff at, since in their group of hundreds training in parallel only a dozen or so had reached [Lvl. 4]; outside of their group though, there were super-humans past [Lvl. 5] that seemed to defy any logic with their capabilities, in his eyes.

They could ‘Captain America’ pretty much everything, even when [Body Stats] weren’t their focus, and were just… overall better.

Not that Timothy didn’t like the idea of getting stronger, but there were people that already got [+6 Stats] every level without the boost they would get at that point, and Tim’s measly 4 made him worry that maybe he might fall behind the curve.

At least, that was what he was thinking, until that day their [Commander] decided to make a big announcement, aided by the [Teachers] that had been instructing them all along, where they were told about the remaining hidden [Stats], and Timothy immediately saw that he had been getting 8 [Stats] per [Lvl], double than before, catapulting himself in the upper echelons of his peers.

Suddenly, his image as figurehead had strengthened, but this time he found that he liked the idea, and his [Patron] wholly approved.

That night Tim went to sleep with a goofy green on his face, dreaming of future heroics and him as one of the leading figures of humanity.

* * *

At the bottom of a dark corridor, in the depth of a [Temple], inside a locked marble room, two relatively similar brown-skinned humanoids with finned ears were discussing animatedly with one another.

“What do you mean that you can’t find him!?”

Jeoff was shouting In front of his father, who was too collected for his liking, even after proving the failure of his contacts.

“I mean that he became completely untraceable through magical means-“ His father started explaining.

“Then-!” He tried to interject but was interrupted himself in return.

“BUT, we can still send [Scouts] to look for him the more ‘mundane’ way”, Senior finished.

The young Jeoff paused, and forced a resemblance of calmness in his attitude. “Then why didn’t you just say so?” He asked, between clenched teeth, almost seething at his father.

“Because you need to understand that you aren’t owed anything anymore: you’ve already weighed on this family far too much”, the patriarch responded coldly, and with mild disgust in his voice.

Jeoff Jr., of the glorious Jeofferneys, after having spent a week in the correction facility of the [Water Temple], had finally gotten a visit from his illustrious father, only for him to tell him that the search for that [Demon] in disguise would take longer than expected, and that he was a disgrace to his family.

The old fart dared!?

This time it took longer for the younger of the two to calm himself down, but if this period of seclusion had taught him anything, it was patience.

“Do you at least know when you’re going to be able to free me from this farce of a punishment?”

The father regarded the son coldly, wondering for a moment where he had gone wrong in educating him, and ultimately tossing the blame on whatever hired [Teacher] must have failed him the most.

“I’m afraid that you’ll have to endure it for a bit longer, since our best estimates put the annulment of your ‘trial’ at least a fortnight from now, give or take a day if we are met with unexpected adequacy from our opposition”, the patriarch easily responded.

“Damn it! That vapid woman should have just listened to me and avoided both of us these unneeded headaches!” Commented the spoiled young master.

“Patience, son. You will have your opportunity to claim back both your honor, and that… girl. Times are changing, and these changes were a long time coming”, cryptically said Senior.

“You mean…?” Jeoff Jr. asked hopefully.

“Not yet, but soon”, Jeoff Sr. responded smugly.

“Soon”, Junior repeated with a nasty smile on his face, already thinking about how they would toast later at their victory.

What they were talking about was, of course, the defamation of the current [Demi-Goddess] of water, and their subsequent grasp of godhood of their own.

Unbeknownst to them the [Cleaners], the equivalent of a secret service in the [Temple], were paying close attention to both them and the hidden aide in the shadows, who was currently sending a cheeky wave their way.

* * *

Another cycle passed in the idyllic twilight realm, another cycle where the black sun tried and consequently failed to find any kind of purchase.

Besides the hole in the pocket reality that it represented, the [Abyss], whatever it was, had yet to accomplish anything, but not for a lack of trying. Even now, with [Buddy] acting like the eternal watcher observing the event, the darkness tried to extend a tendril of its essence into this reality, only for it to ‘glitch out’ and disappear, as if the rules of this tiny world simply couldn’t accept its existence.

Not that [Buddy], after over a week of observation, could say that it comprehended much about the unknown entity: First of all, it seemed to simply be an all-consuming blackness given sentience, and yet there was nothing ‘simple’ about it; then there was the fact it communicated through an altered version of the [System], like how it had addressed itself as [Abyss], just like [Buddy] could, or at least that’s what this sentient instance of the [System] thought.

Thinking about it, pretty much everything in Darwin’s [World-Within] was nonsensical by normal standards, from the fact that there was perennial twilight, that quickly got taken over by a thick wave of purple [Aether] only to come back somehow ‘strengthened’ from the experience, with the cycle repeating over and over, and no apparent sources for neither light nor [Aether], to the endless landscape of tall and green grass that spanned the horizon, and the numerous saplings, now grown into mighty evergreens of different shades and hues, definitely didn’t help in making sense of this place, just like checkerboards mountains.

Those were relatively new, but had just erupted from the ground for no apparent reason, and looked made from two very different materials, one glossy and back, and the other shiny and white.

The fact that [Kenny]’s light seemed only to somehow increase the oddities in everything that illuminated only made it harder to rationalize this place.

If [Buddy] could massage its temples it would, but it had neither hands nor the head to do so, so it gave the equivalent of an ethereal sigh and went back to ‘world-watching’, as it liked to call it.

And even after all this time, [Buddy] had yet to tell its bonded what was going on inside him, only for fear of repercussion due to overreaction.

After all, how could the unstable [Human] react once he would get to know that his inner world was an actual place that other entities, besides his familiars and himself, could reach?

He would easily freak out, unnecessarily so, one might easily conclude.

But it was surely something that Darwin should know, and [Buddy] had the feeling that it would become relevant sooner rather than later.