"The World of Fratricide."

  Amara stood up, her legs still trembling but her will ironcd.

  "Let's go. No time."

  Aryan looked at her and gritted his teeth. He knew exactly what she meant. The teleportation had consumed 3 days of their life span. From 44 days, they were down to a pitiful 41 days. The clock was ticking louder than their heartbeats.

  Aryan forced himself up, not wasting another moment. Brother Seven grabbed the unconscious Jay, slinging him onto his back like a sack of supplies, and the group began to move.

  The next step they took, the invisible transparent formation, materialized into a military camp, chaos buzzed in their ears.

  To their right, to their left, just immediate to them, someone even dashed into them, people were flooding into the area like refugees entering a shelter during a pgue outbreak. Faces were pale, armor was dented, and the smell of antiseptic and fear hung heavy in the air.

  Then, a voice rang out—not from a person, but from everywhere at once, amplified by the surroundings.

  "You must have followed the message you received. Otherwise, I wouldn't be seeing you here. This is the Military Processing Camp. The War is online."

  The voice was cold, efficient.

  "You will be assigned tasks. Finish them as soon as possible. For whatever reason you have reached this pnet, you will find your answers in your journey. That is all."

  The presence vanished as quickly as it arrived.

  PING.

  A notification greeted their phones immediately. Amara pulled hers out, and Aryan read the text aloud for the group.

  “DIRECTIVE UPDATE”

  Objective: Move to West Zone, Sector 4.

  Action: Utilize Local Teleportation. Scan Code.

  Reward: Your respective Systems will be updated with the Database of this ‘Pnet Intel, Resource Map, Threat Assessment’.

  Note: Just stay alive. Good luck.

  They all looked at each other. By now, they were used to being treated like pawns on a chessboard. They simply nodded.

  They moved to the West Zone as instructed. It was efficient, cold, and automated. No receptionist greeted them. No guide welcomed them. Just a glowing blue scanner next to a teleportation pad.

  They scanned the code. The machine beeped.

  They stepped onto the pad. Unlike the inter-dimensional tear that ate their lifespan, this was just a local jump. One step, and the trip was complete.

  ZAP.

  The Luxury of Violence

  As soon as they stepped out, the air changed.

  They weren't in a camp anymore. They were in the foyer of a massive, luxurious building—marble floors, crystal chandeliers, velvet drapes.

  And a scream.

  "AAARGH!"

  The sound shattered the elegance. Jay, jolted by the noise, snapped his eyes open on Brother Seven's back and scrambled down, adrenaline waking him up instantly.

  They moved fast toward the source of the noise.

  In the center of the grand hall, amidst shattered expensive vases, two hunters were locked in combat.

  A Rank 3 young man, eyes bloodshot with rage.

  A Rank 2 boy, looking terrified but holding his ground.

  "Stop, Brother!" the Rank 2 boy shouted, parrying a lethal strike. "Let us not be like the others!"

  "Huh! Stop the act!" The Rank 3 brother roared, swinging a heavy mace. "If I do not strike, will you not strike? Our world is too comfortable with this! Our parents killed each other to rank up! They are a living example for us!"

  "I never wanted us to be like them! Not like everyone else!" the younger brother cried, defending himself desperately.

  The mace came down for a killing blow.

  WHOOSH.

  Sister Eight moved faster than sound. She blurred into the fray, her bde fshing once. She didn't cut them; she smmed the ft of her sword against the Rank 3 brother’s weapon, creating a shockwave.

  BOOM.

  The force halted the fight instantly. Both brothers were thrown a mile back—figuratively speaking—skidding across the polished floor and crashing into the walls.

  They tried to get up, but the immense pressure of Eight Rank five Hunters descended on the room. They colpsed back onto the floor, pinned by gravity.

  'Who are you to barge in like this?'

  That was what the Rank 3 brother wanted to ask, but the words died in his throat as he sensed the power difference.

  Brother Five walked over and crouched down in front of them, his face impassive.

  "What is the situation?" Five asked calmly.

  "What does 'Sir' mean by 'the situation'?" the Rank 3 brother spat, gritting his teeth as blood filled his mouth. "We are leading our daily life. This is normal."

  The Rank 2 boy, clutching his bruised ribs, looked up at the group. His eyes lingered on Aryan.

  "You are not from this pnet, are you?" the boy whispered.

  Aryan raised an eyebrow. He bent down, meeting the boy's eyes.

  "How do you know that?"

  "Well... I'm a Seer," the boy gasped. "I'll know it. Your energy... it feels foreign."

  "Did you also see our arrival?" Aryan asked, his interest piqued.

  "I couldn't. I can't see the future. Not yet," the boy admitted, shaking his head. "I can only sense and differentiate. I sense that you don't belong here."

  "Ah. I see," Aryan murmured.

  He looked from the terrified younger brother to the murderous older one.

  "So, what is it?" Aryan asked, his voice hardening. "You are family. Blood retives. And yet, you are killing each other? Just to level up?"

  The Rank 2 boy raised an eyebrow, looking at Aryan as if he was the crazy one.

  "Is your Ruler so benevolent that you don't know this?" the boy asked, a bitter smile touching his lips.

  "What do you mean?" Sister Eight asked, her hand still resting on her sword hilt.

  "Because killing one's own family to rank up... to break the level cap... is too common here," the boy said, tears finally leaking from his eyes. "Didn't you hear my brother? Our parents killed each other in this very room to reach the next Rank. That is how this world works."