The dimensional scarring on Marcus's hands had stopped burning.

  He sat on the cold ground just beyond Serenfold's barrier, watching the dark lines spiral across his skin like frozen lightning. The books had warned about this. Permanent marks from forcing passage through dimensional membrane. Proof of transgression. A brand that would mark him as barrier-breaker to anyone who knew what to look for.

  Beyond him, the Border Wilderness stretched out in predawn grey. Uneven ground rose and fell in rolling hills, covered with scrub grass that grew in patches between exposed rock. Dense undergrowth choked the spaces between scattered trees and heavier growth. The forest pressed close to the north, dark and waiting.

  He flexed his fingers. The movement pulled at the scars, sending dull aches up his forearms. Not pain, exactly. More like his skin remembered pain and couldn't quite let it go.

  Behind him, the barrier shimmered faintly in the predawn light. Through it, he could see the outskirts of Veyth. Familiar warehouses and workshops rendered distant and unreal. Like looking at a painting of home rather than home itself.

  He couldn't go back. Even if the Council would let him, which they wouldn't, the barrier only damaged on entry from the Serenfold side. Returning would require official gates, Council permission, explanations he couldn't give.

  Marcus turned away from the view and pulled out the Dimensional Compass. The needle pointed steady and true, aligned with Elena's coordinates. Distance to target: approximately 847 miles through unstable dimensional terrain.

  He had no idea what that meant. The research texts had been light on practical details about navigating the Shattered Realms.

  Standing took effort. His legs trembled with exhaustion. The crossing had drained more than just his physical stamina. Something deeper felt depleted. But morning was coming, and he needed to be far from this location before anyone from Serenfold discovered his exit point.

  If Sorin hadn't already.

  Marcus scanned the predawn landscape. Movement caught his eye—shapes in the distance, too large to be anything harmless. Three of them, massive and quadrupedal, moving between the hills with the unhurried gait of apex predators. Even at this distance, he could make out their size. Each one was easily twice the height of a man at the shoulder.

  His guard training kicked in. Marcus focused on the nearest creature, activating [Identify].

  Information began to materialize. Then it stuttered. The translucent panel flickered with incomplete data before collapsing into a single line:

  ??? - Level ???

  Threat Assessment: EXTREME - Far beyond identification capability

  The system's warning pulsed red in his vision. Whatever those things were, they were so far above his level that even his [Identify] skill couldn't get a read on them. In Serenfold, a Level 35 threat would have required a full guard response team. Here, they were apparently just ambient wildlife, wandering between hills like common deer.

  Marcus carefully lowered himself back to the ground, staying still until the creatures moved out of sight beyond a ridge. His heart hammered.

  Elena's words from the letter echoed: Your Level 21 skills mean nothing out there. You'd be prey.

  She hadn't been exaggerating.

  When the beasts were gone, Marcus hoisted his pack and started walking, following the Compass needle north. But now he moved more carefully, eyes scanning constantly, every shadow a potential threat.

  Two hours later, the sun rose over a landscape that looked wrong in ways Marcus couldn't articulate.

  The terrain itself was mundane enough. Rolling hills dotted with scrub grass, a line of trees marking what might be a stream. But something about the quality of light felt off. Colors seemed simultaneously more vivid and more harsh, like reality had been sharpened to an uncomfortable degree.

  And the sky. Gods, the sky.

  In Serenfold, the sky was blue with clouds. Simple. Here, Marcus could see... layers. Faint shimmering bands at different heights, like someone had stacked multiple transparent sheets of different colors overhead. The effect made his head hurt if he stared too long.

  This was the greater universe. The Shattered Realms. The place the Council had warned about since he was a child.

  It felt exactly as dangerous as promised.

  Marcus checked his status screen, looking for changes:

  MARCUS GALEN

  Level: 21

  Class: City Guard (Inactive)

  Attributes:

  STR: 28 | DEX: 27 | CON: 28

  INT: 25 | WIS: 24 | CHA: 28

  Active Skills:

  [Sword Proficiency] - Lvl 17

  [Shield Block] - Lvl 15

  [Combat Awareness] - Lvl 12

  [Endurance] - Lvl 14

  [Patrol] - Lvl 16

  [First Aid] - Lvl 8

  Status Effects:

  [Dimensional Scarring] - Permanent marks from barrier crossing.

  Visible proof of unauthorized transit. -2 CHA in regions where

  barrier-breaking is criminal offense.

  [Barrier Trauma] - Temporary. Reduced Stamina regeneration for

  72 hours. Effects diminish over time.

  Two debuffs from one crossing. Marcus dismissed the screen and kept walking.

  The terrain began to rise, hills becoming steeper. By midday, he'd reached higher ground with a view of the land ahead. What he saw made his breath catch.

  The horizon didn't make sense.

  In the distance, chunks of landscape floated at various heights above the ground. Not small rocks. Entire sections of terrain, complete with trees and what looked like buildings, suspended in defiance of physics. Between them, he could see the shimmer of dimensional rifts, like tears in the fabric of space.

  This was what "Shattered Realms" meant. Reality itself was broken here, fragments held in unstable equilibrium by forces Marcus couldn't begin to understand.

  And somewhere in all that chaos, Elena had gone. Alone.

  His hand found the locket through his shirt, Elena's portrait a solid weight against his chest.

  I'm coming.

  The shelter he found that night was a small cave, barely deep enough to count as more than an overhang. But it kept his back covered and his small fire hidden from distant eyes. Marcus sat with his sword across his knees, watching night fall over unfamiliar land.

  He'd traveled maybe fifteen miles from the barrier. Probably less, given the difficult terrain. Elena's coordinates were still over eight hundred miles away.

  At this rate, it would take him months to reach them. If he survived that long.

  Marcus pulled out Elena's journal and read by firelight:

  Day 847 in Serenfold. Still no signs of surveillance. Beginning to believe they've given up or can't track through the barrier. The isolation is maddening but necessary.

  Eight hundred and forty-seven days of hiding before she met him. Over two years of fear and loneliness, compressed into a few journal entries.

  Met someone today. Guard named Marcus. He helped an old woman carry her groceries and didn't expect thanks. Small kindness, but genuine. First time in months I've seen someone do something just because it was right.

  Marcus closed his eyes. That first meeting felt like it happened to a different person. The guard who helped old women with groceries wouldn't have broken through dimensional barriers or left his mentor behind. Wouldn't have walked away from his entire life for coordinates and a desperate hope.

  But that guard would have lost Elena forever. Would have spent the rest of his life wondering if he could have done something.

  Marcus opened his eyes and kept reading. The journal entries tracked their relationship. Elena's conflict between fear and hope, her decision to let herself care despite the danger, her joy at their wedding day tainted by knowledge it couldn't last.

  I'll protect him. Whatever happens, I'll keep him safe. Even if it means leaving.

  She'd tried. Tried to disappear without a trace, tried to make it clean, tried to keep him safely ignorant in Serenfold where Level 21 was respectable and the Council maintained order.

  Instead, she'd left coordinates. A hidden message saying Find me.

  Marcus couldn't reconcile those two intentions. Either she wanted him to follow or she didn't. Either she loved him enough to stay or she didn't.

  Maybe both could be true at once.

  He was starting to understand that things in the greater universe didn't have to make simple sense.

  Marcus added another stick to his fire and pulled out the dried food Mira had packed. The bread was starting to go stale, but it filled the hollow in his stomach. He'd need to find a way to resupply soon. His coin wouldn't last long, and he had no idea what jobs a Level 21 former guard could do that wouldn't get him killed.

  The night deepened. Sounds carried strangely in the dark. Animal calls that weren't quite right, distant crashes that might have been rockslides or might have been something else. Marcus kept his sword close and tried not to think about how alone he was.

  Eventually, exhaustion pulled him under.

  The morning brought rain and regret.

  Marcus woke soaked, his fire long dead, his body stiff from sleeping on stone. The rain had started sometime before dawn and showed no signs of stopping. Water dripped through his inadequate shelter, making everything damp and miserable.

  He packed his belongings with numb fingers and checked the Compass. Still pointing north. Still over eight hundred miles to go.

  The rain made travel miserable. Visibility dropped to a few hundred feet, the ground became treacherous mud, and Marcus's inadequate cloak did nothing to keep him dry. By midday, he was soaked through and shivering despite his elevated Constitution.

  Status effect added: [Drenched]. Reduced body temperature, increased chance of illness if not remedied.

  Marcus dismissed the notification and kept walking. The alternative was to stop and try to dry out, but he had no way to make fire in this downpour and no proper shelter nearby.

  He'd lost sight of any roads in the rain. The Compass still pointed direction, but without a path's relative safety, every step felt exposed.

  The attack came without warning.

  One moment Marcus was trudging through mud, the next something massive hit him from the side, driving him to the ground. He rolled by instinct, bringing his sword up in time to see his attacker clearly:

  A wolf. But wrong.

  Twice the size of any wolf he'd seen in Serenfold, with eyes that glowed faint red and steam rising from its drenched fur. When it snarled, he saw teeth too long, too sharp, unnatural.

  Marcus's [Combat Awareness] pinged a warning. He focused through the adrenaline, activating [Identify] as he gained his feet. The information materialized quickly:

  [Identify]

  Name: Shattered Wolf

  Level: 26

  Threat Assessment: Dangerous

  Five levels above him, but within range for a fight. Marcus's hands steadied on his sword hilt. He'd trained for this. Thousands of sparring sessions, hundreds of patrol encounters with Serenfold's relatively tame beasts.

  This was no tame beast.

  The wolf lunged. Marcus sidestepped and cut, his Sword Proficiency guiding the blade. Steel met hide and glanced off. The fur was tougher than it looked. His strike that should have opened a wound barely left a scratch.

  The wolf landed and spun, incredibly fast. Its teeth snapped inches from Marcus's leg. He barely got his shield up in time, feeling the impact jar up his arm.

  They separated, circling. Rain poured between them.

  Marcus's mind raced. His standard techniques weren't working. The wolf was too fast, too tough, too aggressive for the defensive style he'd learned in Serenfold. He needed to adapt.

  The wolf lunged again. This time Marcus didn't try to sidestep. Instead he moved forward, inside the attack, using his shield to deflect the wolf's snapping jaws while bringing his sword around in a short, brutal chop at the creature's exposed throat.

  The blade connected. Blood sprayed hot across his hands.

  The wolf yelped and broke off, staggering. Marcus pressed forward, not giving it time to recover. Another strike, then another, following his advantage until the creature collapsed in the mud, twitching.

  Combat complete. Experience gained: 150 XP.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Marcus stood over the corpse, breathing hard. His entire body was shaking. Adrenaline or cold, probably both. But he was alive. He'd won.

  By adapting mid-combat. By recognizing his standard approach wouldn't work and changing tactics on the fly.

  The realization crystallized something in his mind. In Serenfold, he'd trained to be competent at a defensive style that worked against common threats. Here, that wouldn't be enough. He needed to learn from every fight, adapt to every enemy, become someone who could face unknown dangers and survive.

  He needed to become adaptive.

  Marcus wiped his blade clean and sheathed it. The wolf's corpse was already starting to dissolve. A system quirk. Bodies in the Shattered Realms rarely lasted long. But it left behind something: a small crystal, glowing faintly red.

  He picked it up. The system labeled it: [Shattered Wolf Core - Minor]. Trade value: 2 silver. Alchemical component.

  So monsters dropped loot here. Good to know.

  Marcus pocketed the core and checked his injuries. Bruises from being knocked down, a few scratches where the wolf's claws had scraped his armor. Nothing serious. His First Aid skill would handle it once he found shelter.

  He consulted the Compass and kept walking north. The rain continued.

  Late afternoon brought him to a river, swollen with rain. According to the Compass, Elena's coordinates lay on the far side.

  Marcus studied the water with growing unease. The current looked vicious, churning brown with mud and debris. Fallen trees swept past like matchsticks. His Endurance and Constitution would help, but this was still deadly.

  And yet he had to cross. Walking upstream or down to find a safer ford would cost time, and something told him time was precious.

  Elena had been gone for days now. Every hour he delayed was an hour she faced whatever threats had driven her from Serenfold.

  Marcus checked his pack, making sure everything was secured. He removed his chainmail. Drowning in armor seemed like a bad plan. He wrapped it in his cloak to keep as dry as possible. Then he waded in.

  The cold hit him like a fist. [Drenched] was instantly upgraded to [Hypothermic Risk]. The current immediately tried to sweep him downstream. Marcus fought it, using his sword like a walking stick to probe for footing, every step a battle against water that wanted him dead.

  Halfway across, his foot slipped.

  The current took him, spinning him around, dragging him under. Marcus managed one gasping breath before water filled his mouth. He kicked hard, trying to surface, but the current was too strong and he couldn't tell which way was up.

  His Endurance skill kicked in, managing his air better than panic would. His Combat Awareness tracked the churning chaos, looking for any advantage. There. A rock, visible through murky water.

  Marcus grabbed it, held tight despite the current trying to tear him away. His lungs burned. He needed air.

  He pulled himself along the rock, found another handhold, another. Working his way up through the chaos until his head broke surface and he gasped desperate breath.

  The current still had him, but now he could see the far bank. Maybe thirty feet away. Marcus let go of his anchor and kicked hard, angling across the current rather than fighting it directly. The adaptation that had worked against the wolf. Don't resist directly, work with the force and redirect it.

  His hand found mud. He clawed at it, gaining inches, losing some, gaining more. Finally his knee hit bottom and he dragged himself onto the far bank, collapsing in the mud.

  Skill increase: [Endurance] has reached Level 15.

  New skill acquired: [Swimming] - Level 1 (Learned through desperate practice).

  Marcus lay there, chest heaving, feeling his heart try to hammer through his ribs. He'd almost died. Twice in one day. And he'd only been in the Shattered Realms for a little over twenty-four hours.

  This was the world Elena had walked into alone. Deliberately. Knowing what it would cost.

  No wonder her journal entries had been afraid.

  Marcus forced himself to sit up, checking his gear. His pack was intact, though everything inside was soaked. His sword was somehow still strapped to his back. Guard training made weapon retention instinctive. His shield had been lost to the river.

  He pulled the sword free and examined it. The blade was still solid—eight years of maintaining the same weapon had made the inspection automatic. But looking at it now, in the harsh light of the Shattered Realms, Marcus saw it differently.

  The system helpfully provided details:

  SERENFOLD GUARD LONGSWORD

  Type: Longsword (One-handed)

  Quality: Standard Issue - Well-Maintained

  Damage: 4-8 + STR modifier

  Material: Iron blade, leather-wrapped wooden hilt

  Durability: 87/100 encounters remaining

  Special Properties: None

  Insignia: Three interlocking circles (Serenfold Guard)

  Origin: Issued Year 2847, Guard Armory

  Status: Adequate for Level 1-25 threats in protected environments

  Note: Inferior to Shattered Realms standard equipment

  Marcus stared at the assessment. Inferior to Shattered Realms standard equipment. The sword that had served him perfectly for eight years of guard duty was now marked as substandard by the system itself.

  He'd need better. Soon.

  But for now, it was what he had. Marcus sheathed the blade and returned it to his back.

  Status effect: [Hypothermia]. Continued exposure will result in system damage. Seek warmth immediately.

  He needed fire. Needed to get dry. Needed shelter that wasn't a shallow cave.

  Marcus checked the Compass with numb fingers. The coordinates were closer now—the crossing had brought him at least two miles nearer despite the detour downstream. Current distance: 825 miles.

  He'd cut his journey by less than three percent and nearly died twice.

  This was going to take longer than he'd thought.

  Marcus stumbled to his feet and started walking, looking for any sign of civilization. His teeth were chattering. The rain had finally stopped, but that somehow made the cold worse.

  Twenty minutes later, he spotted smoke rising above the trees.

  The settlement appeared through the cold air like salvation. Twenty buildings hunched around a muddy common, their weathered wood the color of old ash against grey earth. Smoke rose from perhaps half the chimneys, thin streams that bent and scattered in the wind. No walls surrounded the structures, just a loose defensive ring with clear sightlines to the encroaching forest. Movement between buildings suggested life, though at this distance the figures were shapeless, defined more by the weapons they carried than any individual features.

  Marcus approached carefully. His guard instincts screamed about how vulnerable he was. Hypothermic, under-equipped, clearly marked as an outsider by the dimensional scars on his hands.

  But dying of exposure seemed worse than the risk.

  He was spotted before he reached the first building. A woman emerged, crossbow held low but ready, studying him with obvious suspicion.

  "Help you?" she called.

  Marcus raised his empty hands. "I need shelter. I can pay."

  "You're barrier-marked." Not a question. Her eyes had gone to his hands.

  "Yes."

  "From the pocket dimension? Serenfold?"

  "Yes."

  She spat in the mud. "Fresh fool, then. What's your level?"

  "Twenty-one."

  Her expression shifted from suspicion to something closer to pity. "Twenty-one. Gods below." She lowered her crossbow. "I'm not cruel enough to let a fool freeze. Inn's over there. Tell Garrett I sent you. Name's Tessa."

  "Thank you."

  "Don't thank me yet. You'll be broke by morning if you're not careful. And whatever you're chasing out here..." She shook her head. "It's not worth dying for. Nothing is."

  Marcus didn't argue. He headed for the building she'd indicated.

  The inn was warmer than outside, which was all Marcus cared about in the moment. A common room held a few occupied tables, locals who looked up at his entrance with varying degrees of interest. The innkeeper sat behind a bar. Garrett, presumably. A scarred man with one clouded eye who studied Marcus with the other.

  "Tessa sent me," Marcus managed through chattering teeth. "I need a room. And dry clothes if you have them."

  "Five silver for the night, includes one meal. Clothes are extra. Show your coin first—I don't take credit from strangers."

  Marcus fumbled out coins with numb fingers. The innkeeper counted them, grunted, and handed him a key.

  "Third door on the left, upstairs. There's a fire in your room. I'll send up food." Garrett's good eye assessed him. "You're barrier-marked. How long since you crossed?"

  "Yesterday."

  "And you're still alive. Lucky or skilled?"

  "Lucky," Marcus admitted.

  "Luck runs out. Get skilled quick if you want to last." The innkeeper turned away, already losing interest. "Dry clothes in your room. They'll be too big but they're clean."

  Marcus climbed the stairs, each step an effort. The room was small but warm, with a fire crackling in a stone hearth. He barely made it inside before his legs gave out.

  He stripped off his soaked clothes with shaking hands, hung them near the fire, and wrapped himself in the blanket from the bed. Slowly, painfully, warmth returned.

  Status effect [Hypothermia] has expired. Normal function resuming.

  Marcus lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, and took inventory of his second day in the greater universe: nearly killed by a wolf, nearly drowned crossing a river, lost his shield to the current. He'd spent a significant portion of his remaining coin on one night's shelter, and he still had over eight hundred miles to Elena's coordinates.

  If this continued, he'd be dead long before he reached her.

  He needed to get stronger. Faster. Smarter about this world and how it worked. Twenty-one wasn't enough. He'd seen how Tessa had evaluated him like a merchant assessing damaged goods.

  Level 21 meant "fresh meat" out here.

  But the wolf fight had shown him something: he could adapt. Could learn mid-combat, adjust his tactics, survive by thinking rather than just reacting. If he could develop that skill, make it systematic rather than desperate improvisation...

  That might give him a chance.

  There was a knock at the door. Marcus wrapped the blanket tighter and called, "Come in."

  Garrett entered with a tray. Bread, stew that smelled like heaven, and a mug of something that steamed. "Food. Also brought you this." He set a book on the table beside the tray. "Figured you'd need it."

  Marcus looked at the cover: The Barrier-Breaker's Survival Guide. Edition Three.

  "There's an edition three?" Marcus asked.

  "First two editions had errors that got people killed. This one's mostly accurate." Garrett moved to leave, paused. "Word of advice, kid. Whatever you crossed over to find? It's already gone or dead or doesn't want to be found. Go back to your pocket dimension while you still can."

  "I can't go back. The barrier—"

  "There are ways. Cost money, take time, require favors. But they exist." The innkeeper's scarred face was serious. "Think about it. Twenty-one is young for dying."

  He left before Marcus could respond.

  Marcus ate the stew. It was good, heartier than Serenfold's fare. He picked up the survival guide. The first chapter was titled: "So You've Made a Terrible Mistake."

  He almost laughed. Almost.

  Instead, he opened to the first page and started reading.

  The guide was brutally honest:

  If you're reading this, you've crossed from a pocket dimension into the Shattered Realms without proper preparation, guidance, or common sense. Statistically, you have a sixty percent chance of being dead within thirty days. These odds improve dramatically if you follow these rules:

  Rule One: Accept that your old power means nothing here. A Level 25 pocket dimension resident is roughly equivalent to Level 15-18 in standard Shattered Realms metrics. Recalibrate your threat assessment accordingly.

  Marcus absorbed that. So he wasn't even Level 21 by local standards. More like Level 16-17. That explained a lot about how people looked at him.

  Rule Two: Avoid combat whenever possible. Your survival depends on reaching civilization and establishing a foundation. Every fight is a chance to die. Run, hide, pay off threats, do whatever it takes to avoid unnecessary combat until you've adapted.

  Rule Three: Find a guide or mentor. The Shattered Realms have thousands of local customs, danger zones, faction territories, and survival techniques. Learning them through trial and error will kill you. Find someone who knows the territory.

  Rule Four: Get better gear. Your pocket dimension equipment is inadequate. Prioritize armor, weapons, and tools designed for Shattered Realms conditions.

  Rule Five: Level fast. Every level increases your survival chances. Take every safe opportunity to gain experience, but see Rule Two about avoiding unnecessary combat.

  The rules continued, but Marcus's attention caught on Rules Three and Four. He needed a guide. Someone who knew this world and could teach him how to navigate it. And he needed better gear, which required money he didn't have.

  Which meant he needed work.

  Marcus set down the book and moved to his pack, checking what had survived the river crossing. Elena's journal was soaked but readable. The herbs from Mira were mostly intact. The Dimensional Compass was undamaged. His spare clothes were wrecked. His food was ruined.

  He pulled out the Shattered Wolf Core he'd taken from his kill. According to the guide's appendix, cores could be sold to alchemists for components. This one was only worth a couple silver, but it was something.

  Tomorrow, he'd need to sell it. Find work if he could. Ask around about guides or mentors. Get better equipment. Every piece of advice from the survival guide pointed the same direction: slow down, build a foundation, don't rush to Elena's coordinates and die on the way.

  But every hour he delayed was an hour Elena faced her threats alone.

  Marcus closed his eyes, Elena's portrait heavy against his chest. Her words from the journal echoed: Don't look for me. Please, Marcus. Don't try to follow. The world beyond Serenfold isn't like here. It's brutal and vast and it will break you.

  She'd been right. Two days in and he could feel himself breaking. The cold calculation required to survive here was foreign to everything he'd trained for. Guard work in Serenfold meant protecting people, maintaining order, using measured force.

  Here, the world operated by different rules. Garrett expected him to die within a month. Tessa had called him a fool to his face.

  And they weren't wrong.

  But he kept thinking about Elena's other message: Find me.

  Both could be true. She could want him to let her go and also hope he'd come. Could love him enough to protect him and also need him enough to leave a trail.

  Marcus opened his eyes and looked at the survival guide again. He picked it back up and kept reading, absorbing information about this brutal new world. How settlements were organized. What jobs were available for low-level newcomers. Which factions to avoid. How to read threat levels.

  It was simultaneously reassuring and terrifying. Reassuring because information meant control. Terrifying because every page reinforced how little he'd known when he crossed.

  Hours passed. The fire burned lower. Marcus read by its dying light, learning.

  Eventually exhaustion pulled at him. He marked his place in the guide and set it aside. Tomorrow would bring new challenges. He'd need to figure out his next steps. Find work. Get supplies. Learn how to survive in a world that considered him expendable.

  But tonight, he was warm. He was dry. He was alive.

  That was more than he'd managed yesterday.

  Morning came too soon.

  Marcus woke to weak sunlight filtering through the room's single window. His clothes were dry, if stiff. His body ached in a dozen places, but nothing was damaged beyond bruises. The survival guide lay where he'd left it, a reminder of how unprepared he'd been.

  He dressed and gathered his things. The wolf core sat in his pack—maybe he could find that alchemist Tessa had mentioned. Old Rhys, if he remembered correctly. Selling the core would give him a little coin, and maybe the alchemist would know of work.

  Marcus checked the Compass. Still pointing north. Still 825 miles to Elena's coordinates.

  He pulled out her journal and read one more entry before heading downstairs:

  Marcus asked me today if I was happy. I told him yes, and it wasn't a lie. But happiness and safety are different things. I can give him one or the other, not both. Every day I stay is a day I choose his happiness over his safety. I don't know how long I can keep making that choice.

  Marcus closed the journal carefully. She'd made her choice eventually. Left to protect him, left coordinates so he could follow. A contradiction that somehow made perfect sense.

  He descended to the common room. It was early, and only a few people were about. Garrett stood behind the bar, looking like he hadn't slept.

  "You lived through the night," the innkeeper observed. "That's something."

  "The book helped. Thank you."

  "Don't thank me. Thank the three dozen barrier-breakers who died teaching us what kills your kind." Garrett gestured to a board on the wall covered in notices. "You'll be looking for work, I expect. Most of those will get you killed, but there might be something suitable for Level 21."

  Marcus approached the board. Notices written in hasty script covered every inch:

  Seeking Level 30+ for dungeon expedition. Split shares. Meat grinder certified.

  Caravan guard needed—Level 25 minimum. Combat skills required. Three week journey.

  Ingredient collector wanted. Dangerous fieldwork. Inquire with Rhys.

  Herbalist assistant—no combat. Delivery work only.

  That one caught Marcus's eye. Ingredient collector. Rhys. The work might mean hunting creatures like the wolf. Experience he desperately needed.

  "The alchemist," Marcus said. "Rhys. Where would I find him?"

  "Red door at the end of the main row. But he's particular about who he hires. Lost his last collector to a corrupted bear." Garrett's expression was neutral. "You planning to stay a while, or just passing through?"

  "I don't know yet," Marcus admitted. "I need to reach someone eight hundred miles north. But getting there alive seems more important than getting there fast."

  "Smart. Boring, but smart." Garrett returned to wiping down the bar. "Breakfast is two coppers if you want it. You'll want to eat before talking to Rhys. He's mean when he's sober and worse when he's drunk."

  Marcus paid for breakfast and ate mechanically, his mind already planning. Sell the wolf core. Talk to Rhys about work. Get a sense of what was possible here. Maybe spend a few days learning the basics before pushing north again.

  A few days to build a foundation. To learn enough that he wouldn't die stupidly in the next river crossing or wolf attack.

  Elena had survived years in the Shattered Realms. She'd learned how to navigate this brutal world. He needed to do the same, and he needed to do it without getting killed in the process.

  Marcus finished his meal and stood. Time to see what opportunities this settlement offered.

  And time to figure out if he could become someone capable of surviving the eight hundred and twenty-five miles that still separated him from Elena.

  He stepped out into the morning light. Day three in the greater universe. Still alive. Still learning.

  Still moving forward.