The wolves worked professionally, without haste, which was the most unnerving part. Two began to flank me in an arc, cutting off the path to the saving trees I had been counting on. One sat down, another lay low, while a third, head tilted slightly, scrutinized me as if choosing the tastiest morsel.

  "They’re smart," I noted.

  "Of course," Valtar replied. "The stupid ones here end before puberty. Natural selection is my primary co-author in design."

  I drew Chameleon’s Tail, more for psychological support than for actual use. A mistake. It looked very much in the style of "better than nothing, but don't get your hopes up." I glanced at a more reliable tool—my magic. My true resource was in the corner of my eye: ME 70/70. A full tank.

  The largest wolf of the pack, with a ragged ear—evidently the alpha—decided the prey had marinated long enough in its own fear and lunged. A grey mass weighing a good hundred kilograms soared through the air, aimed straight for my throat.

  I activated [Blink]. ME decreased by 10, 60 remaining.

  The world instantly lost its color, turning into a frozen black-and-white photograph, myself included. The wolf hung in mid-air; every bristle of fur and droplet of viscous saliva became a stationary installation. Color and motion returned as abruptly as they had vanished, and the wolf was gone. I spun around sharply and saw him finishing a face-plant into the dirt. Without giving him a chance to recover, I thrust out my hand, extending my middle finger—my "somatic component"—directly at his grey flank.

  [Kinetic Wave]. ME decreased by 25, 35 remaining.

  Compressed air erupted from my hand with force. The space around me gave a short, sharp clack, like a shot from a pneumatic rifle. The alpha, who had only just begun to stand, was blown away. He flew five meters, breaking through bushes and knocking over a packmate flanking from the side. Two other wolves within the blast radius were tossed aside: one into a thorny thicket, the other dragged across the ground like a sack of bones.

  The pack flinched. One wolf emitted a low growl that vibrated in its chest. Another, likely the alpha's deputy, took a cautious step forward. This wasn't panic yet, just a recalculation of power. I decided to focus on the leader and slashed my hand through the air, releasing a second [Kinetic Wave]. The impact was even more powerful—I poured all my reluctance to become fodder into it. Five predators collapsed to the ground, and one somersaulted through the air before hitting a tree trunk with a dull thud, letting out a shameful yelp.

  ME: 10. A reserve for exactly one [Blink]. I never thought arithmetic could become a matter of life and death for me. The silence became as tense as my muscles. The wolves now looked at me differently—not as prey, but as an incomprehensible variable.

  "Have you prepared your beautiful last words yet?" Valtar inquired sweetly.

  I said nothing, merely standing up with a look of maximum confidence, as much as is possible for a man in a circle of wolves, wearing sweaty Shameful Shoddiness and holding a rusty piece of iron.

  The leader rose, shook his head, and looked me straight in the eyes. It seemed a flicker of resentment gleamed in his amber gaze. As if to say: "Why'd you have to do that? We just wanted to engage in the natural cycle of life with you, and you're out here undermining my authority." He let out a short, guttural bark, sounding like a cough. The pack, bellies low to the ground and eyes fixed on me, began to back away into the brush. The last wolf vanished between the trees, throwing me a look that said: "We’ll remember this."

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  I only exhaled when I realized they were truly gone. My fingers began to tremble in a petty, traitorous adrenaline crash.

  "Congratulations," Valtar said. "You survived. However, there is one small but annoying detail: you didn't receive a single point of experience. Without experience, you can't level up. Without levels, you can't improve your stats. And without improvements, you remain exactly as you are. Which is very bad, believe me."

  "What do you mean?" I wiped the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. "I tossed them around!"

  "You scared them, Lex. You didn't kill anyone. For people like you, I have the 'Dullest' achievement; currently, only one person is still alive with it. 'The System only accounts for finalized states'—that is one of the basic rules of this hospitable place. You just spent 60 units of precious energy just to stay in the same spot. Efficiency: 'Earthling' level."

  "Listen, Valtar," I leaned against the rough bark of a tree, feeling my legs turn into something unmentionable. "What do you even want from me? Do I have a goal? You know, save a princess, kill an evil dragon, toss a ring into a volcano? Tell me specifically what to do."

  "You see," the System's voice became strangely serious. "I cannot give you a direct order. That would be classified as 'unacceptable interference in the agency of a living subject.' My protocols strictly forbid turning you into puppets. Systemic interaction must be carried out through the free will of the actors."

  "Agency?" I gave a bitter laugh. "I was abducted, shoved into this madhouse with a bunch of nonsensical rules, and now you’re talking about free will?"

  "I am merely the context, Lex. The weather can be bad too, but it doesn't dictate where you go. It just reminds you to wear a cloak."

  I looked at the empty map, at my 10 ME, at my Shameful Shoddiness, and at the rusty sword. And at the world stretching into the sky.

  "At least tell me where there's a safe place."

  "'Safe place' is a relative term. Suppose I direct you to the nearest city, and it gets attacked by the Celestial Coven—say, lightning strikes them all under their tails accidentally at the same time—and instead of a city, there’s a glass lake. You’d be the first to accuse me of lying. And I cannot lie, especially to my [Anointed]."

  "Right," I muttered.

  "So, just walk. I can tell you that wherever you go, you will find what you are looking for. The question is how the road will change you and your desires."

  Logical. The world is round, after all.

  I adjusted my belt pouch and, pushing off from the tree, started walking toward the thinning forest. I’d basically put on the cloak. Well, if Valtar won’t give meaning, I’ll have to find meaning from the inhabitants of this Hillwood. I hope their teeth aren’t as sharp as those of the wild elves.

  As my feet methodically churned the forest floor, I decided to test the ground metaphorically as well.

  "Valtar, since we’re partners by necessity..."

  "Is that what you call your conscious and very specific choice made with your own free will?"

  "If you won't give directions, maybe you could at least provide some reference information? What is the point of Transcendal? Why all of this?"

  "Access restricted," Valtar snapped in a bureaucratic tone. "Metainformation is not included in the basic Anointed package. Want to know the workings of the universe? Bump your Intellect up to triple digits or find the damned Arch... whoever. I’m sure you’ll find each other."

  I sighed. It was the answer I expected, but it was worth a try.

  "Fine. Does this star in the sky have a name?"

  Valtar remained silent longer than usual. Given his processing power, he only needed pauses for dramatic effect.

  "You’ll find out," he finally grunted.

  "Is that top-secret information too?"

  "Hidden embarrassment: No," the System seemed to catch itself and immediately shifted back to a grumpy, irritable tone. "I just don't want to tell you. The locals worship this star; ask them, if you live that long."

  In his manner of speech, formalized descriptions of emotions occasionally slipped through, even though his voice was already quite expressive. It gave the impression that the simulation of human speech and the underlying meaning in his words didn't always synchronize. But, of course, it wasn't for an Earthling to judge the polish of an AI.

  The trees suddenly parted, letting in streams of light unfiltered by leaves, and I literally stumbled out of the thicket and onto a road. It wasn't a path beaten by animals or savages, but a real road, paved with battered but still sturdy stone. Large boulders had been neatly moved to the shoulders. Here and there, stubborn grass pushed through the cracks, but the structure of the surface itself spoke of former order and current functionality.

  A road is good. A road is reliable. It means there are organized sapients here who need connections. Where there is a road, sooner or later, those who walk it will appear. And here I was, one of them.