I couldn’t say how many days had passed since I woke up in Nullaria.
At first, it was all confusion, hunger, and fear.
But I was lucky.
After falling into Level 1, a group of explorers from the so-called Eden Camp found me and brought me here.
They said they rescued the lost… but the first thing they asked was about the rune I had obtained.
Still, they saved me. And that was enough.
The group’s name came from their base: a level called Lapis Lazuli Forest, or simply Level 0.
A place so safe it seemed like a dream: no creatures, no traps, no lethal conditions.
Everything in it was peaceful, perfect… and for that very reason, deeply suspicious.
I remembered all this as the warm air brushed against my face.
I watched the sun.
A sun — if it was a sun — that rotated eternally across a cloudless sky, so blue it seemed liquid.
I slowly sat up, placing a hand on the trunk where I had rested while I stretched.
This place was known as Lapis Lazuli Forest.
That’s what those who lived here called it.
It was an impossible paradise.
The trees rose like colossi with smooth bark, their roots so wide they could serve as beds. The canopies opened into fans of bluish, translucent leaves, radiating a serene glow that bathed everything in calm.
Strange fruits — coloured in ways my mind struggled to name — hung from the branches; sweet, nourishing, and always ready to be picked.
Hunger was no problem here. Nor was cold.
The ground, covered in spongy moss, was as soft as a freshly woven blanket.
When the false dusk fell — never turning into night — the moss released a sweet scent, a mixture of mint and vanilla, inviting sleep.
It was enough to inhale it to feel the mind glide into stillness.
A rest without fear, without monsters, without nightmares.
In the distance, among the lapis lazuli rocks that gave the forest its name, flowed springs of Star Water.
It was crystalline, with a faint blue shimmer that moved as if tiny constellations swam within.
Drinking it quenched thirst, healed minor wounds, and restored an energy that was not of the body, but of the soul.
Drinking it did not only quench thirst but gradually restored lost energy, healed minor injuries, broke curses, and offered a sense of spiritual renewal difficult to describe.
Near the centre of the main clearing stood an irregular cabin, constructed from materials salvaged from other levels: pieces of corroded metal, carved wood, patched tarpaulins, and stones engraved with symbols I did not recognise.
Although the place was perfect, finding materials to build was almost impossible. The trunks regenerated quickly if you tried to cut them; only loose branches could be collected.
In front of the central shelter, a fire burned without smoke, spreading a pleasant warmth that kept the forest’s humidity at bay.
Around it, a few makeshift tents were set up.
Most of the survivors gathered here.
At night — if they could be called that — we would sit around the fire to tell stories, share discoveries, theories, thoughts… and sorrows.
Here, no one had secrets.
Solidarity was not a rule imposed, but a shared necessity.
In this level, there was no competition.
We survived… together.
There was no danger here.
The difficulty level was zero.
A concept that, at first, seemed absurd to me — as if this place followed rules programmed by some higher logic — but which the survivors gradually taught the newcomers.
Throughout my explorations, I learned that survival in Nullaria did not depend solely on strength or luck, but on shared knowledge.
The inhabitants of this place — and especially factions like Eden — had developed a rudimentary but vital system: the Survival Difficulty Classification.
A desperate attempt to understand where it was safe to move… and where one could disappear without a trace.
This information was transmitted among all factions as if it were a sacred dogma. Knowing it could make the difference between living another day or dissolving forever.
The six known categories were:
- Class 0 — Survival Difficulty: Safe
Completely threat-free levels. No entities, no environmental dangers, no traps. The environment is calm, and the exit is usually easy to find.
- Class 1 — Survival Difficulty: Tolerable
Occasional presence of non-aggressive entities. Dangers are minimal or easily avoidable. Hostility usually depends on human behaviour. Survivable with caution. Exit routes can be identified.
- Class 2 — Survival Difficulty: Unstable
These levels have fragile stability. At first glance they may seem safe, but they’re prone to sudden changes triggered by human presence or unknown conditions. The environment can become hostile without warning, and aggressive entities may appear in previously calm areas. Exit routes exist but may not remain in the same place, and can close or disappear temporarily.
- Class 3 — Survival Difficulty: Hostile
Constant presence of aggressive creatures and phenomena that alter perception or consciousness. Requires special skills or a calculated strategy to survive. Exits are usually hidden or extremely difficult to reach.
- Class 4 — Survival Difficulty: Distorted
Reality within the level doesn’t follow any known logic. Time, space, and perception may be extremely altered. The mind is tested. Few have returned from these levels. Finding an exit depends on willpower, intuition… or luck.
- Class 5 — Survival Difficulty: Inferno
Not officially explored. Records of these levels are scarce or non-existent. No reliable documentation or access restricted to certain souls. It’s unknown whether they even have exits. Rumour says only those with special abilities can access them… or that they exist beyond the map.
I learned all this sitting by the fire on many nights, while others talked, shared incomplete maps, or wept silently.
I realised that this level belonged to the first class, as it represented a pause amidst the chaos. A sigh from the world for those who had not yet lost their sanity.
I watched a fruit hanging above my head. It was round, with dark violet skin streaked with silver veins that pulsed gently, as if it were breathing. I took it without thinking, and the moment my fingers separated it from the stem, a very faint light appeared at the edge of my retina.
[Lunar Fruit — Nutritional Class A]
Safe to consume. Provides hydration, restores all energy, and heals all ailments.
The taste hit immediately, intense. Like eating a happy memory. Something in me relaxed.
I lay back against the trunk, letting the moss embrace my back. The leaves above swayed without wind, and the steady warmth of the sun made the world feel… finally still.
But that calm was interrupted by a hoarse, kind voice:
— Hey, friend… The meeting’s about to start. — It was a middle-aged man, with a weathered face and clothing in rags, patched carefully several times. He nodded at me, as if knowing little needed to be said —. Everyone is already by the fire.
I nodded without speaking.
I had no reason to refuse, but neither to join. I didn’t know who he was, nor his name, nor his story… and I didn’t care much about knowing anyone. I already had in mind those I needed to find, only to serve as stepping stones to return to my world.
I sat down slowly, feeling that something important was about to begin.
The murmur of the fire was soft, barely an echo against the stillness of the forest. Sitting in an improvised semicircle, the survivors waited in silence, while two trembling figures were brought to the clearing.
The first to appear was Jhan, a man of about twenty-eight, with an angular face and unshaven beard, his clothes stained and worn from constant use. He staggered in, eyes wide but unfocused, skin sweaty and soul hanging by a thread.
They had found him in Level -1.
A world without centre or meaning, they said.
Enormous rooms, cathedral-high but without visible ceilings or floors. Lit without an apparent source. Walls fluorescent yellow, with staircases emerging from every possible direction: up, down, sideways, diagonally, or inverted, defying all logic.
Each step a different colour, as if the space were designed by a child’s disturbed mind.
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They called it the Staircase Labyrinth.
A level where time dissolved and gravity seemed to choose whom to obey. Many entered… and simply floated into madness.
Tanya, the other rescued, was a young brunette of about twenty-five, with a scared gaze and trembling hands, found in a safe corner of Level 1. She had survived hiding under a broken structure for hours, in complete silence. She claimed to hear sounds, whispers, vibrations from empty places… as if something invisible stalked her.
Those were the two new souls the exploration group had managed to rescue.
In Levels 1 and -1, factions constantly sent patrols. Not out of altruism, but interest.
All sought the same thing: to discover which rune each newcomer had received… and what benefit they could gain from it.
— You’re safe now — announced Sair, in a calm tone with a steady gaze, as the newcomers approached the fire —. Welcome to Level 0. This place is known as Lapis Lazuli Forest.
Complete silence. Tanya looked up at the treetops, the cloudless sky, the mats of shining moss covering the trunks, and let out a broken breath.
— Is this Heaven? — she whispered, more to herself than anyone else.
Sair shook his head gently.
— No. But it isn’t Hell either. It has many names, but we discovered it is the Realm of Nullaria.
An ancient, sacred, and disturbing place.
A sealed dimension, created to hold back what does not deserve to move on.
He stepped forward barefoot, sinking his feet into the spongy earth.
— Nullaria is the filter life does not fully use. Earth spits out here what it considers dispensable. The weak. The wicked. The broken. The useless.
We are not here by accident. We are the purposeless residue of the planet’s natural selection.
But that does not mean we can’t find a new purpose.
Some nodded in silence; others lowered their gaze, crushed by the weight of those words.
Jhan swallowed but asked nothing. Perhaps he already understood.
Sair inhaled slowly, as one prepares to say something never easy to hear.
— I am aware this may seem overwhelming… but your life here depends on this information. So, pay attention.
He bent and picked up a stick from the ground.
— Our bodies — he continued — are comatose, half-dead, or clinically lost, on the brink of the abyss in some hospital, perhaps… yet they still breathe.
Here, instead, we are only echoes of consciousness, sparks of will.
Our souls were drawn to this place.
And if you are here, it is because your soul has not yet reached the proper frequency to transcend.
Tanya frowned, not fully understanding.
Sair, patient, drew a line in the dirt.
— Everything in this place revolves around what we see and hear. — He drew a curve, then another, taller one. —
Humans, out there, can only perceive a tiny fragment of the full spectrum of existence: between infrared and ultraviolet. Everything above or below that... exists, but they cannot perceive it.
Here, in Nullaria, that fragment expands or contracts according to the vibration of your soul.
He now drew two waves, one short and one wide.
— When we die on Earth, we leave behind the body: the shell.
What arrives here is our inner frequency, a spiritual imprint shaped by our actions.
If you vibrate higher, you will perceive more. You will see what others cannot: structures, paths, even the Nightmares hiding in the dark.
— Frequency? Vibration? I don’t understand... — muttered Jhan.
Sair watched him calmly.
— We call it spiritual frequency, but it’s nothing new. It’s simply a way to name what has always existed: perception.
Your frequency changes according to what you are capable of seeing. The more awakened your soul is, the broader the world around you becomes.
But if your frequency is low... this world will appear opaque, incomplete, and much of what surrounds you will remain invisible until it’s too late.
And if you die here... — his voice dropped — you die there as well. You vanish from all existence.
— I see... — murmured Jhan, surprised.
Sair nodded, and the charcoal from the fire reflected a small spark in his eyes. With a swift gesture, he drew a cross: +Y at the top, -Y at the bottom, -X to the left, +X to the right.
— This world is also formed by levels.
Each one vibrates at a different frequency and reflects what we collectively carry within.
The more blinded a soul is, the darker its surroundings.
The more awakened, the more it can see.
That is why some die without understanding what killed them... and others survive without knowing how.
— To overcome a level requires willpower and the help of your rune —explained Sair—. But raising the perception of your soul is essential. Otherwise, it will never be enough to surpass the more complex and dangerous levels.
The levels along the +X axis — 1, 2, 3, and so on — are the most structured.
I wouldn’t call them safe, but they follow a certain logical order.
In contrast, those that extend towards the -X axis — -1, -2, -3 — are the most chaotic: deformed, ruinous places, sometimes completely unstable.
— Typically, newcomers fall into Level 1 or Level -1 — he said, looking Jhan in the eye —. If you started in Level -1... your actions in life might not have been the best.
Jhan looked away, uneasy.
— Towards the +Y axis, however, are the anomalous levels — he continued —: abstract, experimental spaces.
We classify them with Greek letters: α, β, Ω... And towards the -Y axis lie the inexplicable levels.
Places that follow no physical or spiritual law. They do not appear as numbers or letters, only as symbols: “!!!”, “?”, “∞”.
He paused, noticing some confused expressions.
— I know it sounds complicated, but every time you enter a level, that information will appear in your retinas. Nullaria itself provides it. It’s her way of translating what we have discovered and organised after years of research.
One of the others added that this information was also shared among factions to help other survivors.
The rest nodded as if listening to an old lesson. I, however, simply watched in silence.
— Our duty as a group — continued Sair — is to map the levels, record what we find and share it. But also... to seek the relics.
He leaned forward, his face lit by the fire.
— Each level possesses a Blessed Relic and a Cursed Relic. They can grant abilities, protections, or tools that enhance the soul’s perception. And though their pursuit might seem altruistic, every faction seeks the same goal: to evolve... or to survive.
Another voice added that remaining active — searching, exploring, sharing — slowly elevated one’s perception. That constant learning strengthened the soul.
It sounded wise, I thought, yet behind those words there was something rehearsed.
A calm too perfect. As if that entire doctrine were a carefully woven veil... a cleansing of conscience disguised as hope.
— You mentioned perception can be increased — interrupted Jhan, still confused —. What happens if someone reaches the highest of all?
— Then... you can see them — answered Sair —. Hear them. All of them. Including the higher entities. You can understand them. See what truly hides behind the veil of Nullaria.
He paused. His voice deepened.
— And, most importantly... you can leave this world. But remember: if you die here, you die there too.
A dense silence followed. Sair broke it with a tired smirk.
—Sometimes, someone reaches a high degree of perception after advancing only a few levels... or after barely surviving by miracle. Not because they’re strong, but because they’ve learnt. Because every mistake, every fear faced, leaves a mark. And those marks, if accepted, raise the perception of the soul.
— Some souls arrive here with a natural purity — he continued —. Awake, noble, clean. For them, the path is easier: they already possess a certain degree of spiritual perception. But for the rest of us... — he looked slowly around at the group — the journey is longer. And darker.
The fire crackled. Silence settled like a cloak.
— And has anyone ever reached that higher perception... and escaped from here? — asked Tanya, her voice uneasy.
— We believe so — answered Sair after a brief pause—. Long ago, a group reached the Final Level. They carried cameras in their suits, and the recordings showed how an immense light surrounded them. After that, the signal was lost.
He lowered his gaze, thoughtful.
— Those who analysed the footage believe the group found the exit. Reaching the Final Level demands a very high perception; no one can do it unprepared. That’s why no one has repeated that feat. As for that group... they were never seen again. But the story spread through the levels, and with it, hope.
He slowly raised his head.
— Since then, many believe that reaching that light means escaping Nullaria.
Tanya wrapped her arms around herself, trembling.
— And how... how do we achieve that? — asked Jhan.
Sair smiled with an unexpected gentleness.
— By starting to know yourselves. For example... what rune did you choose when you arrived here?
— You mean those floating stones in the air? — asked Jhan still confused.
Sair nodded.
— Exactly. No one can see another’s rune. But if you focus on the tattoo imprinted on your right arm, the information will appear before you.
Tanya looked down. Her skin shimmered with multicoloured traces, like intertwined threads of light. Then, a faint inscription appeared before her eyes: the name of her rune.
— Rune of Smithing. It allows the fusion of simple elements into objects of great power. It seems... I can forge weapons by combining certain materials.
Jhan, still visibly confused, blinked and murmured:
— Rune of Strength. Grants physical power three times greater than that of an average human.
Some clapped softly in welcome. Others merely made mental notes of what each could offer.
Dante remained silent. Yet in his mind, the memory struck like an echo impossible to erase.
The first time he told the truth about the rune he had chosen in the void — the rune of Infinite Regression — they used him as a tool. Forced him to die again and again.
Betrayed him. Left him empty.
They only needed him to find information and the unique objects hidden between the levels. To feed their own ambitions.
After countless regressions, he had learnt the lesson.
Taking advantage of the fact that no one could see another’s rune, he decided to lie.
He said he had chosen the rune of Language, capable of translating writings and symbols.
The perfect excuse: useful, yet harmless.
Valuable enough not to be discarded.
Weak enough to be ignored.
Because in Nullaria, even the truth... could kill you.
But even if you bury it, it always finds a way to return.
End of Chapter Two.
Lapis Lazuli Forest
Welcome to Nullaria.
Frequencies, perception, light, and shadow — all are reflections of the same question: How awake is your soul?
Chapter 2 lays the foundation of what is to come: factions seeking meaning and the fragile balance between knowledge and madness.
Nullaria, perception is evolution. But every step towards clarity demands a sacrifice.
— Alberto Báez