As soon as Jake finished reading, he steeled himself, anticipating the familiar sensation of his soul being yanked into a void. But after a fleeting mont, he relaxed, taken aback when the expected pull never ca.
Of all the Ordeals he'd faced, this was the first ti the next step hadn't imdiately begun. Disturbed, Jake wondered if there was an issue outside. But when minutes passed and nothing happened, he ticulously revisited his mission prompt, brainstorming with Xi about the delay.
"The first thing that strikes is the lack of specifics," Jake mused.
Even the identity tied to his Oracle Colonel rank seed a farce, as he'd join the Dusken Throne's drafted army as the lowest of the low. Yet, would that an no advantages or disadvantages awaited him there? Jake was skeptical.
"Given your rank and power, it's no surprise the Oracle System withholds details that may be of vital importance to weaker players. But I think it also has to do with the fact that this is the Fifth Ordeal," Xi replied, not sounding very surprised. "But I'd wager an Aether Core that other Players are as much in the dark as you."
"You do realize every Aether Core you bet is technically mine?" Jake teased with a playful chuckle.
"Hmph, ours!"
"All right, all right, ours," Jake conceded.
"But seriously," Xi continued, her tone graver, "if your identity aligns with your Oracle Rank, there has to be sothing that sets you apart from the other Players. If not your social status, perhaps the timing?"
Were Jake not enveloped in the pitch-black confines of the Red Cube, one would've seen him stroke his chin thoughtfully. The prompt did ntion he was part of the 'last wave of conscripts', which made sense.
So, his edge was joining the war... later than other Players? Jake wryly smirked at the irony. Yet, Xi bead, following his inner grumble.
"Bingo! That has to be it," she exclaid, certain they had nailed the reason.
As realization dawned upon them both, Jake finally understood why he hadn't been ejected from the Red Cube post-mission prompt. Though his senses remained dulled, he still had the capability to switch to Lucid Aetherdrear mode, which he promptly did to confirm their theory.
As he interpreted the ebb and flow of the Aetherdream, Jake utilized his newfound expertise in the Ti Attribute to gauge the ti flow inside the Red Cube relative to the outside. His master, Cekt, had once taught him a nifty trick for this.
By syncing the space-ti of a dinsion with a chosen world, its ti flow would remain consistent, irrespective of any external influences. Having applied this trick to his inner space, he now had his own unalterable trono.
Comparing the Aetherdream's revelations with his internal trono's rhythm, Xi's and his hypothesis was instantly confird.
"Ti within the Red Cube flows slightly slower than on B842," Jake deduced with a glance.
From experience, he knew Ordeal Worlds usually had an accelerated ti flow or a denser space-ti than B842. The final possibility? B842 moved near light-speed, while these Ordeal Worlds were virtually static. Either way, Jake surmised that for every minute he spent in the Red Cubes, hours elapsed on Twyluxia. This realization cooled him, but his confidence remained unshaken.
"Now, if I'm not mistaken, the first Players from each Mirror Universe to join the war on Twyluxia must be..."
"The lowest-ranking Players," Xi finished sardonically. "Let's hope the Oracle System didn't keep them as much in the dark as us. The onset of the Fifth Ordeal is known to be quite... deadly."
*****
As Jake and Xi impatiently traded wild speculations about the events on Twyluxia during their absence, the first wave of Players had long since plunged into a nightmare. Their reality distorted far more brutally and wickedly than either could have imagined.
Leo Vinson was one such Player, a small fish in an even bigger pond. Born into privilege and excessively spoiled by his overprotective parents, he was an Earthling who, despite lacking any discernable talent, coasted through life on his family's coattails. Even after acquiring his Oracle Device, his life trajectory barely wavered.
Luck had it that he and his parents were discovered by New Earth soldiers shortly after Earth's assimilation. They were whisked to the nearest Oracle Shelter and then to New Earth, all expenses paid. Once there, it was his parents who risked everything by facing the Four Ordeals, all for his sake. Astoundingly, he felt no guilt, and his parents never castigated him for his parasitic dependence.
Thanks to his parents' efforts, they quickly reclaid a life of luxury surpassing their previous standard on Earth. Fourth-Ordeal Evolvers, though not rulers of the universe in New Earth, held significant respect in the corridors of the new world governnt.
This aimless, cushy existence might've continued indefinitely, had a damned Brain-Eater not chosen to infiltrate New Earth by possessing an ambassador and then releasing that cursed Digestor Virus!
From there, Leo's life turned into a living hell.
His mother was among the first infected by the Sinewshade Virus, and she tried to kill him in her delirium. His father intervened but was injured in the process. Just as Leo clung to a shred of hope at the sight of arriving elite soldiers, his world crumbled to the chilling sound of gunshots followed by inhuman, frenzied screams.
Monts later, he stood alone in the world. His protective bubble shattered, the streets overwheld with Sinewshades, civil unrest brewing, and the seasoned Evolvers and soldiers of New Earth had bigger fish to fry than to babysit him.
Desperation drove dormant survival instincts to the surface, prompting a rash decision to enlist in the army. Like mounting a wild stallion, once aboard, there was no getting off.
After enduring four Ordeals, Leo remained the sa—lazy, deceitful, and cowardly. But now, with a hint more strength. Enough to pique the interest of the King's Idol Alliance, who extended a recruitnt offer.
Upon recognizing their leader and the benefits tied to the alliance, Leo ditched the army remorselessly. Shockingly, the Earth Union Governnt made no attempt to retain him despite their dire need for soldiers. As if they were more than happy to shed a recruit like him from their roster.
For good reason. After miserably failing all main missions from his four Ordeals, and refusing to risk his neck against the Sinewshades, his Oracle Rank was a laughable... Rank 2 Private.
In four Ordeals, he'd never managed to amass 200 rating points...
Any sane individual with such a record would never dare step into the Red Cube again. But for reasons even he couldn't fathom, he found himself there once more.
As he opened his eyes to the haunting allure of the Duskwight Lands, he found himself amidst a diverse procession of ghostly, muscular barbarians.
Though he was the only one not dressed in rags, forgotten fears surged, paralyzing him as an intense force suddenly bore down, like the wrath of the gods.
His bloodshot eyes bulged, vision blurring. There was a cacophony of crunches and cracks from his skull and throughout his skeleton. As his organs imploded and his brain drowned in its own fluid, the words "G-gravity" escaped his lips just before his own weight crushed him.
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