Chapter 2: Correction

Nightfall in Aetherion didn't come gently.

There was no twilight—no slow shifting of amber into dusk. The smaller sun blinked out first, like a candle extinguished by an unseen hand. Then the red sun faded into the horizon with a final, bloody streak, and darkness fell like a curtain.

It didn't feel natural.

It felt designed.

Kim Lin stood at the edge of the ruined outpost, eyes scanning the distance. The wind had stilled completely. Not a single grain of dust stirred. Even the shadows didn't move right—they pooled in strange places, stretching too long, curling unnaturally.

The others were gathered behind him, their nervous whispers barely audible.

He didn't need to turn around to know the girl with glasses—her name was Hana, he remembered now—was clutching a shard of wood like a weapon. Zhou was methodically inspecting the perimeter, tension rolling off him like heat.

This was always the hardest part of the first night: the waiting.

The silence before the storm.

And below them, in the cellar beneath the outpost, the red threads still pulsed.

Kim Lin dropped into a crouch, letting his fingers brush the ground. The threads were clearer now. Dozens of them, converging at a single point beneath the broken stone.

Not visible to anyone else. Not unless they had the same Recode skill.

Even he didn't fully understand how it worked—not yet. But each time he focused, the world opened, just a little more.

He could see connections. Cause and effect, bound by glowing strings.

He could sense tension. Like a cord about to snap.

Whatever was beneath the outpost wasn't just dangerous.

It was important.

"Zhou," Kim said quietly. "Help me move this rubble."

Zhou glanced at him, then at the cracked slab near the far wall.

"You're going down there now?"

"Better before something comes out."

Zhou didn't argue. That was something Kim appreciated about him.

Together, they shifted the stone, revealing a narrow stairwell that twisted into darkness.

A foul, damp smell drifted up—earth, mold… and something metallic.

Kim grabbed a crystal shard from a nearby crate. He struck it once against the wall. It flared with dull blue light—Glowstone, common in ruins. Short-lived, but useful.

He descended first, Zhou following silently.

The cellar was small. Just enough space for storage. Shelves lined the walls, covered in cobwebs. Broken crates, rotting cloth, a few scattered bones.

And in the center… a circle.

Carved into the floor. Faintly glowing.

Not recent.

Not human.

Kim knelt beside it. The red threads twisted upward from the symbols like smoke.

A summoning glyph. Old. Faint. Disrupted.

But still active.

That explained the threads. It wasn't just a trap. It was an anchor.

"Someone tried to bring something here," Kim muttered. "And didn't finish."

Zhou's voice was low. "Aetherion magic?"

"Older," Kim said, fingers hovering over the glyph. "Pre-System."

Zhou frowned. "That's possible?"

Kim met his eyes. "Everything is possible here. Especially the things the System doesn't want us to find."

The glyph reacted to his presence.

Lines pulsed. Threads vibrated. A low hum filled the cellar like a forgotten chant, just barely audible.

[Recode Progress: 12%]Partial Decryption: Glyph Type – Soul AnchorStatus: IncompleteWarning: Fragment detected – Sentient Echo nearby.

Kim's heart slowed.

An echo.

He remembered those.

They weren't ghosts.

They weren't memories.

They were questions the world had never stopped asking.

The Glowstone flickered. Shadows shifted. And a voice—soft, broken, layered in dozens of tones—rose from the glyph.

"...why did you bring me here again…"

Kim froze.

So did Zhou.

The voice was everywhere and nowhere. Male and female, young and old.

"Who are you?" Kim asked quietly.

"...forgotten… cast down… looped and looped and looped and looped…"

Zhou stepped back instinctively, his hand on his blade.

But Kim didn't move.

He stared at the threads. Watched them twist tighter.

This echo wasn't random.

It was part of the System.

Or maybe what the System had tried to erase.

He leaned closer. "What's your name?"

The voice paused.

"…your name… it's like mine…"

The glyph glowed brighter.

Kim flinched as a thread snapped.

The voice screamed.

And then everything went dark.

When the light returned, the glyph was gone.

The thread—gone.

And something had changed inside Kim.

A weight. A fragment of thought not his own.

A memory?

A name?

No. Not yet.

But close.

[Hidden Skill – Recode Level 1 → Level 2]New Effect: You may absorb broken code fragments and echoes.Side Effect: You are now traceable. The System has detected anomaly. Surveillance increased.

Kim stood up slowly.

Zhou was still staring at the floor. "What the hell was that?"

Kim didn't answer.

He looked up the stairs.

Outside, the wind had returned.

And with it, the sound of claws on stone.

The Redfangs are coming.

And they would not wait for answers. 

The first growl came from the cliffs.

Low. Too low for human ears to hear—except in Aetherion, where everything meant something.

Kim Lin heard it anyway. Not with his ears, but with something deeper. Instinct. Muscle memory from lives past.

He stood still.

The wind had shifted again. Cold now, edged with rust. Somewhere beyond the outpost, in the maze of rocks and crevices, the Redfangs stirred.

"Zhou," he said calmly, "get the others. Quietly."

Zhou hesitated. "How many?"

"Doesn't matter. If we fight head-on, we lose."

Zhou didn't argue. He slipped up the steps without a sound.

Kim Lin knelt beside the now-dormant glyph. Its faint glow had faded, but the threads were still there—thinner now, but stretching beyond the cellar's walls, weaving faint lines into the air.

Lines of structure.

Rules.

He could see it now. The terrain had its own web.

And it could be used.

Ten minutes later, they were all gathered behind the broken wall of the outpost. Kim moved like a ghost between them, his voice low but firm, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"There are creatures out there—Redfangs. Fast. Coordinated. Not smart, but they don't need to be."

He paused, studying their faces.

Zhou, ever-alert, ready for orders.Hana, clutching a glass shard, pale but focused.A boy named Jae-min, who kept looking toward the dark horizon like it might bite him.A woman in a leather coat—Reina—eyes sharp, likely military.And the others. Eight in total. Not soldiers. Not hunters.

Survivors.

For now.

Kim continued. "We can't outrun them. Not across open terrain. And if we wait here passively, we're picked off one by one. So we need to trap them."

He turned and pointed to the rocks nearby.

"That slope over there—it creates a funnel. Natural choke point. We can use the collapsed crate wood to make a trip snare. It won't kill, but it will buy time."

He moved on, quickly. "Glowstone dust in the supply crates is flammable. If spread out and ignited at the right moment, it'll create a burst of light. Redfangs hate sudden light."

"And the cellar," he added, glancing down. "There's a secondary exit I found. A collapsed tunnel. If we clear it—only partially—it can serve as a fallback or escape."

Someone—Jae-min—spoke. "Why do you know all this?"

Kim didn't answer.

Reina did. "Because he's already survived this before."

Kim glanced at her.

She met his eyes. "I've seen that look. The way you talk, plan… You're not new."

A pause.

He didn't confirm it.

But he didn't deny it either.

The next hour passed in silence, save for the soft rustle of scavenged wood and whispered instructions. They worked quickly, eyes darting to the darkness.

Kim moved like someone rearranging puzzle pieces. He wasn't improvising. He was remembering.

Every trap. Every movement.

But it wasn't the same as before.

This time, he could see the threads.

The terrain's tension. Points of collapse. Loose stones. Shifting fault lines. He adjusted accordingly—tightening snare lines near stress points. Redirecting the flare lines through a natural gas vein he hadn't noticed in previous loops.

Everything had a pattern.

Everything had a use.

The System wanted him to play the game.

But he wasn't playing anymore.

He was rewriting the board.

By the time the first Redfang appeared, the outpost was quiet again.

They came from the rocks—dozens of them, hunched, lanky creatures with sunken faces and jaws too wide for their skulls. Their skin looked flayed, red and pulsing, like raw meat wrapped in sinew. Their eyes were hollow, silver pits.

And worst of all: they moved like a pack.

Kim saw them long before the others did.

He watched from the shadows of the upper ledge, lying flat on the roof of the outpost's broken wall.

He waited.

The creatures sniffed the air, their heads twitching. One of them stepped toward the trap funnel.

Then two more followed.

Still Kim waited.

He could feel the threads humming—reacting to movement. The creatures weren't bound by them, but they brushed against them like tangled vines in the dark.

That was all he needed.

He raised his hand.

Zhou lit the first fuse.

Flash.

The burst of light from the glowstone dust blinded the front line.

Three Redfangs shrieked—high-pitched, humanlike—and collapsed into the snare line. Kim pulled tight.

A crash of rocks.

A sudden landslide, triggered by the collapsed crate.

Two more creatures buried.

But the rest surged forward.

Now, Kim thought. Stage two.

He whistled—once, short.

From behind the outpost, Reina rolled a flaming cloth into the backup tunnel.

It ignited the gas vein.

Boom.

A wall of fire bloomed, catching the edge of the horde.

Screams. Chaos.

But not total victory.

One Redfang made it through.

Just one.

But that was enough.

It darted toward Hana, too fast for her to move, her arms frozen in terror—

Slash.

Kim dropped from the ledge, blade in hand, and met the creature mid-leap.

The sword wasn't enchanted. Wasn't blessed.

But he struck the thread.

The one that connected its momentum to its spine.

And the creature unraveled.

It didn't die. It disintegrated, screaming into red mist.

Kim stood still, breath steady.

The others watched in silence.

The night passed.

Eventually, the Redfangs retreated, sensing the change. Aetherion had no shortage of prey. They didn't like prey that bit back.

When dawn came, a System window appeared.

Trial Complete.Survivors: 8Status: Class Seed UnlockedReward: 1x Class Seed (Choose Wisely)

Kim ignored it.

He was already staring at the threads again.

One of them, faint and gold, led away from the outpost—up the ridge, into the deeper lands.

The next step.

The next mistake he had to avoid.

But this time… maybe he'd get it right.