Tansy returned home just before noon, carrying a bulky bundle wrapped carefully in broad forest leaves. She entered through the back door to avoid unnecessary attention, her boots leaving faint dust marks across the worn wooden floor.

Rose was the first to notice.

"Fish?" her little sister asked immediately, eyes wide with hope.

Tansy grinned and set the bundle on the table. "Yeah. One for each of us."

She unwrapped the leaves with a touch of theatrical flair, revealing four large river fish, their scales still glistening faintly.

Rose gasped. Even one fish would have been enough to feed the family for the day.

From the stove corner, their mother turned, wiping her hands on her apron. The exhaustion in her eyes softened at the sight.

"We’ll cook one today," she said after a moment of calculation. "Ask your father to sell two. Keep one salted."

Tansy nodded. That was the sensible choice.

Before she could respond, Rose rushed forward with something clutched in her hands.

"Look what I shot!" Rose declared proudly, holding up a loaf of bread with an arrow stuck through it.

Tansy blinked— and then laughed.

The arrow was not the one she used in the forest. Her own bow and arrows were safely hidden beyond the fence.

She took the loaf from Rose carefully and pulled out the arrow. It was like real bakery bread from the Capital— soft, golden-crusted, and fragrant. She had only seen bread like this once before, the day she stole from a Capitol official who had come for inspection, along with the bow and arrows he had so carelessly "lost." This was nothing like the dense, coarse ration loaves made from their local grain.

She pressed the punctured crust to her nose and inhaled deeply. The warm scent made her mouth flood with saliva.

"Mm... still warm," she murmured. "She must’ve gone to get this as soon as she woke up.."

She glanced at Rose. "What did it cost?"

"Nothing big," Rose said with a shrug. "I helped the baker fetch water."

Tansy paused.

She knew better.

Nothing in Sector 11 was ever free. There is no charity here.

Still, she said nothing and gently patted Rose’s head before tearing off a piece and taking a bite. The softness melted against her tongue, and for a brief moment, life did not feel so narrow.

"Mom? Dad’s not home?" she asked after swallowing.

"Today is Collection Day," Rose answered before their mother could speak. "He’s been working in the mines for three days straight."

Tansy’s smile faded slightly. She nodded and turned to unpack the herbs and mushrooms she had gathered from the forest, placing them beside the fish.

Tansy’s father had been in the mines for three straight days, likely alongside dozens of other exhausted workers. Either they had failed to meet the required quota, or the Capital had increased the demand for Carbonyx ore again. It hardly mattered which. Whenever new orders came down, it was never the Capital that strained or starved. It was always the people of the Sector who paid the price— with longer shifts, empty stomach and bodies pushed beyond their limits.

Soon, a modest stew simmered in a dented pot. The scent of broth, herbs, and river fish filled the house.

When it was ready, Tansy poured herself a bowl and drank quickly. She refilled it without hesitation.

Rose stared.

"You’re taking seconds?"

Tansy raised an eyebrow. "Why? Shouldn’t I?"

"No— no! I’m just surprised. You never do that."

Tansy only ruffled her sister’s hair and stood.

"Where are you going?" their mother asked.

"To eat on the roof," Tansy replied casually.

It wasn’t unusual. Sometimes she liked the breeze.

She climbed the old ladder to the rooftop. The sun was already high, heat pressing down on the gray structures of the Onyx.

Without slowing, she stepped onto a nearby tree branch that leaned close to the house. The tree was thin, half-stripped of leaves. From there, she leapt lightly to the neighboring rooftop— a building with no accessible entrance.

The bowl in her hand did not spill a single drop.

In the shade behind a chimney, someone waited.

It was Tyler.

He accepted the bowl quietly.

"Thank you."

He drank.

The stew was simple — slightly salty, faintly earthy from the mushrooms — but warm. His body, still weakened from near-drowning and malnutrition, responded greedily.

At first it tasted merely adequate.

Then, as the warmth spread through him, it began to feel good.

There were actual chunks of fish inside.

Tansy watched him carefully.

"It’s good," he said after finishing, giving her a small nod.

She exhaled, tension easing slightly.

"You should hide here today," she said. "It’s Collection Day."

"Collection Day?" Tyler asked.

She leaned back against the chimney.

"People from the Capital come. They collect fifty percent of what we produce. If we don’t make enough, they still take what they can. Grain, fish, tools. Sometimes worse."

Tyler listened without interruption.

He had seen tyrannies before— but this one felt crude, systematic.

"Can you tell me more about this place?" he asked.

"You really don’t remember anything?" she said, studying him again.

He shook his head.

She sighed.

"This is Sector 11. Our part is called the Onyx. Most people here work in the Carbonyx mines. That’s why everything’s black." She gestured toward the soot-stained rooftops and cinder roads. "There’s another section people call Carb. Not very creative."

She gave a small, humorless laugh.

"My dad works in the mines too. On Collection weeks, they push overtime. That’s why he hasn’t been home."

Tyler nodded slowly.

"What about daily necessities?"

"You mean like water and electricity? Well for Electricity, it’s Two or three hours , if we’re lucky. But Water is clean, though. The Capital makes sure of that. They don’t want new disease or infection spreading."

"And You are allowed to go outside."

"Yeah. But we rarely go outside, Most of us never leave the sector. Because all other sectors are almost the same."

Her gaze drifted toward the distant fence.

"The world outside might as well be another Sector."

Tyler absorbed her words carefully.

This was not merely poverty.

It was controlled survival.

A structured hierarchy built on extraction.

A dystopian order disguised as stability.

He looked at Tansy again — the calloused hands, steady eyes, the quiet strength beneath her thin frame.

This Trial would not be about beasts or cultivators.

It would be about systems.

And systems required different kinds of power to break. Or the same power that solves all the world

"Alright. You stay here. I’ll come back after Collection ends," Tansy said quietly before slipping away across the rooftops.

Tyler remained seated in the shaded corner, watching her disappear. Once she was gone, the silence felt heavier.

"I wonder what my Trial task is," he muttered under his breath.

Normally, the Trial prompt would have appeared by now. There was no mission objective, no guiding directive from the orion system or Decateron. Maybe it will activate after he activate the Gacha.

Everything was quiet inside his consciousness, as if this Trial had yet to formally begin.

After finishing the stew, he looked down at the empty bowl in his hands.

Tansy had forgotten it.

He glanced toward the direction she had gone, but she was already gone. "Should I return it to her house?" he thought.

Before he could decide, a loud mechanical hum filled the sky.

Tyler looked up.

A massive heli-carrier was descending toward Sector 11. Its polished metal exterior gleamed unnaturally against the soot-darkened rooftops. The aircraft was far too luxurious for this place. Looking at those Tyler immediately understood.

"They must be the tax collectors from the Capital," he murmured.

From every alley and doorway, people began moving in the same direction— the central square where the heli-carrier was preparing to land. Even Tansy’s mother joined the crowd.

Tyler’s eyes narrowed.

"Looks like no one’s in her house."

He moved carefully, leaping onto the nearby tree. The branch bent sharply under his weight and cracked slightly, but he paid it little attention. From there, he hopped onto Tansy’s rooftop and descended the old ladder quietly.

Through the window, he saw a younger girl sitting at a small table.

Rose.

She was focused on knotting something— likely a scarf or piece of cloth— her brows slightly furrowed in concentration.

Tyler placed the bowl gently on the window ledge.

Rose turned at the soft sound.

"Tansy?" she called out, standing quickly.

She stepped toward the window and looked outside.

No one was there.

Only the empty rooftop and the faint echo of distant voices from the square.

She frowned slightly, then shook her head and picked up the bowl.

Tyler exhaled softly in relief and climbed back up the ladder.

He leapt toward the tree again.

This time, the weakened branch gave way completely.

It snapped.

Tyler dropped straight down.

"Fudge— !"

He hit the ground hard, landing flat on his back with a dull thud. Pain exploded through his spine and the back of his head.

"Ouch..."

This mortal body was far weaker than his original one. Even a simple fall sent waves of sharp pain through him. He pressed a hand to the back of his head and winced.

When he opened his eyes—

Someone was standing over him.

It was Rose. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

She stared down at him with wide, unblinking eyes.