As she spoke, the woman began ascending the grand staircase, her footsteps echoing through the hall so vast they seemed inexplicable. One by one, everyone began following her. Me too.

  I didn't like walking in groups. I had always hated that feeling of being swallowed by the crowd. But in that moment, following that woman was the only viable option.

  Any summoned individual who failed to appear for the test by the end of the day would be considered an enemy of the State. And the State did not forgive.

  As tempting as it was to flee, there was nowhere to hide. That was proven year after year — a fact as unshakable as a death sentence.

  "Alright, everyone. Regarding the test, I need to walk through the entire process, especially since we have participants coming from the farms… and you know how it is."

  She paused.

  Some laughed. Silently.

  The kind of laugh that needs no explanation to wound.

  And there it was. We were the joke.

  I kept my eyes fixed on her back, but sharpened my ears. If they wanted to laugh, let them. I just needed to survive.

  "This year marks twenty-eight years since we deciphered the Code. In less than a year after the discovery, we made a technological leap equivalent to nearly five hundred years of evolution." She spread her arms slightly. "But the greatest advancement was finally gaining access to the territory in the Oasis — not as survivors, but as Lords."

  The name lingered in the air.

  Oasis. The promise.

  "As some of you know, the Oasis is a place where trials and rewards coexist. It can be perfect… or cruel. For decades, it was only a distant dream. A myth. But today we have managed to establish ourselves there and extract its blessings without depending on the favor of other races."

  "Miss… when will we have access to the translated Books of Truth?"

  The question came from a girl a few rows ahead.

  "Excellent question. What is your name?"

  "Savina."

  "Savina, at the end of the excursion, you will be housed for three days in designated quarters. During that time, you will have access to the books to study and prepare." She tilted her head slightly. "But I recommend moderation. Energy will be essential when you are sent to the Oasis. Don't go three days without sleep."

  A warning disguised as advice.

  Beneath her cold, almost arrogant posture, there was something there… perhaps not compassion, but pragmatism. She didn't want us dying out of carelessness.

  Or perhaps she simply didn't want waste.

  We kept walking until we reached another hall — as large as the previous one, but heavier.

  The air felt different there.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, this is the tracking device retrieval sector. If any family member previously participated and did not return, this is where you may recover them."

  "Keep in mind that the mortality rate is 92%. It is extremely likely that the majority of you — or your Tags — will end up here. Luck has very little room to maneuver in the Oasis."

  Absolute silence.

  "Therefore, if there is no return from a relative or friend… this is where you will find what remains."

  I watched a woman standing before one of the counters. A staff member reached into a compartment and withdrew a metal tag.

  She could barely hold it.

  Her knees gave out.

  The only thing that had returned was that small piece of metal.

  "Never remove the tag from your neck. It is the only way we can carry out the transport at the end of a year. Otherwise… only the tag will return."

  Silence.

  The meaning was too obvious to require explanation.

  Without the tag, there was no return.

  Without return… only the void remained.

  "What do the letters on the tags mean?"

  The question was asked bluntly.

  "Sir…?"

  "Robert."

  She pulled from her pocket a small device that expanded, transforming into something resembling a tablet.

  "The letters indicate your priority level during transport."

  Her fingers slid quickly across the screen.

  "Robert. Classification B-. Belongs to one of the Great Houses. Excellent classification. In the event of territorial loss — if you survive — you will be among the first to be transported."

  A murmur rippled through the group.

  Privilege. Protection. Value.

  "But what is the criterion?" he pressed. "They always said it was an honor, but never explained why."

  She hesitated.

  For the first time.

  It didn't seem like ignorance. It seemed like a boundary.

  "Your genes contain something… valuable and extremely useful in the Oasis. Let's call it potential. A Rank A represents potential so great it cannot be lost. Lower ranks fall into a zone where loss is… acceptable."

  Acceptable.

  As though we were talking about defective parts.

  "There is more behind it. But neither I nor your family is authorized to disclose that information. Consider this the essential."

  "And what is your rank?"

  She smiled.

  Slowly.

  Then she withdrew her own badge, which slid through the heavy folds of her uniform until the metal gleamed under the white light.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  "ONE-minus."

  A collective intake of breath swept through the hall.

  She tucked the tag away again, satisfied.

  "I believe that concludes questions on the matter. Let's move on."

  But I was no longer paying her any attention.

  My mind was fixed on my own Tag.

  My mother and sister had always made a point of hiding my tag.

  I had never understood why.

  Not even on the day I had to say goodbye to my sister had I allowed myself to think about it deeply. I was too consumed by the farewell… the fear… the strange silence in her eyes.

  But now…

  Now the answer hit like a punch.

  Of course.

  We had swapped our tags.

  If the classification determined priority…

  If the numbers indicated something beyond potential…

  Then what exactly had I been carrying around my neck all these years?

  Before I could gather the courage to ask, another voice rose from the crowd.

  "Ma'am… I heard that besides the letters, there are numbers. What do they mean?"

  My heart leapt.

  That was exactly what I needed to hear.

  And since we had begun climbing that staircase, I had felt that the answer truly mattered.

  The woman stopped.

  For the first time since she had begun leading us, her step faltered. She drew a deep breath before turning.

  "Where did you hear that?"

  The boy who had asked the question seemed to shrink under her gaze.

  "My uncle lives here… he mentioned it."

  She stared at him for a few seconds longer than necessary.

  "What you want to know is a useless curiosity. It serves no purpose — not for you. Not for any of you."

  She looked away, as though weighing whether she should continue. Then she decided.

  "There are individuals whose potential we simply cannot measure. Or it is so absurdly beyond any parameter that we choose to number them rather than classify them by letters. They are called the Numbered."

  A curious silence hung over the group.

  "Honestly, I don't know how many there are. But the leader of this tower is a Numbered. Number 32480."

  A visible shock spread across the faces around me.

  If the leader was someone so powerful… why was the number so high?

  It seemed as though she was reading our thoughts.

  "I know what you're imagining. But, to be honest, I have never seen another Numbered besides him, so I cannot say exactly how their classification works."

  She paused briefly before continuing.

  "The truth is that our population has already surpassed half a trillion. We have conquered planets, expanded our dominion beyond what our ancestors dared to imagine."

  Everyone's expressions grew tense.

  "Even so… the Numbered remain absurdly rare. In the end, they are rarer than a drop of mercury in the ocean, so it is irrelevant to dwell on the subject."

  When I finally understood the meaning of the numbers, my heart began to race.

  Mine… was lower than 32480.

  Much lower.

  Could it be that the scale works in reverse…?

  Before I could organize my thoughts, she resumed walking.

  We climbed more floors. Unlike the previous ones, these were filled with doors. Row upon row of closed doors.

  "The next 40 floors are designated for residents. We have approximately ten thousand rooms in this area, though most are empty. Our territory in the Oasis is classified as D-. Therefore, do not expect luxury upon your return. Even so, for survivors, the comfort will be adequate."

  "Does D- mean it's easy?"

  It was the same man as before.

  She looked at him with an almost neutral expression.

  "We calculate the average survival time in each territory and classify the risk based on that. Ours is dangerous… but manageable."

  She paused briefly.

  "In a C+ level territory, fewer than 8% of humans survive more than a year. In an A+ level territory, 99% do not live more than a few minutes."

  A few minutes.

  The air grew heavy.

  "But greater risks yield greater rewards. The more dangerous the territory, the higher the chances of Fortunate Encounters. That is why the government invests more in those locations. For us, being in an area classified as D- means high chances of survival… but low chances of being considered extraordinary or even relevant."

  And there it was.

  Surviving was the bare minimum.

  Being noticed was rare.

  I noticed uneasy glances around me. The tension was evident on every face.

  "Understand," she continued, sensing the discomfort, "even in a less dangerous territory, if you return, you will be above 99% of the population that has never entered the Oasis."

  She added nothing more.

  She simply kept walking until the sixth floor.

  "Very well. The class will be held here. You will stay on this floor. The restaurant and dormitories are distributed between this floor and the one above. If you need me, ask for me by name."

  She paused briefly.

  "Goodbye."

  And she left.

  Without saying her name.

  A small detail… but an irritating one.

  Before anyone could comment, a loud cough echoed through the corridor.

  I looked around.

  Nothing.

  Until someone pointed downward.

  "Look… a dwarf."

  From inside a large half-open gate, emerged an extremely short man, bald and wearing round glasses. He could not have been more than four feet tall.

  His face turned red.

  The boy who had made the comment began to laugh.

  Very loudly.

  It was quick.

  The small man raised one of his hands.

  In an instant.

  A flash.

  A bolt of lightning fell from the ceiling.

  The boy vanished.

  There was no scream.

  There was no blood.

  Only dust.

  An absolute silence took hold of the room.

  The smell of ozone still lingered in the air.

  "Much better." The man adjusted his glasses. "A pleasure. I will be your lecturer. Come in and sit down. I have no time to waste."

  No one objected.

  Contempt gave way to fear.

  We hurried inside.

  Passing through the gate, I found myself in an enormous semicircular hall. At the center, a raised presentation platform. Behind it, a gigantic blackboard covered the entire wall — filled with symbols, calculations, and chaotic scrawlings.

  Despite his height, he commanded the space.

  "Sit. We begin."

  I sat in the first empty seat I found.

  With everyone settled, I was finally able to count.

  Quickly.

  Automatically.

  I took a deep breath.

  "199 people."

  We had been 200.

  No longer.

  I found the number significant.

  Two hundred people reduced to one hundred and ninety-nine in seconds… and yet, it felt like only the beginning.

  What truly unsettled me was something else.

  If people were sent there every month… why had I seen none of them beyond those who led us?

  "Good. Let's get to what really matters." The lecturer crossed his arms. "I will explain what your objective should be."

  He pressed a button.

  The entire panel rose with a metallic sound, revealing a massive map projected on the wall. The territory had the strange shape of a shoe.

  "This is the D-territory to which you will be transported."

  He pointed to two blue areas.

  "We are surrounded by water on two sides. If you are transported near the coast, head inland immediately. Life expectancy on the shoreline approaches B+."

  A murmur ran through the room.

  B+.

  As though he had heard our thoughts, he continued:

  "The area classification denotes threat density and encounter probability. The coastline concentrates encounters with individuals of extremely high mobility or evasion capability. You will not survive there at the start."

  The image changed.

  Now there was a creature on the screen.

  An animal resembling a wild boar, but with a single curved horn emerging from its forehead. Its eyes were small and alert.

  "This is a Babirusa. Level E+."

  He zoomed in on the image.

  "To an unprepared human being, it is lethal. To someone with a minimum of strategy, it is a resource."

  Some swallowed hard.

  "The presence of Babirusas indicates that the territory is stable enough for a Lord to establish himself. They reproduce within weeks, are extremely numerous, and serve as food for practically everything."

  He paused.

  "Including us."

  An uncomfortable silence settled in.

  "If you encounter a Babirusa, consider it an excellent sign. It means there are not many dominant predators in the region."

  The image disappeared.

  "I will not list every creature that can kill you. That would be useless. Your time will be better spent studying the Books of Truth."

  He adjusted his glasses.

  "But I want to make one thing perfectly clear: even the seemingly most harmless creature here could kill me in seconds."

  Instinctively, everyone thought the same thing.

  The boy. The lightning. The ashes.

  "Do not underestimate anything. Do not underestimate anyone. You will no longer be on Earth when you arrive at the Oasis. Common sense does not apply there."

  The lecture shifted focus.

  Flora. Catalytic substances. Symbols. Circles. Invocations.

  Yes.

  Invocations.

  All transported individuals received basic energy.

  Raise a flag. Claim it. Become a Lord.

  When the flag was raised, everything within a one-kilometer radius became the Lord's domain for three days.

  Three days of absolute protection.

  During that period, all creatures were expelled from the claimed area.

  It was the only real advantage we had.

  "These three days will determine your future."

  The lecturer's voice echoed through the hall.

  "Protection. Sustenance. Utility. Expansion."

  He wrote four enormous words on the giant blackboard.

  "If you build poorly, you will die."

  Simple.

  Direct.

  "Creatures recognize weakness quickly. Humans are soft flesh. Tasty. Without venom."

  Some swallowed hard again.

  "They wait. They are patient. When the protection period ends… the feast begins."

  My stomach turned.

  So it wasn't a race.

  It was a siege.

  "If you realize you have failed to establish a viable territory, abandon it. Try to integrate into a consolidated human domain or one of our allies."

  He pointed to the center of the map.

  "In the core, there are stable territories. They are not the most powerful compared to other regions of the Oasis… but they are functional and relatively safe."

  He looked at us one by one.

  "You will be accepted. As long as you can contribute."

  Contribute.

  Or be discarded.

  It made sense.

  Survival was not charity.

  It was an investment.

  As he continued speaking, my mind was elsewhere.

  One kilometer. Three days. Babirusa. D-. Numbered. And my tag.

  My number.

  If the leader was 324…

  What did "mine" mean?

  And more importantly…

  If people were sent there every month…

  Why were there still so many free territories?