Player 0.4 [You have died.] [Reset in progress.]

“So these are all of the Awakened?” Grandov let out a low whistle as he leaned over the table, palms bracing against the golden-threaded tapestry. “And the ones yet to Awaken?”

“There’s also the Aware,” Chase corrected lightly.

He tapped two black chips with one finger while lifting his glass of white wine with the other, taking an unhurried sip.

The secret meeting was held in the back chambers of the Gilded Siren. Outside, the casino floor hummed with laughter and the clink of coins. But here, in one of the largest available VVIP rooms, they were sealed away behind layered sound wards and reinforced doors, and the atmosphere was entirely different.

Warm light-stone chandeliers illuminated the velvet walls and polished green marble flooring. Platters of figs, candied nuts, and sliced fruits sat alongside bottles filled with amber and ruby liquor.

Though the space was quite opulent and well-decorated, Chase had added some of his own decor for a very practical purpose of their meeting.

The long central table was dominated by a massive tapestry depicting a world map, stretching from one end to the other. The continents were woven with golden-threaded borders, and the seas were dyed a deep indigo. This was Chase’s addition.

The woven continents stretched from one end of the table to the other, weighted down at the corners. Poker chips of varying colors dotted its surface.

Black chips were those Aware of the loops. Yellow chips marked those who had Awakened. Orange chips indicated those who had the Phoenix Eyes but were yet to Awaken. Red signified those who were Awakened, but suspected to be aligned with Kobar. Grey chips represented unconfirmed individuals.

Some stacks were single chips. Others rose several layers high. A few were impossibly tall, held in place by sheer magic.

Each chip in a stack represented a loop lived and remembered—in some capacity, as it differed depending on the individual.

A sheet of parchment made its way slowly around the table, inked with new names, sightings, and updates gathered from across the realm.

“The ones we know of,” Sedna corrected Grandov, as she pushed a strand of glimmersteel-blue hair behind one ear. “I’ll be traveling west with my mother to visit her former allies. If I encounter anyone else of note, I’ll attempt to sway them. At the very least, they’ll be added to our list.”

Chase snapped approvingly and plucked a grape from the platter on the table behind him.

“And Duncan,” Micah said, glancing toward him, “will attend Crown Princess Ceanna’s banquet in the Barakian Empire. As a delegate. He should be able to note down all the Awakened there, and perhaps obtain support from its future Empress.”

The room’s attention shifted. All eyes turned toward Duncan.

He sat upright, hands folded neatly before him. A decorative half-mask obscured the scars across his face. The golden lacework glinted under the chandelier light.

“With my ability,” he replied with a confidence that he did not possess when he first met Luca Frey, “I should be able to identify the Awakened based on the number of lives they’ve lived.”

Chase’s glass paused mid-air for a fraction of a second, as if intending to say something, but the prince instead resumed drinking his wine.

It was Duncan’s first meeting at the Gilded Siren among this extremely diverse and peculiar group of individuals that normally would not be seen together.

His eyes flicked toward the black-coated man lounging across from Chase Daylan: that was Claude Noire, head of the Spider Syndicate and one of the most dangerous individuals on the continent. Though the violet-haired, smiling young prince facing him was hardly less concerning.

“We’re glad to have you,” Micah smiled broadly and patted Duncan’s shoulder.

Duncan nodded and smiled back, but felt a shiver.

The scariest one is him.

While Micah was nothing but kindness and smiles toward him, Duncan had read the restricted scrolls that only the Royal Minister and Queen Evelyn were allowed access to. Thus, he knew better than anyone else at the table what Micah’s family was capable of and had committed in the past. It was the sort of knowledge that he was rune-bound never to utter aloud.

Duncan gazed over the nearly two dozen identified individuals across the map.

He himself was not an Awakened and barely an Aware—terms fairly new to him, but he had been brought into the fold by Micah and Grandov, with the core objective the one and same that Luca Frey had shared with him. And he himself understood that his usefulness was undeniable.

As the eldest son of the Genuiver Dukedom and now Queen Evelyn’s Royal Minister, Duncan could move through royal courts and private chambers that were inaccessible to the rest of them, either through a lack of pedigree or time. He would meet kings, ministers, and generals face-to-face. And with his ability to read the number of lives lived, the number of lives taken, and the remaining time left, he was uniquely positioned to sift through and confirm who was Awakened. Especially, since he didn’t have the golden eyes that would have made him stand out to other Awakened.

“I’ll do my best,” he finished.

“Hmmm,” Grandov murmured. “We’ll see how it goes.”

He leaned forward again, scrutinizing the map.

“Can we label the stacks?” he asked. “It’s getting difficult to tell who’s who.”

Chase arched a brow, amused. “Of course.”

He plucked the clipboard from Grandov’s hand, skimmed the latest additions, then snapped his fingers.

Thin slips of parchment lifted from the board, gliding through the air like obedient butterflies. Each hovered above its corresponding stack before settling neatly atop it, names etched in varying script.

The room quieted as everyone took in the new arrangement of chips and labels.

Then a low laugh broke through the silence.

“You’re two chips off.”

Claude’s voice rumbled softly, almost lazily. He pointed toward the towering stack of golden chips positioned over Adovoria.

A smirk tugged at his lips.

“Or are you shy about your true age, Chase? Two loops hardly make a difference, you know.”

“While it is slightly embarrassing to admit,” Chase said lightly, “I didn’t fudge my age. I’ve lived forty-seven loops—including this one.”

Claude tilted his head, unconvinced.

“No,” he said calmly. “It’s forty-nine. Forty-eight at the very least.”

His fingers moved to the inside of his collar, pulling it down just enough to expose the intricate script of tattoos etched along his skin. His eyes flicked across them as though reading a ledger only he possessed.

“In Round twenty-eight, there was unusual activity in the Daylan Dynasty, which I suspect was your doing. In Round twenty-nine, you exposed yourself as being evidently Awake. And in Round thirty…” His eyes lifted. “You were crowned King.”

Claude shifted his attention to Duncan.

“Well?” Claude inquired. “Let’s see your ability at work.”

Duncan’s gaze focused above Chase’s head, where faint numbers only he could perceive floated.

“Forty-seven,” he confirmed, to Chase’s delight.

Confusion flickered across Claude’s face. Followed by irritation.

He turned to Grandov.

“You would have noticed,” Claude said. “If a different king had been crowned.”

Grandov frowned deeply. “I don’t recall. But I can verify.”

His eyes became unfocused, and his gaze shifted toward something in front of him, unseen by anyone else.

Silence fell over the room.

“…He’s right,” Grandov said at last. “The System confirms it. In Round thirty, the Daylan Dynasty’s King was Chase Daylan. That was also the round I first successfully formed a mage squad to fight against the Kobar Empire.”

“Is that so?” Chase replied mildly.

But he was no longer looking at them.

He had drawn out a small pocket mirror and was adjusting his shades, while mumbling something under his breath.

Then he flicked the mirror into the air, and it vanished.

A slow grin spread across his face.

“I suppose,” he said cheerfully, without the least bit of concern at having been wrong, “I have indeed lived forty-nine lives.”

Duncan inhaled sharply.

The number above Chase’s head changed.

“It’s… forty-nine now,” Duncan whispered.

“What?” Sedna’s head snapped toward him.

The gaze of others followed.

“The number above Chase’s head, it’s now forty-nine,” Grandov said.

“It changed?” Sedna blinked, her golden eyes wide.

Duncan’s voice wavered for the first time since entering the room. “How is that possible?”

The question hung heavy in the air, being processed by everyone.

How could a number reflecting reality… change? And simply because he agreed it should?

A low sigh cut through the stillness.

Grandov leaned back in his cushioned chair, crossing his fingers.

“I thought it might be something like this,” he said.

Micah’s fingers tapped once against the purple chip at the edge of the map table, the one representing Luca, but it was decidedly not placed anywhere on the table.

“What does that mean, exactly?” Micah inquired. Unlike Chase, his expression held little humor at the situation.

Grandov set his clasped hands down on the table.

“Abilities are rarely omnipotent,” he began. “Especially when they intersect with other abilities.”

He gestured toward the stacks of chips.

“Rock beats scissors. Scissors cut paper. Paper wraps rock. Nothing operates in isolation.”

Chase leaned back, one ankle crossing over his knee. His grin was lazy, almost indulgent.

“But I wasn’t using an ability,” he said lightly. “Not that I’m aware of.”

The chandelier light flashed against his shades.

“No, you weren’t,” Grandov agreed. “Not purposefully, that is.”

He leaned forward now, elbows resting on the table, voice lowering slightly.

“Given you’re a warlock, you have an agreement with a Celestial, correct?”

Chase nodded.

This revelation had little impact on anyone else at the table, whether because they were aware or because they had decent control over their expressions.

“It’s possible that your contract included the consumption of a story. There are Celestials who treat Games as entertainment. Those who consume narratives. Who wager on outcomes. There’s an entire division within the Agency of Order and Game Development devoted to forming such contracts. They offer realm-dwellers second chances in exchange for participation in… stories.”

Duncan’s eyes widened at more new terminology that extended beyond his understanding of the world.

“Wagers?” Chase repeated, a smirk appearing on his face. Unlike Duncan, he didn’t appear that shocked.

“Yes,” Grandov said. “Between Celestials. And higher beings.”

“How fascinating,” Chase grinned, entirely unbothered.

Chase motioned a candied nut to float over from the platter on the side of the room and toss itself into his open mouth.

“So, in short, Duncan’s ability isn’t foolproof in identifying other Awakened,” Micah summarized.

Grandov gave a small shrug.

“It should be fine in most cases,” Grandov smiled toward Duncan. “Anything over one loop will be sufficient evidence that someone has Awakened. It’s just that we should stay wary. Given the difficulty of defeating the Kobar Empire thus far, our enemies have multiple wards in place to avoid easy detection. But perhaps they haven't accounted for such an ability, as it is rather specific."

Duncan felt the warmth from Grandov and Micah, offering their encouragement. However, he himself had another concern.

If my ability is not always the reflection of the truth… could I have been wrong in the past?

A cold dread crept down Duncan’s spine. His mind raced through the various accusations he handed out so easily, trusting his ability completely. The only consolation was that his accusations were overwhelmingly dismissed by his family, to the point that he was even exiled. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise.

But Evelyn had trusted his insight. And he pointed his finger freely, sending many behind bars, or to their deaths.

Beside Duncan, Micah had already gone still.

Without a word, he reached into his coat pocket and withdrew the small black stone turtle Duncan had seen countless times before. He rolled it slowly between his fingers, thumb tracing its shiny black shell.

Micah only pulled it out when something required deeper thought.

Duncan swallowed.

Of course. Micah had already noticed.

He must have seen the flaw in Duncan’s ability the moment the numbers shifted above Chase’s head.

A quiet heat crept up Duncan’s neck.

He had never doubted this ability of his. Not once. He believed he was handing out absolute justice.

But his ability wasn't perfect. It depended on a variable that could be muddled.

And there was nothing he could do about what had already been done.

But I can at least change the future. Or perhaps a version of it.

Duncan straightened slightly.

“Micah,” he said quietly, leaning closer so only he could hear. “You mentioned keeping a ledger to recall prior loops.”

Micah’s attention shifted fully to him.

“Would you,” Duncan continued, voice steady but low, “record a warning about my ability? A reminder to me not to trust it blindly. And to re-examine any accusations I make.”

Micah studied him for a brief moment. Then he nodded.

“Of course,” Micah said gently. “I was thinking the same thing.”

Duncan sighed in relief, feeling the weight on his conscience lifted.

The turtle continued to turn in Micah’s hand before being placed back in his pocket.

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