As if ordained by fate, the participants were not just random individuals but a collection of professions and trades essential to running a functional society. Among them were carpenters and woodworkers, whose skills quickly became invaluable in constructing shelter. Gardeners and botanists, who once nurtured plants as a hobby or profession, were now tasked with identifying edible vegetation and cultivating food sources.

  Tailors and leatherworkers examined the hides of fallen creatures, already contemplating ways to craft more durable clothing and armor. Blacksmiths and metalworkers, though without forges, still possessed the knowledge to refine and shape raw materials into weapons and armor when the opportunity arose.

  Even those in finance—accountants, traders, and market analysts—found their place. Within days, a rudimentary barter and currency system had begun to form, with bronze and silver coins from monster loot becoming the foundation of trade.

  Beyond those working to establish structure and stability, there were also individuals who chose to fend for themselves, venturing into the wilderness alone. While others focused on battling goblins in groups, these lone hunters took down various low-level creatures, bringing back sources of meat that seemed both appealing and edible.

  Their return to the encampment was met with gratitude from the weary participants, who had spent their energy fighting and surviving. The sight of fresh meat—rather than the bland rations they had been relying on—was a relief, their tired expressions brightening at the promise of a decent meal.

  Cooks and chefs, once confined to restaurants and home kitchens, adapted their expertise to open fires and scarce ingredients, turning the newly acquired meat into proper sustenance. Though their tools were primitive, their knowledge remained intact, seasoning and preparing food in ways that made the camp feel just a little more like home.

  It was as if this gathering had been designed to forge a new world from nothing, each person a crucial piece in the foundation of a civilization yet to be built.

  A bustling community was born.

  Once strangers, now allies. Rivalries formed, conflicts sparked, and guild-like structures emerged.

  Among those who rose to leadership were individuals who demonstrated the capability to guide others in this unfamiliar world.

  Various guilds specializing in different fields began to take shape—some dedicated to healing, others to direct combat and stealth.

  Most notably, guilds focused on professions began to rise. Though new to such trades, groups specializing in blacksmithing, armor crafting, alchemy, and more appeared. Their value and importance were evident at first glance.

  Blacksmithing and armor crafting ensured weapons and gear were properly maintained, while alchemy prolonged survival through healing potions and other concoctions.

  It was the start of something far greater than survival—

  It was the foundation of a new civilization.

  Burdened with their survival, temporary alliances were forged among the guilds—some more forced than others. Regardless of ego and ambition, no one present was foolish enough to believe they alone could rule over everyone.

  They were well aware that they had barely scratched the surface of this world’s mysteries.

  The atmosphere was no longer as tense as when they had first arrived. More familiar with their current circumstances, they understood that the challenges ahead would only grow more dire.

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  The nine floating landmasses above them, each more breathtaking than the last, served as a stark reminder—no matter the difficulties they faced on this landmass, the trials to come would be even more perilous. What was unknown was the scale of those difficulties and how much the threat would escalate.

  Teams constantly explored the forest—training for combat, gaining levels, refining their attacks and movements. With each swing of their weapons, each casting of their skills, and each usage of their Force, they became stronger.

  New monsters were discovered.

  Beyond the familiar Goblin Soldiers, the forests harbored a variety of creatures, each presenting its own unique threat.

  Among them were Bristle Hogs—stocky, boar-like creatures with hardened quills along their backs, capable of launching them in bursts when threatened.

  Shade Vipers slithered in the underbrush, their black-scaled bodies blending into the shadows as they struck with lightning-fast precision, injecting a mild paralyzing venom into their prey.

  Mossback Tortoises lurked near the rivers, their algae-covered shells camouflaging them perfectly in the water, waiting to snap at unsuspecting travelers.

  Razor Crows circled high above the forest canopy, swooping down with blade-like talons whenever they spotted weakened or isolated prey.

  And then there were Fang Wolves, their numbers far greater than expected, moving with an organized pack mentality, testing the limits of those who ventured too far into the depths of the woods.

  The participants learned quickly.

  These creatures were not just obstacles but resources—sources of food, materials, and experience.

  Through battle after battle, they adapted, innovated, and survived.

  Levels rose, and among the most skilled were those who had already reached level 5, unlocking new abilities through the system.

  Combat styles became more apparent. If classes existed, it would only take a glance to guess what archetype each person suited.

  Inside a newly built structure, hastily designed to accommodate what was about to take place, heated discussions echoed off the walls.

  Arguments broke out.

  Voices clashed, debating the next course of action.

  With so many perspectives in one place, there was bound to be disagreement on how to approach this world.

  However, one particular viewpoint was shut down almost immediately.

  "Respect for the creatures' lives?" One man scoffed. "They want us dead on sight! You willing to risk your life to test that theory?"

  No one was.

  Other voices called for rapid exploration. "Staying in one area will only slow us down. If we want to grow stronger, we need to move forward—fast."

  But others were more cautious.

  "Rushing in blind is how people die," another countered. "We barely understand this world. If we don't take time to study it, we’re just going to get ourselves killed."

  The room stirred with tension.

  Then, a loud voice cut through the chaos.

  “I was just trying to relieve myself when a tortoise tried to snap my best friend off me!”

  A wave of laughter rippled through the room, mostly from the men. But the point was made—this world wasn’t safe, and a reckless approach could easily lead to disaster.

  Then, a female voice rose above the chatter, clear and commanding.

  “We don’t even know why we’re here in the first place."

  The room quieted slightly as she continued.

  "Were we randomly selected? Or were we chosen for something greater? Some kind of destiny beyond what we knew back home?”

  A few murmurs spread through the crowd, but no one interrupted.

  “Whatever the case, there’s one truth we can’t ignore.” Her gaze swept across the room. “We’re not going back. Not anytime soon. And if we want to make it out of this alive, if we want to thrive instead of barely scraping by, we need to get stronger. We need to master this system, these Forces we’ve been gifted with, and learn to use them to our advantage.”

  A pause.

  "Or we wait. We sit around, pretending we have time, pretending this world isn’t watching us. That it won’t force our hands if we hesitate."

  Silence.

  "You think survival is the only thing we need to worry about? That we’re in control of this?" Her eyes narrowed. "This world—whoever or whatever brought us here—doesn’t care about us. We aren’t the ones making the choices. We’re just pieces on a board, and we either play to win, or we let the game swallow us whole."

  She exhaled sharply, scanning the room.

  "So you tell me… What the hell are we waiting for?"

  A long, weighted pause followed her words.

  Then, one by one, gazes hardened. Nods of agreement spread through the gathered crowd.

  Not too far away from the settlement

  Hop.

  Hop.

  Hop.

  Soft pitter-patters of movement whispered through the trees.

  If one looked up, creatures dangled from above, wrapped in thick, twisting vines.

  It was unclear whether the sight was odd or horrifying—perhaps both.

  Their eyes remained open, yet the life had long since drained from them.

  The vines pulsed.

  Whatever was feeding the trees above… it was taking more than just their vitality.

  Hop.

  Hop.

  Hop.