The lecture took many turns, but it never strayed from the central point:

  Surviving was difficult.

  And dying was common.

  The speaker did not try to soften anything. He spoke openly about protein scarcity, about hunger, about humans who went insane before even finding shelter.

  Flora was the priority.

  Always.

  The territory was narrow and sparsely populated by humans. According to him, the ideal scenario was for different territories to unite in the future, creating zones of collective strength. Even so, wandering across the map in search of the "perfect place" was practically a death sentence.

  "I won't lie to you. Around 40% die before even planting their flag."

  The room fell completely still.

  "If you simply enter a territory and raise your flag, you'll already be ahead of nearly half the people here."

  He paused.

  "But I also won't lie: if the territory is garbage, you'll die anyway."

  Direct.

  Cruel.

  Realistic.

  "Focus on water, wood, and minerals like stone and iron. These are the pillars of any Lord. I won't be naive enough to tell you to look for caves rich in ore. That would already require too much luck."

  He began scribbling calculations on the board.

  "Territory with wood and drinkable water? Survival rate in the first month: close to 80%."

  A low murmur spread through the room.

  "That rate increases proportionally to the resources accumulated."

  It made sense.

  A self-sustaining territory meant stability.

  Stability meant time.

  And time was the only real currency in that place.

  From the middle toward the end of the lecture, he began explaining the practical process.

  "You will be transported individually and receive a flag."

  He raised a finger.

  "Less than 1% are transported in groups. Don't count on that."

  So that was it.

  Alone.

  "After planting the flag, a one-kilometer radius will be under system protection for three days. No creature will be able to invade. Use that time wisely."

  He wrote four words again:

  Protection.

  Subsistence.

  Utility.

  Expansion.

  "You will be questioned by the system about construction paths. Make rational choices. If you invest in something without ensuring resource acquisition, you will have wasted the only real advantage you possess."

  He adjusted his glasses.

  "And then… only death will remain."

  The silence was almost tangible.

  "For the 1% who arrive in groups, there is the possibility of dividing roles. One focuses on defense, another on resources, for example."

  He grimaced.

  "I don't recommend it. Alliances are fragile. Scarcity brings out the worst in people."

  That stayed engraved in my mind.

  Scarcity brings out the worst.

  As he spoke, my mind created scenarios. Strategies. Possible structures.

  The public broadcasts shown in the colony featured survivors. Some even shared basic methods. The government didn't hide information — on the contrary.

  They wanted to increase the success rate.

  And that scared me.

  Even with help, ninety percent still don't survive.

  "Before we finish, I need to reinforce something."

  His voice grew even more serious.

  "The mortality rate in the first year remains above 90%."

  No one breathed.

  "On average… only twenty of you will be alive a year from now."

  Two hundred.

  Twenty.

  "Be sensible. Think before you act. Every decision matters."

  He closed the device.

  "Dismissed."

  The words were brutal.

  But there was no pleasure in them.

  There was experience.

  Too much experience.

  When the door opened again nearly two hours later, the same woman who had brought us here was waiting.

  But now she was not alone.

  Beside her stood a gigantic man.

  He must have been nearly seven foot two. His muscles were far too broad for any normal shirt. That was why he wore only an extremely tight tank top that seemed to struggle to contain that body.

  "Listen up. This is Chef Braum. He's responsible for your nutrition and supplementation for the next three days."

  The woman crossed her arms.

  "I don't want anyone dying on the first day from nutritional deficiency."

  The man smiled.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  A strangely gentle smile for someone that size.

  "Hello, boys and girls. It will be a pleasure to help you. I will speak with each of you individually to assess specific needs."

  His voice was deep, but surprisingly calm.

  "That will be enough," the woman cut him off. "After the evaluation, you will receive your badges with your room numbers. Meal and training schedules will be posted on the doors."

  "Training?"

  The question arose from the middle of the group.

  "Yes. The leader decided to include training this year. It is optional. In three days you won't learn much… but any advantage is better than none."

  Training did not worry me.

  I had always trained.

  Discipline had never been a problem.

  When my turn finally came, Braum analyzed me from head to toe.

  He raised an eyebrow.

  "Kid… with that physique you don't need much help."

  He squeezed my shoulder, assessing muscle density.

  "If you want to set up your own meal plan, feel free. Otherwise, I have a standard plan for the highest-rated participants."

  For the first time that day…

  Someone seemed slightly impressed.

  I took the menu and examined it carefully.

  It was simple. Direct. Proteins, vitamins, and carbohydrates distributed logically, without excess or unnecessary inventions. Nothing sophisticated — just efficient.

  It made sense.

  "I'll stick with the standard."

  "Very good choice."

  The man smiled. "Here's your badge."

  He handed me a small plate attached to a long cord. On it was my name — or rather…

  My sister's name.

  And the room number.

  For three days, they would not make any updates.

  It might seem simple to change a record. But it wasn't. Substituting selected candidates was extremely rare. The process was bureaucratic, slow, and, considering the ninety percent mortality rate and my status as a colonist, unnecessary in the administration's eyes.

  To them, someone from the farm would hardly return after a year.

  Correcting the name would be a waste of resources.

  I held the badge for a few seconds before placing it around my neck.

  That wasn't just an administrative error.

  It was a reminder.

  When I reached the room, I stopped at the door.

  "Isn't this room too small?"

  The space was so limited that the shadow of the open door nearly filled the entire area. A single bed, a narrow desk, and three books stacked on top of it.

  For me, it wasn't a problem. I had always lived in small spaces.

  But my sister…

  She would have hated it.

  "And the bathroom?"

  Before I could look for it, a voice echoed through the hallway.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, the public dormitories will be closed in a few minutes. Any departure after curfew will be punished with detention. Take care of your needs or eat as quickly as possible."

  "Public…"

  So that was it.

  Communal bathrooms.

  I sighed.

  With the size of that tower, I had expected something minimally comfortable. But, remembering the mortality rate… it made sense.

  They wouldn't invest in people who likely wouldn't be there the following year.

  I went into the room and lay down.

  I was exhausted.

  All the information from the entire day was still spinning in my mind. I looked at the three books on the desk.

  Not yet.

  First, I needed to organize my thoughts.

  The breakfast alert sounded at eight.

  I got up and put on my second-to-last clean change of clothes.

  "I'll need to figure out how to wash clothes."

  When I stepped into the hallway, I noticed many looked like zombies. Deep dark circles, pale skin, empty expressions.

  "They spent the night reading."

  A mistake.

  Fatigue and nervousness prevent proper retention.

  "Hey… are you going to the kitchen?"

  I turned around.

  A girl was approaching. She couldn't have been more than thirty. She had a pretty face, delicate features. Her hair was messy and the dark circles under her eyes revealed a sleepless night.

  Even so, there was something determined in her gaze.

  "Yes." I gave a slight nod. "Leonidas."

  "Clara." She adjusted the sleeve of her blouse. "You slept… right? You didn't get nervous?"

  I did.

  Very.

  In three days, we would enter a territory where nine out of ten died within the first year. But I knew nervousness wouldn't solve anything. Besides, I had an advantage — a reason to choose sleep over studying, at least for now.

  "I have an eidetic memory."

  She blinked.

  "You have what?"

  "Everything I read, I don't forget. But yesterday I was very nervous. I preferred to rest to ensure better retention afterward."

  Her eyes widened.

  "Seriously? I'm so jealous…"

  She ran a hand over her face. "I read all night and barely remember anything."

  Before I could respond, someone appeared behind me.

  "Hey, old man, leave her alone. Are you trying something?"

  I turned slowly.

  A boy younger than Clara. Messy hair, expression far too tense for the situation.

  I wasn't irritated.

  I was… confused.

  "John, what are you talking about?" Clara shot back immediately. "Do you think I'm fragile? Fuck you."

  His face turned pale, but he didn't back down.

  "He's lying. That 'whatever-memory' thing doesn't exist." He pointed at me. "He just wants to seem special."

  So that was it.

  Jealousy.

  Maybe they already knew each other.

  Honestly, I didn't have time for childish disputes.

  Youth, lack of sleep, and fear usually produced that kind of rudeness.

  I decided to simply leave.

  As I turned toward the kitchen, I heard the boy say behind my back:

  "See? That liar left as soon as he got exposed. Let's eat together. Forget that guy."

  The girl hesitated for a moment.

  Then she followed him.

  Everyone knew the chance of being transported in pairs was less than 1%, but desperation gave rise to theories that didn't seem testable. Even so, there were certain patterns: when it happened, it usually involved people of opposite sexes — and almost always there was some kind of prior bond.

  To me, it was clear what prior bond meant.

  After eating and returning to my room, the muffled noises coming from the room next door — precisely the one she had entered — reinforced my analysis.

  It wasn't romance.

  It was strategy.

  The reason could vary, but in the end, the logic was simple: increase the probability of not being alone.

  When silence returned to the hallway, I stood up, walked to the desk, and picked up the first book.

  Creatures and Weaknesses.

  I needed to be rational.

  The three books were enormous. Even with speed reading and eidetic memory, it would be impossible to finish all of them with 100% retention.

  I ran the calculations mentally.

  If I started now, I could memorize two completely… and about 60% of the third.

  Sixty percent did not please me.

  I needed to choose with precision.

  I considered starting with the largest one — the flora of the territory — but discarded the idea. Even with partial retention, it was unlikely that I would end up in a region completely devoid of edible plants described there.

  What truly mattered was something else.

  What could kill me.

  And how to avoid it.

  I started with Creatures and Weaknesses.

  The second would be the one about constructions and their strategic branches.

  "Selected individuals, proceed to the dining hall in twenty minutes. Delays will be punished."

  The message echoed through the system and repeated itself.

  Only then did I realize I had lost track of time.

  "It's already dinner time…"

  Without windows, the world became abstract.

  I must have been reading for at least ten hours. I skipped lunch.

  When I closed the book, my stomach complained — but my mind was still trapped in its pages.

  The territory we were going to represented less than 0.001% of the world described there.

  And even so…

  More than a thousand pages dedicated solely to relevant creatures.

  Edible.

  Or lethal.

  "Hey… will you be available after dinner?"

  The voice came from the hallway.

  It was her.

  The girl.

  The strong scent of perfume trying to mask something else revealed what she had done. The man leaving her room was not the same as before.

  So it wasn't just an attempt.

  It was a pattern.

  "Sorry. Time is limited. I don't have space for distractions."

  My response came out too neutral.

  Too cold.

  I understood her logic.

  But to me, it was inefficient. She was trading precious hours for a statistically irrelevant chance.

  And without realizing it, I let that show in my eyes.

  Pity.

  She noticed.

  "Go fuck yourself, you pathetic old bastard."

  The slap came fast.

  It didn't hurt as much as I thought it would.

  I stood still, watching as she walked away toward another man — who promptly accepted.

  He seemed to understand the game perfectly.

  "Damn it…"

  I ran a hand over my face.

  "I need to remember what my sister always used to say."

  Part of the blame was mine.

  I had always struggled with social interactions.

  I hadn't said anything offensive.

  But I treated her as inferior with nothing more than a look.

  It wasn't the first time.

  And probably wouldn't be the last.

  Annoyed with myself, I headed to the dining hall.

  When I arrived, the plates were already lined up.

  The names on the chairs indicated the seats.

  I was the last.

  And only then did I realize everyone was waiting.

  Not for me.

  But for the woman standing at the front of the room.

  As soon as I sat down, she began to speak.

  "Good evening. For those who don't know me, my name is Josefina. I'm part of the update team."

  Her voice was firm, but there was tension in it.

  "Perhaps some of you haven't yet read the Book of Beasts. We've had a recent update. The last team to return brought back new data."

  She walked to the panel and activated it.

  On the monitor behind her appeared the image of a quadruped creature.

  And judging by the expression on her face…

  It wasn't good news.