Anchorfall vanished above me.

One moment I was leaning against the lip of the well, in my full Level 6 glory, feeling pretty damn pleased with myself—and the next, I was plunging down into darkness.

Weirdly, though, my fall wasn't sudden.

It was like being slowly pulled down into quicksand while gravity teased me gently down with little tugs and pushes. All polite, like. Colours and sounds swirled in a kaleidoscopic pattern around me, each flash of light a reminder of something half-remembered, and yet also unfinished.

As I went down, down, down, the walls of the well constantly blurred in and out of view, like the shifting scenery of a dream. But, somehow, instead of waking, I kept tumbling deeper and deeper.

I was vanishing down a hole that stretched on endlessly.

For some reason, though, I felt oddly numb as it was happening. At no point did I panic, which, considering how I'd had heart palpitations on the last rollercoaster I'd been on, was a bit of a surprise. I'd never had any problem with heights whatsoever. Now free-falling? Whole different bag of onions.

Yet, still, it was like I detached from myself as I drifted downwards. As if it wasn't just my plunge that was peculiarly suspended, but my emotional response to it, too. Nothing was really happening, but my mind still spun with all these fleeting images, half-memories, and sounds that faded as soon as I tried to focus on them.

Every now and then, I heard faint echoes of something. Whispers of conversations, maybe laughter, though there was nothing clear or distinct. It was as if someone out there had dimmed the lights on my life, taken a break, and left me alone in an empty, echoing corridor.

I felt the absence of Aunt M pretty hard about then.

Then, for no obvious reason that I could tell, the rush downwards returned. The comfortably numb feeling of suspended animation transformed into a dizzying drop, and, I don't mind telling you, it turned out I far preferred the latter.

That plunging, gut-wrenching fall tore the breath out of me, which I suspected was the only reason I wasn't screaming my little head off. The darkness around me was cold and thick and coiling, like it was trying to get inside my brain. It wrapped around my throat with the weight of something that didn't want me to hit bottom, it wanted me to stop existing somewhere along the way.

It wasn't the first time I'd fallen like that. A parachute drop into rural France, which sounds an awful lot more Where Eagles Dare than it had actually been. When Griff had sold the job to me, I was part of a covert op infiltrating resistance contacts ahead of a major extraction.

In truth? We were late. The drop was bad. We landed scattered across four fields and a vineyard, one guy broke his leg in a ditch, and I landed in the middle of a pig pen. Nearly drowned in a slurry pit trying to hide from a farmer's dog. Trust me, it's pretty hard to put a heroic spin on a story where you're not sure how much of the smell is you or your environment.

I was having that same feeling of helplessness right about now, though. The sick, yawning lurch of please make it stop as gravity took over and left my fate in the hands of fabric, wind, and luck. I'd thought it was the worst part of it had been that feeling of dropping out of the sky, heart in your mouth, no control over anything. But I'd been wrong.

This fall wasn't quite like that one, because here it was like the world itself was scrubbing me out on the descent.

I thrashed, instinctively, uselessly. There was no chute to pull, no wind to angle against. Just the enveloping pressure of the Well and that same icy presence that had haunted the edge of my dreams since the Warden mark had branded itself into my life.

I thought, briefly, about the French farmer who'd pulled me out of the muck that night and given me a shot of something from a jug that could've powered a motorcycle. He hadn't asked questions. Just lit a fire and handed me a dry coat. I'd have taken another hit of that about now.

Wind whipped past my face, and all those brief flickers of light and sound vanished, leaving me alone in complete silence as I rocketed downwards.

Then, finally, with a thud that felt less like an impact and more like being anchored suddenly back in reality – look, go with me on that. You aren't there. You don't know - I struck solid ground.

Hard.

Like, Lia-not-holding-back-when-you-annoy-her-off hard. Like, the-bullets-fired-from-an-assassin's-gun hard.

Boneshakingly hard.

I lay there, pretty much convinced I must have died again. Every possible bone, muscle and patch of skin ached. I felt every inch of my body in a way I hadn't before. No notifications chimed in my vision, no list of passive Skills popping up to comfort me about how all that damage had been mitigated.

Just raw, tangible pain. And silence.

After a while, I opened my eyes. The faint glow of a jolly little blue light filled the space around me, illuminating the shape of the Well around me and casting eerie shadows on the stone floor.

Then came the familiar ping of a notification.

Finally.

Although . . . hang on.

Instead of the usual commentary, it was a list. Almost like an inventory, but different. I blinked, squinting as the notification expanded.

[System Override: Suppression Protocol Initiated]

Status: Elijah Meddings – Containment State Active

Integration Integrity: Compromised

Warden Channel: Disengaged

Subclass Authority: Suspended

Threshold Anchor: Inaccessible

All Active Buffs: Nullified

– Aggro Magnetism \[OFF]

– Unwelcome Mat \[OFF]

– Crash Tackle \[OFF]

– Anvil Break \[OFF]

All Passive Traits: Suppressed

– Stubborn Constitution \[Dormant]

– Lineholder's Instinct \[Dormant]

– Shadow Marked \[Inactive]

– Strategic Instinct \[Null]

Combat Skills: Locked

– Closed Circle \[Sealed]

– Weighted Argument \[Sealed]

– Improvised Javelin \[Sealed]

– Sidestep \[Sealed]

System Bonuses & Synergies: Suspended

– Dodge Roll Modifiers: Inactive

– Regeneration Effects: Frozen

– Damage Mitigation: 0%

– Threat Modifiers: Cleared

– AoE Interactions: Disabled

– Party Role Recognition: Removed

Inventory Access: Restricted

– Equipped Items: Retained

– Inventory Slots: Frozen

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– Anchored Assets: Flagged

System Advisory:

No further commentary available.

Await input.

Await outcome.

The list went on and on. I read through it, the notifications continued, each one stripping away everything I had come to rely on in this world. My word, someone had really taken me feeling smug at hitting Level 6 personally hadn't they!

It was as if my entire Warden had been uninstalled and I'd been taken back to my factory settings. Well, not totally. As I pulled up my stat screen, I could see I still had access to all my actual attributes. So I wasn't completely helpless.

I mean, sure, I'd fallen down an improbably deep Well and was cut off from anyone who could help me. But I still had my -3 Charisma going for me.

Awesome.

I slowly got to my feet, wincing as my body ached in a way it hadn't in a long time, and looked around. To my right, the circular bottom of the well opened out to a narrow passage that stretched out through twisting stone walls. Flickering torches, mounted along those walls, gave the space an interesting glow, and I had any number of questions about their existence. I was down a well. Who in Bayteran was lighting torches down at the bottom of a well? And where was all the smoke going? And . . .

I'm disassociating, aren't I?

I walked gingerly down the corridor until I reached a door barring its end. It was heavy and wooden, with a gold shimmer around it. It was clearly some sort of magic entryway.

I took a step forward and rested my hand against it, and a chime rang out.

[System Notification: Dungeon Instance Detected] Location: Well of Ascension Classification: Threshold-Aligned Subterranean Dungeon Status: Active Difficulty: Variable (Scaling Anomaly Present) Environmental Effects: Shadow Interference | Temporal Distortion | Suppression Field

You have entered the Well of Ascension. Threshold energy detected. Standard abilities may be restricted. Narrative anchors unstable. Expect deviation. You are now being watched.

At the same time, a list of rules appeared in my vision, each line glowing in pale blue, with a title at the top.

[System Protocols Activated: Dungeon – Well of Ascension] Classification: Threshold Trial Instance | Solo

Dungeon Protocols – Well of Ascension

Abilities Disabled

All active and passive abilities are currently suspended. System assistance is offline.

Solo Effort Required

Allies, summons, or external intervention are prohibited. Progress must be made unaided.

Evaluative Completion

Each stage will be scored. Performance is judged on proficiency, innovation, and adaptability.

Progression Locked

Dungeon completion is mandatory to unlock further Class development.

Class Evolution Opportunity

Upon full completion, a unique evolution of your current Class will be made available. Alternate Class selections will be locked out.

Divine Insight Enabled

Completion will grant partial revelation of world laws and narrative structure. Interpret wisely. Ascend accordingly.

Note: You are being observed.

This sixth point seemed to glow in a way the others didn't have. Divine Insight, right? Not only was I having all my goodies disabled, but now I was being told that I was here to learn something. As if this were a mandatory crash course run by the Maker themselves.

Oh dear. The Maker. This was one of their 'patterns', wasn't it? My. This was going to suuuuuck.

The protocols faded away and were replaced by a pulsing green arrow leading towards the door. "Yeah," I said. "I get it. You want me to go through the door. Am I allowed some questions first?"

I didn't expect an answer, so I was somewhat surprised by the deep voice, richer and more ancient than any system notification I'd heard so far, echoed through the hall.

[System Message – Threshold Directive Detected]

"To ascend is to understand.

To understand is to shape.

To shape is to Make."

Origin: Unknown | Source: Divine Layer (Fragmented)

Interpretation: Pending

Directive Stored in Warden Memory

"Okay, so that doesn't exactly sound like we're having dialogue. What's going on? Is this some sort of pre-recorded motivational speech?"

[System Message – Cognitive Keyphrase Detected]

"Do not seek who; seek what. Know your world, and the world becomes you."

Origin: Unknown Classification: Philosophic Directive [Warden-Relevant] Interpretation: Partial – Identity suppressed in favour of function Status: Encoded within Warden Memory Archive

"Right. Sure. I'm all over that. Wax on and Wax off. Be the change you want to see. Do you want fries with that? There's never been a meme slogan I didn't like."

With a somewhat jarring abruptness, another window opened in my notification

[System Alert – New Window Detected]

> Dungeon Overview: The Realm of Forms

Classification: Metaphysical Trial Environment

Primary Layer: [Well of Ascension – Internal Substructure]

Status: Active

Instance Type: Solo | Non-Combat Emphasis

Cognitive Load Rating: High

Perceptual Fidelity: Unstable

Timeflow: Variable

Summary:

You have entered a conceptual environment designed to test, fracture, and reconstruct foundational understanding.

Forms may shift. Meaning may slip. What you see is not always what is.

Objective:

Comprehend the underlying architecture of existence as it is expressed in this space.

Failure to engage with foundational truths may result in stagnation or erasure.

It was accompanied by a voiceover - authoritative and vaguely pompous - explaining the place I now found myself in. It spoke as if outlining universal truths I was expected to memorise.

"The Well of Ascension is a place of enlightenment, a domain of cosmic laws and essential truths," the voice began. "To master this Dungeon, you must understand the Realm of Forms. In this space, you will encounter representations of the primal ideas that shape existence. To conquer these manifestations is to draw closer to true mastery. To not just observe, but to make"

[System Notification – Dungeon Insight Updated]

> Objective:

Explore and overcome manifestations of core concepts fundamental to existence.

> Hint:

True understanding requires more than observation.

To proceed, engage with each idea directly. Test its boundaries. Inhabit its contradictions.

Only then will form yield to function.

Oh dear, I was so not the audience for this sort of thing. Was this what Balethor the Magnificent was looking to secure when Lia and I rocked up and ruined his plan? He had plenty of chat about breaching the barriers between the worlds. He was planning to run this Dungeon and 'overcome manifestations of core ideas fundamental to existence', wasn't he?

I thought back to all those books in Aunt M's cottage. She absolutely lived for this sort of stuff. Me? I'd just been looking for somewhere comfy to sit . . .

The window vanished, leaving me staring at the door again.

Somewhere, a ticking sound started up, like a clock counting down. Maybe time was limited, or maybe it was just to annoy me. I couldn't find any actual timer in my notifications, so I was going with the latter.

The need to hurry. My literal kryptonite.

I pushed open the door, which swung back with a heavy creak, revealing a chamber beyond. Its walls were stark white, like blank pages, and in the middle sat an oversized hourglass suspended in the air, with sand flowing impossibly upward.

Ha. Someone was mixing their metaphors a little up here.

You could have a ticking clock. Or you could have an hourglass. You can't do both, dude.

[Challenge Initiated – The Realm of Forms]

First Concept Unlocked: Time Objective: Master the flow of Time within this chamber. Complete your escape within one cycle. Failure to do so will result in permanent integration with the Well of Ascension.

System Advisory: Time here is not a measurement. It is a force. Learn its rhythm. Or be rewritten by it.

There was then a whole lot more. I could have doomscrolled for hours, and it was all in much in the same style. My vision was filled with overlapping system fragments, littered with terms that felt like they'd escaped from Aunt M's lecture notes: "time loops," "temporal recursion," "flow-state variances," "subjective chronometry."

Which was deeply unfortunate. Because this exact brand of reality-bending, causality-questioning nonsense had always been her thing. Temporal mechanics with a side of metaphysical smugness. I could almost hear her voice explaining to me over cocoa that time wasn't a river, it was a field. With hills. And sometimes cliffs. And occasionally a black hole with a grudge.

Not the best moment for the realisation she was dead and gone to stage a comeback tour. Especially not at the bottom of a sentient well that had just decided to eat my abilities and throw me into a dungeon that looked like she could have aced in a moment.

"Again, whoever's listening," I said, glancing upward with no real hope, "I'm really, really not the guy for this. If you could just send a rope down, I'll climb back up, no fuss. Maybe find someone else to run the gauntlet. Scar, maybe. He strikes me as the type who enjoys a bit of flow manipulation."

No reply. Just another line of glowing text fading gently into existence.

Of course. Because what else says 'self-discovery' like trying to out-think the concept of Time with nothing but a vague memory of my aunt wittering on about entropy and quantum determinacy while angrily cleaning whiteboard markers.

[System Notification – Dungeon Mechanics: Realm of Forms]

> Because understanding demands more than survival.

Primal Forms: Each section of the Dungeon embodies a fundamental concept. These are not obstacles to overpower, but principles to comprehend. Only by grasping their essence can you proceed.

Limited Skill Access: Abilities will be temporarily restored while confronting each Form, but only at base levels. Select traits—such as Stubborn Constitution, Lineholder's Instinct, and Strategic Instinct—may be selectively enabled depending on the conceptual nature of the challenge.

Failure Protocols: Each Form allows only a single attempt. Failure does not result in death, but in containment. You will remain within the Well, suspended in recursive stasis, until understanding is achieved. Or forgotten.

Adaptive Reward System: Insight is its own currency. Deeper understanding of each Form increases potential rewards—both material and metaphysical.

Exit Criteria: Master all Primal Forms to unlock the Evolving Choice—a one-time opportunity to shift your Class along a divergent path.

Note: Existing Class options will be locked during this process.

System Advisory:

This is not a test of Endurance.

This is a test of who you are beneath the stats.

Adapt to ascend.

"Is no one listening to me? I don't want to play!"

[System Notification – Challenge Initiation]

Prepared to start?

Y/N

(Note: Consent not required. Initiation will proceed upon temporal sync.)

"No. I absolutely do not want to start. I am the opposite of wanting to start." I heard my voice going up in pitch and tried to calm down slightly. "Look, no harm, no foul. Nothing's started yet. I'll just pop out and see if I can climb up the well myself . . ."

The door closed behind me with a resounding click

Oh, come on!

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