Pathless traveled through the portal.
For a moment, his eyes closed as he breathed in the strange, fresh air of the entrance. He was still not sure what to do. Of course, even if the original author of a novel woke up in his shoes, they wouldn't deal with it as perfectly as Pathless did.
Still, the fact that he had no path greatly affected him. A path was a must for a wandering soul, a tether that allowed it to anchor itself and explore the cosmos.
Pathless murmured to himself, "So, everything is as expected. I'm the last one. That means the Divine Show begins the second I step in. Not to mention I'm an extra... It's such an extra pain, for real. What the hell is going on now? How am I supposed to live as an extra with no path?"
"There are twenty-four paths. They'll all have their followers in this show. As expected, I'm gonna be all alone. Maybe some will lend a hand, but as the Guidanceer warned me... not to join them."
His thoughts spiraled. "They... they will definitely use me as a meat shield. Come to think of it, I didn't ask him for meat. No way... why didn't I? How could I forget food? How am I supposed to live without it? At first, I thought souls didn't eat."
It was true—a soul didn't eat. But here, things were different. They ate. They sweat. Of course, they needed a restroom, too. It was all to make the test, the "recap movie," feel more vivid and interesting for the gods watching.
"Even though I'm sure they've never seen a Pathless in their entire lifetime..." he trailed off, then chuckled darkly. "Wait, do they even have a lifetime? Haaa... silly me. Overthinking everything."
"Ohhh... guess I'm here."
The portal ejected him directly into the sky. The clouds were beneath him. Disoriented, he floated for a second before turning to see the ground far below. The realization hit—he was falling.
The wind ripped past his clothes, the atmosphere a brilliant blue. He felt like he had descended straight from a Murim heaven. Just before he could panic, his descent slowed, a magical deceleration leaving him hovering. With a strange, calm look on his face, he gazed down.
Twenty-four mountain cliffs, each shrouded in mist, surrounded him. They were colossal, each one a mountain in its own right, spaced evenly apart to form a perfect, terrifying circle. Each mountain had a stairway made of flowing water cascading down its face, all pointed toward the center.
But it wasn't the mountains or the watery stairs that surprised him most. It was the people. Hundreds of them, standing on those mountain peaks, staring down at him with a mixture of curiosity, disdain, and outright hatred.
The mountains each represented a path.
In the middle of them all, in the center of the colossal arena, stood the extra. Pathless himself.
A voice, composed of many overlapping tones, echoed from the fog-shrouded figures high above. It was the Guidanceers.
"Hear me, dear participants," the voice boomed. "It is most unfortunate news for everyone that there is an extra among us... a young man with no path."
As soon as the words were spoken, the leaders of each path's participants stood up from their perches.
In the Divine Show, squads weren't given numbers. They were given permanent, alphabetical tags.
There were twenty-four paths. Each path had exactly fifty participants.
The path of 000 was tagged as A-Squad. Its members were A-Prime, A-2nd, A-3rd, and so on.
The path of 9999, the last of the twenty primary paths, was tagged as T-Squad. Their leader was T-Prime.
The Primes were the chosen squad leaders.
But the twenty paths were not the whole story. When they were forged, four cracks had appeared in the divine pattern. From these fractures emerged the Debtbound—lesser gods who did not guide, but hindered. They were not creators, only collectors, demanding payment in suffering, loss, and ruin.
These four—the 13th, 15th, 16th, and 19th—also had their squads. They held minor influence compared to the major gods, but they were forces to be reckoned with. So, to sum it up: 14 – U-Squad, 16 – V-Squad, 19 – W-Squad.
Each Prime now stood at their mountain peak, looking down.
One of the Guardians, its voice a whisper that carried perfectly across the vast space, asked, "Is there any path who would accept this Pathless young man?"
A wave of murmurs and snickers rippled through the arena. Voices full of shameless arrogance filled the air. They didn't just murmur; they laughed and smirked, enjoying the spectacle of his isolation.
Suddenly, the Prime of 666 shouted, his voice dripping with lazy contempt, "You definitely think you're dreaming, asshat? Then it's good, 'cause you're gonna wake up in hell, lonely Pathless!"
Everyone seemed to relish looking down on him. Pathless simply gazed at the ground beneath his feet. He felt no shame, no fear. Their mockery didn't touch him. He cleared his throat and looked up, meeting the cold, distant stares of the Guidanceers. They gazed back with icy indifference before turning away.
The lead Guidanceer raised his hand.
Silence fell instantly. The participants were reminded of the terrifying beings they stood before. Unlike Pathless, none of them knew the truth about REBOOT. To them, the Guidanceers were angelic, divine, their presence psychologically manipulating them into submission.
Pathless was bored. Bored of the posturing, bored of the harassment from a bunch of young, arrogant souls.
He took a breath, and his voice, laced with a deliberate, mocking tremor, cut through the silence.
"I d-dooont want too...o joi-iin any of yooouuuuuu!"
The shock in the arena was absolute. The silence became a heavy, smothering weight. Unspoken questions hung in the air like ghosts.
'Why is he saying that?'
'Does he not want to live?'
'Who does he think he is?'
The Guidanceer who had spoken simply nodded.
"Then be it your way."
With that, he officially began the Divine Stream. He raised both hands, and fireworks of pure light exploded from his palms, streaming across the mountains in a dazzling display.
Somewhere, in realms beyond, all the myth gods tuned in to watch.
Another Guidanceer smiled down at Pathless, a hint of cold amusement in its eyes. "Since you are not joining any squad, you can be your own. From here on out, you are X-Squad."
The voice echoed, final and profound.
"And you are named X-Prime."