The full trip took two hours in total. George wished he’d brought a book and Sam wished that Craig would stop boasting about all the high-level monsters he’d defeated. Although it was against protocol, the two siblings had tried to pry information out of Craig several times, specifically about what the need for all this was, though they were always met with uncharacteristic silence.

Things only got stranger when they eventually arrived at their destination. George didn’t recognize it at first and Sam, who didn’t have clearance to know much about it (especially not what it looked like) didn’t know what she was looking at all.

The Other Island. A large island-prison containing all intelligent humans and humanoids that had been recovered alive from the portals. Most of these Otherworlders were soldiers or army officers or sorcerers.

The highest-levelled Otherworlder to have been recovered alive had a stunning level of 287. Far from the highest Fighter, but impressive nonetheless, considering that he didn’t have a system to guide him. As a matter of fact, no recovered Otherworlders did.

Except one. Though, at this moment, George knew nothing about that, and neither did Sam.

Right now, all they knew was that something was really odd.

The Black Tiger T-6 landed in the empty courtyard outside the prison, and Craig hopped off several seconds before it had even settled down properly. Once Sam and George got off it, alongside a whole cavalcade of Fighters and guards, they were led into the prison.

“-I was asked to ask you if you’ve read up on the whole things-you-shouldn’t-do list that you got in the first letter,” Craig said. “Well, uh, didja? This is actually really important, I think. See, I’m not allowed to say a lot on this whole subject cuz it’s top-secret and all, but if you don’t follow those rules, something bad’s gonna happen. I’m not sure how bad, but even with the grand Me here, the situation probably wouldn’t be resolved too easily. Ya get me?”

George and Sam shared a glance. They had read the guidelines, sure, but in all honesty, they had already forgotten it all.

“...Okay, uh, yeah. Here,” Craig said, retrieving a pair of papers from inside his armour to hand to them. They each accepted one. “Just read them while we walk. It’ll be a while until we get all the way down.”

That was… somewhat ominous. Though, neither Sam nor George were in any place to argue. Their hearts were already beating at a steady but quick pace, tattling on the fact that this whole situation was getting to them in more ways than one. It wasn’t just the high-level Fighter and it wasn’t just the location and it wasn’t just how strange everything was. It was also their steadily rising anxiety, their slight fear at what might be wrong.

They descended deeper, down flights of stairs and through locked doors. While they had times of rest, standing in elevators, both Sam and George took the time to read the little slips of paper Craig had given them.

1, Do not doubt his identity.

2, Always remain at a distance of five feet from the glass window.

3, Do not agitate Kreig Wiedemann.

4, Avoid causing Kreig Wiedemann immense grief.

5, Do not disclose any information in regards to the visit or Kreig Wiedemann’s existence to any third-party member.

Again, ominous in a strange way neither Sam nor George could truly understand. When they shared a glance, a look of silent yet confused stoicism, they both understood that this was not a regular situation and treating it as such would land them both in big trouble. They had to follow these rules, no matter what. Whatever the reasons, whatever the cause, they would trust in the IOCRO, as the world had for these past ten years.

Both of their minds raced with possibilities, but they silently agreed that the only possible response was to wait until they arrived. Though, as they only continued descending deeper and deeper, as the corridors growing more and more narrow and oppressing, they had to admit that something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

The full walk took about half an hour in total, and during the entire thing, Craig barely spoke a word. It was a welcome but suffocating silence.

A silence that was broken at the end of a final long hallway where two men stood. Sam glanced at both of them before doing a double-take at the second one.

Human, Lv.1 Human, Lv.???

The second man in question was small and squat, the majority of his face shrouded by a hood. This face was pale, thin, and ugly in a strange, sort of disfigured way, as if someone had taken a frog and placed pliers on either side of its head until it became longer than it was broad. But although his skin was as waxy and pale as a stiff’s, his eyes were very much alive. Alive and blue and fascinating to look at. Sam felt her heart skip a beat.

“Samantha! George! A pleasure to finally meet the both of you face to face,” the regular human man said, stepping up to the group while the little frog-man shuffled behind him, thumbing at the hem of his dark blue robe.

Both Sam and George pulled a blank. They didn’t recognize this man, and by all accounts, he shouldn’t have recognized them either. However, George was ready to take a chance and hazard a guess. “-Dr Darius Falk, I presume?” he asked, walking up close to the black man to shake his hand, which the good doctor gladly obliged him with.

“The one and only,” Darius replied, a shy smile flitting over his thick lips. “Now, before we enter the observation room, I would like to introduce you both to Frank Gorda, the highest levelled Fighter in the world. Samantha - may I call you Sam? - Considering the available records, you see his level as a collection of triple-question marks, don’t you?” Sam replied in the affirmative to both statements. “-Yes, well, Craig, would you be so kind as to inform us of what his level is?”

“Yes, sir. His species is human, and his level is 637,” Craig replied, his voice and tone actually somewhat formal for once. As if he actually respected his superiors.

The man spoken of, Frank, retreated further behind Darius, his ears turning a hot pink. Thanks to his minuscule size, he was able to hide behind the larger man with stunning ease.

“If you’re wondering why you’ve never heard of him, we have three distinct reasons,” Darius said. “Firstly, allowing his existence to become public knowledge could cause great hassle if the world were to be invaded on a large scale by intelligent monsters or Otherworlders. Secondly, due to his appearance, he wouldn’t make for such a good mascot as the current ‘Strongest Fighter’, Juha Häkkinen. And, thirdly… Frank is not a social man. Are you, Franky?”

Frank’s eyes seemed to swim in terror.

“-And why should we be allowed to meet such a man?” George asked wisely. After all, those three reasons, although the second two were rather superficial, were true. He had never heard of this man before.

Darius’ eyes narrowed slightly, his pupils darkening in the red light. “Follow me.”

They did.

They followed him through a final winding hall, stopped beside a final door, and entered. Craig and the other guards remained outside while Darius, Frank and the two siblings entered. The room was dark, filled with screens and buttons and had the distinct feeling of high-tech in every aspect.

But the most eye-catching part of the room, the one half that pulled their gazes like moths to a flame, was the wall facing them as they entered. A large, glass screen, embedded into the wall.

And inside that fixture, they saw something very strange. No, someone very strange.

A man larger than any bodybuilder, his eyes hazy and focused on a piece of paper he was pouring out over, his ham-like fists flying over it, painting bold lines in black ink.

Divine Human, Lv.???