As Arin stepped through the door, the stark greyness of his soul space dissolved into something far more familiar and grounding. He found himself standing in a vast room that resembled the grand living hall of an old hunting lodge, warm and inviting despite its size. A massive stone fireplace dominated the far wall, its flames crackling softly and casting golden light across polished wooden floors. Thick couches and heavy armchairs were arranged in a wide semicircle, with sturdy wooden tables placed between them, as if inviting long conversations and shared stories. Above it all hung a large screen, dormant for now, waiting to display whatever the system had promised. The space felt alive, filled with presence rather than emptiness, and for the first time since waking, Arin felt something close to relief.
"Hey, Arin, how are you? Did you enjoy the history channel?" Bill's voice rang out across the room, cheerful and loud, cutting through the low murmur of conversation. Arin turned to see him grinning widely, clearly in high spirits as he looked around at the gathered family. Before Arin could even begin to answer, another voice cut in sharply from the side. "Hey, Bill, how was retirement in the heartland? Did you enjoy your warm bed?" Tom leaned casually against one of the chairs, his expression deliberately provocative, practically daring a reaction. The shift in Bill's face was immediate, a flicker of irritation flashing through his eyes before it twisted into something far more dangerous—a slow, knowing smile that made Tom's confidence falter just slightly.
"Well, if you must know, Tom," Bill began smoothly, folding his arms as he spoke, "it was quite comfortable. Of course, it couldn't compare to your heroic exploits on the battlefield, but I managed." His tone turned lighter, almost conversational, though the edge beneath it was unmistakable. "What really helped me endure the hardship was the food. Those steaks, those delicacies—someone had to make sure they didn't go to waste, so I bravely took on that burden myself." As he spoke, his eyes flicked subtly to Tom, watching with satisfaction as the color in his face shifted through several shades. Bill let out a quiet chuckle, clearly enjoying himself. "Wouldn't want all that effort to go unappreciated, now would we?"
He was so focused on his own victory that he failed to notice the shift behind him. Several members of his family had gathered silently, their expressions darkening with every word he spoke. At the center of them stood Berend, Bill's father, whose calm smile carried a very different meaning than usual. "I didn't realize you were such a noble person, Bill," Berend said, his tone pleasant in a way that immediately set off alarm bells. "In that case, I'm sure you wouldn't mind helping us demonstrate to the younger generation how to properly restrain someone." Bill froze, his expression collapsing into panic as he slowly turned around. "Dad—wait—no, that's not necessary—where did you even get those ropes?" he stammered, backing away instinctively.
"Please, no—don't—" Bill's protests were cut short as several hands grabbed him at once, dragging him into the center of the room despite his struggling. His voice echoed through the hall in increasingly desperate pleas, which only seemed to encourage the others further. Within moments, he was thoroughly subdued, his dignity thoroughly dismantled along with any illusion of control. The rest of the room watched with varying degrees of amusement, though most had long since learned not to interfere in such matters. By the time Berend stepped forward again, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeves, Bill had been reduced to a thoroughly defeated state and hoisted upside down from one of the rafters, where he continued to mutter complaints that no one bothered to acknowledge.
"Right, shall we take our seats and see what that video is about?" Berend said calmly, as if nothing unusual had just occurred. His voice carried easily across the room, drawing nods and murmurs of agreement as people began to settle into the arranged seating. One by one, they claimed couches and chairs around the fireplace, forming a loose gathering that felt both informal and deeply rooted in habit. Bill, still suspended above them, was left to his own devices, occasionally twisting in a futile attempt to free himself. Most ignored him entirely, though a few cast amused glances upward as they passed. The atmosphere, despite everything, felt almost normal.
Arin made his way toward his family, settling beside his father as the conversations around him began to blend into a comfortable hum. Before he could fully relax, a small figure practically bounced into view beside him. "Brother, you look amazing!" Tilly exclaimed, her eyes shining with unfiltered excitement as she examined him closely. "Is it your physique? Does it really change how you look that much?" Arin blinked at her enthusiasm, then allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. "I'm not entirely sure," he admitted, running a hand through his now neatly cut hair, "but it probably has something to do with it. There isn't much information available yet, so we'll have to figure it out as we go." He paused briefly, then added with a hint of pride, "But yes, I do think I look pretty good."
Tilly nodded eagerly, clearly in full agreement, though her attention shifted almost immediately as she clung closer to their mother, as if afraid to let go. Arin noticed the gesture and softened slightly. "So, how's school been?" he asked, tilting his head as he looked at her. "Behaving yourself?" Tilly's expression shifted instantly into one of mild indignation. "The classes are boring," she complained, crossing her arms. "The new curriculum is a mess, and the combat lessons are even worse. Half the things they teach, I already know, and the rest are just wrong." Her tone carried the kind of absolute certainty only children could manage, though there was enough frustration behind it to make Arin take her seriously.
"Oh?" Johny spoke up from nearby, leaning forward with interest as he joined the conversation. "That's a bold claim. The materials come from the military, so if they're wrong, that would be a serious issue." Tilly hesitated briefly, then shook her head. "It's not exactly wrong," she said slowly, choosing her words with care. "But the teacher says things that don't make sense. He told us that girls don't really need the training, that we'll be put in our place soon anyway, once things go back to how they used to be." She spoke with the same innocent tone as before, clearly unaware of the weight her words carried. Arin frowned slightly, puzzled more than anything else.
"That's… strange," he said, glancing at Johny before looking back at her. "I get why you wouldn't need it, since we can train you ourselves, but that doesn't apply to everyone. Did he give any actual reason for saying that?" As he spoke, the atmosphere in the room shifted subtly but unmistakably. Conversations began to fade, voices dropping off one by one as attention turned toward their corner. Tilly, oblivious to the growing tension, continued without hesitation. "Not really," she said. "He just said it's always been that way. He made us focus on fitness instead, saying we should stay in shape and look good for later."
The silence that followed was heavy, pressing down on the room like a physical force. Arin, still trying to process the logic of it, failed to notice the expressions forming around him. The women present had gone completely still, their faces stripped of warmth and replaced with something far colder. His mother, in particular, wore an expression that revealed nothing at all, which somehow made it far more dangerous. The men, on the other hand, seemed to shrink slightly into their seats, as if instinctively trying to avoid becoming part of whatever was about to unfold. Even the younger generation had gone quiet, sensing that something had shifted, though they did not fully understand why.
Tilly continued, her voice growing smaller as she spoke. "And when other teachers came near, he would suddenly let us practice properly and told us not to say anything about what he'd been doing," she added. "He said it was a state secret." The moment the words left her mouth, she froze, her eyes widening in sudden realization. Her hands flew to her mouth as panic set in. "I—I said too much," she whispered, her voice trembling. "He said we'd die if we told anyone…" Tears welled up in her eyes as she clung tighter to their mother, her small frame shaking. "I don't want us to die…"
The reaction in the room was immediate and intense, though it manifested in a chilling stillness rather than chaos. The air seemed to thicken with something far darker than anger, a quiet, focused intent that spoke of consequences already being decided. Before it could escalate further, Karl's voice cut through the tension, firm and controlled. "We will deal with that delusional idiot later," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "For now, there is nothing we can do here." His words were directed at the room as a whole, though his gaze lingered briefly on the women, who remained unmoving.
For a moment, it seemed as though his words might not be enough. Then, slowly, Annemiek gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, signaling the others to stand down—for now. The tension did not disappear, but it shifted, settling into something contained and patient rather than explosive. Around them, the younger generation exchanged confused glances, unable to fully grasp the severity of what had just been revealed. To them, it sounded like nothing more than a misguided teacher with outdated ideas, not a symptom of something far larger. Arin, too, remained caught between curiosity and unease, aware that he had missed something important but not yet able to define it.
As the room gradually returned to a fragile semblance of normality, attention began to drift back toward the large screen above the fireplace. The purpose of their gathering had not changed, even if the mood had. Conversations resumed in lower tones, more restrained than before, as everyone waited for the next stage to begin. Arin leaned back slightly in his seat, his mind still turning over Tilly's words, even as he forced himself to focus on what lay ahead. Whatever came next, it was clear that the world they had left behind was already shifting in ways they had yet to fully understand.