Level five came mid-pull, no ceremony. A small click somewhere inside me, a number turning over. I almost missed it.

I used to think levels were for bragging. Now they're a map. Up at eleven there are terminals I can't crack yet, and they give up things I've only heard named. Pristine decks. Shapes I've never held.

Eighty decks, eighty-three relics, and a door at level eleven I mean to open.

I jack back in.