The heavy steel door to Zairen's office clicked shut behind Kairo, the sound echoing softly in the sudden quiet. The chamber was exactly as he remembered from his brief visit after the Trials—sleek, imposing, with walls of obsidian-black that seemed to drink the light, etched with pulsing blue runes that cast an ethereal glow. The massive panoramic window dominated one wall, framing the sprawling neon-lit city below, a glittering tapestry against the deepening dusk.
Zairen was not alone. He sat behind his expansive glass desk, not in his formal silver cloak this time, but in a more subdued, high-collared black uniform that still managed to look imposing. His red eyes, bright and piercing, was fixed on Kairo. And Natasha, his specialized trainer, occupied one of the plush guest chairs, her posture relaxed yet alert, her usual challenging smirk was absent, replaced by a more contemplative, serious expression. The air in the room was thick with unspoken questions. "Kairo," Zairen began, his voice calm, yet carrying an undercurrent that made Kairo's skin prickle. He gestured to the empty chair opposite Natasha. "Take a seat. There are… matters we need to discuss." Kairo nodded, the word "matters" sounding ominous. He moved, his new combat suit rustling softly, the violet etchings on the coat seeming to absorb the room's ambient blue light. Swiftbane, now a familiar weight at his side. He sank into the chair, its cool material a stark contrast to the lingering heat he felt from his earlier exertion. "The incident in the training chamber" Zairen continued, his gaze unwavering. "Your sudden disappearance, your return… it was, to put it mildly, unprecedented." Natasha leaned forward slightly, her sharp eyes examining Kairo with an intensity that made him feel like a specimen under a microscope. "When you vanished, Kairo, it wasn't just a visual distortion. My senses picked up a massive Etheron displacement. Your core… it resonated with something beyond the simulation, something that literally tore a hole in the fabric of our controlled environment." Kairo swallowed, the memory of the Penalty Zone—the crushing pressure, the monstrous beasts, the desperate fight for SPARK points—still vivid. "I… don't really understand it myself."
"That," Zairen said, a knowing edge to his voice, "is precisely why Natasha is here. Beyond what you were initially told." He paused, letting the silence stretch for a beat. "Natasha is not merely a high-ranking Tank-Type, Kairo. Her abilities have evolved. She is one of a handful within C.E.L.E.N. who has manifested what we term a 'Special Deviation Type.' These are exceedingly rare, their existence a closely guarded secret among the highest echelons of command."
Kairo's brow furrowed. A 'Special Deviation Type'? He glanced at Natasha, whose expression remained neutral, yet her eyes held a depth he hadn't noticed before.
"Natasha was originally a formidable Tank, yes," Zairen elaborated, his red eye glinting. "But her Etheron affinity mutated, developed. She is now what we classify as 'Eyes of Divine.' It's a codename, of course, but it speaks to her capability. She can perceive and analyze Etheron signatures with a clarity that rivals our most sophisticated technology. She can see the flow, the patterns, the very essence of an individual's power in ways others cannot comprehend. That's why I assigned her to you, Kairo. To see what makes you… unique." Kairo stared at Natasha, a new understanding dawning. Her intense scrutiny in the training chamber, her comment about his core reacting to reality itself—it all clicked into place. She wasn't just a tough trainer; she was a human diagnostic tool, "so that's what she meant by 'i'm the tech kid'" he thought, "So, you can… see my Etheron?" Kairo asked, turning to her. Natasha nodded slowly. "I can see its structure, its fluctuations, its… anomalies. And yours, Kairo, is unlike anything I've encountered. It's volatile, incredibly adaptive, but also deeply unstable, as if it's constantly rewriting its own rules. That dimensional rift you opened… that's a level of reality manipulation most Etherborn couldn't dream of, let alone a D-Rank."
The room fell silent again, the weight of her words pressing down on Kairo. Unstable. He remembered the Codex calling him 'Fractureborn.' Zairen steepled his fingers, his expression growing more somber. "Which brings us to a more pressing concern, Kairo. The reason for this heightened vigilance, for the specialized attention." He leaned forward, his voice dropping, taking on a graver tone. "You are aware of Veilspawn, of the dangers leaking from rifts. But there are other threats, internal ones. We've been tracking a phenomenon for some time now, something we refer to as 'red traces.'"
Kairo felt a knot tighten in his stomach. "Red traces?"
"Individuals whose Etheron signatures have become… corrupted, for lack of a better term," Natasha explained, her voice low and serious. "Often, these are individuals with unique or deviated Etheron types, like mine. Their power becomes amplified, yes, but also dangerously erratic, sometimes accompanied by a distinct crimson hue in their Etheron manifestation. They go rogue, Kairo. They abandon C.E.L.E.N., pursue their own agendas, often destructive ones. They become incredibly dangerous."
Zairen's red eyes seemed to bore into him. "The 'red traces' are a significant threat. And the reason we are particularly concerned, Kairo… is because your father, Varric Virel, is one of them."
The words hit Kairo like a physical blow. He recoiled in his chair as if struck, the air rushing from his lungs. His father? A rogue? A red trace? The man from his childhood memories, the distant, enigmatic figure from the pier, It all started to connect in a horrifying way. His mouth went dry, his thoughts spinning into a vortex of confusion, betrayal, and a desperate, aching curiosity.
"My… my father?" he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. The image of Varric at the pier, handing him the shard, talking about keys and fractures, flashed in his mind. The cryptic warnings, the heavy aura…
"Yes," Zairen confirmed, his voice devoid of judgment but firm. "Varric was a Sovereign-Tier operative, one of our best. But years ago, He went on a mission, a veilzone deep in the ocean and never came-back. He resurfaced later, involved with factions operating outside C.E.L.E.N.'s laws, his power exhibiting those… red traces. He's considered extremely dangerous, Kairo."
Kairo felt a wave of nausea. His father, a hero in C.E.L.E.N.'s history, is a wanted man, a threat. He always knew something was going on behind the scenes after he left them, but to think it's this serious?!—it all felt like a cruel mockery now, a beautiful lie juxtaposed against this terrible truth. Yet, beneath the shock and the sting of betrayal, a fierce curiosity ignited. Why? What happened to him? What is he really involved in?
"We don't fully know yet, about red traces origins, motive or intentions. All we know is that they are not on our side. And That is why we are watching you so closely Kairo," Natasha said, her voice softening slightly, sensing his distress. "Your power, its unique nature, its potential instability… there are parallels we cannot ignore. We need to understand what you are, what you can do. Not just for C.E.L.E.N., but for your own safety." Zairen nodded in agreement. "We are not accusing you of anything, Kairo. But your lineage, combined with the unprecedented nature of your abilities, makes you a… person of extreme interest. And potentially, of extreme risk. We need you to be honest with us. Completely honest. Tell us about your power, how it works, anything that seems unusual. The more we know, the better we can help you navigate this, and the better we can understand the larger threat we're facing."
Kairo looked from Zairen's intense gaze to Natasha's searching one. His mind was a battlefield. His father, a rogue. His own powers, a mystery tied to something dangerous… it was all a swirling chaos. The instinct to hide, to protect the strange system that was now a part of him, was strong. Varric's words echoed: "Trust no one—not even C.E.L.E.N."
But then he thought of the team—Mira, Tarek, Lira, Orren. He remembered Orren's quiet words of support in the training hall: "You don't have to tell anything, just know you're one of us." He thought of Zairen's willingness to grant him solo training time, of Natasha's genuine, albeit professional, concern after he'd returned from the Penalty Zone. They weren't treating him like a criminal, at least not yet. They seemed to be offering… help. An understanding.
He took a deep breath, the decision solidifying in his chest. "Okay," he said, his voice gaining a little strength. "Okay, I'll tell you what I know."
Zairen and Natasha exchanged a brief, almost imperceptible glance.
"It started during the Awakening Trials," Kairo began, his gaze fixed on the polished surface of Zairen's desk. He explained the appearance of the Codex grid, the sensation of it being a system integrated into his perception. He described the "INITIAL LEVEL-UP MODULE" that led him to the Obsidian Spire quest, the deployment card, the dungeon itself. He detailed the EXP system, how defeating Veilspawn granted him points that led to leveling up. He mentioned the skills he'd unlocked – Assassin Dash, Phantom Stride, and the new one from the dungeon, Stealth Mode. He even touched upon the Full Recovery he received with each level up.
He spoke for several minutes, laying out the mechanics of the Codex as he understood them, watching Zairen and Natasha for their reactions. He omitted only few details– the Penalty Zone and the new, intensely personal "SPARK" stat, the +30 Stat Points he received with each level, and how he could allocate them to categories like Strength and Agility, feeling the tangible effects. That felt too raw, too strange, something he wasn't ready to share, not yet. It was his secret edge, born from a place of true desperation.
When he finished, an unnerving silence filled the office. Zairen's eyes were wide, his usual composure visibly shaken. Natasha leaned back in her chair, her expression a mixture of disbelief and profound intrigue.
"A system…" Zairen finally breathed, his voice hushed. "That grants experience points? Stat allocation? Skills that unlock like… like program subroutines, like a video game?"
Natasha shook her head slowly. "To be able to quantify and direct one's own Etheron growth like that… to gain tangible power, skills, even healing, simply by defeating foes in a… a generated dungeon accessed by a card… Kairo, this is beyond anything we've ever theorized. The speed at which you could advance…"
"That's how I got stronger so quickly in the dungeon last night," Kairo confirmed. "And how I managed some of those moves in the Fracture Trial. It… it guides me sometimes."
The seriousness in the room seemed to momentarily lift, replaced by sheer astonishment at the implications of Kairo's power. Zairen stood, pacing slowly in front of the window, the city lights reflecting in his single eye. Natasha just stared at Kairo, as if seeing him for the first time.
"Don't worry, kid," Zairen said eventually, turning back, a ghost of his earlier reassuring smile returning. His voice was still tinged with awe, but the immediate tension had eased. "We're with you. This is… a lot to process for all of us. But you did the right thing by telling us. We'll help you figure this all out. Your safety, and understanding this phenomenon, are our top priorities." Natasha nodded, her professional demeanor returning, though her eyes still held a spark of wonder. "Alright, Virel. My offer to proceed with training still stands. Now that we have a clearer picture – or at least, a more complex one – we can try to tailor your sessions even further." Kairo felt a wave of relief wash over him. They believed him. They weren't locking him up. "Actually," he said, remembering Zairen's earlier concession and feeling emboldened by his honesty, "Sir, you mentioned I could have some solo training time. After last night, and with this… Codex… I think I learn best when I can push myself, try things out without an audience, at least for some of it." Natasha looked to Zairen. The High Commander regarded Kairo for a long moment, his expression thoughtful. The request, which might have seemed like youthful arrogance before, now carried a different weight given the nature of Kairo's abilities. "The solo training arrangement stands," Zairen affirmed finally. "Your progress through these… Codex modules… is clearly effective, however unorthodox. You'll have access to private training chambers and, as discussed, limited off-site latitude, provided you maintain regular debriefs with Natasha. We need to monitor this, Kairo. For everyone's sake." Kairo nodded, a genuine smile finally breaking through. "Thank you, sir. I understand." He felt like a massive weight had been lifted, even with the heavy truth about his father now settling in his heart. He had allies. He wasn't completely alone with this strange power.
The hum of the C.E.L.E.N. facility's corridors was a muted counterpoint to the storm raging inside Kairo's mind. Each step back towards the secluded training chamber felt heavier than the last, his boots echoing on the polished steel floor with a rhythm that matched the frantic beat of his heart. The brief but intense conversation in Zairen's office had rewired his entire understanding of his world, his family, and himself.
Natasha's ability, "Eyes of Divine," was strange enough—a living diagnostic tool, a secret weapon in C.E.L.E.N.'s arsenal. It explained her unnerving perception, her ability to see the very fabric of his aberrant power. But that revelation paled in comparison to the words that followed, words that had clawed open a wound Kairo had carried for most of his life.
Red traces. Rogue. My father.
Varric. The name now echoed with a terrible, heartbreaking clarity. For years, Kairo had grappled with the phantom of his father's absence. Why had he left? Was it something Kairo did? Was it his mother? The questions had been a constant, gnawing ache, an empty space in the tapestry of his childhood, filled with Aveline's quiet sorrow and Selena's unspoken resentment. He'd constructed narratives, imagined scenarios—a secret mission, a tragic accident, anything but the simple, brutal truth of abandonment.
Now, a truth, or at least C.E.L.E.N.'s version of it, had been laid bare. His father hadn't just left; he had become something else, something dangerous, something hunted. A rogue agent, his power corrupted, a "red trace" on C.E.L.E.N.'s most wanted list. The image of Varric at the pier, handing him the obsidian shard, the cryptic warnings about trust—it all felt different now, tinged with a sinister understanding. Was that a warning from a rogue, or about the path Kairo himself might tread? The pain was a sharp, physical thing, a spear through his chest. Betrayal warred with a desperate, yearning curiosity. He finally had a piece of the puzzle, but it was a piece that made the entire picture darker, more terrifying. Yet, amidst the turmoil, there was a strange sliver of relief. He had told them about the Codex—most of it, anyway. The secret of his rapid progression, the quests, the levels, the skills – it was out. And Zairen and Natasha hadn't recoiled in horror or suspicion, not entirely. They had been shocked, yes, awed even, but ultimately, they had offered… support. Understanding. The weight of that secret, carried alone since the Trials, had been immense. Sharing it, even with the C.E.L.E.N. officials his father had warned him against, felt like exhaling a breath he'd been holding for too long.
He reached the sealed door of the private training chamber, the violet runes pulsing faintly. The brief respite was over. The questions about his father would have to wait. The churning in his gut, the ache in his heart—he'd have to channel it, use it. Zairen had given him the freedom to train alone. And after the revelations in that office, Kairo knew one thing for sure: he needed to get stronger. Strong enough to understand, strong enough to face whatever was coming – be it C.E.L.E.N.'s scrutiny, his father's legacy, or the terrifying potential of the Codex itself.
Back in Zairen's office, the city lights cast long, dancing shadows across the room as the High Commander stared out the panoramic window. Natasha stood near the desk, arms crossed, her brow furrowed in thought. The silence lingered for a few moments after Kairo's departure, thick with the implications of what they had learned.
"After all this time," Zairen finally said, his voice a low rumble, turning from the window. "Years of investigating the Red Trace phenomenon, years of chasing shadows and dead ends, trying to understand the source of these deviations, these… corruptions. And a boy, barely an awakened Etherborn, walks in and hands us a piece of the puzzle so fantastic it borders on the unbelievable." He shook his head, a rare hint of bewilderment in his red eye. "A power that functions like a… a game. Leveling up, acquiring skills through quests and dungeons generated by a card. If I hadn't seen some of his capabilities firsthand, if your analysis of his core's instability wasn't so compelling, Natasha, I would have dismissed it as delusion."
Natasha pushed herself off the desk, beginning to pace. "Sir, with all due respect, I don't think 'delusion' is the concern here. What Kairo described… this 'Codex'… it's more than just an unusual manifestation of Etheron. The sheer intelligence behind its mechanics…" She paused, her gaze hardening. "This isn't just Etheron, Zairen. This feels like something else entirely. An entity, perhaps. An intelligent species, for all we know, interfacing with him, through him."
Her words hung heavy in the air. Zairen's expression grew grim.
"The reality manipulation aspect you witnessed earlier," Natasha continued, her voice urgent, "sending him into a dimensional rift, the fact that it's making him grow impossibly fast… a D-Rank clearing what was essentially a self-contained, variable-threat dungeon and emerging significantly more powerful, with new, distinct abilities in a matter of minutes? That's not just anomalous, it's terrifying. If this 'Codex' can do that with one boy, what is its ultimate aim? And the penalties he mentioned for non-compliance… it has a will, an agenda. This is far worse than we could have imagined. The Red Traces might just be a symptom, not the disease itself." Zairen slowly nodded, the muscles in his jaw tight. "Your assessment aligns with a growing, and frankly, disturbing hypothesis, Natasha. For a long time, we've operated under the assumption that the emergence of Etheron—that it was all some form of chaotic, natural occurrence. A shift in the planetary or even cosmic balance." He looked back at the glittering, indifferent city. "But this… it suggests a guiding hand. A design. Someone—or something—is behind it all. Perhaps even the very genesis of this Etheron-cursed hell our world has become." His voice was cold now, flinty. "We finally have a thread that points beyond mere chaotic manifestation. This changes the nature of our investigation entirely."
"So, what's our next move sir?" Natasha asked. "We honor the agreement," Zairen stated. "He needs to feel a degree of autonomy, or he'll shut down, hide more than he already is. You will continue to monitor him, discreetly when necessary, more directly when he allows. As for me, i need to discuss this with the old man."
Kairo stood alone in the circular training chamber, the obsidian panels cool and silent around him. The conversation with Zairen and Natasha replayed in his mind, each word, each revelation, sending fresh tremors through him. But beneath the fear and the confusion, a spark of defiance, of determination, was igniting. He wouldn't be a pawn, not for C.E.L.E.N., not for his father, not for anyone ir anything. He reached into an inner pocket of his coat and pulled out the new card the Codex had rewarded him with after clearing the Obsidian Spire. It was similar to the first, but its surface was a deeper, more ominous shade of black, the silver veins of Etheron pulsing with a stronger, more urgent light. Etched onto it was the inscription:
[Codex Card: Tier C Dungeon – Unsealed].
A Tier C dungeon. The Obsidian Spire had been D-Rank, and it had pushed him to his absolute limits. This would be a significant step up in difficulty. His logical mind, the part of him that still clung to the familiar rules of the world, screamed caution. But the other part of him, the part that had danced with death in the Penalty Zone and emerged stronger, the part that now was hungry for strength. With a deep breath that did little to calm the frantic rhythm of his heart, Kairo clenched his jaw. "Alright, Codex," he whispered to the silent chamber, his voice a low, determined growl. "Let's see what you've got for me this time."
He channeling his Etheron into the card held tight in his hand. The black surface began to glow, the silver veins igniting like a spreading fire. The air in the chamber thickened, the familiar thrumming vibration starting beneath his feet, stronger this time, more violent. The space before him warped, rippled, then tore open with a sound like rending fabric, revealing a swirling vortex of chaotic light and shadow, its depths promising unknown dangers and untold power. Kairo gripped Swiftbane, its silver-red glow a defiant spark against the encroaching darkness of the portal. Without a backward glance, he stepped forward, into the maw of the new dungeon. He blinked, eyes adjusting slowly, and a vast, snow-laden expanse unfurled before him. Towering trees, their branches heavy with thick blankets of snow, rose like ghostly sentinels, their dense formation giving the distinct impression of a jungle, yet one choked by an unnatural, biting frost. The air was thin, frigid, and carried the scent of pine and frozen earth. Snow fell in lazy, silent drifts, muffling all sound save for the whisper of the wind through the frosted canopy. It was beautiful, in a stark, unforgiving way. The Codex grid shimmered into existence:
[TIER C DUNGEON: FROSTFELL WILDERNESS]
[OBJECTIVE: CLEAR THE DUNGEON]
[PROGRESS: 0%]
"Frostfell Wilderness, huh?" Kairo muttered, his breath pluming in a white cloud. The sheer scale of the place was daunting; the snowy jungle stretched as far as he could see, a labyrinth of white and shadow. And it was cold. Unbelievably cold. A deep, penetrating chill was already seeping through his advanced combat suit, a stark reminder that its arcane patterns and violet etchings, while impressive, offered little against the raw elements of a high-tier dungeon. His teeth began to chatter.
"Okay, first things first," he reasoned, rubbing his arms vigorously. "Warmth." There was no way he could fight effectively if he was half-frozen. He scanned his surroundings. The trees, though snow-covered, were still wood. With Swiftbane's sharp edge, gathering kindling wouldn't be an issue. He spent a few minutes collecting dry branches from beneath the lower, more sheltered boughs of larger trees, his fingers quickly growing numb despite his gloves. Finding a relatively sheltered spot at the base of a thick, ancient-looking fir, he managed to spark a small fire using a trick Selena had taught him – focusing a tiny, controlled burst of Etheron into a pile of the driest tinder. It wasn't an elemental ability, just a raw, precise application of energy, but it worked.
The fledgling flames crackled to life, casting a flickering orange glow on the snow around him, a small pocket of defiance against the encroaching cold. Kairo huddled close, Swiftbane resting across his knees, the warmth a welcome reprieve. He wasn't just waiting for monsters; he was conserving energy, observing, trying to attune himself to this new, hostile environment.
He didn't have to wait long. A low, guttural growl rumbled through the trees, closer than he liked. The firelight flickered as two massive shapes emerged from the snowy undergrowth, their movements surprisingly silent for their bulk. Polar bears. But not like any he'd seen in pictures. These were easily eight feet tall at the shoulder, their fur a matted, icy white, tinged with a dirty grey. Vicious, curved claws, black as obsidian, dug into the snow with each heavy tread. Their eyes, small and black, glowed with a feral light, and above their enormous heads, names shimmered into existence – pale white, but with a distinct yellowish tinge that Kairo now recognized.
"Grolak Frostclaw," he read aloud, "Delta-class then" Just as the Cavern Wardens had been.
The two bears fanned out, their massive heads low, snorting plumes of frosty air, their predatory gaze fixed on him. The warmth of the fire seemed to agitate them further.
Kairo rose slowly, kicking a small drift of snow over the fire to dull its most inviting glow, Swiftbane now firm in his grip. The dungeon wasn't going to let him rest.
The Frostclaw on his left charged first, a blur of white fur and snapping jaws, its roar a thunderous bellow that shook the snow from the nearby branches. Kairo met the charge head-on. "Assassin Dash!" His body became a streak of violet-black against the snow, the world slowing around him. He sidestepped the bear's initial lunge, its claws tearing through the space where he'd been a microsecond before, sending up a plume of snow and frozen earth. He pivoted, Swiftbane arcing in a silver-red flash. The blade bit deep into the Frostclaw's exposed flank. The beast roared in pain and fury, spinning with surprising agility, one massive paw swiping at him.
Kairo leaped back, but the Icefang on his right was already moving, attempting to pincer him. He couldn't dash again so soon; the skill had a brief internal cooldown he was acutely aware of. He ducked low as the Icefang's claws whistled over his head, the wind of its passage chilling his skin even further. He rolled, coming up on one knee, and thrust Swiftbane upwards. The dagger met thick hide and muscle, but didn't penetrate as deeply as he'd hoped. These Delta-class bears were tough, their bodies dense and well-protected.
The Frostclaw, bleeding from its side, lunged again. Kairo parried its snapping jaws with Swiftbane's crossguard, the impact jarring his arm to the shoulder. He used the momentum to spin away, putting distance between himself and the two behemoths. They were coordinating, he realized, one pressing the attack while the other cut off his retreat.
"Phantom Stride!" he yelled, a new surge of adrenaline kicking in. Five afterimages of himself flickered into existence, darting in different directions, momentarily confusing the bears. The Icefang swatted at one illusion, which dissolved into motes of light. Kairo, the real Kairo, used the distraction to circle around the Frostclaw. Its earlier wound was weeping dark blood onto the pristine snow. He focused his Etheron, the violet sigils on his suit flaring. He needed a decisive blow.
He lunged, aiming for the same wounded flank, Swiftbane empowered by a surge of his own energy. The blade sank deeper this time, and the Frostclaw howled, a sound of pure agony, before stumbling and collapsing onto its side, its massive body quivering before falling still.
[+50 EXP]
One down. But the Icefang was on him in an instant, enraged by the fall of its companion. It rose on its hind legs, towering over Kairo, its shadow engulfing him, then slammed its massive paws down in a crushing blow. Kairo threw himself sideways, rolling desperately through the snow, the impact shaking the very ground, leaving deep craters where he'd been. He scrambled to his feet, breath ragged, snow clinging to his suit. The Icefang was relentless, charging again. Kairo met its fury with his own. He dodged, weaved, his movements honed by the Obsidian Spire and fueled by the stat points he'd poured into Agility and Strength. Swiftbane became an extension of his will, a silver-red dance of death in the snowy gloom. He ducked under a savage bite, the bear's hot breath washing over him, and drove his dagger into the soft underside of its jaw. A pained yelp, and the beast reared back. Kairo didn't give it a chance to recover. He leaped onto its broad back, clinging on as it thrashed wildly, and plunged Swiftbane repeatedly into the thick muscle and sinew of its neck until, with a final shuddering groan, it too collapsed into the snow.
[+50 EXP]
[+LEVEL UP!]
Kairo slid off the dead bear, landing heavily on his knees, chest heaving. His muscles burned, and the cold was biting at his exposed skin where his suit had been scuffed. But the familiar warmth of the level-up surged through him, mending minor scrapes, easing his fatigue, and bringing with it the welcome +30 Stat Points. He was Level 5 now.
He allocated the points quickly – 20 to strength, 6 to agility, and 4 to Vitality, hoping to bolster his resilience against this relentless cold and the punishing blows of these creatures. As the points settled, a new notification chimed on the Codex grid.
[LEVEL 5 REACHED]
[REWARD: INVENTORY UNLOCKED]