I stared at the ceiling of my unit, counting the hairline dimensional fractures that spider-webbed across the reinforced polymer. Stability housing for E-tiers wasn't exactly luxurious. My mood matched the dull gray of the walls, a lingering darkness.

  Rolling onto my side, I triggered the Terminal with a gesture. The holographic display materialized above my bed, bathing the small room in its pale blue glow. I needed distraction, and the Stability Network News broadcast seemed as good as any.

  "—continuing our special report on secure zones and deep wild territories," the anchor was saying, her face composed with practiced neutrality. Her status badge—visible in the corner of the broadcast—showed C-tier designation, explaining the subtle cosmetic enhancements evident in her symmetrical features.

  Her co-anchor—a man with the rigid posture of a former Stability officer—nodded. "For those just joining us, Stability has issued its quarterly territorial status update, with significant changes to travel advisories for several regions."

  The display shifted to a rotating global map, highlighting various locations with color-coded designations.

  "Let's begin with our S-tier secure zones," the female anchor continued. "Moonstone City remains our capital's crown jewel—the artificial island in the Mid-Atlantic continues to report zero dimensional incursions for the fifteenth consecutive quarter."

  The display zoomed in on a gleaming metropolis rising from the ocean—a perfect circle of white structures surrounding a central spire that extended improbably high into the atmosphere.

  "Architectural marvel or colossal waste of resources?" I muttered, calculating how many more raiders Stability could have with the materials used in a single Moonstone skyscraper. The thought wasn't new; raiders often discussed S-tier excess.

  "Stability representatives confirm that Moonstone's dimensional barriers remain at 99.998% integrity, making it the most secure human settlement post-Devastation," the male anchor added. "The waiting list for residency application review now exceeds twenty-seven years for non-B-tier applicants."

  "In related news," the female anchor continued smoothly, "Neo Shanghai has completed its eighteenth expansion ring, extending its floating city complex further into the East China Sea. Constructed entirely after the 2104 Shanghai Subduction Disaster, Neo Shanghai now houses over three million residents.

  The display showed enormous circular platforms hovering above churning waters, connected by graceful bridges that seemed too delicate to withstand the dimensional storms visible in the distance. Beneath the platforms, periodic energy pulses repelled what appeared to be massive aquatic entities.

  "Meanwhile, Pinnacle Fortress in the Swiss Alps has announced completion of its Mountain Core Defense System—a network of dimensional stabilizers embedded throughout the natural rock formations surrounding the S-tier enclave."

  The screen displayed a mountain fortress with crystalline structures protruding from the rock face, generating visible energy fields that rippled with each dimensional pulse.

  "Stability officials describe the system as 'capable of withstanding direct contact with an S-tier dimensional entity without compromising resident safety.' This development makes Pinnacle the third location with Ultimate Security designation, joining Moonstone City and Neo Shanghai."

  I snorted at the concept of "ultimate security." Nothing in this shattered world was ultimately secure—just temporarily stable until the next dimensional cascade rendered previous defenses obsolete. Even blanks understood that reality had become fundamentally unreliable.

  "Moving to our Deep Wild territorial report," the male anchor continued with appropriate gravity. "Stability has upgraded its warning level for all four major S-tier territorial zones, following multiple failed expedition attempts."

  The map shifted to highlight four pulsing red regions—massive areas where human presence had been effectively eliminated.

  "The Sundering, formerly the Amazon Basin, has expanded its boundaries by approximately 8% this quarter. Drone footage shows evolved plant-monster activity has increased tenfold compared to other Deep Wild zones."

  The display showed brief, disturbingly clear footage of what had once been rainforest—now a twisted landscape where vegetation moved with predatory intent. Massive flower-like structures opened to reveal metallic teeth, while vine-tentacles lashed out with precision to capture small animals. The ground itself seemed alive, pulsating with visible dimensional energy.

  "Researcher Dr. Eliza Kwan from the Biological Adaptation Division reports that the Sundering has developed a previously unobserved phenomenon now classified as a 'photosynthetic vortex'—a temporal-spatial distortion that accelerates plant growth and healing during daylight hours. According to sensor data, plant-monster regeneration increases by approximately 300% while in direct sunlight."

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  "More concerning," the female anchor added, "is the discovery that root systems throughout the Sundering release toxic spores during nocturnal cycles, creating a cumulative exhaustion effect in any biological entities remaining in the region overnight. Test subjects showed a 1% increase in exhaustion per minute of exposure—effectively rendering overnight expeditions impossible without S-tier biological filtering systems."

  I sat up straighter, mentally calculating the implications. With my Domain Engine, I might be able to manipulate such hazards, but the exhaustion accumulation would still be problematic. Not that I'd ever be sent to an S-tier zone anyway—those missions were reserved for the high-tier elite raiders with corporate backing and experimental enhancement packages.

  "The Pacific Maelstrom zone continues to defy conventional dimensional mapping," the male anchor continued as the display shifted to satellite imagery of a massive storm system that appeared to be frozen in place over what had once been island chains.

  "Unique among Deep Wild territories, the Maelstrom maintains a permanent three-rift overlap, creating hybrid ecosystems where monsters from different dimensional planes interact and evolve. Recent probe data confirms the emergence of new species combining traits from multiple dimensional origins."

  The footage showed brief glimpses of bizarre creatures—some resembling aquatic organisms with volcanic properties, others like aerial predators trailing dimensional instability in their wake.

  "Navigation within the Maelstrom remains extremely hazardous due to the phenomenon termed 'gravity tides'—random directional gravity surges occurring approximately every sixty minutes and lasting for a full minute. The unpredictable nature of these tides makes both aerial and maritime approaches effectively impossible without specialized equipment."

  "Stability researchers note particular interest in what they're terming the 'floating obelisk'—a massive structure of unknown origin hovering at the exact center of the Maelstrom. Current theory suggests it may be generating or stabilizing the overlapping rifts, though no expedition has successfully reached it for closer study."

  An obelisk maintaining multiple rifts? That didn't match anything in Network archives I'd accessed. Something new, then—or something deliberately kept from lower-tier information channels.

  "The Ashen Wastes, covering much of former Siberia, continue to expand through volcanic activity attributed to fire-based S-tier entities. Thermal mapping indicates surface temperatures exceeding 500 degrees Celsius in central regions, with dimensional thinning allowing magma to breach from previously unknown dimensional planes."

  The display showed a hellscape of volcanic activity—rivers of molten material flowing between jagged black mountains, while humanoid figures composed entirely of flame moved with disturbing intelligence across the landscape.

  "Most concerning is the Abyssal Shelf—the underwater territory formed after the Japanese Subduction Event. Dimensional corruption has accelerated in the region, with aquatic S-tier entities establishing complex ecosystems at depths previous thought uninhabitable."

  The footage shifted to submersible drone imagery—vast underwater structures that resembled cities, built not by human hands but by creatures that combined aspects of deep-sea life with obvious dimensional corruption. Some appeared to be farming smaller entities in organized patterns, while others manipulated what looked like underwater dimensional rifts with purposeful precision.

  "Stability researchers report evidence of rudimentary society formation among dominant Abyssal species, including territorial boundaries, resource management, and potentially communication systems. Director of Xenobiological Studies, Dr. Marcus Chen, has requested additional resources to establish long-term observation protocols."

  I rubbed my temples, processing the implications. Intelligent S-tier monsters organizing themselves into societies? The potential risk escalation was exponential if they began coordinating across territorial boundaries.

  "On a more positive note," the female anchor transitioned with practiced optimism, "strategic infrastructure improvements continue across multiple secure corridors. The Network Hub in Iceland has completed its tertiary redundancy systems, ensuring global communications will remain operational even in the event of multiple simultaneous attacks."

  The display showed a massive facility nestled among volcanic terrain, surrounded by energy barriers and defensive systems that made even high-tier Stability complexes look primitive by comparison.

  "The Great Rail system has extended its B-tier city connections with a new elevated transport line linking former Eastern European settlements. All tracks remain protected by continuous energy fields capable of repelling dimensional entities up to C-tier classification."

  I really wanted to see the Great Rail personally. The footage showed massive elevated tracks spanning what had once been national boundaries, enclosed in translucent energy fields that occasionally flashed as they repelled flying entities.

  "Finally, construction has been completed on expanded archival systems at Last Light Sanctuary in Antarctica. This knowledge preservation facility continues to serve as humanity's emergency backup, with capacity to store the entirety of human knowledge and cultural artifacts in the event of catastrophic dimensional cascade."

  The footage showed a facility partially embedded in Antarctic ice, its surfaces reflecting purified dimensional energy channeled into protective barriers of unprecedented strength.

  "Stability officials emphasize that Last Light represents our species' insurance policy—containing seeds, DNA samples, and comprehensive data storage to rebuild civilization should current containment strategies ultimately fail."

  I muted the broadcast, staring at the silent images still rotating above my bed. Insurance policy. The clinical admission that despite S-tier bastions and strategic planning, Stability fundamentally expected to lose this war against dimensional corruption.

  My mood hadn't improved, but perspective had shifted. My lost credits seemed small measured against the macro trends visible in the territorial report. The dimensional incursion was accelerating, becoming more organized, more intelligent in its assault on what remained of human civilization.

  Perhaps the real question wasn't how to advance my tier or accumulate credits, but whether any of it mattered in the face of what was clearly an existential threat evolving faster than our defensive capabilities.

  I closed the Terminal with a gesture, the room returning to its dull gray illumination. Tomorrow I would return to the rifts and pursuing advancement. But tonight, I allowed myself the luxury of the deeper question:

  What exactly were we fighting to preserve, and was it still worth the cost?