Across the whole world, everyone wears a Pinpoint Tag, a dog-tag-like plate that stacks their Identification by letter, family name, continent of origin, then genus and species. Next to the engraved initials, the Pinpoint Tag lays everything out in a clean stack. Next to F.N, the tag lists the bearer's name from last to first, next to C it shows their continent code, and next to G and S it records their genus and species. In the Northern Continent, FLEX Zone eight, a young warrior with twin war hammers crouched in the frostbitten training yard. On her Pinpoint Tag, the Family Name line read Pole, Delecroix, the Continent line marked her as Northborn, and beneath it Genus was stamped H. Sapien, and her species was listed as Hume. Delecroix watched Solace leap through the arena. The blows she struck, precise yet explosive, echoed in her mind. With a roar, she swung both hammers into the training dummies, cracking wood and stone alike. "If she can face a king..." she whispered, lifting a battered shield, "then I can face my father." Determination replaced hesitation. She packed her gear, and for the first time, she didn't flinch at the thought of confronting her family. "Come on, my little gremlins," Delecroix called, and four tiny creatures sprinted after her, one of them throwing its arms wide like airplane wings, buzzing loud and happy as she zigzagged through the path behind her.
In a palace on the Western Continent, a queen's voice cut down the hall. "You need to act like a princess!" her mother's voice echoed, sharp and demanding. The princess stopped, on her Pinpoint Tag, the Family Name listed Marceline, Vinella, the Continent identified her as Westernborn, her Genus was set as H. Sapien, and her species was marked Feaxtress. Vinella clenched her fists, and spat back, "Anything I do... is like a princess because I am one!" That was the last straw. Without another word, she stormed down the halls, ignoring guards and servants alike, yanking her cloak tight and strapping on her weapon belt. For years, she had been forced to play the perfect role, to obey every command and hide her true strength. But watching Solace defy a king, watching her move like fear had no authority over her, cracked something open in the princess's chest. Now she was running toward the gates, ready to take control of her own life, no more waiting, no more rules.
In the Eastern Continent's shadows, a dagger-wielding woman with her eyes covered whispered to herself, "I deserve people who accept me." She twirled her blade between her fingers, testing its balance and weight, each rotation a silent promise to herself. Her Pinpoint Tag carried the name McPheebe, Vanpree under Family Name, marked her as EasternBorn for Continent, and stamped her Genus as H. Sapien with her species labeled Thaumaturge. For years she had hidden, stayed in the shadows, avoided notice but Solace's fearless leaps, her defiance against the king, ignited something inside her. Taking a slow, deliberate step forward, she raised the dagger not to strike anyone, but to claim her own space in a world that had always ignored her. Even in darkness, courage could spark.
Deep in the Southern Continent, a queen slammed a golden goblet onto the marble table. Her Pinpoint Tag listed Bravada, Sunny-side on the Family Name line, tagged her as Southernborn under Continent, and set her Genus to H. Sapien with her Species marked Cyssan. Years of compromise had changed nothing. Solace's fearless strikes against the king flashed in her mind. Strapping on her sword, she rallied loyal guards. "If she can defy authority... so can I," she muttered, storming into the streets to challenge her husband and claim the throne, turning the kingdom into a Queendom. A guard let out a breath. "How exactly do you plan on fighting the king?" The queen met his eyes without blinking. "At this point," she said calmly, "I'm probably just going to kiss him." His face drained of color, he slowed behind her, eyes fixed on the back of her head. "I… wasn't expecting that." Back in Astryx, Their teamwork, courage, and defiance were not just for the arena they became a spark across kingdoms, The nickname "Crazy Frog" left the King's lips, meant as an insult, now took on new meaning inspiring whispers, cheers, and the impossible hope that chains could be broken.
A year before the arena, freedom had meant something very different to Solace. In the Eastern Continent she climbed until the branches shook beneath her, bare feet pressing into the bark, fingers sticky with sap. When she reached the top, she stretched her arms wide, letting the wind rush over her skin. She let her eyes fall shut, smiling as if the world had finally lowered its voice long enough for her to exist in peace. Then the sky turned, quicker than she could prepare for. Clouds tore across the sky, the wind turning sharp and electric. The first crack of thunder split the air so violently the branch beneath her quivered. Solace jolted upright, instinct dropping straight into her bones. "Great," she muttered, climbing down. "Perfect timing." By the time her feet hit the forest floor, the sky had gone black. Rain slammed through the leaves in sheets. Lightning forked across the canopy again and again, always striking too close. It wasn't random or natural, it felt like the storm was trying to herd her.
The next bolt ripped through the clearing, close enough to make her density flicker on instinct, her form sharpening as she went lighter for speed. She exploded forward, each density shift snapping her into a different motion. One moment she was a blur, the next she carved a perfect right-angle turn, crocs skimming over mud without sinking. Leaves ripped from branches as she cut through the forest, weightless enough to glide, grounded enough to sprint. But the lightning adjusted every time, almost attentive, tagging the ground beside her with ear-splitting cracks. "Seriously?" she shouted up at the clouds. "Either hit me or shut up!" Another blast struck close enough that the shockwave lifted her off her feet. She hit the ground hard, dirt spraying, ears ringing. The world vibrated with thunder, each crash louder than the last, drilling into her skull.
Solace crouched, pressing her palms to her ears, unable to escape the noise, unable to block it out. Then, something shifted deep inside her. Fear, frustration, and exhaustion tightening into a blade of determination. Solace rose slowly, rain streaming down her face, droplets carving paths across her skin. She looked up into the roaring sky, her density solidifying until she felt unmovable. "I'm not coming back," she said. Her voice cut clean through the storm. For a long moment, Solace stood still, breathing hard, waiting for the storm to argue. Lightning bloomed overhead. She braced for it to strike, but nothing happened, the light dimmed, the clouds rolled back. The sky quieted like a beast settling down, leaving only the soft rush of rain fading into mist. For the first time in a long while, Solace felt free. She took her time with the little things most people missed. She crouched close to wildflowers to study their veins, traced the slow crawl of a beetle over a petal, dipped her hands into streams to feel the cold bite of water. When the day grew hot, she jumped into a lake without thinking water splashing high, laughter echoing off the trees then lay out in the grass to dry, watching clouds drift past.
It wasn't about adventure or purpose, it was about having a choice. The ability to stop, to breathe, and to exist exactly as she wished. Freedom was supposed to feel like an endless, golden light, yet when the laughter faded, silence often weighed heavily. She didn't always know what came next. Things like where she'd sleep, what she'd eat, or how to keep going when no one was left to guide her. She tried to make small routines, she'd line up rocks by size near her campfire, count her breaths when she got scared, pretend the stars were answering when she talked out loud. When she managed to catch a moment that felt right like she'd done something good, something alive she brought her thumb, middle, and pointer finger together, kissed them, and flicked her hand toward the sky simultaneously. "The pinnacle kiss," she'd say softly, her own way of thanking the world for not swallowing her whole. But the truth lingered beneath the calm, she was still learning how to live, not just survive. That was when she heard them rough laughter in the trees ahead, the sound of metal scraping leather, Men.
Solace moved quietly along the forest path, the sunlight dancing across the leaves. She spotted three men up ahead, lingering too close to the trail. For a moment, she thought she could pass without trouble, maybe even strike up a friendly conversation. "Hey there," she called, voice light, "nice day for a walk, isn't it?" The men stopped, turning toward her. The tallest of them stepped forward, smirking. Solace offered a small, polite smile, hoping to ease the tension. She kept her hands visible, relaxed but her senses were alert. Something about their stance told her they weren't interested in chatting. The men exchanged glances. Then one of them, the tallest, stepped forward, a grin spreading across his face. "Well, well... looks like someone's wandering alone," he said, eyes scanning her. Three men stepped into her path, closing the space around her. She could feel the tension radiating off them, the weight of their expectations, their assumptions.
Bright eyes scanned each of them, taking in their stance, the way they moved. A faint smirk tugged at her lips not because she didn't feel the danger, but because fear wasn't going to help her here. "Careful, boys," Solace said, voice lilting. "Stand that close and I might start thinking you're looking for trouble." She didn't need to shout or glare. Her tone alone made the first flickers of hesitation appear in their eyes. Her body moved almost before her mind registered the threat. The first man lunged, trying to grab her. She twisted, using his momentum against him, and with a quick shove and a turn, sent him sprawling into the dirt. The other two drew their weapons, but Solace was already shifting, weaving, ducking. Punches snapped through the air, her kicks precise, almost effortless. She dodged a swing from one, sidestepped the other, and in a blur of movement disarmed them both before they fully realized what had happened. Within seconds, all three men were groaning on the ground, their weapons lying useless beside them, confusion and shock written across their faces. Solace dusted her hands off, the movement casual, almost playful. Her eyes swept the forest around her, sharp and alert, as if she already sensed someone watching. Then her gaze settled. There, barely hidden among the shadows, was a pair of wide, curious eyes, someone was watching her.