Aggro Litrpg || Progression Fantasy

I kept replaying Lia's words in my head as we trudged deeper into the woods.

"Low-levels walk the rails. High-levels shape them."

The thing was... she had a point, didn't she?

And it wasn't like I hadn't heard the sentiment before. Mum and Dad had said the same thing for years—just dressed up in different robes. "God's plan," they called it. "The Lord moves in mysterious ways." All while assuring me that free will was a gift, that I had choices, and that every setback, heartbreak, betrayal, and slow-burning family humiliation was part of some divine lesson plan. As if that made any of it feel less like punishment.

Seriously. What kind of sadistic omnipotent being runs a system where the default outcome to every fork in the childhood road is "Well, guess you get shafted again, sunshine"?

But maybe that's what Lia meant. Maybe being 'low-level' wasn't just about stats and skill cooldowns. Maybe it was about being shackled to someone else's blueprint. Your path was already sketched out in red ink before you'd even had your first swing of the sword. And you'd only earn the right to a pencil of your own if you survived long enough and stacked up enough XP not to be considered disposable.

It was a hell of a model. Like a really well-maintained prison. All clean corridors and predictable meal times. Where your food arrived on time, your schedule never changed, and all the doors locked exactly when they were supposed to.

And now, apparently, I'd levelled just enough to get a taste of the bars. Not the exit, mind you—just the knowledge that the cell had corners I hadn't seen before. A glimpse through a crack in the ceiling. A faint breeze from some unseen world reminded me there was more up there.

But it was still someone else's book, wasn't it? Their rules. Their spine. Their ending.

I found myself thinking of Aunt Margaret. Not the last time I saw her, all warnings and watchful eyes—but much earlier. Back when I still thought Halfway Hold was the whole world I wanted. I'd scraped my knee trying to outrun a dare, crying more from frustration than pain, and she'd knelt beside me in that old dusty garden with the moss between the flagstones and said:

"The story doesn't always start with you, Elijah. But you get to choose how you keep it going. Every tale has shadows at the edge. Your job is to walk in, lantern held high."

Back then, I'd thought she was talking about bedtime stories. Knights and boggarts and fairytale wolves. Now, I wasn't so sure.

Maybe this whole place—Bayteran, the System, the Veil—maybe it was someone else's book. Maybe the path had been laid out before I ever opened my eyes. But I still had my hands on the lantern.

And I could still choose where to shine it.

From a little further ahead, Lia called something back at me, and I realised I'd let myself drag behind a bit – which was probably not all that sensible in a forest which was increasingly becoming the definition of 'predator-friendly.'

However, it was as if the weight of my thoughts was dragging me a touch, and it was increasingly difficult to push forward against it all. "Sorry, I didn't catch that? I was just wondering if all of this—" I waved a hand toward the twisted trees, the dark bushes and the generally foreboding atmosphere "—is part of some larger metaphor for my life? Like, somewhere soon I'm going to come across a sign that says 'Abandon Hope All Ye that Enter" and then the real problems start."

Lia didn't stop to babysit me this time. "You need to let go of all this nonsense. I'm here, and I'm certain I'm not playing a minor role in the celestial tapestry of your glorious existence. Not everything that happens in the world is a teachable moment specifically for you. None of us are passive recipients of someone else's will. For sure, the Maker sets us all on our path, but we all get to choose the places where our feet land. You're responsible for every one of your steps."

I couldn't help but think that was pretty easy for her to say. After all, she was the Level 7. She had specifically chosen a life of beating goblins over the head, slaying wolves and generally bringing the mayhem.

Lia stopped without warning, and I only just managed to avoid slamming into her back. Her hand snapped out, iron-tight fingers clamping around my arm. In one swift movement, she yanked me backwards. Hard.

I didn't argue. Not just because her grip could have cracked bone but because of what I saw the moment I looked down.

At first, I thought it was wind moving through the grass. But then the shape came into focus. And then another. Low to the ground, moving like sharks in the deep. Shadows that didn't move with the light. Shapes that shouldn't have existed. Like something halfway through being imagined and then abandoned. Half-bodies, flickering. Limbs too long, too narrow. No eyes, but somehow I still felt them looking.

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"What are they?" I tried to whisper. It came out as a damp, shaky breath with aspirations of being a word.

"We're close to the Well of Ascension," Lia said. She hadn't taken her hand off me yet, and her sword was already drawn. The metal caught none of the light. "This is where the Veil thins. But this is more than I think I have ever encountered before." She stepped sideways, positioning herself between me and the things moving in the brush. "They shouldn't be visible. Not here. Not like this."

The word shouldn't echoed through my head like a warning siren. Both Aunt Margaret and that wizard, Forsyth, had been worried about this, hadn't they? About things bleeding through in the absence of a Guardian. And then—

[System Notification: ERROR – Threshold Stability Compromised]

> Classification: Tier 2 Veil Proximity Breach

> Location: Well of Ascension – Unsecured Zone

> Status: Unstable (Integrity: 31%)

> Proxy Warden Detected [Verification: Pending]

>

> Advisory: This region is no longer operating under Standard Boundary Protections.

>

> [Error: Guardian Response – Not Available]

> [Error: Warden Protocol – Incomplete]

>

> Initiating Passive Containment...

>

> ...

>

> Containment Failed.

Well, that didn't seem like especially good news . . .

"Those… things," Lia continued, "they're not all the way here. Not yet. They're the bleed. The first seep of something worse from the other side of the Threshold. From what I understand, that's the cost of what the alchemist's been doing. He's worked too close to the edge. Called too loud."

And now, apparently, something was starting to answer.

I swallowed hard, eyes locked on the flickering not-shapes moving like carrion under the brush. They didn't make a sound. Just glided through the undergrowth as if the world wasn't quite solid to them.

"How do we fight them?" I asked, already knowing I wasn't going to like the answer.

Lia's grip tightened just slightly. "We don't," she said. "Not here. Not unless they force us. If we draw their attention, we risk more coming through."

"So… we just keep walking?"

She nodded once. "We follow the path. We don't stray. And whatever happens—don't touch the shadows."

She released my arm and stepped forward again, sword lowered but ready. I took one last look at the shifting dark just beyond the trees and then followed.

The grass had gone silent. Even the wind felt like it had stopped listening.

Somewhere ahead, the Well waited.

[System Quest Unlocked]

Title: The Well at the Edge

Classification: Veil-Adjacent Priority Quest

Objective: Locate the Alchemist's Well and determine the nature of his work. Confirm identity. Assess threat level.

Context:

You've been sent to find an alchemist meddling with powers no one should. The Veil is thin in this place—thinner than even the old tales warned. Shadows stir without a source. The air hums with memory and warning. Whatever the Alchemist is doing, it has consequences far beyond a single village or a single war.

Current Progress: 90%

Location: Unmapped Woods – Periphery Veil Zone

Stability Rating: 31% and falling

Reward Upon Completion:

- +250 Experience

- 1 Progress Point

- Updated Warden Protocol Tier (Verification Pending)

- ??? (Bound Item: Threshold-Aligned)

Failure Condition:

- Alchemist completes his current work

- Threshold breach becomes irreversible

- Warden candidate perishes or flees

Proceed to the well.

"Right. Totally normal. Boundary beyond the realms splintering. No worries at all. Bring it on!"

Lia gave me a sidelong glance. Not the impatient kind she usually favoured—this one held a flicker of actual concern. "Are you okay?"

"Perfectly fine," I said, voice slightly higher than I intended. "Just feeling a little... overwhelmed by all the winning. Honestly, I'm great."

"You sure? Only the last person I saw looking that green around the gills turned into a trout. Not metaphorically. An actual trout. The Elders are not fond of fish-related paperwork."

"Well, fingers crossed, if and when that does happen, I'll be the kind that can still hold a stick."

But then Lia stopped. Just like that. No warning. One hand lifted, halting me with a flat palm as her gaze locked on something ahead.

I stepped up beside her.

The trees broke like pulled teeth around the edge of the clearing, revealing a pocket of stillness that didn't feel like it belonged. The Well sat at the centre of it. If you could even call it that. No winch. No roof. No markings except a scattering of half-buried symbols along the outer ring. Just a rustic circle of black stone. It looked older than the trees. Older than the village we'd just passed through. Hell, it looked older than anything that should still be standing.

And it was standing.

Waiting.

The air here didn't move. Not properly. Every sound felt two seconds late to itself. Every breath I took tasted faintly like blood and static.

"We're going to regret this, aren't we?" I said, not really expecting an answer. "Or at least, I am."

But Lia didn't reply.

She didn't have to.

Because somewhere behind the silence, something moved.

And the threshold watched us back.