Alby walked toward Quinn with a heavy, measured stride that demanded attention. Quinn looked up, squinting against the amber light of the setting sun, and immediately recognized the aura of leadership, even if the specific name was a bit foggy in his memory. Alby stopped just a few feet away, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked down at the stranger who had literally appeared out of thin air within the Maze. He eventually extended a hand, though his grip was cautious.
"I'm Alby," he said, his voice deep and raspy. "Currently the leader of the Glade, and I'm in charge of mostly anything here."
Quinn reached out, his hand feeling small and weak against Alby's calloused palm. He offered a weary, lopsided smile. "I'm Quinn. Well... I'm in charge of, well, me."
Alby's eyes narrowed, searching Quinn's face for any sign of a lie or a hidden threat. "So, Mr. In-Charge-of-You, what were you doing in the Maze? And who exactly are you?"
By now, Minho had stepped up to stand beside Alby, his breathing still slightly heavy from the run, his gaze like a hawk watching prey. Quinn immediately raised both hands in a non-threatening gesture of surrender.
"If I had any clues about what I'm doing in, uh, there... I wouldn't be running to you for help," Quinn replied, choosing a tone of honest desperation. "And if I knew what I am, I couldn't not know what I am. I'm just as confused as you guys."
Minho let out a skeptical snort, while a boy standing nearby leaned in and whispered to Alby, loud enough for Quinn to catch every word. "He doesn't seem right in his mind, Alby. He seems a little bit of... cookoo."
Alby didn't respond to the comment immediately. He kept his focus on Quinn. "If you are a Greenie, you're supposed to be transported to us via the Box. That's the way it works. Always."
Quinn tilted his head, playing the part of the confused newcomer. "What box? And if it's the kind of box I'm thinking of, wouldn't it be too small to, like, have a person inside?"
Alby's face remained a mask of stone. "Follow me."
He led Quinn across the scorched grass toward the center of the Glade where the heavy metal doors of the lift sat flush with the ground. Two other Gladers trailed behind them, acting as silent guards. When they reached the rusted, vibrating frame of the lift, Quinn let out a low whistle of feigned amazement. "Well, if this is the box, it could store like... four of me."
Minho stepped closer, his voice sharp and probing. "Yeah, and I can't help to notice you know your name. So, how long have you been knowing it?"
"I knew it the moment I woke up," Quinn said simply. He looked at Minho's suspicious face. "What, are you not suppose to know your name?"
Minho's eyes flashed with a mix of frustration and doubt. "Yes," he muttered, "We're supposed to forget that, too."
Quinn opted for silence after that, fearing that another slip of the tongue might reveal his true nature as a "Sleeper" or something worse. Alby eventually broke the tension. "So you will be a Greenie for now. But everyone here earns their keep. What can you do?"
Quinn thought back to his old life. He had spent a fair amount of time tending to various plants, and he had a genuine passion for Legos—and in his mind, building with Legos definitely counted as a form of construction skill. "I could take care of plants," he offered. "And a little bit of building, I guess."
Alby rubbed his chin, looking at the gardens in the distance. "Right now, we need more hands in the soil. You'll be assigned to the Track-hoes. You got a problem with that?"
"Thank you, I really appreciate that," Quinn said, feeling a genuine wave of relief.
"Everybody must work for the Glade to thrive, right?" Alby said. Minho looked like he wanted to argue, his mouth opening to protest, but Alby held up a hand, cutting him off. He signaled a nearby Glader to lead Quinn toward the garden area.
As Quinn walked away, Minho's face turned a shade darker. He turned to leave, but Alby gripped his shoulder, pulling him close. Alby leaned in and whispered directly into Minho's ear. "Something is wrong with him, Minho. I can actually really feel it. That's why I moved him to the Track-hoes—it's the easiest place to keep a constant watch on him. If you have time, watch him and see what secret he is hiding, okay?"
Minho went silent, his gaze fixed on Quinn's retreating back, before giving a sharp nod. "I will," he promised, before turning to head toward the Map Room.
The news of a Greenie who bypassed the Box spread like wildfire through the Glade, leaving most of the boys in a state of shock and curiosity. However, with Alby's public assurance, the panic stayed at bay. That night, Quinn was given a rough bedroll on the grass under the vast, starlit sky.
The next morning, Quinn woke up long before the sun had fully cleared the walls. It seemed the habit of selling his soul to the corporate machine in his past life had followed him even into this nightmare; his body simply wouldn't let him sleep in. He headed to the gardens, introduced himself to the other Track-hoes, and began to learn their ways. He was surprisingly diligent, throwing himself into the manual labor with a focus that bordered on obsessive. He was attentive to the soil, careful with the seedlings, and spoke very little.
As a week passed, the tension in the Glade began to soften. Quinn made a few acquaintances, and even Minho seemed to relax his guard slightly. Watching Quinn spend ten hours a day covered in dirt and sweat didn't exactly scream "dangerous infiltrator." Through subtle questions and eavesdropping, Quinn managed to confirm the timeline: the boys had been here for nearly two years. Specifically, he figured he had about two months before the "Main Character" was scheduled to arrive and turn the world upside down.
Two days later, seeing that the suspicious glares had finally faded into indifference, Quinn found a quiet corner at dusk. He sat in a cross-legged, meditative position and closed his eyes. He needed to prepare for the Sequence 9 potion : Apprentice.
He focused his mind on the hidden status screen within his soul, zeroing in on the attribute [Uniqueness of Door]. He stared into the mental abyss, forcing his consciousness to pierce the veil of the hidden knowledge. Suddenly, the words manifested, glowing with an eerie, ethereal light.
Apprentice Potion Formula:
30ml Space Monster Blood
10 drops of Illusionary Essence
1 Soul Crystallized Core
Quinn opened his eyes, his breathing shallow. The way the information sat in his mind reminded him of the Blasphemy Slate—absolute, terrifying, and perfect. He lay back on the grass, looking up at the towering stone sentinel above him. He needed to find a way to secure these ingredients and transcend to Sequence 9 as fast as possible. He had two months to become a Beyonder before the real chaos began. He needed to be ready.