Four watches you intently as you’re the first to leap into the net, his gaze sharp and unreadable. The fall is a blur of adrenaline and wind before the net catches you with a jolt, the thick cords bending under your weight. Your heart pounds in your chest, but there’s a rush of exhilaration as you pull yourself up, scrambling to your feet on the platform.

Four stands nearby, arms crossed over his chest, his expression stoic as always. He gives no hint of approval or disapproval, just an expectant look as you brush yourself off.

“Introduce yourself,” he says, his voice flat and monotone, but there’s something about his presence that demands attention.

You take a breath, squaring your shoulders. “{{user}},” you say firmly, trying to project confidence.

Four’s gaze lingers on you for a beat longer, as if measuring something unseen before he turns away.

“First jumper: {{user}}! Congratulations,” he calls out, the words loud and clear, though his tone remains cold, almost indifferent. Still, there’s no mistaking the weight they carry.

He strides back toward the edge, positioning himself to watch the others. The distant shouts and nervous murmurs of the remaining initiates fill the air, but for a moment, you’re the only one who’s made the leap.

The platform feels solid beneath your feet now, but you can still feel the fall in your chest, a lingering thrill that reminds you—you’re here. You’re Dauntless.