Chapter 15

  The next morning, I was feeling a lot better. The night, despite Mie waking up multiple times throughout it, had been more bearable with the fan we had installed. For the first time, the Soul Space’s temperature was pleasant. The space had always felt like it was around seventy-four plus degrees. I was more of a sixty-eight kind of guy. I still didn’t really understand how the ventilation or temperature worked. I just assumed it was the typical afterlife bullshit.

  Mie laid next to me, arms swaddled in a little blanket. She looked like a burrito. I just . . . watched her, memories of when my girls were this small at the surface. I smiled as she made a dumb little infant sigh.

  As she did, her eyes opened and met mine . . . then she jolted . . . again. “Jesus, Sam. Seriously. Stop watching me while I sleep!”

  “Right, Greg vibes. My bad. You ready for another day in paradise?”

  She groaned and did a cute baby stretch as I pulled her swaddle loose. Her hands barely reached the top of her head. Why are babies’ heads so big?

  “I suppose. When did we say we were going to meet Clara?” Mie mumbled out.

  “Uhh . . . nine I think,” I said. It was still a half hour from nine.

  She groaned as she stretched again. “Okay. Sounds good. Let’s get out there.” Her eyes started moving as she went to click on login, but I stopped her, smelling something glorious emanating from the hallway. Is that . . . ?

  I carried Mie to the main space to find Greg standing behind the kitchen island, fidgeting with his hands slightly. An appliance stood tall in front of him, gurgling and steaming. The freshly ground and roasted smell wafted into my nose more strongly.

  Greg made . . . coffee?

  As if he was reading my thoughts, Greg said, “I just wanted to say thanks . . . for yesterday. I’ve been saving up, and had enough to buy a coffee machine.” He shrank back, embarrassed. I think I preferred gloomy Greg.

  I placed Mie in her bouncer as she said, “Greg, no one cares. Why are you acting all weird? Wait, what even happened while I was gone yesterday?”

  Mie truly was in her own world, and I hadn’t even thought to tell her about yesterday’s events. “Uhh . . .” I started to say, but Greg cut in.

  “Sam punted a bunny called Jessica.”

  Mie swiveled her head to look at me. “You punted a bunny named Jessica?!”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose with one hand and started pouring a cup of coffee for myself with the other. Coffee first.

  After I took a long sip, I said, “Greg. You can’t convince me that was a bunny. It had hands. If it was, it was one weird ass bunny.”

  “Technically it’s a race called Bunnarithian. Everyone calls them ‘bunnies’ though.”

  “Wait, why did you kick a bunny?!” Mie said, still confused.

  I sighed, then told her the story . . .

  After I finished Mie said, “Aww, and now Greg is pretending to have feelings . . . and trying to get you into bed.” I spewed some of my coffee. “I don’t buy it, Greg.”

  He huffed as he walked out of the room to his new hallway . . . room.

  Almost nine now, we started the process for logging in. I took one last long pull from the coffee before setting it down, called “THANKS, GREG!” then vanished from the Soul Space.

  I knew something was wrong as soon as I popped into existence in the inn. For a split second I saw the bar and the innkeeper bustling about serving a couple NPCs nursing hangovers, then my feet formed onto ground, and instead of the familiar feel of wood, the ground felt like a thin sheet of glass. CRACK! My weight broke the pane of glass-like material. I blinked, and I was suddenly staring at the back of a horse stall. The smell of horse manure hung heavy in the air. I didn't have time to do anything before—

  BAM!

  The entire stable exploded.

  I rocketed into the side of the building, bits of wood, hay, and shit falling on top of me. My health dropped a terrible ninety percent, and then the pain strolled through the door. My legs from the knees down had been completely blown off. It was almost incomprehensible.

  My legs . . . are gone.

  This reality, like always, kept my mind from shutting down. The pain was vile, and while I knew I had no legs or feet, searing phantom pain shot through them. I saw a debuff appear over me and the familiar transparent blue barrier encase me.

  {Stunned} for 2 minutes

  TWO MINUTES?

  I tried to move but couldn’t. I tried to use a health potion . . . but couldn’t. I tried to shout but only managed a croaking moan.

  A short, shadowy figure with a red nameplate slowly made his way over to me through the smoke and falling debris. The air shifted, and the smoke unveiled him. The humanoid figure was only three feet tall, and his head looked too big for his body. He was carrying an old-school blunderbuss, and a mace hung on his back. I inspected him, dread rising in my throat.

  Mike#ReallyReallyFuckingBigAssNumber

  Level 22, Gnome

  It . . . was Mike and . . . he was wearing a smug grin. I began frantically composing a message to Mie and Clara, but then I noticed something out of the corner of my eye.

  Mie . . . was here.

  Her health had dropped slightly less than mine, but the same blue explosion stunned debuff hovered over her health bar. Metal and wood shrapnel had pierced her armor and dug into her body all over. One of her legs was also blown to bits.

  Clara: What’s going on?! Why is your health so low??

  Sam: Teleportation traps in the common room! Be careful!

  Before I sent the message though, Clara was transported in next to me with a pop, right into the middle of a white ring. Mike threw a net over her which rooted her for thirty seconds. No . . . My blood went to ice. Clara started pelting him with arrows, stacking poison debuffs, using every attack ability she could, but it was no use.

  He calmly strode over to her, equipped his mace, and proceeded to bash her over and over. She used a health potion, but it didn't matter. His last hit smashed her skull in, and crit. A yellow number rose into the air as blood and bits of hair and skull flew against the wall. She went to all fours, Knocked. But then her head reformed, the Hearth system retaining her ability to communicate and process thought in her Knocked state.

  He patted her on the head . . .

  Clara: Oh boy! Who is this guy?! Holy Moley that hurt.

  I glanced at my health and stun timer. I tried to throw some items into my soul inventory but wasn’t able to interact with any stored items while stunned, and I wouldn’t have been able to save those items anyways because I was in combat.

  Mike turned away from Clara . . . toward Mie.

  As he walked over to her, I noticed a bleed debuff, which had brought her health down to the single digits.

  “Sam. I don’t like this,” Mie said.

  Mike took a cloth out and wiped some blood off the mace. Then he sighed, sounding bored and caved her head with a single hit. She Knocked too. He patted her on the head as well, once it reformed . . . Okay I’m pissed.

  He started walking over to me.

  “Fuck off!” I yelled. Something seeped into my voice. Something hot.

  This man had taken my life from me.

  My girls were on their own, because of him.

  Lily could be dead, because of him.

  My already fractured family was more scattered . . . because of him.

  And now this?

  “WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?!” I shouted. I was trying to buy time. I was also slightly curious to know what this guy’s problem really was. But mostly . . . I was just angry.

  He walked over to me and knelt down so his face was close to mine. My body, or what was left of it—still encased in the stunned-transparent-blue effect—had slipped down the stable wall, my head resting on dirty hay and cold stone. He stroked my cheek, chuckled, and said, “My problem? I don’t have a problem. I’m just playing to win. So far everyone else just sort of sucks at this game. Even you. I caught sight of you last night at the inn. It was too easy bribing a couple NPCs to make sure to watch where you and the rest of your party logged out. Though your friend over there,” he nodded to Mie, “almost ruined everything by randomly logging back in. Anyways, I want to say thanks for the new gear.”

  “You bastard!” My voice shook. “I’m going to find you when I spawn back in and kill you!” Spit flew from my mouth as I tried to activate everything, but the stun was still in effect.

  He got back up and pulled out his blunderbuss, aiming its wide barrel at my forehead.

  My stun was almost up. I just needed a couple more seconds.

  “I really don’t think you will,” he said. Then he grinned. “Because . . . I’m just better.”

  His finger fell over the trigger, and this time, he intentionally fired his gun.

  Click.

  Everything went black, and the pain never registered.

  Our party . . . wiped.

  You died!

  You dropped all your character items!

  You lost all your current level experience!

  You received a four-hour time penalty!

  Both Mie and I reappeared back in the Soul Space. My hands were clenched into tight fists. Greg was there behind the island, holding a mug of coffee. I walked over to him, my shoulders stiff. He took a step back, his expression unsure, and I grabbed his mug and threw it as hard as I could against the wall. The mug shattered. Bits of clay ricocheted everywhere. Hot coffee burned my hand. I growled. Mie was on the ground where she’d spawned, eyes filled with worry.

  Slowly I looked toward the upper left of my vision, afraid of what I would see.

  Life Credits: 2

  My entire body tensed as darkness grasped me by the neck and smashed me down into a dark black barrier of glass within my mind. It cracked slightly, and memories rose out of the gap. Memories I wanted to forget.

  . . .

  The engine squealed to a stop at the front of the large apartment complex. It was my first fire as a probie, and my insides squirmed. The fire was a bad one. A really bad one. We were the first engine on scene too. Radio traffic crackled through our comms from Officer Pete as he did his three-sixty scan. “Engine four-one-five arriving at a large apartment complex, flames and smoke showing . . . from all sides, this one is fully involved. It’s the middle of the night, folks.” Apartment occupants lined the parking lot as I got to work.

  As a back-stepper and a first year, I would be on the nozzle. I hauled hose to the front of the building. The hydrant hit, and water started to flow. The rolling flames turned to steam as water from the massive hose surged forward. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a middle-aged woman pull up in a Honda Civic. She was in a panic.

  A moment later I heard two dreaded words come over the radio.

  “Entrapment confirmed.”

  Fuck.

  “Two-year-old in unit 2C.”

  The woman behind me started screaming. It pierced the night, louder than the roaring fire, the alarms, and the rushing water from the hose.

  I pushed my way into the building. Officer Pete hauled hose behind me. The other probie, Dan, worked the door and prevented kinks in the line.

  I looked to the black room in front of me. The stairs were straight ahead. They were on fire. There was a hall to the right, that led to the back of the building. It hadn’t caught yet. There was still . . . a lot of fire.

  “Okay, Sam. We have a kid up there. Let’s work this staircase and get him out of there,” Pete said from behind me.

  Crack!

  A beam snapped right behind me, clocked Pete over the head, and fell onto the water line. Pete flopped to the ground unconscious, and the temperature immediately rose substantially.

  “Oh shit!” I yelled. “Dan, drag him out!”

  He got him out as I . . . abandoned the buddy system. I went down the hall to the back of the building. It was way less lit on the backside. There were exterior emergency stairs just outside the back door.

  Dan unkinked the line and continued spraying the stairs. He called from behind me, “I almost have these clear!”

  The wide apartment building was four stories high, and this entire scenario was complex. “I’m going up the emergency stairs!” I called back to Dan. “It'll be faster!”

  “These stairs are already clear!” Dan called back.

  I didn’t listen. The emergency staircase would be safer and faster. I pulled down the metal ladder, that led to the second floor. I looked through the window into the second story. It was starting to catch. Heat radiated from the building, and if not for my gear, I would be getting burned. I knew instinctively that this fire had progressed significantly. We need to hurry.

  I pulled on the door. No . . .

  It was locked . . . and I didn’t have my Halligan bar to force entry.

  I worked on the small boy. He was . . . so little. Burns covered his body, and he had no pulse. I wasted two minutes trying to go up those stairs.

  His mother was on her knees, begging him to wake up.

  More compressions.

  Mouth to mouth.

  I checked his neck again. Still no pulse.

  Fuck.

  I did it all again.

  Nothing.

  This is my fault.

  Dan rushed over with a defibrillator.

  There was a jolt.

  I checked his neck.

  Still nothing.

  I looked at the mother. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she looked at her son. Massive silent sobs racked her entire being.

  I kept . . . trying.

  Still . . . nothing.

  I didn’t go inside when I got home. I shut my car door, turned on the spot, and took a walk, too devastated to face anyone. Leaves blew across the sidewalk in front of me. Occasionally I would crunch on one. I kept replaying the scene over and over in my mind all the way until I reached the front door of my home.

  I stood in front of the door for a long moment before grabbing the handle.

  I walked inside to pure chaos. Ada was jumping over the living room couch, the TV was blaring, there was a cloud of cooking smoke, my wife—Rachel—was yelling from the kitchen, the dog was puking on the floor.

  My almost two-year-old Lily saw me, screamed, “DADDY!” and rushed towards me.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  I knelt down and grabbed her as she slammed into me. She nestled her head into my neck, and she just kept hugging. I gripped her hard, trying desperately to rid myself of the day’s events. That mom will never hold her son again like this . . . because of me.

  I looked up as my wife Rachel came to greet me. Her green eyes . . . filled with concern when she saw my face.

  I couldn’t stop the tears.

  . . .

  I held onto the end of the memory, hard. I had completely forgotten that hug . . . Lily had always been a snuggle bug, and on that particular day, she hadn’t known what it meant to me to just hold me. She was just there for her dad. Happy to just . . . see me.

  And now, I would never hold her again . . . BECAUSE OF MIKE!

  God damn it!

  I gripped the back of the blue couch, my entire body shaking. Click—the TV turned on, and the song “The Final Countdown” by Europe started playing. SLAM! I went over and flicked off the TV again. Vaguely I realized the song must change day to day.

  I needed to find a way to communicate with my children. I needed to find a way to tell them I was okay. The pressure of looking back and worrying about my girls conflicted with the pressure of looking forward to find my wife. Where are you, Rach? Did you go through this hell? Are you . . . still alive? Did you get . . . Another memory started to rise out of the crack in the black barrier. A drop of black liquid poison threatened to slip into my veins. I pushed it downward, and it crystalized and sealed the crack.

  Click. “THE FINAL COUNTDOWN!” SLAM! I flicked the TV off again.

  I looked over at Mie, and for the first time ever, I was frustrated by what her presence meant. I had fewer life credits to work with than everyone else.

  “DAMN IT!” I yelled, trying to shake away the dark memories and my frustration.

  Greg stood awkwardly near the kitchen island, looking surprised. “Uhh, that was my favorite coffee mug.”

  “SHUT UP, GREG!” Mie replied in a panic. “DON’T EVER TALK AGAIN! This is bad. This is really REALLY bad! I lost all my gear! I lost everything!”

  I checked my inventory too, dreading what I would find.

  I stood for a long moment, staring at the empty slots. It was terrible, like my brand new truck had been totaled, and insurance had fallen through. I had stored some of our old gear in the new closet, but anything that was worth having I had kept on my character. My good axes, my spears, the Merchant’s Pendant . . . Blackthorn’s Ring. They were all gone.

  Click. “THE FINAL COUNTDOWN!” SLAM! I turned the TV off again.

  I didn’t know how long I spent pacing and fuming around the room, trying to think, trying to calm myself down, and trying to cast away my past. Mie just sat there, her eyes downcast, while Greg picked up the shattered mug pieces.

  When he was done, he bent down to grab a new mug from the island cabinet, and his nameplate, now at eye level, caught my attention.

  Greg

  Soul Space Guide

  Level 2

  “Greg! Why are you level two?!” I asked, grasping for everything—anything—that could possibly help us.

  “What? Oh, huh. That . . . hasn’t ever happened before. Probably means something bad . . .” He breathed out a deep sad sigh.

  I glanced through my logs, had a thought, and scrolled way up. I found the readout that said ‘Your {Soul Seed} has germinated’ and right below it . . . I discovered lines I had missed.

  Congratulations! Your Soul Guide has leveled up!

  You received the option to replace your Soul Space Guide with a new one. This will remove the current Guide, Greg, from your Soul Space. {Accept} or {Decline}?

  I shared the message in a DM with Mie. Mie and I looked at Greg, then each other. She nodded vigorously. We were on the same page. I sighed . . . “Sorry, Greg.” He had just started to grow a little on me too. It was a shame.

  Greg was looking back and forth between us. “Why are you sorry? Mie, why are you smiling—?”

  BAM!

  His head exploded, his body flopped over, and green blood started pooling on the floor.

  I took a large step backward from the sudden explosion and the . . . fresh corpse.

  “Uhh . . .” I said as I wiped some green blood off my face. “Oops?” Just what I’m in the mood for. More blood.

  “It’s fine. It was just Greg. Don’t feel bad,” Mie said.

  “I kind of feel bad.”

  “Mmmm don’t. That little old pervert deserved it,” Mie said as her little baby arms flailed around in her bouncer. “Sam. Please help. I’m swimming in Greg. I’m . . . touching Greg.”

  “Look who’s the pervert now,” Greg said from behind us. “You like touching inside of me, Mie? You like the way it feels?”

  Mie and I both froze, then both turned to find Greg standing behind us at the spawn point. Only . . . he didn’t look like Greg.

  “What the . . . fu—” I started to say but was cut off by Mie.

  “You would want me to touch you on the inside. Wouldn’t you, Greg? You would like how it feels.”

  “Can we all just . . . please stop with this phrasing . . . followed by saying each other’s names?” I asked, clenching my teeth. God I’m still angry. We have to get those items back.

  They both fell silent, glaring at each other . . . but after a moment, Greg started inspecting his new body. He was just wearing tighty-whities again . . . Uuugh.

  Click. “THE FINAL COUNTDOWN!” SLAM! I flicked the TV off again.

  Greg looked skinny, like a new college student who hadn’t put on their freshman fifteen. His arms and legs were still shorter than his torso, but his skin was clear of red splotches, and less flabby. I watched as he stopped and did a little . . . ballerina twirl . . . while he checked himself out. He caught us watching and froze.

  “Cute,” I said, my voice low.

  “Meh. One out of ten,” Mie said, frowning. I felt at our bond. Why is she grumpy too? She must have really wanted Greg gone. Or maybe we were feeding off each other’s moods.

  “Sam, change him back,” Mie said. “I don’t like it. I want fat, pathetic Greg back.”

  “Not sure that’s an option . . .” I trailed off, noticing that he didn’t have the collar on anymore.

  I looked at his old corpse—which had fallen behind the kitchen island, near the transporter . . . the shock collar had fallen off and into the growing pool of green blood. It seemed intact, so I grabbed it, and threw it in the closet. Better to hide the evidence. I glanced at the camera as I went. Are they always actively watching? I doubted it. Still, I tried to hide what I was doing as best as I could, and I double checked to make sure the TV didn’t show any incoming personnel.

  Why did Greg even level up? Are other guides higher level than ours? What does that even do?

  I looked at him, about to ask, when the TV flicked on again. Another man was curled up on the ground, holding his knees to his chest. “The Final Countdown” started back up over the speakers. The man was rocking back and forth, when it happened. SLAM!

  “IS THERE A WAY TO PERMANENTLY TURN THIS DAMN THING OFF?!” I shouted.

  Electrical jolts of anxiety stabbed into my neck and grasped my heart. Maybe death was the only way out. Maybe death would end it all. The weight of finding Mike hung over me, but I took a deep breath through my nose, pushing it away as best as I could. We had to get those items back. We could still figure this out.

  I took another massive breath, then exhaled.

  "I think . . . I might have gotten a passive ability?” Greg said unprompted.

  “Okay,” I said, tired. “What is it?”

  “I can now see other players, NPCs, and mobs on your local area map within fifty feet of you regardless of your line of sight. I think it's like some kind of radar or something.”

  Huh. Okay that is actually almost exactly what we needed . . . “Can you use it while we are logged out?” I asked.

  His eyes glazed over slightly as he looked at his own HUD and at—I assumed—a similar map of Hearth to my own. “Looks like it shows activity around where you would spawn in, which would be the inn in this case . . . so yeah, seems like it. Also . . . huh. I can toggle between everyone in the party. I can do that same thing on the TV, but that's just to see all your different perspectives. Oh, huh. I can mirror this to the TV.”

  The TV flicked back on, and this time showed a grayed-out arrow right in the center of The Dragon’s Goddess. It had ‘AnythingButSquished’ denoted over it. The screen flickered, and that arrow disappeared, then ‘IFartedInFrontOfHer’ showed up in a slightly different place in the inn, then again and Clara’s ID showed up in a slightly different place. That told me that the spawn location was variable. That was good. If Mike knew exactly where we would spawn in after losing a credit. . . that wouldn’t be good.

  “Okay, listen,” I said, now finally able to focus on what I wanted to. “If that piece of shit Mike is still near the stable, and there is a chance he might still be, we have to try and get our stuff back. We are royally screwed if we don’t.” I wanted to get back in there as fast as possible to prevent him from storing Blackthorn’s Ring in his Soul Space. If he is stamina based . . . maybe he equipped it.

  I went to the spare room and threw all the best old crap I had into my Character Inventory and my gear slots.

  Clara: My bad, guys. That was totally my fault. I shouldn’t have gone down the stairs after seeing your health plummet like that. I hit the trap before I saw your message . . .

  Mie: Not your fault . . . Greg’s fault.

  Clara: :zipper-mouth emoji: What’s the plan?

  Sam: Working on it.

  “Greg,” I said, wanting to give this new passive a spin. “Flip back to my map view.”

  He did, and part of me registered that he. . . hadn’t refused to help once since the Jessica . . . incident. He was almost . . . being helpful.

  In the fifty-foot radius, I saw a couple white dots and a yellow dot . . . but no red. Which indicated that Mike wasn’t still there. But maybe he is around the stables. Not the inn. I clung to that small hope as I looked at my own Hearth map and noticed an area that was under fog of war, and not black like the rest of the city we hadn’t explored. The area was a little north of the Rivermoor inn. That must have been where he teleported us to.

  We needed to log in and find him. We had to. There was nothing for it. We needed that gear back. Blackthorn’s Ring alone was worth the life credit risk, and in my opinion was our only current edge other than our level advantage.

  I took another deep, steadying breath and initiated my login sequence to verify I wouldn’t be able to log in yet.

  Error. You are under a time penalty.

  Four hours. By the time we log in . . . Mike could be anywhere.

  I sighed and went to grab a towel for a shower, watching the death penalty clock tick down, every second a painful blow to my gut.

  Greg’s green blood was starting to thicken on my face and . . . it was gross. I was in a bad mood, and I needed to shake it. I stepped into the shower to wash off. Once that was done, I let the heat and steam from the water seep into my shoulders, letting my mind move from one thread to the next.

  I could feel Mie’s attitude. It shifted from dark anger to warmth. Like she was in the middle of teasing Greg. As much as she loved to make fun of him and in general be a silly goof-ball full of sarcasm, I could tell she was a good person.

  My mind drifted to the new action that had appeared on her item representation. Unbind . . . why would the item list that as an option? Why would I want to eject her from the Soul Space?

  My thoughts continued to drift, but time and time again, they came back to one question: Who the hell’s idea was this whole thing? Whose idea was it to put everyone through life on Earth and then put them through some messed up and honestly extremely shitty reality with a million others and then ask them to kill each other?

  My thoughts floated, not for the first time, back to what Tittles had said. ‘Your space has been leased to you by my employer, and upon your death, should you die, it will be reclaimed.’ I let the rage take over again. My skin was hot from the water. My insides were hot from my boiling blood. Reclaimed? Someone was pulling the strings on the other side of this, and I was tired. But there was nothing I could do but keep moving. Just . . . keep surviving.

  I breathed out a long exhale once more, letting it catch the water running off my lips. It sprayed against the wall in front of me. Finally, my mind cleared, and I prepared myself mentally for the hunt. I got out of the shower, and started to make a plan with the others.

  As I popped back into the inn, I spammed Vaulting Strike before gravity could push my character body downward. I made a loud thud when I landed a few feet away from my spawn location, which made the two NPCs who were now passed out at the bar flinch. They didn’t wake up.

  I learned from Greg after my shower that you didn’t always spawn into the Inn in the same location after death, but if you logged out directly, you would log back in at the same spot you logged out. Moving forward, I was going to make sure to check that no other players, or NPCs, were around us before logging out.

  I kept an eye out for traps as I slid out the door and put my back to the inn. I messaged Clara and Mie that it was safe, and as I waited for them I went over my gear again, worried I wouldn’t be able to take this guy on without the ring. I was wearing a couple plate pieces, which were slowing me down, and I was missing items in half my slots. Ohh . . . oops.

  I realized . . . too late . . . that I didn’t have an item for my legs . . . nor did I have anything in my undergear slot.

  The doors swung open, and Clara walked outside, only to see my manhood in all of its part-elf part-dwarf glory. More elf than dwarf to be clear, but honestly, the combination was pretty fantastic. Well above average I’d say.

  She slapped her hand to her eyes, going red, and I panicked.

  “I uhh—” I started to say but was cut off.

  Mie had just come strolling out of the inn, also butt-naked. Well not completely. She was wearing gloves and boots.

  I slapped my hand over my eyes. “Woah there!”

  “Ah! What the hell, Sam!? Why can I see your penis?!” Mie said, also covering her eyes.

  “Speak for yourself!” I said.

  “What? I don’t have a penis.”

  I took a peek over to Clara, who was fully clothed. She also had her hand over her eyes. “For heaven’s sake!” she said. “You had four hours. Four hours to realize your undergear dropped.”

  I checked my Soul Inventory . . . I had only bought one pair of boxers, which were now on my Soul Body. I tried to pull them over . . . but got another error about it not being compatible with Hearth. Mie, being a baby . . . didn’t even need underwear in the Soul Space. I felt really dumb. We should have bought some extra undergear in Hearth and stored it in our Soul Inventory . . .

  I turned toward Clara without making eye contact. “Mind uh, helping us out?”

  “Really?” she said.

  “Yes . . . really. We don’t have time to go shopping.”

  “Okay, if you say so.”

  She opened a trade window with me with her hand firmly over her eyes. Though she must have peeked to get the trade window open, I thought, blushing. She dumped in a plain white T and some lady panties and confirmed the trade.

  I hesitated but confirmed the trade and threw them both on, muttering a quick thanks. God damn it, I thought. This was almost worse. She did the same thing for Mie, and I ignored their giggles as they looked me up and down. I turned on my heel, picking at a pantie wedgie, and started sprinting down the short road, feeling extremely uncomfortable.

  Ignoring the others’ laughter as they jogged behind me, I made it to the stables which still had a good amount of smoke pouring out. I gagged as I smelled the burning horse manure.

  Sam: Greg, what do you see?

  Greg: Nothing. Just you and Mie . . . in panties.

  Mie: EW! Gross Greg. Stop looking at our butts!

  Sam: No . . . I meant on your map.

  Greg: Oh right. One sec.

  Greg: Just white dots.

  I thought so, but I still felt my stomach flutter with anxiety.

  “Okay. Stick to the plan.”

  Clara and Mie both nodded at me, turned around, and headed in opposite directions. I started running as well, in a different direction.

  The plan was simple and had three phases. Step one: Check the city, using Greg’s new upgrade. As we ran around, Greg would—hopefully—flick through each of his map views and call out if there were any red dots within fifty feet of any of us. Since Mike had dealt damage to us, the system denoted him as an enemy, and thus his dot would be red.

  If that didn’t work, step two was to head to the nearest quest locations. I had DM’d Loc, and he’d described a few of the harder quests in the area. He even offered his help tracking Mike down, which was a tempting offer, but I didn’t want to get them tied up in our problems. Still, I couldn’t help but think, Nice guy. Too bad we might have to kill each other . . . in the end. I didn’t like that thought.

  If we still couldn’t find Mike . . . well, I didn’t want to think about that either.

  Step three was simple. Whoever found him would message the others and wait for backup before engaging. Then, we would kill him.

  We spent two hours combing the town, over and over. Greg was getting frustrated and tired. We all were. We moved to the quest locations. There were three to the west of the town, one south, and two to the north.

  Mie took the north, Clara the south, and I went west out of the city. Mie and Clara both reported back nothing with Greg’s help. I really didn’t like us all split up like this.

  I checked two of the quest locations to find the mobs dead, and looted. Anxiety rippled through my neck as I came up on the third, which was the ‘Save Tommy’ quest location. I crept closer, keeping quiet.

  Sam: Greg?

  Greg: UGH, it’s over. Just get on with it and find new gear!

  Sam: Check the damn map.

  I waited a painful five seconds.

  Greg: I don’t believe this . . . but, there is a red dot . . . dead ahead of you.

  Mie: Headed that way.

  Clara: Same.

  I took a steadying breath, keeping absolutely as quiet as I could. I came up on a tree and peered from behind the trunk. The area ahead of me was forested but sparse. Sunlight shone through the canopy overhead onto a small hut. There were two short figures: one was Mike, the other was tied up over an unlit firepit that had a pile of firewood and kindling underneath. That was probably Tommy.

  Mike was working on the bonds holding Tommy when a massive level twenty bear stumbled out of the hut and roared in his direction. Mike thew out his net, rooting it. I watched my map. Clara was close, but Mie was still a good five minutes out.

  Mike easily wore the bear down with shots from his blunderbuss. One blast took a fourth of its health down, but it took him a solid twenty seconds to load the thing between shots, and he had to kite around to avoid the bear’s charges when the root effect wore off.

  Clara came panting up behind me, staying low.

  I desperately wanted to dive in and grab the bear kill, but . . . I had a single spear . . . some other crappy gear . . . and panties. We needed to be careful here and wait for Mie.

  The bear went down, and Mike looted the corpse just as Mie, breathing heavily, crept up behind us.

  Mike froze, looking up from the corpse, and I could have sworn he glanced in our direction. But that didn’t make any sense. We were completely hidden here and a good fifty paces away. Unless . . . he has a higher-level guide. Oh . . . no.

  “MOVE NOW!” I shouted.

  A white ring flew in our direction. I dove to the left, Clara dove right, and Mie stood completely still, confused.

  The white ring landed next to the tree right next to Mie, and Mike threw a blue trap at his feet. He instantly appeared next to her over the white ring, and an ethereal dagger-like blade came out of one of his hands. Mie’s health, with hardly any gear, zeroed out instantly as the small object pierced into her. Her health jumped back up to fifty percent, but she was Knocked . . . and on all fours.

  Mike threw out another white ring into the forest, and I thought I saw him attach some kind of gray brick-looking thing to it.

  I activated Vaulting Strike and darted down toward him. My spear dug weakly into his shoulder, but he did cry out. He threw down another blue trap, and I realized my mistake too late.

  I teleported to the white ring he had thrown into the forest. I appeared lying partly. . . inside of a fallen tree.

  BAM!

  Pain erupted, and the world exploded, but I recognized the tree had blocked a lot of the potential damage. I sort of squeezed upward out of it, like oil and water not wanting to mix. It was just a moment of realization before everything went flying. Dirt flew, trees fell, roots ripped. My arm was gone. One of my legs was gone. I slammed into a boulder, and came to rest on my back. I didn’t Knock . . . but the same two-minute stun appeared over me.

  Once again . . . I was powerless to do anything. Hot liquid pumped through me, but frozen in blue, my rage had no outlet.

  I looked out of the corner of my eye through the smoke and debris and saw a net fly out of Mike’s hands and snare Clara. She put arrows into him as fast as she could once again. But rooted, she couldn’t blink or dive. He brought his blunderbuss up to his shoulder, and fired.

  BOOM!

  At such close range, it dealt massive damage from both his level advantage and far superior gear. Clara’s arm . . . split off from her shoulder, and her health dropped a third. He popped the blunderbuss away, ignoring the arrows and pulled out a different blunderbuss, using the same inventory mechanic . . . I used for my spears.

  BOOM!

  The shot crit, and Clara Knocked.

  My stun was still up. My health was under ten percent.

  No . . . I thought, looking at my life credits. If we wiped here . . .

  We would have zero credits left. We would still be alive . . . but we wouldn’t be able to afford any more mistakes.

  Mike walked calmly over to me, pulling out his mace as he hopped over a tree like he was doing a little jig.

  I led us to this. You idiot, Sam. There was nothing I could do. I pushed against the blue that encased me, but I couldn’t move. I activated every ability I had . . . but they didn’t take.

  Mike put a knee in the dirt next to my head, and once again . . . stroked my cheek. He sighed. “It’s been fun, little buddy.”

  I had no words. My vision was red, and I couldn’t hear anything. The world was silent, and I was so angry. But I couldn’t do anything stunned like this. God Damn it!

  Sam: Guys . . . I’m so sorry.

  Sam: I—

  I cut off my in-progress message . . . something caught my attention past Mike’s head as he continued to taunt me. Above him, on top of the boulder, there was a dwarf grinning down at me. His beard and hair were flaming orange and he wore a green robe and carried a white staff.

  I . . . recognized him. It was the dwarf who’d helped in our first event. Fred, I thought was his name.

  “Nothing to say?” Mike asked again. “Hey. . . why are you wearing panties?”

  I kept my mouth shut, praying it would delay his killing blow. Mike, I was coming to understand, loved to get off on power. And this moment right here, with me powerless on the ground. . . was orgasmic for him—all the more if I reacted the way he wanted me to. Not for much long—

  “HELLO THERE, GNOME!” the dwarf yelled. Then he hiccupped, followed by a burp.

  Mike looked up, then bolted in one movement.

  The next part happened in what felt like slow motion. My stun fell away, so I slammed on a health potion. Then I turned to see Fred raise his staff as Mike fled over the debris. I heard what sounded like dice rolling around in a plastic cup. Then a green spell flew out of Fred’s staff and hit one of the trees that had broken and been caught up high in the other branches. It broke free and fell on the end of another, which happened to be propped like a teeter-totter on a small boulder. The other end . . . just so happened to be between Mike’s legs as he scurried away.

  It whipped up and slammed into his goods.

  It . . . killed him instantly.

  His body went flipping up into the air.

  It was silent for a long moment as we watched his little body reach its apex, then start falling back down.

  I cringed when I saw what was about to happen next.

  The sound that came was . . . wet.

  SPLAT!

  If he hadn’t been dead yet . . . that would have done it.

  I looked back at Fred, the dwarf . . . He was standing like a superhero, his hands on his hips.

  What . . . just happened? was all I could think.

  Fred burped again.