1.

The light at the end of the tunnel was more of a dirty haze than the pure white that people said you saw when you died. Though I don’t think I died, and if I had, I wanted a word with whomever had set up this tunnel. So far it had been a long and smelly trek, each step splashed icy water that soaked through my shoes. Every breath was a frigid fire that filled my lungs, every exhalation an explosion of mist. It was hard to keep track of time in an endless tunnel with only the faint light to offer any hope of escape. I was sure it had been nearly an hour of walking through the cold, slick, stone tunnel. Every step further through the dank tunnel strengthened the heady scent of the sea.

Finally as I approached the light, my eyes watered as the weak light of the overcast sky was enough to cause pain. Blinking the tears free of my eyes I looked around and took in how deeply in trouble I was. Not far away, a gray green sea crashed against an onyx beach made of stone. Thunderous charcoal black clouds rumbled above, threatening imminent violence. Icebergs loomed in the far distance, punching above the currently placid sea. Then there was the cold; the burning cold that ripped through my thin sweater, that bit into my exposed legs. Snot ran freely down my nose as I looked away from the sea.

People had begun to emerge from the cave system, a series of small, man sized tunnels that wove through the area, just like mine. The thick stone we stood on was honeycombed with caves, diminutive walls rising only ten feet above our heads.I tried counting people but they milled around, staring at the sea or the dune of black sandy stone to our right blocking out the horizon. We were in a depression of hard stone, the beach, and what I hoped was land, were beyond the dune. The waterline above my head promised a bad time when the tide came in if I hadn’t found a way out. Most of the people were looking blankly in front of them and I had to suppress a sigh as I willed the message back, the only companion I’d had in the tunnels appearing instantly.

Tutorial: Faction Wars

Objective: Survive and Conquer

Reward: Peak Quality Skill

That message had been my only hint that I wasn’t dead. Though it hadn’t ruled out going crazy. Seeing a bunch of people just as lost and confused as I was, reassured me. At least I wasn’t the only one, and misery does love company. I scanned through the people and started to dissect them. Years of analyzing the thronging masses at work had let me become a decent judge of character. If I was going to be stuck in this place with an ominous quest, I wanted talent. There were a few people that I noticed who weren’t as distracted.

A woman who looked to be my own age was wading by the edge of the water, crouched down as she looked intently at the rocks. Pale skin with light brown hair pulled into a messy ponytail, she was wearing a light gray sweater and baggy black sweats. She ignored all the people who shambled around her as she grabbed rocks and brought them within inches of her face. Well, she’s a bit weird, but she hadn’t freaked out or was wandering aimlessly. She showed signs of analysis and clear thinking in a stressful situation. She could be useful.

Then there was a middle aged guy. He was fit but beginning to thicken in the middle a little bit; black hair with just the edges of gray creeping in, a trim goatee that was much more salt than pepper. Already a half dozen guys crowded around him, all roughly the same age and wearing similar clothes, black polos and dress pants and dress shoes. He was standing in the middle of the rock depression and looked around, just taking everything in. He was noticeably not lost in thought or staring at the floating letters that announced the faction war. Along his forearms were tattoos but I was too far away to tell what they were. They had all obviously come from the same place if they knew each other and were dressed alike. Something I would need to think about later.

There was an older lady who was powering her way up the slope of the dune. I could only see her in profile as she marched up the hill, her white hair loose and blowing in the wind. I could just see a quarter of her face, but it was already flushed from the exertion even if she hadn’t gotten close to making it up the hill. Something was pushing her if she was willing to abandon the relative safety of the group so early. That type of desperation and energy could be weaponized if I could figure out the trigger.

There was a younger boy of maybe fifteen, black hair cut raggedly as he searched around the people. Missing someone then, I decided, as fear kept filling his face as he failed to find whomever he was searching for. He would be a good starting point, everyone else was too occupied or already consolidating people. If I wanted a chance of surviving I’d need some allies and I wasn’t going to be a lackey for someone else. I started off toward the kid when out of the corner of my eye I saw someone else interesting.

My age roughly, a little heavy set but solid muscle definition, a few inches shorter than me, probably just above six feet. Scraggly blonde hair, patchy beard and mustache, pale skin already red from the cold and wind. Dressed in rough work clothes, heavy boots, paint and mud spattered blue jeans, a blue sweater with a heavy brown coat over the top. The best dressed for the climate of everyone around undoubtedly. What stopped me was that he was already arming himself. He walked amongst the driftwood and grabbed heavy pieces and practiced swings with them before setting one aside and grabbing another. The intensity in his gaze was intimidating, a man completely focused on the singular task of finding the best stick. I was going to keep an eye on him, but from a distance. There was something unsettling about that type of intensity of focus.

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Chatter had started up amongst the crowds by the time I got to the lost kid. Up close I could make out his wispy black mustache and the tears forming on the corner of his eyes as he wrapped his arms around himself in a futile attempt at staying warm. Poor kid was wearing a tank top and basketball shorts with crocs.

“Name’s Billy,” I told him as I offered him my hand. I was going with older brother vibes, strong but relatable, close enough in age he could talk to me but old enough for some deference.

“Miguel.” It was almost automatic for him, shaking my hand. His fingers were stiff and cold, his grip weak against mine.I felt a flicker of worry. I hoped there would be shelter close by or otherwise I doubted any of us would last long in the cold.

“Alright, so this is weird as fuck right?” I gave my best at relating to the youth of today.

“Yeah. I was out shopping with my mom and sister and then I was in that cave. I can’t find them.” Miguel’s voice was little more than a whisper between his chattering teeth. I made a quick decision and shucked off my sweater and handed it to the shaking boy. I was a foot taller than him and probably outweighed him by over a hundred and fifty pounds, but a loose fitting sweater was better than nothing. Holy shit that wind was cold, the thought speared through me as Miguel took the sweater and pulled it on without a word.

“I was on my way to the gym. Where are you from?”

“I’m American!” Miguel shouted, putting his hands on his hips. Maybe I touched a sore spot there.

“I got that. I live outside of Sacramento. Where were you when you were taken?” I was more gentle than I wanted to be. Children were fragile and needed to be guided gently at times.

“Oh.” At least he had the decency to look a little abashed.

“Woodland, we were just going to the store and then, shit I already said that.” Miguel whispered as he hugged himself tighter.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. So both of us are from the same region of California. Need to ask a few more people to see if we’re all from the same area. First though, let's get out of here and up and over the hill, we need to find some type of shelter before we freeze to death out here.” I turned and started walking away, my heart beating slightly faster than normal. Here was the first test, if he followed me I had a chance of success. If not I was going to be stuck following orders without any hope of being in charge of myself. I had to fight the smile as Miguel kept himself glued to my side. One had to start small before growing to large.

Glancing at the girl by the waterline I saw she was exuding serious ‘fuck off’ vibes. She didn’t look like someone who would be as welcoming of the cold open I had used on Miguel. I’d have to wait for her to make an approach. As for the older man and the blonde guy I was going to give them both a wide berth until I had some more information about what was going on. The older guy because I didn’t want to end up following him around and doing as he told me. The blonde because he looked slightly unhinged.

Picking the older lady as the next target, I started after her. She was nearing the crest of the hill, so I stretched my stride out and started up the hill after her. The solid rock transitioned to a loose gravel that slid out from under my feet with every step and was a struggle to go up. Miguel seemed to have an easier time of it. He’s younger and lighter after all, so I decided to ignore the part of my brain that pointed out the years I had neglected my cardio. Soon my breath was coming fast and sweat was somehow breaking out along my forehead. Between my sweat and the ocean mist, my thin tank top was damp and clinging to my now clammy skin. The exercise was keeping me warm but the worry of not finding shelter was really starting to take hold.

It took only a few minutes to reach the top even with the gravel shifting with every step. Miguel had kept pace with me the entire time, in fact he wasn’t breathing half as hard as I was.

“Do you play any sports?” I didn’t like how out of breath I sounded as I asked.

“Soccer,” Miguel replied, markedly not out of breath.

My ego calmed down. I wasn’t being outperformed by some teenager off the couch. He was at least an athlete, and in a sport that prioritized endurance and speed too. I looked up from my feet and was shocked to see the old lady just standing there at the precipice of the hill.

Now that I stood next to her I could tell she was of average height, maybe five and a half feet tall. Her wrinkled hands were bedecked with rings, her white hair thick and blew in the breeze. She stood frozen as she stared at the vista in front of us. I turned away from her and looked at what she had been staring at. A castle dominated the view in front of us, oily black stone that rose up against the backdrop of the storm clouds. The walls of the fortress were lined with giant crossbows facing the sea. As I looked down from the giant castle, I saw what had kept the older woman arrested. The remnants of a battle.

Corpses lay in twisted piles, blood soaking the black sands, ruined stone in haphazard piles. None of the bodies were human. Fish people were the best I could think of them. Scales and teeth, fins and gills, webbed feet. My mind short circuited for a second, not willing to comprehend what was in front of me. Fish people, fish people with crude driftwood weapons lying next to their dead bodies on a beach of black stone. Definitely not on Earth. I had been willing to bet that we weren’t on Earth but this was the confirmation I had been dreading and hoping for at the same time. A new world offered new chances to rise up, to become more than what I could have ever been. If I could thread the needle.

Taking a deep breath I pushed down the rising tide of excitement and stepped forward onto the battlefield. If my suspicions were correct, then this would be the chance to start pulling ahead of the others. Miguel followed me, step for step, and from the corner of my eye I saw the old woman follow behind. We hadn’t said a word to each other yet. She had just needed the slight push to overcome the hesitancy that had kept her on the edge of the field.

“I’m Bill and that’s Miguel,” I turned my head toward the old woman to talk to her.

“I’m Agatha.” She had the voice of a smoker, raspy and deep, her words clipped and curt. An old ass name from a different generation. Before I could respond, one of the bodies jerked upright only feet away. Its maw was open, full of shark teeth, as its webbed hands pawed the air in front of us.