Joe grinned as a new realization hit him. Sure, he didn’t have his AI Butler anymore, but he had something better.
Along with his handy skill, Quick Wit, he had Brian’s thoughtful guidance, TJ’s brute-force competence and survival instincts, Dawn’s fierce determination, and Rose’s sharp insight. With their combined experience, he didn’t need to second-guess himself. He could rely on them to help him make the right choices.
While Dawn and TJ gave solid advice that boiled down to “know thy enemy,” they chatted with Caspar about balancing their own decks using Joe’s catalog items.
Joe opened the party chat in his vision. His stomach jumped at the ever-present Battlebox challenge countdown that showed less than an hour remained.
Beside it was a tiny envelope icon with the number one inside it. Joe opened it with a mental swipe.
Challenge Alert: From Ascender 63 Less than one hour until we meet. I like to think of my existence here as being the main character in a light novel: I Was a Goddess, Before I Got Truck’und. Now I’m Stuck Babysitting Mortals in a Franken-Tower—try not to embarrass yourself. Tick-tock, mortal.
Wasn’t she a higher number than that, like well over 90?
It made Joe wonder if she’d spent time currency buying new MadOrbz.
There was no use worrying over that now. Joe grinned, sending back a snappy reply:
Babysitting? Please. And I think that this is a more accurate title for how things will play out: Oh Great, I Got Reincarnated as a Rogue and Now I Have to School a Former Goddess in a Tower made of Monster Parts.
He turned his attention to the party chat to check in on Rose and Brian.
Joe: Hey guys, how’s it going over there?
Rose: I’ve got a nice upgrade to my staff. I can’t wait to try it out. Brian’s still working on those potions. It took him some time to get used to the alchemy station and find everything he needed.
Joe: That’s excellent news! I’ve got some notes on the titans we’re facing on this floor.
Brian: Titans. Plural? I don’t like the sound of that. How many?
Joe: Only two. 😁
Rose: I don’t know why, but that smiley face is really reassuring.
Brian: Please tell me you have better news to share.
Joe: Thanks to my catalog, we’ve got access to some powerful orbs at a much lower cost.
Brian: Are they secondhand?
Joe: Yep, but they’re like new. I’ll explain when I see you.
Rose: Poor Brian got distracted and his potion bubbled over. He told me to tell you he’ll chat later. Fill me in, and I’ll pass it on.
Joe: I’ve got some choices to make for my deck. If I can outmaneuver Gaia using the Insult Cycle of Weakness, I’ll have the upper hand. But I have no idea what her deck looks like.
Rose: I do. I’ve been sitting here pretty bored—Brian doesn’t talk much when he’s potioning, and his vape is practically glued to his mouth. So, I figured it was a good idea to review some tutorial battles. Gaia annihilated everyone she went up against. I had time to watch replays and caught the names of some of her orbs. They’re a mouthful, but there’s no bluff behind her charge. Her starter orbs are as strong as their names suggest.
Joe: That’s brilliant! What can you tell me about the ones you saw?
Rose: I’ve been taking notes. I’ll upload them to the party chat.
Joe: Thanks! That’ll really help me make a decision on what orbs to choose next. Talk to you later.
Rose: Just returning the favor. Byeee!
Joe wondered what she meant but knew he’d find out soon enough.
Using Quick Wit, he went through Rose’s extensive notes and found them incredibly detailed—way more than anything he would have taken. With Poppy’s help, he copied the notes and placed them into his catalog for future comparison.
From what he could see, Gaia’s orbs were inspired by mythological creatures. In his world, they were the stuff of legend—made him wish he’d paid more attention during classical studies.
Gaia’s three tutorial orbs were called Aodh's Wrath, Gnomus Terrum, and Phoenix Flame —the first being an attack orb, the second a defense orb, and the third, well, it just hovered there. She’d likely have gotten at least two more orbs from Caspar to complete her battle deck.
Shifting his gaze to the pre-used section, Joe eyed two new orbs that grabbed his attention. Undertow had caught Joe’s eye, and he couldn’t help but wonder if his experience might give it an edge. The moment he held it, Quagmire shifted into Grumble Guts, and Undertow morphed into Riptide Randy. The names made Joe chuckle—these orbs weren’t just powerful, they had character.
Weighing them in each hand, he scanned their stats:
[Name: Riptide Randy.
Elemental Affinity: Water.
Tier: Prime Orb.
Core-MP: 10
Auto-MP: 15
HP: 100/100
Damage: 0
Time: 30”
Cool Down: Round.
Ability: Function-Combo. Riptide Randy doesn’t play nice—he’s the kind of orb that yanks your opponent’s favorite orb by the collar, drags it kicking and screaming back to their decagon, and then swaps it out for something weaker and less useful. Think of him as the ultimate party crasher, tossing out the VIPs and letting the nobodies take the stage.
Weakness: Insult by Wind.]
Joe tilted his head to the side at the sight of a new MadOrbz stat. “What does Auto-MP mean?”
Caspar adjusted his bow tie. “Auto-guided Mana Particles activates a pre-programmed sequence such as automatic targeting and maneuvering.”
“So, it is like guided missiles chasing down Superman.” Joe’s brows raised as he glanced at the next set of stats.
[Name: Grumble Guts.
Elemental Affinity: Earth.
Tier: Prime Orb.
Core-MP: 10
HP: 100/100
Damage: 0
Time: 10”
Cool Down: 30”.
Ability: Function-Combo. Grumble Guts is the grumpy rebel of the MadOrbz world, letting you mix two affinities in your deck instead of one. He’s not here to play nice—he’s here to mess things up, and he’s got the guts to do it.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Weakness: Insult by Fire.]
Caspar gave Joe a wink. “These MadOrbz are already fond of you. I’m hopeful your new traits will be stronger than their previous owners.”
Joe nodded. He believed his memories would hold their own value. If only his dad were here to laugh with him, he was certain he’d agree about the MadBalls collection he had in his decagon.
[10 years deducted for purchasing two MadOrbz.]
His ascender number dropped, but this time Joe knew his purchase from Caspar was a steal. Using the party chat, he messaged Rose the information for the new orbs so she could see his final choices.
Joe turned and held the orbs out, their new traits in full display.
Upon seeing them, TJ and Dawn started discussing the merits of Joe’s new orbs as if he wasn’t even there.
Dawn eyed the orbs with a critical, almost calculating gaze. “Joe, with Grumble Guts and Riptide Randy, your strategy should be all about throwing Gaia off her game. Grumble Guts will drag her earth affinity through the mud—literally—and Riptide Randy can drown out her fire affinity. Keep her scrambling, and she won’t have time to hit back hard.”
TJ snorted, leaning in with a grin. “That’s assuming Joe doesn’t fumble it like a kobold in a trap room. He’s got to nail the timing—Grumble Guts needs to gut her defenses before Randy hits her where it hurts. But if he doesn’t follow up with something solid, he’s just tossing pebbles at a dragon.”
Dawn shot him a sharp look. “Come on, TJ, it’s not all about brute force. Joe’s got to be smart with these—disruption is key. Grumble Guts can slow her down, and Riptide Randy will wash away any momentum she’s building. It’s about finesse, not just hammering away.”
TJ raised an eyebrow, still smirking. “Finesse, huh? Sure, if Joe can pull it off. But if Randy sputters out or Grumble Guts doesn’t land right, he’s in for a world of hurt. These orbs have potential, but Joe’s got to play them like a maestro, not like he’s pawing at a squeaky toy.”
Joe, standing between them, couldn’t help but chuckle at their back-and-forth. They might be bickering like an old married couple, but they both had points. He appreciated their input, knowing that their battle experience made his choices all the more solid.
If I don’t play this perfectly, these orbs could backfire. But if I do… this could be my edge.
Rose chimed in through the party chat.
Rose: Joe, those new orbs will allow you to play to your strengths—disruption, quick thinking, and exploiting weaknesses—while keeping Gaia off-balance. I believe in you.
Feeling more confident, Joe gripped his new orbs, a sly grin forming on his face. “Alright, Gaia,” he said to himself, “let’s see you try to keep up with this.”
***
Back in the Orange Zone common room, Brian waved off Joe’s concern about his singed eyebrows and goatee, like it was no big deal. Seriously, the guy almost turned into a human torch, and all he did was shrug it off.
“It’s all part of the calibration process.” Brian brushed the few hairs of what remained of his eyebrows. “The dial turning up the heat was more sensitive than I expected. My hair had barely caught fire when Rose jumped in to save the day.” He gestured toward Rose, who placed a hand on her chest, looking like she was replaying the whole thing in her head.
“I just acted on instinct,” Rose said, a tight smile on her face. “Almost drowned him in the process, but hey, the heat in that room dried him out quick enough. Honestly, though, I don’t think the dial was just sensitive—it felt like those reanimated parts that formed the alchemy station had a personal vendetta against Brian.”
“Nonsense,” Brian said, but the way his voice wobbled made Joe think he wasn’t totally convinced.
TJ raised a hand. “Big monsters in my home world were picky eaters. Dragons loved kobolds—the fresher, the better. But goblins or ratfolk? Nah. They’d stomp them into paste and the Dragons who could talk used to say ratfolk could taste like pâté for all they cared. But they didn’t eat anything that didn’t have a shred of regard for its own filth.”
A little ratfolk, who had been minding his own business, suddenly perked up. “Everyone knows dragons are species-ist and ignorant. Us ratfolk are very sanitary! On our homeworld, we invented a flushing waste receptacle, but some rich high elf stole our idea and made squillions in gold chips.”
Joe couldn’t help but shake his head, thinking, This whole thing sounds like a fantasy version of Tesla and Edison. Same story, different world.
Brian swiped his irritation away like he was shooing a fly, clearly not loving the spotlight. “Enough worrying about me, I can handle myself against any grudge-bearing monster parts.” He casually slid a set of potions across the table toward Joe.
Brian held an intense gaze toward Joe. “When you win your battlebox challenge and put that goddess in her place, we’re going to be in for some serious enlightenment. These,” he said, tapping the potions, “will give us the edge when we grind monsters on this floor, but keep that under your hat for now.”
“But he’s not wearing a hat. Don’t you mean hoodie?” Rose teased with a playful smile.
Brian laughed, while Dawn eyed the potion with a hunter’s intensity. She didn’t say a word, which only tightened the knot of worry in Joe’s gut. As the others started chatting about titans, hollows, and their shiny new orbs, Joe couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off with Dawn. While Brian and Rose flipped through his catalog for bargains, Joe casually offered some seaweed to Dawn. When she politely turned it down, Joe knew something was definitely up.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Joe asked, trying to keep things light.
“Don’t you mean seconds, given where we are?” Dawn shot back, drumming her fingers on the table like she was counting down to something.
“Doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.” Joe shrugged, playing along.
But Dawn wouldn’t meet his eyes. “You’ve got thirty minutes left, and you’re sitting here like everything’s peachy. Why aren’t you practicing in the battlebox simulator? You can’t afford to sit on your ass, or she’ll turn it to grass.”
Joe tapped his temple, trying to look cool and collected. “Been using my Quick Wit to multitask, running through plays in my head—kind of like creative visualization. Back home, competitive sports folks swore by it. Besides,” he gestured to the screens on the walls, the red blinking lights making it clear the rooms were all in use, “there’s none available right now. Bet there’s plenty in the Green Zone. We should have two training sessions available to us here, but if demand’s high, we’re out of luck.”
“Fuck the system,” Dawn said with a low voice. “Bet the folks in the Red Zone have it even worse than we do. Listen, I’ve been thinking…” She crossed her arms over her chest like she was bracing for Joe’s protest. “I want you to hear me out before you say a word. Gaia’s going to bet big—she doesn’t care about time currency. If she wins, she’ll clean you out, and you could end up in the Red Zone. If that happens, I’m giving you enough time currency to keep you in the orange.”
Joe’s worry unraveled into a jumbled mess of disappointment and sadness. Thanks for the vote of confidence, he thought, but didn’t voice it—he didn’t want to seem ungrateful.
“That’s really generous, Dawn, but—”
“No buts. Just promise me you won’t refuse, okay?” Her voice was small, almost like a kid asking if there were monsters under the bed.
Monsters are everywhere, Joe thought, and they come in all shapes and sizes.
The blue flame flickered in his chest. “Don’t be a chump. If she wants to throw her time away, you’d be mad not to accept it.”
Shut up, Joe thought.
“Okay, I promise,” he said, feeling sick at his own words. He was the kind of guy who kept his promises, but this one? It tasted bitter. He couldn’t take her hard-earned time, but he knew Dawn wouldn’t budge.
Joe checked the countdown timer, trying to shake off the awful feeling, replacing it with a strange cocktail of dread and excitement.
Ten minutes later, he found himself outside the challenge arena, his new friends by his side, boosting his morale.
TJ clapped him on the back. “You won’t be able to see us, but we’ll be cheering for you.”
Joe’s stomach did a flip when he saw Gaia approaching, now wearing a green hoodie and strutting like she was on a catwalk, her entourage trailing behind her. The Blanche Brigade had gone all out with banners and streamers, and there was Ryan, waving a tiny flag like a one-man cheer squad. He gave Joe and his friends a big wave.
“So relieved you guys survived the hollows.” Ryan’s cheerful expression faded into something more somber. “It got nasty fast, didn’t it?”
Dawn and TJ stood with frosty glares, clearly in full competitive mode. Ryan didn’t notice, his smile as warm as Rose’s. He moved to nut bump Joe’s hand, drawing a sneer from Gaia.
“I’m team Gaia,” Ryan said, waving his little flag, “but I wish you well, Joe. Out there on the second floor, we should have each other’s backs. I hear there are two titans, and I’m a firm believer that a rising tide raises all boats.”
Joe nodded, his gaze focused on Gaia. “It seems you’ve changed zones rather quickly.”
“That’s what faction sponsorships are for.” Gaia fluttered her lashes like she was trying to be charming, but her eyes were cold, all business. “Are you ready?” she asked, not really seeming to care for an answer. She placed her hand on the entrance, triggering a notification that flashed for everyone to see.
[Challenger Antes: 2 years per ascender.]
[Bets are open: no-limit; “all-in” allowed.]
[Battlebox Challenge: Complete the game-specific objective to be declared winner.]
Joe’s jaw dropped. He didn’t dare look at Dawn, who tensed beside him, no doubt holding back a stream of curses. It felt like standing next to a volcano about to blow.
Taking a calming breath, Joe's mind raced. If I lose, it’s not just the Red Zone—I’ll be on the brink of being GORED.
Gaia raised her chin in defiance. “You’re right to worry. However, I wouldn’t leave you on the edge of death without facing it myself. I stand to lose as much as you.”
“You think you’re all honorable and shit?” Dawn hissed, stepping forward. “He dies, you’re next. You might be an ex-goddess, but don’t underestimate the power of a paladin’s god. I’ll enlighten you and wipe your ass across the cosmos if things go south.”
Joe’s vision flashed red with the notification.
[All antes accepted from each ascender. Four years have been placed in the BattleBox pool. Place your bets.]
[Alert: Ascender 115 has placed a bet of 35 years.]
Call or raise your bet?]
Based on most ratfolk starting at 20 years in the Red Zone, if Joe called the bet, he’d likely be close to crossing that line himself.
The thought gnawed at him, but he knew playing it safe wasn’t an option now.
Joe took a deep breath.
Was he really ready to take such a high risk?