Joe stared at the ceiling of his bunk, restless. Kicking off the crisp white sheet, he swung his legs over the edge. Soft snores echoed around him, mingling with the occasional mumble from ascenders dreaming away. He grabbed the ladder and slid down, his thick-soled boots making a soft thud that rippled through the floor like he was walking on a giant, wobbly jelly.
Slipping out of the bunk room, Joe entered the common area, which was as silent as a crypt. A few insomniac ascenders lounged in wrinkly orange bean bags that looked like giant furry ballsacks. They stared at the embedded screens with a mix of fascination and despair. Some gave Joe a lazy wave, others just nodded. A few didn’t bother turning around.
Rose sat alone, eyes shut tight in deep meditation.
As soon as Joe plopped down opposite her, her eyes flew open, and a grin spread across her face. “Joe, what’s got you up so soon? It’s barely been an hour since you bunked.”
“Too much caffeine.” Joe lied, rubbing his temples. “Mind’s still running. What about you?”
“Meditating on what worked and what didn’t in my battle box simulation,” Rose said, her voice serious. “Not planning any challenges, just gearing up in case someone throws one my way.”
Joe winced at the thought of another challenge but knew he’d be a fool not to practice again soon. “Everyone else asleep?”
“Dawn and TJ are snoring their little hearts out,” Rose said, her smile warming. “Bless them.”
Brian sauntered over and dropped into a seat next to Joe. “They went all out in their simulations,” he said, taking a drag from his vape. “Got some sweet upgrades to their MadOrbz but drained their mana. I gave them potions, but to boost mana capacity, they need rest. Bunks act like a supercharger from now on. Even an hour can do wonders.”
Joe’s eyes widened. “That’s a major shift from the last floor.”
Rose nodded. “It’s hard to know what to trust. The Lich’s promises aren’t worth much.”
Brian agreed. “We shouldn’t take anything he says at face value. The system’s as crooked as his teeth.”
Joe tensed, half-expecting the Lich to appear on the dark screen beside them.
When that didn’t happen his thoughts turned to Poppy. She was part of the system, but the Lich claimed she was modeled on a Titan, capable of growth and learning. If John Connor could teach a Terminator not to kill, maybe Poppy could turn out to be a decent ally.
Joe stared at his reflection in the black screen, lost in thought, while Rose gushed about something.
Suddenly, the screen flickered.
Joe’s senses sharpened. An image flashed on the screen for less than a heartbeat. All the screens around him showed the same thing: a cartoonish mask with a grin so wide it looked like it might swallow the room. Its big, round eyes seemed ready to pop out and chase him. A creepy, mechanical chuckle played softly in the background, like someone had left a broken toy in the corner.
Jagged green text appeared: “What the Hell kind of clown are you?”
Other ascenders shifted in discomfort, their faces twitching, but they seemed oblivious to the image. Was it a subliminal message he caught thanks to his Quick Wit skill?
“The crying-on-the-inside kind, I guess,” Joe said dreamily, as if under a spell.
The screen went dark, and Joe blinked, his senses returning. Rose and Brian were looking at him oddly, sharing a worried glance.
“You didn’t hear a single word I said, did you?” Rose asked, her tone suggesting she expected a shame-faced ‘yes.’
“Didn’t you guys see that?”
They shrugged. “See what?”
“The creepy clown mask on the screen.” Joe’s finger wobbled as he pointed at the now-blank display.
“You really need more sleep, Joe,” Rose said, shaking her head. “You’re so tired you’re starting to hallucinate.”
Was that it? Was he micro-sleeping? He glanced around. Everyone else had returned to their activities, looking perfectly normal. Subliminal message or tricks from his tired brain?
A party message popped up snapping him out of that thought.
Rose: Maybe this will get your attention, Joe. First off, a BIG THANK YOU for those Blood Rose Thorns. You were right about them working with water affinity items. I won’t take out my staff in the common room; we’ve got enough attention already. But here are the stats:
[Gnarled Gravenwood
Tier: Advanced
Details: The more you use it, the more its thorns react, either growing longer to stab your enemies or shrinking back when you’re on defense. But be warned: this twisted stick has a mind of its own and isn’t afraid to take control if you’re too timid.
Joe also took his time studying her updated stats, feeling pretty satisfied with the results. Rose had leveled up on the last floor and put her flex points into her highest stat, intelligence, which meant her water-based spells had leveled up too.
“I can’t wait to test it out when we grind monsters on the floor,” Rose said with a grin.
“Is it any good against hollows? Will it protect you from a Touch of Madness?” Dawn’s voice cut through with a sour tone.
Brian shot her a look but then moved aside, giving her space to sit down. “My mother always said if you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”
Dawn gave him a grumpy look. “Not a morning person.”
Joe had no idea what time it was in the tower—no windows, only the constant reminder that the outside world was dangerous and filled with mana that could kill them in an instant. Reaching the top of the tower was supposed to build enough resistance to survive, but it could all be fear-mongering. He wasn't sure.
Hopping to his feet, he eyed the food and drink machines. He grabbed a packet of seaweed and set it in front of Dawn. “Here’s a snack to tide you over. Anyone hungry or thirsty, it’s on me.” As if summoned by the talk of food, TJ spoke up from behind him.
“I’ll have a spiced egg scramble and Citrus Blast,” he mumbled, rubbing his bleary eyes, yawning, and stretching like he’d barely rolled out of bed.
“Sweet stats on your staff, Rose,” TJ said, earning a scowl from Dawn as he perked up faster than she did.
Rose smiled. “I bet you’ve got some upgrades with your BK machete too.”
“Damn right I have. Once the tank is full, we’re outta here. Monster grind time on floor two, let’s make it happen.”
“I love your enthusiasm,” Brian said, pulling out a potion bottle and holding it as carefully as if it were a newborn. “We’re not quite ready yet for the twin titans ruling the roost on this floor. Check the party chat and make sure you’ve all read the information Joe provided from the Hall of Titans. Burn those stats into your memory.”
He looked down at the potion bottle and then directly at Joe. “I mentioned this potion before…”
Joe nodded. It was the one that would enlighten them and give them an edge on this floor.
“I’d rather you and Dawn not eat and drink too much. Our young paladin has yet to meet the god she serves, and I believe this potion will help speed that up.”
“I serve no one,” Dawn said, crossing her arms.
“Then why did you choose to be a paladin?” Joe asked.
Dawn shot him a look that said, none of your business.
Joe turned to TJ. “Do you mind getting the food and drinks order?”
TJ rubbed his hands together and stood up. Rose slipped out of the booth, giving Dawn a side-eye like she might bite. “I’ll help.”
Dawn’s shoulders slumped, a hint of guilt in her gaze, but her heart seemed to lock away any apology.
“Look,” Joe said, leaning forward. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, Dawn, but we don’t have the luxury of time. What’s eating you?”
She looked away and let out a heavy sigh, some of the tension leaving with it. “Had a bad dream is all. My whole life, the one before this… well, let’s just say there’s not much I miss about it.”
Joe kept sympathy out of his voice, knowing Dawn would hate that and clam up. “You were a ratfolk in your last life,” he said. “They didn’t exist in my world except in books and games, but they sure got the raw end of the stick.”
“I won’t say I understand what you went through,” Brian said, moving the potion closer to Dawn. “I grew up with parents who loved me, but I had different interests from other dwarves my age. I had no friends, and in our kingdom, dwarves were seen as second-class citizens. We fought tooth and nail for everything we had.”
Joe nodded. “We’ve all walked different paths, come from different worlds. Our experiences shape us, but they don’t define us. We still have our differences, but there’s more that unites us than divides us.”
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Dawn looked at Joe and Brian, then drifted to where Rose and TJ were filling trays with delicious-smelling snacks and drinks. “I’ve never talked about my past to anyone. I know I’ve been a giant pain in the ass at times.”
“At times?” Brian said with a grin, showing he was joking.
Dawn shook her head and laughed. “Good point. Don’t take anything I’ve said before to mean I think less of any of you. I wasn’t physically strong in my last life, so my words were my protective armor—armor I didn’t lose.”
“It’s okay, Dawn.” Joe flicked the cord of his hoodie to the side. “You don’t have to explain anything. We get it. We get you.”
The way she smiled at him hinted that a crack in her armor was forming. “Thanks.”
Joe smiled too.“Hey, even though we’ve all taken different paths to get here doesn’t mean we can’t walk this one together.”
“Now you’re getting all sappy on me,” Dawn teased, rolling her eyes, but there was warmth in her voice.
Brian shook his head. “Before you two start bickering like an old married couple and the others come back with the food, I’m going to ask you to hold off on eating for a little while.”
Dawn scowled. “Forget what I said. You come between me and my food, we’re finished.”
Brian raised a hand. “You can eat all you like after you’ve been enlightened.” He tapped the potion before her, bringing her attention to it. “You don’t want to meet the god you don’t want to serve on a full stomach. It will ruin your digestion. Besides, it’ll dull the effects.”
“And me?” Joe asked, eyeing the tray of food greedily as it was returned, his stomach growling.
“Yes. You’ll be joining Dawn as a guide and a witness. With your skills, if she gets lost, you’ll be able to bring her back.”
Joe grinned. “I’m also very diplomatic and know all about paladin contracts with gods.”
Brian smiled. “How lucky Dawn is. She’ll have a rogue, divine lawyer, and negotiator as a traveling companion all in one.”
After eating—or in Joe’s and Dawn’s case, watching the others eat while they sipped on water—Brian led them out of the common room and down a long hallway filled with whispering and scuttling sounds.
“Hope your boots are laced tight,” Brian said with a smile. “I heard there are boot-stealing critters about.” He stopped in front of a valve-like door and handed them the potion. “This is as far as I can go.”
Dawn and Joe exchanged confused looks.
“Think of this as a temple,” Brian said. “I belong in the alchemy lab crafting area. I’m not a paladin like Dawn, so I will not be granted entry.”
“What about me? I’m a rogue,.” Joe tugged a loose string on his hoodie.
“Exactly,” Brian said. “If you read everything about your class, you know rogues can go anywhere they please.”
“Shall we?” Joe chuckled, offering Dawn his arm. “Think of it as a divine date, and I’m your plus one.”
Dawn raised a brow. “You better be joking, especially if the god I’m about to meet is the jealous type.”
Joe’s grin faltered. “I’ll be the perfect gentleman.”
With a wave to Brian, they stepped forward, and the door opened like flower petals, a gust of air pulling them across the threshold.
Dawn frowned. “Ugh, it’s hotter than a demon’s crotch in here.”
Joe pinched his nose. “Smells like it too.”
Looking around, the dim interior resembled the inside of a wooden cabin with a central fire. The flames were a swirling green eldritch hue, and symbols covered the walls. Soft cushions like giant lily pads surrounded the stone fire.
They sat down, and Joe was amazed at how quickly all the tension left his body. His bones felt like jelly as a sense of calm washed over him. He must’ve been wearing a goofy smile because Dawn laughed.
“This is better than a spa treatment back in my world, or smoking a joint for arthritis,” she said, rubbing her wrist absentmindedly.
Joe agreed. He couldn’t remember feeling so amazing, like he didn’t have a care in the world. The clink of the glass potion in Dawn’s hand grounded him. The liquid inside was a swirling mix of colors, a galaxy of stars contained in a single vial.
Dawn’s fingers tightened around the potion, her knuckles white as she turned the lid.
“Are you ready for this?” Joe asked, understanding the weight of the question.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” She placed a hand on Joe’s and gripped it tight. “You’ve heard the saying, ‘What happens in Rome stays in Rome.’ These are my memories, this is my vision.”
She didn’t need to say more; Joe understood. “Anything I see, I take to the grave.”
“If you win the jackpot of immortality, you’ll have to hold onto it for longer than that.”
Her belief and confidence in him left him feeling something he wasn’t quite sure about. She trusted him to guard her past life and the secrets it held.
They both drank. The liquid was bitter and earthy, leaving an aftertaste like he’d licked the inside of an old cigar box. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the room began to melt away. It wasn’t simply melting—it was a dizzying swirl of colors and sounds, and suddenly they were somewhere else.
Dawn’s screams grabbed Joe’s attention. Her eyes were wide with panic as she took in her surroundings. He held her, and she buried her head in his chest.
“No, no, no, don’t make me go back here,” she whispered, her voice cracking and tears streaking down her face. Her hands shook uncontrollably.
Joe wasn’t sure what to do, so he held her close, repeating, “It’s okay, it’ll be okay.” As he provided comfort, he looked around and thought, Where are we?
Dawn gulped, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Hell.”
In this vision, Dawn seemed to be privy to his thoughts. They were in a large hall where the walls were lined with dark wood, and the air was thick with oppressive silence. They weren’t alone; the clack of heels echoed sharply across the polished floor, a sound that hammered like nails in a coffin.
Dawn let go of Joe and straightened, her eyes fixed on a woman dressed in a religious habit, looking like a magpie in black and white. Her presence was like a thief of joy and hope.
“Hey, you,” Dawn said.
The woman kept walking.
Dawn took off after her, grasping her shoulder to get her attention, but her hand passed through like the woman was a ghost. They followed her through double doors, bypassing children on their hands and knees. When they looked up, their faces were hollow, and their eyes were sunken.
Joe wanted to reach out to comfort them, but they belonged to the past, and he was only a witness. His heart ached, wondering how any enlightenment could come from such a hellish place. His heart pounded, warring with sadness and grief over Dawn’s memory. “This is like a prison,” he said in a low voice.
“Close, it’s an industrial school,” Dawn said.
As they continued down the hall, they passed a man in dark robes carrying a ring of keys like it was a weapon. A woman at the entrance to a door on the right cowered from him, her face marked with welts as her body trembled in fear.
“You are not a man of God,” Dawn yelled, but her voice fell on deaf ears as the man drifted past like a ghost. “Fucking monster.”
The woman standing in the entrance to a side room backed away, and Joe saw rows of cots—sterile white industrial ones with mattresses. But it was the infants crying that struck him hard.
Nearby were potties with straps attached. Joe pushed down the rising bile and caught up with Dawn, who was still following the nun.
The nun entered a room where a young woman with red hair twisted into a messy bun, freckled nose, and pale skin stood. She looked like she hadn’t seen much sunlight, her dress reminiscent of scullery maids from old movies. Wrapping her hands in her starched apron, she curtsied to the nun, looking willow-thin but with eyes of steel. Dawn held the same look in her eyes.
“Are they ready?” the nun asked, her voice clipped.
She grabbed the basket from the young woman so quickly it nearly yanked her off her feet. Knitted socks spilled out.
“For the army,” Dawn said through clenched teeth. Her fingers twitched like she wanted to pick up the socks and help the girl she once was. Dawn stared at the nun with seething hatred who raised her hand, striking the girl as she crouched low, picking up the socks.
Joe closed his eyes, not sure how much more he could take.
In a flash, the world around Joe melted away, leaving only a towering silhouette bathed in blinding light. As it stepped out of the smoky haze, the figure grew smaller and smaller until Joe could finally see it clearly. He blinked in disbelief—a capybara, with thinning white locks draped over red and gold robes, stood before him. Joe couldn’t help but think, Well, if you're a god, I guess you can rock any look you want—even a capybara in dungeon master robes.
“How nice it is to finally meet you,” the god said, with a gap-toothed grin.. “Do you know the power of your name?”
“What are you, a guinea pig?” Dawn didn’t seem fazed by the divine aura that left Joe sweating and trembling. Maybe it was a paladin thing.
The god’s brows furrowed. “No, a large rodent you earthlings call a capybara inspired my form. A god’s not supposed to have favorites but gosh darn it, they’re too cute, aren’t they?”
Dawn stood defiant, her chin jutting out. “You could be inspired by a cartoon squirrel called Steven for all I care. I prefer rats, so don’t pretend like we’re already long-lost buddies and cut the divine bullshit. You think I’m going to serve you? Think again.”
“I’m a no-bullshit kind of god, Dawn, but you already knew that deep down. I didn’t summon you; I knew you would come find me in your own time. I have to wonder, though, after the abuse you suffered at the hands of the church in your past life, why did you choose to become a paladin?” The god’s gaze was piercing, like he already knew the answer but wanted to hear it from her.
“You want the truth?” Dawn’s voice was steady, her fists clenched like she was ready to punch a hole through the universe.
The god couldn’t help but grin. “Ah, turning the tables on me, huh? I like that! I knew you were sharp. So, do I want the truth? Absolutely. You picked your class, signed an oath with me—so we’re in this together. Go ahead, lay it on me—no judgment.”
Dawn arched a brow.
The god chuckled, leaning in a bit closer, his tone playful. “Well, maybe a little judgment—I’m a god, after all.”
“In the world I came from, no one faced justice for their crimes,” she began, her voice steady but laced with the kind of bitterness that only comes from deep, old wounds. “I didn’t believe in a god because how could something divine be so cruel?”
The god looked at her as if she were a little naive about the nature of deities, but he let her continue.
“If this isn’t some drug-induced fever dream and you really are real, then you know everything—all gods that exist, including ones from my world.” Dawn’s tone grew more intense with each word.
The god replied, his voice steady, holding authority. "I am real, Dawn, this isn’t a dream.” He glanced at Joe as if expecting him to nod in agreement.
Joe stood there, a silent witness.
“But what does it matter if a god exists in the world you’ve left behind?" The god waved a dismissive hand, his robes billowing.
Dawn thumped her chest, her voice fierce. "I haven’t left it behind! And I never will! It’s the bleeding core of me and always will be until..."
The god leaned in, his brows arching with curiosity.
Dawn locked eyes with him, her voice a blade of resolve. "Until justice is served. As a Paladin, I’ll swear a new oath. When I ascend that tower, I will leave here—whether you help me or not. I’ll find the god from my world, and I’ll bring justice crashing down on him like a hammer."
Joe swallowed hard, biting back the tension as he stood next to Dawn, half expecting the god to smite her.
The god erupted in laughter, clutching his plump belly. “Well, paladin class suits you. A flair for drama is good.”
Dawn shook her head. “You think this is funny? I’m dead serious.”
Joe stepped in, trying to smooth things over. “Uh, Dawn, maybe we should hear him out?”
“You should listen to your friend, Dawn. I am Nerus the god of rodents. I’m the butt end of every joke in divine circles. I recognize a diamond in the rough when I see one. In a world full of gods, it’s the ones like us who change things. I’d be honored to have a paladin like you by my side.”
Dawn’s fierce expression softened, eyes narrowing as she studied the Nerus’ face, searching for any hint of deceit. After a moment, she gave a small nod. “Alright, but we’re equals—no sidekick business.”
“Sure, why not,” Nerus said in a casual tone as if he was being particularly generous.
Joe exhaled, relieved. Well, that went better than expected. This capybara god might actually be cool, he was smart enough to pick Dawn.