Steven floated in the dark, his body numb and weightless.

He opened his eyes.

Blackness.

He groaned. His body didn’t actually hurt, but he felt like it should.

“Not this shit again.” He waited for the System to pipe up, but after close to thirty seconds of silence he shook his head.

The System wasn’t going to participate.

Which left Steven alone in the empty dark.

Except it wasn’t empty. There was a noise, a…a pulse.

Steven started walking, not allowing himself to think.

He couldn’t tell how long he walked, the black unchanging as he searched.

Eventually, he realized the thumping hadn’t grown any closer. It hadn’t grown more distant either, for that matter. It had stayed exactly the same.

He stopped and closed his eyes, not that it mattered.

Thump…thump…thump.

It was a cool sensation, one that promised comfort, safety, protection.

It was as if the feeling was coming from inside of him, yet…distant. No matter how hard he focused, Steven couldn’t get any closer. There was something in the way, a nothingness.

Which was absurd. How could nothing be blocking him? But every time he tried to reach out to the feeling, he ran into a lack of space.

He tried to feel the nothingness in the same way he sensed the pulses.

It took him several tries to narrow in on it.

It was… cold, numb, and Steven recognized it.

It was a familiar blanket, a suffocating wrap that could bind his pain, along with everything else.

Steven staggered back, his heart pounding.

The System spoke, its loud voice shocking in the silence of the void. “I don’t think you’re quite ready, Steven. But your progress is impressive.”

“What are you talking about!?”

It snapped its fingers or at least made the sound. “Wakey, wakey.”

~<>~<>~

Steven’s eyes shot open, and, thankfully, Margie’s ceiling met him.

He would take that over the darkness any day.

The pain he’d been expecting earlier arrived, slamming into him like a speeding truck.

He gasped. His head pounded like an orchestra was being conducted between his temples, and his throat was so dry it hurt.

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He reached out, praying that a glass of water would be on the nightstand.

His arm didn’t move.

Steven stared at the limb. “Get with the program, dumbass.” His arm twitched.

He focused before panic could settle in.

He could feel his arm, so it wasn’t like he was paralyzed. He was just tired. More tired than he could ever remember being.

He took a deep breath and tried to lift his arm. Slowly, slowly, his limb responded. Moving felt like lifting weights, but he managed to fondle the nightstand.

…no water. Steven let his head fall back into his pillow. “Fuck.” He croaked out.

“System, what the hell happened?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?”

He groaned.

“You suck.”

The System laughed. “I’m not telling you. If you really want to know, figure it out yourself, or hit level 10 and ask me. I’ll be able to tell you more.”

“Thanks for nothing.”

He got the mental impression of a double thumbs up before the System left.

A moment later, a slew of prompts struck him.

The Old Timers Incorporated have defeated The Red Hand, gaining control over the region.

The Old Timers Incorporated set the region to ‘owned by the people.’ The specific laws or changes will be implemented by the residents.

Foes defeated! Experience split with party.

Level up!

Steven Kalio: Level 9

Steven looked over the prompts. He hadn’t been expecting to get a level out of that, he’d just gained 2 during the contest, and he hadn’t fought anything after. Which meant that fight had given him an entire level by itself.

He shook his head and turned his attention to standing.

Grumbling, Steven tried to rise to his feet. Tried.

He sighed.

His thoughts turned to the fight, and his stomach clenched.

Margie and Buford almost died because he’d been too tired to fight.

And he’d been too tired to fight because…he wasn’t sure why. Every shield had taken an incredible amount out of him. Far, far more than they should have.

What had been different?

Steven hesitated. He knew the answer. He just didn’t want to admit it.

He’d fallen back into the pit. After attacking Ren, he’d fled from the emotions, telling himself he was keeping a clear head for the fight.

He swallowed, his throat tight. He’d just been running away.

Steven frowned. Just what was his relation to his Class’s purpose? He’d still been defending in that fight, and while that had taken less energy than attacking, it was still far more than it should have been.

So it wasn’t just his actions, but his mental state?

Paws clacked against hardwood, and a heartbeat later, Buford shoved open his door.

The dog barked, rushing over to put his head on the bed next to Steven.

He stared up at him, his soulful eyes full of worry.

“Hey boy,” Steven’s voice came out scratchy, but it was getting steadier.

Feet pounded in the hall, Margie and Micheal shoving into the room a moment later.

They stared at him in silence for several seconds.

“You good?” Micheal asked.

Steven started laughing. Margie paused, then joined him.

They both looked at Michael.

“That was way too casual. Where’s your bedside manner, man?” Steven laughed.

Micheal rubbed at his neck. “I figured you’d want some casual friendliness. I don’t know, man!”

Steven gasped. “I don’t-“ he gave up and kept laughing. Buford barked, and Noodle rushed inside, jumping on the bed with a grunt.

They all laughed harder.

Steven had questions, and an endless list of concerns. But for now, he let himself laugh.

And it felt good.