SAVE POINT 34

Rosabella

The red laser line wavered at the toes of my boots, beginning up my ankles...

Knees...

Legs...

Torso.

I held my breath—closed my eyes so that the office-like room faded into blackness as the laser slithered up my torso, flashing brilliantly in my pupils—

I winced, readying myself for the worst—

But the pulsing fist of pressurized worry in my chest held me tight in its grip, squeezing. It wouldn't let me go. My breath came in shallow spasums. Failing this test meant a hacked and bloody death on the carpet right over there. I'd just witnessed it. My body trembled. I couldn't—I wouldn't fucking end up like that—

And, yet, I might not have a choice. My throat was so dry. I cracked one eye open to see—

Beep.

A giant, red 'x' floated in front of a wall of digital code. The scarlet glow from it lit Joy's horrified face as she whipped around, her pink hair flying around her—

[***SUBJECT FAILED***]

"No!" Joy yelled, pulling against the guards now attempting to restrain her, "No! There has to be some mistake!"

But we both knew that wasn't true. My eyes locked with her frantic ones as the girl thrashed in the guards' hold.

Their test was right. I was riddled with darkness. It was why we were even here. And, now, I was going to die for it. My throat tightened with tears I couldn't seem to cry. It was like my body was in too much shock to react.

The guard next to me gripped the sword at his belt. The blade swished like the promise of pain in the air—so close to my face.

This was it.

All I'd done—all I'd fought for. Ended here.

Worse, I didn't feel like fighting this time. Because I'd fought time and time again—there was no more fight in me, no more spark. Just acceptance. I could accept this. I took the deepest breath I could manage, though it was shaky, and I stared at the bare, blue carpet before closing my eyes.

My last view would be this threadbare carpet?

My feet?

At least I wouldn't see the sword or that terrifying guard's face—

"Stop!"

Joy's voice.

My eyes flashed open to see the girl—now fully restrained by two teams of guards—but her face...her expression was...

Desperate.

"Please!" she begged. Something about her eyes hit me straight in the chest like a missile, "She's the Game Maker—you can check her title. She has CM. She only has darkness in her because she rid The Game of it, and she’s the only one who’s been able to get rid of darkness. Take me instead of her! I demand a swap. Your people here used to understand barters. Let her go free. Take my life instead."

A rustle of whispers coursed through the room. Guards stared at me, now, unabashed from every angle...even the others behind me in line stared.

The sword raised above my head wobbled. I watched indecision cross the wielder's face.

Finally, he lowered the blade. All breath rushed out of me.

Another guard tugged me out of the red-taped box on the floor while the first punched in some code over my shoulder. At his keystrokes in the air, my title popped up for all to see:

ROSABELLA, GAME MAKER 12

More exclamations and murmurs raced through the room as the guards looked, confused and wondering, at each other.

"I wasn't lying. Accept the trade," Joy hissed at the man in front.

I shook my head at the pink-haired girl, but her glare silenced me from further protest. She was intent on doing this. She’d said I was the only one who could fix The Game world... Joy must be pretty convinced of it if she was willing to sacrifice her own life—

"We shall let The Game decide if this trade is permissible!" the assassin in front yelled, sending his arms wide above his head. His fingers worked at the Code again.

Ask The Game? These people seemed like worshipers of the Code. My entire fate—whether I lived or died—was in the hands of...technology?

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My stomach clenched. My mind spun.

The man was intent on the neon, spinning numbers in front of him. His fingers flew, hitting through several options as his eyebrows creased with concentration on the task.

What did I do? Just...wait? Just stand here? Or should I distract? Attack? Run?

I glanced helplessly over at Joy, but the pink-haired girl looked equally powerless. Strands of her pink hair were plastered to her forehead above uneasy eyes...like she was a caged lion.

My breath didn't come as easily now. I tried to gulp in air—gulp down saliva. What was taking so long? And, yet, I wanted it to take forever—as long as I didn't have to hear them convict one of us to die. My knees were weak, like I might keel over. How long could I stand here? How long could I hold it together without breaking down—

Spfttttt!

Lightening sparked.

Something fizzled. Smoke trailed from where the man's fingers typed, and the neon numbers went black.

Dark.

Wiped clean from the air as a popup appeared with an error sound.

[System Alert: Code Malfunction.]

Code malfunction? What did that mean? The man tried to type again, but it was clear from the frustration on his face that something was wrong. He ran an aggravated hand through his red, ruffled hair. "Grand Dragon!" he swore.

"What's wrong?" I asked—a whisper—but it didn't seem that he wanted to answer me. At least, not directly. He turned to two guards at his shoulder, murmuring a command. They both nodded, their eyes flickering to my face before they charged in my direction with efficient directness. Their iron fingers grabbed my biceps.

I fought it, I did.

I heaved my weight against their hold, "Hey! Tell me what's going on!"

[-1 HP, 51/107]

But the guards were silent as they towed me back to the dungeon...right behind Joy. They threw us in the center of the room, unchained.

"What is going on?!" Joy hissed, rearing quickly from where she'd fallen, palms flat and pink hair in her face on the cobblestone. Her eyes rimmed with fire. But the guards remained silent as they led the rest of the prisoners from the line in behind us, chaining them securely.

They shut the door, and there was just silence again.

And a lot of questioning faces.

"You saved us!" the woman with the bulging eyes exclaimed, nearly sobbing; her hands were pressed so tightly together in prayer that they were bone-white, "Thank you, Game Maker."

Joy whirled on me, "You did that—?"

"I didn't do anything," I shouted. My loud words reverberated off the concrete walls, bouncing back into my face like a rude reminder that I couldn't do anything. Physically. Mentally. I was just as helpless as everyone else here. I mean, sure, I had Creator Magic, but, from what I'd seen of the yellow dragon's stats, it was disabled in this prison.

...Still, I guessed I could try. I plopped myself down in a corner, facing a wall. I didn't want to have to answer the questions in everyone's eyes. I just wanted to—have a minute. Just one minute to think. To see if there were any answers I did have. But it felt like a hungry hand reaching in an empty bag: I could wish to grab an apple as much as I wanted, but I already knew there was nothing there. Still, I closed my eyes.

I tried to summon my CM—

...

Nothing. There was nothing there.

“Burnbaebae Burn,” I chanted, trying a spell—

Neon letters came up:

[System Error: CM Has Been Restricted In This Area. Spell Cast Denied.]

Fuck this. They DID disable it. My fingers curled around a piece of loose stone, chucking it at the dungeon wall. I tried to swallow the tears overwhelming every part of me, but it felt like too big of a task or ask. "Joy," I sputtered, turning to search for the girl, "this is it. One of us dies here—"

"Hey—" she reached a black-gloved hand out towards me, shifting her seated position so she was closer and could rest it on my knee, "I had a good run, you know?"

Her words didn't help the flood that wanted to unleash behind my eyes.

No.

No, I didn't want to hear her tell me she'd had a good run. I didn't want for her to accept things—accept death—like I almost had before that sword didn't come down. I wished I’d never come here—

There's no hope.

Whispered the voice that I'd nearly forgotten about. That one that was my voice—a dark voice. In my head.

Give up while you still can. Accept death with open arms. Look around you. These people are already dead.

"No," I vowed solemnly.

And I watched the pink-haired girl look up at me in surprise.

"No," I repeated again, louder, "I'm not letting you die. I'm not letting anyone in here die."

"Bless you," gushed the woman in the corner, clutching at a little girl with scared-orb eyes, "Grand Dragon, bless you."

The little girl was staring at me, and her gaze reminded me of something. It reminded me...of me.

Of the innocence and the fear that both clutched at me during childhood as Goran and I ran from place to place. I'd been hungry then. And scared. And too small to understand. But, somewhere along the line, fate had given me a chance. Life had given me a chance, and I'd been able to take it. I'd been able to grow stronger and bigger and learn. And, while sometimes I didn't like what I'd learned, I'd had that chance. Life and breath had given me that chance. That little girl deserved the same.

I got to my feet, water drenching the knees of my body armor as I pushed to stand and, then, crouch in front of the dark-haired girl. Her chubby cheeks were smudged with dirt, and the curls of her brown hair fell into her face.

"What's your name?" I whispered.

The little girl shook her head back and forth, 'no'.

"Sheela. Her name's Sheela. She doesn't talk much," admitted the mother, her fingers kneading the little child's shoulders, "The darkness has taken that from her and most of her memories." The woman's lined hands pulled back the little girl's thick hair so I could see a black rash that consumed the back of her neck.

My jaw hardened. No. The Darken rash? The darkness had a child—had taken what little memories she had?

"I'm scared," tears welled up in the woman's eyes. Her forehead was lined with stress and exhaustion—like she was one crack away from melting down. “If the guards find out—"

"Here," my fingers worked at the Velcro and belts holding the top of my body armor on. I wiggled out of it, feeling the damp air of the dungeon bite into my skin which was, now, only covered by a sports bra. I offered the body armor to the woman, "It's probably too big, but use it to cover up the rash. It might buy you some time."

The woman nodded, silent tears running down her face this time. "Thank you," she mouthed.

I nodded.

[System Reward: Wow, That Was Fucking Nice Of You +10 XP, 1165/1200]

I had to smile a little at the neon popup. I crouched down again, my eyes level with the little girl's. I reached out to touch her shoulder. "Sheela, no matter what," I told her, "I'm going to save you, you understand? Even if they take me out of here. No matter what, I'm coming back to free all of you."

Now, that sounds like the Game Maker from the prophesy.

My head shot up to make eye contact with the owner of the ringing voice in my mind—the yellow Langune Borootlu, Aria.

She lowered her head, behind the metal mesh, blinking her pink, almond-shaped eyes in respect at me.

And I smiled back. "Yeah," I said, feeling a jolt of determination course through my limbs, "Maybe it does."