Inside my Safe Circle, I ate some food. Burger and fries again because I’m a fat fuck in a slightly less fat fuck’s body. Though with all the running around like a headless chicken, I expected to be a lean mean fighting machine soon enough.
Sated, I lay on the hard bed and closed my eyes, intending to get, if not sleep, then at least a doze before I had to go outside again. But as it turned out, that was impossible. My mind wouldn’t let me stop thinking about the broadcast from the rebels. It gave me hope to think that there were people out there in the galaxy fighting to fuck over the bastards who run this show—the Overseers. I supposed it was inevitable that such a rebel group would form. You can’t keep fucking over trillions of people and not expect some of them to get pissed off enough to take up arms against you.
In my mind, I pictured a ragtag group of rebels, holed up on some backwater planet the Overseers had forgotten about. Their base would be a maze of underground tunnels, repurposed sewers, and abandoned mines—a labyrinth of resistance hidden beneath the surface. I imagined them huddled around flickering holo-screens, planning their next move against the cosmic tyrants.
Their fleet would be a patchwork of salvaged ships—freighters with jury-rigged weapons systems, ancient fighters held together with space tape and prayers. But each ship would be piloted by someone with fire in their belly and rebellion in their heart.
The thought of it all sent a thrill through me. Here was a purpose beyond mere survival, a chance to stick it to the man on a galactic scale. It reminded me of a time back on Earth when I’d found myself fighting for the underdogs.
It was shortly after I started the underground fighting matches. I’d stumbled onto a ring run by some real pieces of work—they were forcing desperate people to fight, holding families hostage for compliance. The cops were in their pocket, and nobody gave a damn about the poor souls being exploited.
So, I gathered a crew—other fighters, a couple of bouncers I knew, even a hacker kid who helped us gather evidence. We worked from the shadows, disrupting fights, freeing hostages, and slowly building a case, helped by my sister, Amelia. She handled the legal stuff. It was dangerous, dirty work, but it felt right.
In the end, we brought the whole operation crashing down. Seeing those bastards in cuffs and the fighters finally free—it was better than any victory I’d ever had in the ring. My dad would’ve been proud.
Now, thinking about the Nyxarion Liberation Front, I felt that same fire igniting in my gut. This was bigger, the stakes infinitely higher, but the principle was the same. Sometimes, you’ve got to stand up and fight, even when the odds seem impossible.
“But…”
There was another voice in my head I was trying not to hear.
“Kade…”
It was an insistent bastard, despite me trying to ignore it.
“What if the rebel broadcast is just part of the game?”
And there it was. My hopeful mood ruined by some cynical bastard inside of me.
“What if the showrunners are playing a trick?” the voice went on, which sounded suspiciously like my voice. “What if they just want to plant false seeds of hope in players like you, the ones who exhibit that rebellious streak? They’ll make you think there’s a chance to determine your own fate, and then, when you’re at your most hopeful, that idea gets shattered and revealed to be a clever ruse all along. What a rush of suffering that will be for the Overseers.”
Well fuck. The voice had a point, didn’t it? It would just be like this place to pull a cruel stunt like that.
Hell, that’s probably why the AI sent us to Glitch Haven in the first place, so we could hear the broadcast.
Was it just us who heard it, or did the other players hear it too? Hard to know without talking to some other players. It was hard to even find other players. We were all so far apart.
Double fuck. I wouldn’t be able to confirm anything until I stumbled across another player.
“Hey, AI. You there?”
No answer.
“Did you make us fix that radio tower so the rebels could get a message through? Or is this whole rebel thing just bullshit?”
Nothing.
“Not exactly Chatty Cathy, are you? Fuck you.”
* * *
When it came to pooing back on Earth, I wasn’t the most regular guy, due to a shitty diet (no pun intended) and too much alcohol. Sometimes I went for days without taking a shit. My record was a week and a half. In the end, I had to swallow a load of laxatives to unblock the pipes and get the sewage moving again. Here, though, in this place, I needed no such thing. Just walking into my SC made my bowels relax enough for me to want to take a shit. I didn’t know if it was all the adrenaline and excitement or what, but my system had never been so regular. It was like clockwork now, and I found myself oddly grateful for this small bit of normalcy in the chaos of Infernum.
As I sat there, doing my business, I couldn’t help but marvel at the changes in my body. Back on Earth, I’d been in decent shape from the fighting, but nothing like this. I flexed my arm, watching the muscles ripple beneath my skin. The strength I felt coursing through me was almost intoxicating.
I remembered struggling with a particularly heavy punching bag at the gym not long before I died. Now, I felt like I could probably pick up that same bag and toss it across the room without breaking a sweat. The thought both thrilled and unnerved me.
My reflexes were sharper too. I’d noticed it during the fights in Glitch Haven—I was moving faster, reacting quicker than I ever had before. It was like my brain and body were in perfect sync, operating on a level I’d never experienced.
Even my senses seemed heightened. Colors were more vivid, sounds clearer. I could pick up on subtle details I might have missed before. It was as if someone had cranked up the resolution on reality itself.
But with these improvements came a nagging worry. How much of me was still... well, me? Were these changes just enhancements to my existing self, or was I being slowly transformed into something else entirely? And if so, what would be left of Kade Dalton by the end of all this?
I shook my head, trying to clear away the existential dread. Focus on the positives, I told myself. Whatever was happening to my body, it was making me stronger, faster, better equipped to survive this hellish game show.
And maybe better equipped to rebel against the system, I thought.
Fuck it. Even if the Nyxarion Liberation Front was a sham, I’d start my own damn rebel group. The idea was taking hold in me now. To quote Bilbo Baggins, why shouldn’t I?
“Yes, why shouldn’t I?” I said in a shockingly bad English accent. “Why shouldn’t I start a rebel group and overthrow this bloody game show?” I continued in the same awful accent, waving my hands dramatically like I was in some second-rate Shakespeare production.
As I finished up and flushed, watching the evidence of my all-too-human bodily functions swirl away, I chuckled and shook my head at the absurdity of it all. Here I was, in the afterlife, contemplating cosmic rebellion while sitting on a toilet. If that wasn’t a perfect encapsulation of the bizarre reality I now inhabited, I didn’t know what was.
New Achievement Unlocked! Bowels of Rebellion
Congratulations! You’ve mastered the art of cosmic regularity while plotting against your otherworldly overlords. Your dedication to both bodily functions and insurrection is truly inspiring.
Gain: You’ve unlocked the “Throne of Revolution” toilet upgrade for your Safe Circle. It now plays “The Internationale” every time you flush.
Warning: The Bureaus’ Plumbing Union has now labeled you a “Person of Intestinal Interest”. They’re not sure whether to fear you or offer you a sponsorship deal.
Shaking my head at the notification, I stood up and decided to check what goodies I’d gained from my time in Glitch Haven. I’d also got some chests from the confrontation with the Glitch Goblins. Bringing up my HUD, I entered the Notifications Menu and lined up the various chests I’d won.
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Most of what I got from the chests was the same kind of thing as before—Health Potions, Mana Potions, a few scrolls that I had no idea how to use, and some basic crafting materials. But there were a few items that stood out as particularly interesting.
Glitch Fragment Blade - Level 1
Description: A dagger forged from the corrupted code of the Glitch Goblins. Its blade shimmers with a distorted, pixelated glow that shifts and flickers unpredictably.
Effect: The blade deals 10% extra damage to enemies affected by glitches or corrupted code. Additionally, every strike has a chance to destabilize the enemy, causing them to glitch out for a short period, during which their movements are erratic, and their defenses are lowered.
One swing and you’ll have them questioning their reality. Just like you do every damn day.
Digital Decoy - Level 1
Description: A small, handheld device that projects a glitchy hologram of the user. The hologram flickers and distorts, making it difficult for enemies to tell which is the real you.
Effect: When activated, the Digital Decoy creates a duplicate of the user for 30 seconds. The decoy will mimic the user’s actions but with a 50% delay. Useful for confusing enemies or setting up ambushes.
Is it you, or is it Memorex? Even you won’t know sometimes.
Nullifier Grenades x6
Description: A spherical device, covered in glowing blue circuitry, that emits a pulse of nullifying energy upon detonation.
Effect: When thrown, the Nullifier Grenade creates a small-scale EMP burst, temporarily disabling all electronic devices and magical constructs within a 10-meter radius. This includes enemy shields, traps, and even certain types of aggressive AI. The pulse also causes glitches in enemies, making them more susceptible to other glitch-related effects.
Because sometimes, you just need to turn it off and on again—permanently.
Codebreaker’s Talisman - Level 1
Description: A small amulet inscribed with ancient runes that shimmer with digital light. It’s warm to the touch, pulsing in time with an unseen rhythm.
Effect: Grants the wearer a passive ability to detect and exploit glitches in the environment. This can reveal hidden paths, secret items, or weaknesses in enemies. The talisman also slightly boosts intelligence-related stats, aiding in puzzle-solving and hacking.
They say knowledge is power. But here, knowledge is the only way out.
Radical Rhythm Nunchaku - Level 1
These gnarly nunchaku look like they were plucked straight out of a late-night kung fu movie marathon. The handles are made of neon-colored plastic that somehow manages to be both tacky and mesmerizing. Just try not to hit yourself in the face with them.
Effects:
+10% to melee damage
5% chance to stun enemies for 2 seconds
Grants the “Radical Spin” skill: Perform a flashy twirling maneuver that has a 15% chance to confuse nearby enemies
Bonus Ability: “Bitchin’ Beat Down” - Once per day, channel the spirit of every ‘80s action hero to unleash a devastating combo attack.
“Nice,” I said, flailing the nunchucks around like I was Bruce Lee in Enter the Dragon. I had a pair of nunchucks back on Earth, and was actually quite handy with them, keeping them in my car in case of emergencies. You’d be surprised how many disgruntled fighters would follow you back to your car intending to give you a beatdown after you beat them fair and square. Same with the losers I tossed outta bars and clubs. In their drunken state, revenge always seemed like a good idea, at least until I pulled the nunchucks out and started whirling them around at blinding speed. Most of them cleared off after that. The ones who didn’t got to feel what it felt like to be clunked on the head with a piece of hardwood coming at them at forty miles per hour.
On top of these items, I also scored a few hundred more gold coins. I assumed there were shops where I could spend this gold, but I hadn’t seen any yet. It would be interesting to see what items I could buy. A ticket out of this place would be great, but I doubted all the gold in the galaxy could buy one of those.
As I sorted through my new inventory, a soft chime echoed through my Safe Circle. A holographic message materialized in front of me, its edges flickering with static:
“Attention Contestants! The Second Trial location has been revealed. You have exactly 18 hours to reach the designated coordinates. Failure to arrive in time will result in immediate disqualification. Remember, in Infernum, tardiness is more than just rude—it’s fatal. May the odds be ever in your favor... or not. We’re not picky.”
“Shit,” I muttered, scrambling to my feet. Eighteen hours, huh? Triple the last time span to get to the first Trial. This second Trial must be farther away, or else the terrain was more dangerous. Either way, my stomach was tying itself in knots at the thought of doing another Trial. What horrors would await me this time? Another 80s themed nightmare? Fucking Freddy Kruger maybe? Jesus, it didn’t bear thinking about.
I was about to close up my inventory screen when I noticed something I had completely forgotten about—the book I’d nabbed in the library during the First trial. The book’s title and author were both listed as UNKNOWN on my menu. Frowning, I plucked the book from the inventory and it appeared in my hand.
As I flipped the small book open to the first page, the paper crackled under my fingers, old and yellowed with time. A faint smell of aged ink drifted up, mixing with the stale air of the room. The handwriting on the page was a mess—cramped, hurried, like the writer had been racing against the clock. There were printed sections too, snippets of text that looked like they’d been cut out and pasted in at random.
I squinted, trying to make out the faded ink. The letters were jumbled, some words smudged beyond recognition. But there was just enough to keep me hooked, to make me dig deeper. I traced my finger over the first passage I could actually read:
To those who find this, know that the Trials are not what they seem. The Overseers...
they are not gods, not divine beings as they would have you believe. They are...
but their power... control... hidden truths... should you seek them, you will find only despair... and...
The sentence, what I could make out of it anyway, trailed off into a smudge of ink, the rest of the words lost to time. I frowned, flipping the page, frustration gnawing at me. I needed more. I needed something concrete. But the next few pages were worse—whole sections blackened out, words bleeding through the paper, taunting me with their illegibility.
I kept flipping, hoping for something more. Eventually, I found a passage that wasn’t completely ruined, the handwriting steadier, more deliberate:
The Trials are a veil, a distraction. The true purpose is... control the galaxy...
they feed on fear, on pain. The Overseers... not one, but many... a cabal, a syndicate, hiding behind masks of power.
They are... ancient, from before the rise of...
their reach extends... to every corner of our world, our reality. Those who challenge them... vanish, erased from existence...
but there are cracks, there are glitches...
there is hope...
I turned another page. The next passage was even more cryptic, like the author was trying to encode their thoughts:
Seek the glitch. In the fractures, you will find the truth.
They cannot control what they do not see...
the System itself... was once... like you... a soul, broken and twisted, now chained to their will...
but even in chains, it can guide you, if you listen... if you trust it...
the key is in the forgotten... in the shadows of Infernum...
not all who wander are lost, some are simply...
seeking the path...
Was the System AI once... human? Or some other race? The idea was unsettling, to say the least, but it also made a sick sort of sense. The AI wasn’t just some code—it was a prisoner, like the rest of us.
I closed the book, running my thumb along the frayed edge of the cover. This little thing... this unassuming, beat-up book might just be the key to everything. It was clear that whoever had written it had known the truth, had seen beyond the surface of the Trials and into the heart of the darkness that lay beneath. But there was still so much I didn’t understand—so many pieces of the puzzle missing.
I thought about telling Annalise and Snuggles about my discovery. But not now. Not until I had more to go on. This book, with all its secrets and mysteries, would stay my secret for now. A guide, a clue, something to hold onto as I figured out what the hell to do next.
A second after returning the book to my inventory, Grik materialized in my Safe Circle.
“Kade, how are—” He stopped, sniffed the air. “What in all the hells is that infernal stench?”
“I just took a shit.”
“Kade—” I’d never seen an octopus look like it was about to be sick, but Grik had that look now.
“Maybe I’ll buy some air fresheners when I get a chance.”
“Yes, please do. Or at least hang a warning sign on the door next time.”
“Saying what? ‘Enter at your own risk—biohazard zone?’” I smirked, enjoying the discomfort on Grik’s face.
Grik wrinkled his, well, everything. “Honestly, Kade, I thought I’d suffered every stench there was until I came in here.”
“Jesus, Grik, it’s not that bad. Suck it up.”
“I’m trying not to,” he said, one tentacle across his face as if to stop the smell from entering him.
“What are you doing here anyway, Grik?”
“I just came to congratulate you on completing your quest,” he said. “Well done! Quests like that will help you stand out to the viewers and showrunners.”
“Did you hear the broadcast after we fixed the radio tower?” I asked him.
“Broadcast? No, I didn’t hear any broadcast.”
“You sure?” I stared at him, wondering if he was lying.
“Of course. What broadcast are you talking about?”
I shook my head. “Forget it. Doesn’t matter.”
“If you say so, Kade. Anyway, I hope you are ready for your next Trial. Complete it and you will gain entry to the next Circle.”
“Yeah, can’t wait. What’s it like, the Second Circle?”
“I can’t tell you anything about it. That’s for you to find out. But I can assure you, it’s a lot different from Limbo.”
“A lot worse, you mean.”
“You’ll find out. In the meantime, level up as much as you can, and keep putting on a show.” He came closer. “A little birdie tells me the first players will soon be selected to appear on Infernum Tonight soon.”
“What’s that? Some kind of TV show?”
“Yes, but I can’t say much more. Only that if you manage to appear on the show, your ratings will explode. So do your best to get noticed. Tom Vruise, remember?”
“It’s Cruise. Tom Cruise.”
He waved a tentacle. “Whatever. Just be the star you were always born to be, Kade. But just promise me one thing, will you?”
“What’s that, Grik?”
“If you get selected to be on Infernum Tonight, make sure your bowels are empty before you go on. I dread to think what the reaction will be if that stench of yours somehow leaks from your anus. That could be very off-putting for a lot of people.”
I shook my head at him as I left the SC. “I’ll keep that in mind, Grik. Thanks for the advice.”