“So, it just occurred to me,” Grik’noth said, as I sat across from him in his cavernous yet inexplicably stuffy office. “You may be finding my devilishly handsome mug a tad off-putting.”

“What gave it away? The look of utter bewilderment plastered on my face?” I retorted. The reality of my unexpected afterlife situation was sinking in, and let’s just say I wasn’t thrilled about the whole eternal damnation thing. So much for my dreams of good old-fashioned oblivion.

“Fear not, Kade my boy!” Grik’noth proclaimed, leaping to his feet. In a flash, he morphed into Mr. T, gold chains and all. “I pity the fool who don’t appreciate the A-Team!”

“Grik, I’m twenty-seven, not seven. The A-Team nostalgia train left the station years ago.”

“Hmph, tough crowd.” He shape-shifted again. “How about now?”

“Bruce Lee? Really?”

“He was a hero of yours, no? Be water, my friend—”

“Alright, alright, enough with the celebrity impersonations!” I interrupted. “Just give me a regular person, please. And quit rummaging through my memories like a bargain bin at a thrift store.”

“As you wish,” he sighed, transforming into… a floating octopus. “Remember Larry, your favorite from the aquarium? When you were a wee lad of seven?”

I groaned. “Yes, I named the octopus Larry. No, I don’t want to call you Larry. Can we move on, please?”

“Very well, a win it is!” Grik’noth declared, tentacles undulating inches from my face. “Now, follow me to your Safe Circle.”

“What’s a Safe Circle?” I asked, following Grik’noth into the dimly lit corridor.

“Think of it as your Premier Inn,” he replied, his tentacles rippling majestically behind him as he glided through the air. “Each player gets their very own Safe Circle to rest, recharge, and contemplate their impending doom.”

I glanced at the endless row of doors lining the empty hallway. “So, how many poor bastards are competing in these Trials anyway?”

“Oh, we like to start with a nice round number of 10,000,” Grik’noth said casually. “Most won’t make it past Limbo—the tutorial level. If the numbers dwindle too much, we just toss in some fresh meat from the soul storage.”

“Wait, so souls don’t come straight here after kicking the bucket?”

“Nope! They go to the Pit of Pending Perdition first. It’s basically a giant metaphysical fridge where we keep souls on ice until we need them.”

I blinked. “So, it’s like a cosmic cryogenic chamber for the damned?”

Grik’noth chuckled, the sound echoing like a thousand tortured souls screaming in unison. “Bingo! They’re in a sort of stasis—no dreams, no thoughts, no feelings. Just existing in an endless void of nothingness. Fun, right?”

“How long do they keep souls in this Pit?”

“Oh, it varies,” Grik’noth said, stopping by a faceless door. “Some might only be in there for a few days or weeks before being called up for the Trials. Others could be stuck there for centuries, even millennia. It’s like a cosmic game of Russian roulette.”

A horrifying thought struck me. “Wait... was I in the Pit?”

“You betcha!” Grik’noth chirped. “For almost a century.”

“A fucking century?!” I sputtered. “But it felt like I died and came straight here!”

“Well, duh. You think we want you to remember every excruciating second of your time in limbo? You’d be nuttier than a squirrel’s winter stash.”

As the reality of a century passing since my death sank in, a sudden realization hit me like a ton of bricks. My sister Amelia—she must be dead too. A ball of grief settled in my gut as I wondered how she died. Probably old age, given her annoyingly healthy lifestyle.

“Is my sister in the Pit?” I asked.

“Beats me,” Grik’noth shrugged. “I’d have to check the records.”

“What about my parents? Did they compete in the Trials too?”

Grik’noth fixed me with a piercing stare, his eyes shifting colors like a kaleidoscope from hell. “Look, Kade, I get that you’re curious, but trust me—dwelling on your past life won’t do you any favors here. In the Trials, it’s every damned soul for themselves. Focus on your own survival, capiche?”

As if on cue, the door to my Safe Circle swung open, revealing an ominous info box.

Safe Circle

Kade Dalton

Con ID: KD-5168

Upgrades: 0

Permissions: 0

“What’s the permissions stat for?” I asked before stepping into the room.

“How many people you give permission to enter your Safe Circle,” Grik said. “You may make friends here, Kade. Perhaps even a lady friend, hmm?” He chuckled. “I doubt it though. You’ll be far too busy surviving to be thinking about your love life.”

The room was a stark contrast to the rest of the hellish bureaucracy I’d seen so far. It was a small, circular chamber, its walls made of a smooth, featureless metal that seemed to absorb the dim, reddish light that emanated from the ceiling. The floor was a simple, polished concrete, cold and hard beneath my feet.

In one corner of the room stood a small, utilitarian sink, its basin stained with what looked suspiciously like old blood. Next to it was a toilet, or at least, something that vaguely resembled a toilet. It was a strange contraption of rusted metal and exposed pipes, with a seat that looked like it was made from the leathery hide of some unfortunate creature.

Against one wall was a couch, if you could call it that. It was a lumpy, misshapen thing, its upholstery a patchwork of various fabrics and leathers that looked like they’d been haphazardly stitched together. It sagged in the middle, as if the weight of countless damned souls had crushed the life out of it over the eons.

And that was it. No other furniture, no decorations, no windows. Just a bare, lifeless room that exuded an aura of hopelessness and despair.

Oh, there was also a TV in the corner, one of those big brown box things from the 80s.

“Well, isn’t this just cozy,” I muttered, taking a tentative step inside.

Grik followed me in. “Every contestant gets one of these Safe Circles to rest and recuperate whenever they need to. You can always find your SC on the map. They are scattered throughout each of the Circles. And guess what? You can even upgrade as you gain more experience in the Trials. Just think, Kade, you could have your own jacuzzi in here if you so desire! Even a cinema screen so you can watch the various Trials related shows in glorious high-def! Now isn’t that something!”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“It’s… something alright.”

“Your SC is always open to you. You just have to make your way to it.”

“You said it shows on the map. What map?”

Grik floated in front of me, his oversized eyes disconcerting. “The map on your Contestant Menu. I’ll need to grant you access.”

“Contestant Menu? You guys are really pushing this whole gameshow idea, aren’t you?”

“Well, of course,” Grik said. “I don’t think you quite realize how popular these Trials are in greater Nyxarion culture, Kade. But you will. Entertainment is a vital part of any society. It serves as a distraction, a unifying force, and a way to reinforce cultural values.”

He paused, his tentacles undulating thoughtfully. “The Trials, in particular, are more than just a game or a show. They’re a cultural institution. They serve to remind the masses of the power and authority of the Overseers, and the consequences of defying their will. Every damned soul sent to Infernum is a cautionary tale, a warning to those who might stray from the path.”

“What path?”

“The path of obedience, of loyalty to the Overseers. Anyone can get sent here at any time, even without ‘dying’ first.”

“Nice. So y’all live under a totalitarian regime, then.”

“That’s maybe putting things a little harshly, Kade, and if I were you, I wouldn’t go around saying such things.”

“Why?”

“The Overseers don’t take kindly to those who question their authority or their methods. Consider yourself warned.”

Grik’s eyes seemed to bore into me. “But beyond all that, the Trials are a source of hope. Hope for the damned souls who participate, hope that they might prove themselves worthy and earn a second chance. And hope for the viewers, hope that no matter how bleak their own lives might be, at least they’re not in Infernum.”

Grik turned and gestured around the bleak Safe Circle. “And that’s where you come in, Kade. You’re not just a contestant, you’re a cog in the machine. Your struggles, your triumphs, your suffering... it all serves a purpose. You’re here to entertain, to inspire, and to remind everyone of their place in the grand scheme of things.”

He turned back to me, his expression inscrutable. “So embrace your role, Kade. Play the game, give the viewers a good show. Because in the end, that’s all any of us can do. We’re all just players in the Overseers’ grand design.”

With that, Grik waved a tentacle and a holographic screen appeared in front of me. “And speaking of playing the game, here’s your HUD. Familiarize yourself with it. It’ll be your lifeline in the Trials to come.”

The screen glowed with an array of icons and options, each one representing a different aspect of the game I’d been thrust into. I stared at it, feeling a sense of dread and resignation washing over me.

This was my life now. Or rather, my afterlife. And as much as I hated to admit it, Grik was right. If I wanted to survive, if I wanted to cling to any hope of escaping this nightmare, I had to play along. I had to become the contestant they wanted me to be.

But even as I resigned myself to my fate, a small part of me held onto a glimmer of defiance. A part that whispered that maybe, just maybe, I could find a way to beat the Overseers at their own game. That maybe, in the end, the joke would be on them.

Typical human arrogance, I thought, shaking my head ruefully. But I clung to it anyway.

At the top right of the menu, a long green bar caught my eye—probably my health, I figured. Below it, a mysterious reddish-pink bar taunted me with its unknown purpose. And in the top left, a blinking envelope icon demanded my attention like a needy ex.

“What’s with the blinking icon?” I asked. “Notifications or something?”

“Bingo,” Grik replied. “But ignore those for now. Focus on the map in the bottom right.”

I obliged, and the map unfurled before me, revealing the twisted labyrinth of the building we were in—or at least the parts I’d stumbled through. The rest was shrouded in an ominous fog, as if the game itself was saying, “Nope, not yet, buddy.”

Our Safe Circle was clearly marked, and as I mentally zoomed in, two dots appeared—one green, one white. Hovering over the green dot, my name popped up like a cheery “Hello, it’s me!” The white dot, unsurprisingly, was labeled with Grik’s name.

“Let me guess,” I said, “I’m the green dot?”

“Got it in one,” Grik chuckled. “White dots are NPCs, and red dots are mobs.”

I blinked. “Mobs? Like, angry crowds with pitchforks and torches?”

“No, no, no,” Grik sighed. “It’s short for ‘mobile object.’ Basically, any non-player entity that exists solely to be your punching bag. Like those imps you so valiantly slaughtered outside.”

The absurdity of it all sucker-punched me once again. “Wait, so I’m actually in some sort of virtual reality game?”

“Not quite,” Grik said. “Everything here is very real, but the underlying mechanics are based on video game principles. The technology is so advanced, it would make your puny human brain implode. Just think of it as magic, because for all intents and purposes, that’s what it is.”

“Magic,” I repeated, nodding slowly. “Right. Of course.”

“Now, zoom out on the map for me.”

I focused my thoughts, and the map expanded to fill my vision, revealing the area outside the building. Most of it was still cloaked in fog, taunting me with its secrets. But I did spot several red Xs not far from our location.

“Ah, those Xs,” Grik said, “are the imps you so bravely vanquished on your way here.”

I counted over half a dozen Xs. Damn, I’d been busy. A twinge of guilt crept up on me, but I quickly brushed it aside. This was all just a game, right? A sick, twisted, incredibly realistic game, but a game nonetheless.

Grik spent the next few minutes walking me through the Con Menu, revealing its myriad features and functions. He showed me how to shrink the map, move it around my HUD, and rearrange the various folders and icons. It was all strangely intuitive, like some sort of cosmic muscle memory. The level of detail and thought put into this whole setup was as impressive as it was terrifying.

Next, we dove into the Stat Menu, which felt vaguely familiar from my bygone gaming days. My stats read as follows:

Strength: 7

Intelligence: 4

Constitution: 6

Dexterity: 5

Charisma: 4

“Alright, listen up,” Grik said, his tentacles twitching with excitement. “Your stats are set in stone for now, but every time you level up—which you already did, thanks to your impressive imp-slaying skills—you’ll get three shiny new stat points to play with. Check your notifications.”

I raised an eyebrow. “So, I can just dump those points into my stats now?”

“Not so fast, eager beaver,” Grik chuckled. “First, you gotta pick a race and class, but you can’t do that until you survive the First Circle. Consider it a little hazing ritual, Infernum-style.”

“But why?”

“The Overseers like to see what you’re made of before they go through the trouble of assigning you a fancy new race and class. Think of it as a cosmic job interview, except instead of a corner office, you get a shiny new meat suit.”

My jaw dropped. “Wait, I can change my race entirely?”

“Well, duh!” Grik exclaimed. “That’s half the fun! Although, most humans tend to stick with their boring old human bodies. Guess you folks are just really attached to your fleshy prisons. Can’t imagine why,” he muttered under his breath. “But hey, your stats aren’t half bad for a human, thanks to all that kung fu magic you used to do. And who knows, maybe you’ll stumble upon some stat-boosting goodies along the way. Some might even stick around permanently, like a bad case of cosmic herpes.”

I nodded, feeling a small surge of pride at my Strength stat. My Intelligence, on the other hand, left something to be desired. Guess all those years of pickling my brain in cheap booze had taken their toll. If Amelia were here, she’d probably have an Intelligence stat that would make Stephen Hawking look like a preschooler.

God, I missed her. The thought of her being stuck in this hellish gameshow made my stomach churn. But knowing Amelia, she’d probably be running the damn thing by now. She always was the smart one, the ambitious one, the one who could adapt to anything life (or afterlife) threw at her.

Grik’s voice snapped me out of my reverie. “Now, pay attention, because this next part is crucial. The Ratings Menu is what separates the winners from the losers in this cosmic shit-show.”

He leaned in closer, his eyes gleaming with a manic intensity. “You see, Kade, the Overseers aren’t just in this for shits and giggles. They’re harvesting the psychic energy from all you damned souls, and the more you suffer, the more power they gain. But here’s the kicker—they need you to engage with the Trials willingly, to really throw yourself into the game. That’s where the ratings come in.”

“So, what, I have to go out there and put on a dog and pony show for the masses?”

“Now you’re getting it!” Grik clapped his tentacles together gleefully. “The more you play to the cameras, the more the viewers and sponsors will eat it up. And trust me, you’re gonna need their help if you want to make it through the Trials in one piece.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “So, basically, I have to become the fucking Tom Cruise of eternal damnation?”

Grik blinked. “I have no idea who that is, but sure, let’s go with that! You were a gladiator in your past life, right? Well, time to dust off those old skills and put on a show like your afterlife depends on it. Because, spoiler alert: it does.”

“Fantastic,” I sighed.

A thought suddenly occurred to me. “Hey, why wasn’t humanity ever clued in on this whole ‘Trials of the Damned’ business? Seems like every other species in the galaxy got the memo.”

Grik shrugged. “No offense, but you humans are like the toddlers of the cosmic playground. The Overseers probably thought your little monkey brains would explode if they hit you with the truth.”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence,” I scoffed. “I’m pretty sure we could’ve handled it. Some people would’ve been lining up to audition.”

“Look, I’m just an NPC, alright?” Grik held up his tentacles defensively. “I don’t make the rules, I just enforce them. Maybe one day the Overseers will let humanity in on the big secret, but for now, let’s just focus on getting you through this tutorial without losing any more of your precious brain cells, okay?”

I let out a long, defeated sigh. “Fine. But if I’m going to be a dancing monkey, I better get a damn good banana out of it.”

Grik grinned. “Oh, trust me, Kade. Stick with me, and you’ll be swimming in cosmic bananas before you know it. Now, let’s get back to your tutorial. We’re almost done.”

“Yes, let’s continue applying the clown makeup, shall we?"