Joe wasn’t entirely sure why, but after blasting that crab-man creature to pieces with the meat bazooka, he felt… powerful?

His burnt hands now tingled with numbness, and an odd surge of energy buzzed through him—a strange mix of anger and satisfaction at the sight of the blood and gore splattered across the scene.

His hands had already begun to slightly blister, was that normal?

Before he could process it, Terrence interrupted, “That was your inventory. From there, you can access everything—attributes, the map, your core.”

“Weapons?” Joe asked, glancing at the still-smoking meat cannon on the floor.

“Weapons too,” Terrence replied, eyeing the bazooka with concern.

Before Joe could ask more, the cannon vanished from the floor as fast as it had appeared.

He hoped that went back into his inventory. Although if he was to use it again, he might need some gloves. His hands had begun to throb as he inspected them again; they were definitely getting worse as time went on.

The skin was mottled and cracked, and an array of reds and angry blacks branched up his hands and fingers. Where the burns were worst, the skin was waxy and smooth, as if whatever had been human had boiled away, leaving remnants of that disgusting meat cannon in its wake.

“Why the hell did that thing burn my hands?” Joe asked.

Terrence ignored him again.

“Blink at your right pocket,” Terrence suggested.

“You’re all business, aren’t you?” Joe said, blinking his inventory grid open again. Upon closer inspection, what he’d assumed was a stick in his inventory turned out to be just that—a stick. He blinked on it.

Level 0 Item: Stick

Description: Stick.

“Good thing I didn’t use that on the crab-man,” Joe chuckled nervously, but the humour faded quickly when he noticed the meat cannon now missing from his inventory.

“Hey, what the hell, Terrence? Where’s the weapon I just used?”

Silence.

Joe waited a second, then glanced at Terrence through the glowing grid. “Terrence?”

He blinked the inventory away and found Terrence completely frozen in place—body stiff, mouth slightly ajar, staring into the distance.

“Terrence?” Joe called again, moving toward him. No response.

Terrence’s vacant gaze was locked on something fifty feet away—a strange shimmering tear in the air. Joe squinted, realising with growing alarm that the tear was expanding.

Panicked, he opened his inventory again and grabbed the only thing he had—his stick. It materialised in his hand, long, smooth, and pitifully unimpressive. If another crab-man appeared, this wasn’t going to cut it.

Joe grimaced as he gripped the stick with his festering fingers, cautiously approaching the tear, holding it out like that chick from Kill Bill with her katana. The tear trembled and shimmered, reminding him of the energy barrier he’d passed through earlier.

A booming voice erupted from the rift, startling Joe so badly he nearly dropped his makeshift sword.

"It’s begun. They shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry," the voice echoed, deep and unsettlingly familiar. Joe couldn’t place it.

He wasn’t sure if the voice was addressing him, but he stepped closer, gripping the stick tighter. “Who shouldn’t have done what? Who are you?”

The tear pulsed slightly in response but remained silent. It had an almost golden hue, majestic even.

Frustration gripped at Joe as he waited for more. Then the voice returned, fainter this time: “The Resonance. It’ll change everything for you…”

Resonance? What the hell did that mean? Joe had no time to dwell on it.

“Level up quickly,” the voice continued. “Familiarise yourself with your menu, inventory, map, and attributes. And try not to lose control—I can only do so much. I don’t know what influence this place has. The Resonance system may not be normal here. I don’t know. I can’t get you the cannon back, but I’ve given you something else to help. Disrupt the balance, stop the merge. I will find you when I can.”

“So it was you who gave me the cannon! Who are you?” Joe shouted back again, but before he could ask more, the tear sealed shut with a crackling hiss.

“Shit,” Joe said. “I’m really in over my head.”

Turning back to where Terrence had been, Joe realised he was gone. Completely vanished without a trace.

“Shit, shit, shit. This is a total cluster,” Joe grumbled. He stood there, feeling the weight of everything crashing down on him as Betty’s engine clicked and ticked in the background. Joe assumed she was trying to cool herself down.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

His red work polo was drenched in sweat and stuck to his skin, blending the bloodstains and crab-meat into the fabric.

Taking a deep breath, Joe decided it was time to check his inventory again. He wondered what the random voice had given him. If this whole situation was following video-game logic, as he was beginning to suspect, then the things Terrence and that voice had mentioned—attributes, quests, maps—had to exist somewhere.

He blinked, pulling up the inventory screen again. Joe counted forty slots, most of them empty, save for the stick. Nothing in there from the voice that he could see.

Then he noticed a tiny arrow in the upper-left corner of his vision, almost too high to comfortably see.

“That’s a terrible spot,” he said, blink-clicking on the arrow. A menu opened up:

Joe - Level 2 - Focus 99% Core Class: ? Resonance Stability: [Stable] Attributes Realm Titles Map Quests (Left pocket for shortcut)

Joe sighed. At least he was Level 2 and “Stable”, but “Resonance”? That was what the voice had just mentioned. He clicked on it.

Resonance Type: Infernal Resonance:

Wrath: 1% [Stable]

[0/2 Echoes]

Available Abilities: Fury Burst (Locked), Controlled Rage (Locked)

Despair: 0% [Stable]

[0/2 Echoes]

Available Abilities: Sapping Will (Locked), Endless Grit (Locked)

Madness: 0% [Stable]

[0/2 Echoes]

Available Abilities: Distorted Perception (Locked), Choo Choo (Locked)

Infernal Influence Unlocked once Resonance Mastery is Achieved.

Joe’s heart sank as he stared at the screen. “This can’t be good.” Although everything was pretty much at 0%, he had an overwhelming feeling that these were warning signs.

Taking in everything that had been said so far, these stats were likely going to be his downfall. He wondered what trauma he’d endure to trigger them to increase.

He hadn’t the foggiest what ‘Echoes’ meant and some of those ‘Abilities’ also looked concerning. ‘Choo Choo?’ Part of him immediately wanted to ignore them for now.

But another part—the part that found a bit too much satisfaction in the chaos and gore earlier—was weirdly curious.

He knew he’d need to keep an eye on these numbers. If he wanted to make it out of this place, he couldn’t afford to lose his mind.

He swiped back, eager to see if there was anything useful in the ‘Core’ section. His basic stats appeared, much like in an RPG, but they weren’t as detailed as he expected:

Strength: 2 Intelligence: 3 Constitution: 3 Dexterity: 2 Charisma: 4

Intelligence Feats:

- Spreadsheets

“Charisma: 4? Interesting.” Joe said, thinking back to how delightfully dry his dating life had been. He then noticed his feat at the bottom.

“Spreadsheets? Really?” he groaned. “What am I supposed to do, Excel my way out of hell?” Joe went to ask the question on how these change, if they did at all, but then remembered Terrence wasn’t around to give answers.

As he blinked back onto what he assumed was the main menu, he heard a familiar ding in his head and noticed a (1) next to his ‘Attributes’ page. He blinked it open, revealing a single new item.

Level 2 Attribute: Infernal Resonance Tap

Description: Tap into your Infernal Resonance to temporarily enhance a chosen emotion or state of mind, amplifying its power and effects. Be warned: overuse can destabilise your emotional balance, leading to unintended consequences.

Great, Joe thought. A high-risk, high-reward ability tied to his emotional state. He didn’t even want to think about what would happen if his Resonance got too high in any of those categories. What was this game he’d stumbled into? Emotional Mortal Kombat?

Joe decided to explore the map next like the guy from the rift said. He was welcomed by a small dot that expanded larger and larger until a grid, not too dissimilar from his inventory was in view. It showed a general outline of the terrain around him.

The map wasn’t detailed in terms of landmarks, but it gave him a good sense of his surroundings. Faint gridlines divided it into neat sections, with his position marked by a white arrow. As he zoomed out slightly, he saw a small red dot in the direction of the crab.

Dead Crab Man – Level 4

“Nice to know you’re dead for sure,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. He lingered on the stats a moment longer. It was strange seeing something that had tried to kill him reduced to a simple number.

There was a certain contentedness in it, but also a reminder—he only killed that thing because of his access to that meat cannon. If he continued on with just this stick, he was cooked.

His eyes drifted back to the wider map. He examined again, and another shape popped up—Betty, sitting off to the side, not far from his position. A tiny, rusted car icon marked her place on the map. At least she’s still there, Joe thought, even if Betty’s engine sounded about as exhausted as he felt.

Joe then realised that despite coming off a gruelling 10-hour shift and not eating for what had to be hours by now, he wasn’t hungry. He should have been starving, but the gnawing hunger that had plagued him earlier had completely vanished.

He was still tired, of course, but the ravenous emptiness in his stomach was gone. Was it just adrenaline? Or was that another quirk of this place?

Joe couldn’t be sure, but it was unsettling. Whatever this nightmare realm was, it didn’t play by normal rules.

Joe blinked out of the extended map, which conveniently shrunk down into a smaller version that nestled itself in the upper-right corner of his vision. It stayed there, even when he opened his inventory, quietly hovering as if waiting for the next threat.

If more enemies were nearby, their red dots would hopefully appear. For now, the only blips on the grid were the dead crab and Betty.

No looming danger—yet. He knew it wouldn’t last. He turned his attention to the final two tabs he hadn’t explorer yet.

The first was the "Realm Title" tab. He blinked on it, half expecting something useful. Instead, one phrase appeared on the screen:

The Crab Whisperer.

“For god’s sake, Now I’m just being taunted.” Out of all the possible titles he could’ve earned—Hell, even Crab Slayer would’ve made more sense—he was stuck with The Crab Whisperer.

He hadn’t whispered to anything. He’d blasted the crab-man into a pile of goo and burned his hands in the process. But apparently, this place had a sense of humour—a really stupid one.

He clicked out of the screen, shaking his head. “There better not be more crab stuff,” he said to himself, dreading what other humiliations might await him. He was still yet to see what the voice from the rift had given him.

Lastly, Joe blinked into the quests tab, hoping for something—anything—to guide him forward.

The screen loaded.

Completely empty.

“That’s just great. My guide has apparently shit the bed and now I have zero guidance or goals.” He blink-slammed the page shut with a huff, frustration boiling up. Of course, no quests, no weapons. No direction. No hope.

With a heavy sigh, Joe sank down into the dry dirt. He winced as he leaned back, trying to rest his hands behind him. The burns throbbed painfully, but he bit through the discomfort. That was just the tip of the iceberg, and Joe knew it.

“This is a disaster,” he moaned, staring at the cracked earth beneath him. “I’d have had better odds staying back home.”

Joe looked up at the sky, the thick, oppressive heat bearing down on him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, the dry air filling his lungs. As he let the breath out, dark thoughts began swirling in his mind—thoughts of failure, of his inevitable death, of his family.

His spiral into despair had started before his journey had even truly begun.

Just as the weight of it all seemed unbearable, Joe heard a noise.

It was faint at first, barely noticeable, but it quickly grew louder—a familiar rumbling sound, an engine.