I stared at Rachel, trying to process everything. Seeing her here—real here—was like a punch to the gut. But the truth was, the shock had worn off. She wasn’t the same girl who had hurt me all those years ago. And I wasn’t the same guy who’d wasted months in that godforsaken friend zone.
My thoughts were clearer now. The system had forced me to relive that breakup over and over, tweaking the details, making me feel the sting all over again. But it wasn’t the same anymore. I had grown. The old Blake—the one who couldn’t see past his feelings for Rachel—had been broken down and rebuilt, piece by piece, by the system and... well, mostly by Elmo’s sick idea of emotional “growth.”
“Oh, this should be fun,” Elmo chirped, his voice full of that mocking glee. “All that time I spent making you re-live that breakup. Honestly, Blake, I deserve a gold star for that one. You’ve really come a long way from that pathetic, lovesick puppy.”
Rachel Walker Level: 1
XP: 100/100
HP: 50/50
MP: 10/10
STA: 10/10
Level 1. I blinked, then blinked again, hoping I was seeing things. But no, the numbers didn’t lie. Rachel, the girl who had been part of my life—who had pushed me away, ignored me, and left me to rot in the friend zone—was here. And she was Level 1.
Level 1. She was a newbie.
I could almost hear the smugness in his digital voice. “Aren’t you proud of yourself, Blake? All that emotional turmoil I dragged you through? It worked wonders on you, didn’t it? Too bad it didn’t work on her. Look at her, all Level 1 and confused. Poor girl doesn’t even know what she’s in for.”
I gritted my teeth, trying to ignore Elmo. This wasn’t about Rachel anymore. It wasn’t about the girl who had made me feel like I was nothing. I’d moved past that.
“Rachel,” I said, my voice steady, no hint of emotion. “It’s good to see you. But this—this isn’t what I thought it was. You’re here, and I’m here, but things are different now. I’m different.”
Rachel seemed to notice the change in my tone. She stepped closer, eyes wide with a mix of confusion and something else I couldn’t quite place. “What do you mean? Blake, what’s happened to you? You don’t seem like—”
I cut her off, shaking my head. “I’m not the guy you left behind anymore. And you’re not the girl I thought you were. I don’t know how the system pulled you in here, but you’ve got to understand—this place, this system, it doesn’t care about us. You’re just another level-one pawn to it, and we’re stuck in the middle of its game.”
Rachel flinched at my words, but I didn’t care. I’d said all I needed to. I wasn’t chasing after her anymore. The old me would’ve jumped at the chance to beg for answers, to get closure. But the new me? He wasn’t interested in that.
I could feel Elmo’s smug presence in my mind like a weight. “I did good, didn’t I, Blakey-boy? Look at you—hard as stone. No more pining after the girl who broke your heart. No more waiting for her to pick you. Oh, I love this version of you!”
“Shut up, Elmo,” I muttered.
“Make me,” he snapped back, far too pleased with himself.
I took a long breath, feeling the weight of Elmo's mocking tone pressing down on me. His voice was all too familiar now, a constant presence in my mind, always poking and prodding, never letting me forget the emotional mess he’d dragged me through.
But I wasn’t that mess anymore.
I turned my attention back to Rachel, her wide eyes still searching mine for something—answers, reassurance, I couldn’t really tell. The old Blake would’ve been caught up in that. The old Blake would’ve tried to save her, to pull her out of whatever mess she’d found herself in, and fix things that didn’t need fixing.
But that wasn’t me anymore.
“Rachel,” I said, my voice steady, “You need to understand something. You’re not the same person I knew. None of us are. And this place?” I gestured to the labyrinth stretching out before us, the sky overhead heavy and suffocating. “It doesn’t care about us. It doesn’t care about anything but its own twisted game. And you’re stuck here just like me.”
Her face faltered, the expression that had been there moments ago—confusion, hope—now twisting into something uncertain. “What... what do you mean? Why am I here, Blake?”
I could feel the irritation building. Not at her—at this situation. This whole thing was messed up. I didn’t want to babysit someone else in this hellhole. Rachel had made her choices. And whatever the system had done to pull her in here? That wasn’t my problem.
“Look, Rachel,” I snapped, a little sharper than I meant. “You need to get it through your head. You’re not a part of my life anymore. You’re not some lost puppy I need to rescue. You're a part of this system now, just like me. We’re both trapped in this game, and the only way out is to play by the rules. And right now? The rule is that I’m leading the way. So unless you want to end up like some other poor bastard who gets taken out by a random glitch or gets swallowed up by a random group of lawn gremlins, you need to shut up, follow my lead, and keep up.”
I felt a strange sense of relief after saying that. The tension in my chest that had been building for the past few minutes seemed to loosen. For the first time, I wasn’t worried about what she needed. I wasn’t concerned with fixing things for her, fixing things for anyone. I was focused on the fight ahead.
Rachel looked taken aback, her lips parting slightly as if to speak. But I cut her off before she could say anything else.
“Look,” I said, more calmly now, “I know this is all new to you, and I’m sorry for that. But this isn’t a fairy tale. There are no happy reunions here. There’s just survival. And if you want to stay alive in this twisted simulation, you’re going to have to keep up with me. You’ll follow my lead, or you’ll get left behind.”
I turned away from her, my boots crunching on the ground as I started walking again. I could feel her eyes on my back, but I didn’t turn around. There was no point.
Elmo’s voice piped up in my head again, much too pleased for my liking. “Oh, you’re cold now, Blakey-boy. Just the way I like it. So much for that heart-on-your-sleeve nonsense, huh? Bet Rachel didn’t expect the cold shoulder.”
“Shut up, Elmo,” I muttered under my breath, though I couldn’t help but feel a small sense of pride at how I’d handled things.
She’d be fine. I’d make sure of it. But she wasn’t my problem to fix anymore.
Not in this game.
Elmo chuckled in my mind. “Sure, sure. You’ve got it all figured out. But you’ll miss her when she gets herself killed. Don’t say I didn’t warn you when you end up carrying her lifeless body across the map like a good little hero.”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t need to.
What was important now was staying focused. The system had already twisted enough of my life. I wasn’t going to let it do that with Rachel too.
And if she got herself killed? Well, that was on her. This was my game now. She was just an obstacle. An inconvenient one, but an obstacle, nonetheless.
I didn’t look back as I walked deeper into the labyrinth, my footsteps echoing in the strange silence that hung between us. The system had made its rules, and I’d learned to survive by them. If Rachel was smart, she’d learn the same.
I glanced over at Rachel, her gaze lingering on the ToroMax like she was trying to figure out if it was a figment of her imagination.
"Get on," I said, not slowing down. "If you want to keep up, you better start moving."
She hesitated for a second, clearly taken aback by the command, but then nodded and climbed onto the back, her hands gripping the sides of the machine like she had done it a thousand times.
As the ToroMax roared to life beneath us, I pushed it into gear, tearing through the cracked streets of the replica neighborhood. The eerily familiar houses loomed around us, their facades too perfect, too pristine—like something straight out of a forgotten dream.
I didn’t bother to explain. There was no need. The system had clearly gone out of its way to build this mockery of my old life, and all I could do was move through it like I was driving a stolen vehicle. Rachel, for her part, stayed quiet, still processing whatever version of reality she was trapped in.
Her silence was louder than anything she could’ve said. I wasn’t the same guy who had pined over her all those years ago. The sooner she realized that, the better.
The ToroMax growled as we cruised down the unnervingly familiar street. Rachel hadn’t said a word since climbing aboard, but I could feel her glaring at the back of my head. I didn’t care. My focus was ahead, scanning for the next trap the system might spring.
If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
It didn’t take long.
As we rounded a corner, the engine’s growl was interrupted by a sudden, high-pitched giggling that grated on my nerves. I slowed the ToroMax, peering down the street. A group of squat figures was clustered in the middle of the road, their stumpy silhouettes barely illuminated by the faint, artificial glow of the system’s ever-present light.
Lawn gnomes.
Not the kind your grandma puts in her garden, either. These had jagged teeth, glowing red eyes, and rusted weapons that looked like they’d been scavenged from a discount bin at the apocalypse store. Their hats were frayed and filthy, but their grins were wide, and they pointed at us, snickering with malicious glee.
“What... is that?” Rachel asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.
“Lawn gnomes,” I said flatly.
She leaned over my shoulder for a better look. “Lawn gnomes? Seriously?”
“Deadly lawn gnomes,” I clarified. “System probably thought it was being clever.”
Elmo chose that moment to chime in, his voice dripping with mockery. “Oh, look! Your fan club has arrived! Want me to get them your autograph?”
The gnomes’ giggling reached a crescendo as one of them pointed directly at us, its jagged-toothed grin widening. I wasn’t in the mood for whatever joke they thought they were playing.
Lawn Gnome (Variant: Garden Fiend)
Level: 13
A twisted perversion of decorative lawn ornaments, these pint-sized psychopaths have swapped their harmless aesthetic charm for a taste for blood. With jagged teeth, glowing red eyes, and a penchant for violence, they thrive on chaos and broken knees. Be warned: they’re faster, meaner, and surprisingly well-coordinated for beings with legs shorter than a ruler. Remember when you laughed at garden gnomes as a kid? They’ve been waiting.
Without a word, I slammed the throttle forward, and the ToroMax roared as we charged straight at them.
The gnomes didn’t scatter. Instead, their laughter turned to snarls as they brandished their makeshift weapons, forming a crude line of defense.
“Uh, Blake?” Rachel’s grip on the back of the ToroMax tightened. “Maybe we should—”
“Hold on,” I interrupted.
The first three gnomes didn’t even get the chance to move. I activated the shock claw, and it shot forward with a satisfying hiss, grabbing all three in its electrified grip. Sparks flew as they convulsed, their weapons clattering to the ground. With a flick of my wrist, I slammed the claw shut, crushing them into a heap of shattered ceramic and twisted metal.
+685XP
+655XP
+695XP
The remaining gnomes froze for a moment, staring at the carnage. Then, as one, they screeched in rage and charged.
“Okay, that’s terrifying,” Rachel muttered.
I swung the ToroMax around, its reinforced tires biting into the cracked asphalt as I lined up for another pass. The arcbolt generator hummed, and I fired a shot into the charging mob. A bolt of crackling energy arced through the air, striking one gnome dead center and sending it flying into a nearby mailbox. The mailbox dented inward with a metallic crunch as the gnome shattered like a dropped plate.
+625XP
Another gnome leapt at us from the side, its rusted spear aimed for my head. I swerved just in time, the spear grazing the side of the ToroMax. Rachel screamed as the gnome landed on the hood, its glowing red eyes boring into mine.
“Get off my ride,” I growled, activating the shock claw again. It lashed out, snatching the gnome off the hood and flinging it into its comrades.
The pile of gnomes exploded into shards, but there were still more of them. The ToroMax’s MP gauge dipped dangerously low, and the arcbolt generator fizzled when I tried to fire another shot.
+645XP
+640XP
+650XP
+665XP
“Out of juice,” Elmo chirped, unhelpfully.
The remaining gnomes closed in, their weapons raised. I glanced at the catapult switch. Grinder was perched and ready, his claws flexing in anticipation.
“Rachel,” I said, my voice steady despite the chaos. “Hold tight.”
“Why?” she asked, her voice high-pitched with panic.
I flipped the switch. Grinder launched into the air with a mechanical growl, his claws extended. He landed squarely in the middle of the gnome horde, slashing and tearing like a miniature hurricane of destruction.
Rachel yelped. “What the hell is that thing?”
I grinned at Rachel’s horrified expression as Grinder tore through the gnomes with gleeful efficiency. His reinforced claws were a blur, disassembling the little terrors faster than they could regroup. Ceramic shards, tufts of fake moss, and whatever unholy essence animated them flew everywhere. Grinder was, as always, an overachiever.
+630XP
+600XP
+510XP
LEVEL UP!
“That,” I said, steering the ToroMax to a halt beside her, “is Grinder. He’s my... uh, problem-solver.”
Rachel’s eyes darted from me to Grinder, who was now disemboweling a particularly aggressive gnome wielding a jagged garden spade. “Problem-solver? It looks like a homicidal Furby!”
+0XP
+0XP
“Elmo, you hear that?” I called out. “Grinder just got a glowing review.”
“Oh, I’m framing that,” Elmo said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Five stars from the lady trapped in a nightmare. High praise, truly.”
+0XP
“Grinder!” I barked. His metallic head swiveled toward me mid-slash. “Save two. Hold them down.”
Rachel stared at me as if I’d lost my mind. “Save two? Are you serious? Why?”
“You’ll see,” I replied, pulling the ToroMax to a stop just outside the fray. The gnomes had no chance. Grinder’s claws extended with a mechanical snick as he tackled two fleeing figures, pinning them to the ground like a predator toying with its prey. They writhed and squealed, but Grinder held firm, his servos whirring in triumph.
“Your turn, Rachel,” I said, hopping off the mower. “Finish them.”
Her jaw dropped. “What?! No way.”
“Yes way. You’re in the system now, remember? This is survival. You need to pull your weight.”
“I’m not killing... whatever those are!” she said, taking a step back.
“They’re murderous garden gnomes,” I said, folding my arms. “They would’ve gutted you with a rusty trowel if they’d had the chance. And trust me, they’ll get more chances if you don’t handle it now.”
Her gaze flicked to the pinned gnomes. Their glowing red eyes glared at her with venom, their tiny bodies still writhing under Grinder’s iron grip. “This is insane.”
“Welcome to the system,” I said flatly. “Pick a weapon. Any weapon.”
She hesitated, looking at the ground. There was plenty to choose from: a jagged shard of ceramic, a discarded rake, even a broken garden spade. “Why can’t you do it?” she asked, her voice wavering.
I sighed. “Because if you’re going to survive, you need to start taking these things seriously. You think I got through all this by letting someone else handle the dirty work? No. Now stop stalling and do it.”
Her lips pressed into a tight line, and she knelt down, hesitantly picking up the broken rake. The gnomes hissed and snarled, straining against Grinder’s claws. Rachel took a deep breath, raised the rake, and brought it down with a loud crack.
The first gnome shattered instantly, its glowing eyes flickering out. The second screeched louder, as if mourning its comrade, but Rachel didn’t hesitate this time. Another crack, and it was done. Shards of ceramic littered the ground like confetti.
Rachel stepped back, her hands trembling as she dropped the rake. “I can’t believe I just did that,” she whispered.
I nodded, satisfied. “Not bad for your first time. You didn’t puke, so that’s a win.”
She glared at me, the fire returning to her eyes. “You didn’t have to make me do that.”
“Maybe not,” I said, climbing back onto the ToroMax. “But now you know you can. And trust me, you’re going to need that confidence later. Did you level up?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder as I fired up the ToroMax again.
Rachel blinked, still staring at the shattered gnome debris like she was processing what she’d just done. Then, as if on cue, her body gave a faint shimmer.
She looked down at herself, her expression shifting from shock to confusion. “Wait... I think I did? What does that even mean?”
“It means you’re getting stronger,” I said, guiding the ToroMax back onto the cracked path. “Congratulations. You’re officially less useless.”
“Gee, thanks,” she muttered, brushing ceramic dust off her pants. Then her gaze narrowed, as if something had just clicked. “Hold on. Who’s Elmo?”
My hands tensed slightly on the wheel. “He’s, uh... complicated.”
“Complicated how?” she pressed, stepping onto the ToroMax’s rear platform with a frown. “You’ve mentioned him before, and Grinder looks like something straight out of a nightmare. So, spill. Is this Elmo person the one running all this?”
I sighed, my patience already running thin. “He’s not a person. He’s... a voice. A really annoying one. Kind of like a backseat driver who can also electrocute you.”
Her skeptical look deepened. “A voice? That’s it? Are you seriously telling me you’ve been talking to some imaginary voice in your head this whole time?”
I groaned internally. Elmo, a little help here? Explain yourself.
“Not a chance, Blakey-boy,” Elmo chimed, his syrupy sweet voice thick with amusement. “She’s not my problem. You brought her along; you deal with her.”
You’re really not going to say anything? I pressed, my jaw tightening.
“Nope! I’m all about keeping our conversations exclusive. Call it a VIP experience.”
I glared into the middle distance, fully aware of how insane I looked from Rachel’s perspective. “Elmo, you’re not helping.”
Rachel folded her arms and arched a brow. “Let me get this straight. You’re talking to an invisible voice in your head that no one else can hear? Do you know how that sounds?”
“It sounds like I’m not crazy,” I shot back, though my tone wasn’t as convincing as I’d hoped. “He’s real. I promise. He just doesn’t like to share.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, her skepticism now bordering on outright disbelief. “Sure, Blake. I’m stuck in a labyrinth with a guy who talks to himself and rides a weaponized lawnmower. Totally normal.”
“Look,” I said, rubbing my temple as the ToroMax rumbled forward, “you don’t have to believe me. Just trust that I know what I’m doing.”
“That’s... debatable,” she muttered, her voice dripping with doubt.
We rode in awkward silence for a while, the labyrinth’s twisted pathways growing darker and narrower with each turn. The ToroMax’s headlights sliced through the creeping shadows, illuminating more overgrown lawns and cracked pavement.
Elmo, I tried again, keeping my voice steady in my mind, she’s not going to shut up about this unless you say something. Just a quick hello?
“Sorry, Blakey-boy,” Elmo replied smugly. “I’m enjoying the show. Besides, her disbelief is chef’s kiss hilarious.”
I gritted my teeth. Rachel, oblivious to the internal argument, was still muttering to herself. “Talking lawnmowers, murderous garden gnomes, and now voices in his head. Yep, definitely losing it.”
Before I could respond, a faint rustling sound caught my attention. I slowed the ToroMax to a crawl, scanning the dimly lit path ahead. The eerie quiet was broken only by the low hum of the mower’s engine.
Rachel leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. “What was that?”
“Probably nothing good,” I replied, my grip tightening on the controls.
The rustling grew louder, and then, without warning, a swarm of something small and fast darted out from the bushes. My heart sank as the headlights revealed the source: more gnomes, but this time they weren’t alone. Flanking them were a set of grotesque, knee-high flamingos, their beady eyes glowing an unnatural red.
“Oh, come on,” I groaned. “Lawn gnomes I can handle. But flamingos?”
Rachel’s face twisted in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me. What’s next, homicidal garden hoses?”
The gnomes cackled as they advanced, the flamingos strutting with jerky, unnerving movements. Their long necks bobbed, and I didn’t like the way their sharp, metallic beaks gleamed in the light.
Elmo’s voice purred in my mind, his amusement almost palpable. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a real party. Better make it a good one, Blakey-boy. She’s watching, after all.”
I revved the ToroMax’s engine, the claw on the front snapping open and shut with anticipation. “Rachel,” I said, my voice calm despite the chaos unfolding. “Hold on tight.”