I… I don't even… Jesus Christ, Bill. What have you done man?!

Having just participated in a ruthless, premeditated murder, Bill was left in such an unanticipated state of mental distress that he read the notifications three times before the information finally stuck. A level up?! It really is just like a video game. But… He balled up his fists and forced himself to stare down at the body by his feet. If this was a game, it was far too realistic for his tastes.

Slavin' Dave Murdock, now nothing more than a lifeless husk lying motionless in the muck, stared unblinkingly into the distance. His hollow gaze forever locked on the weather-beaten horse drawn carriage, the only part of him that would ever reach his destination.

Nearly thirty seconds had passed, yet blood continued to geyser from his nostrils like a ruptured paint can. Crimson tears welled from his bloodshot eyes. They traced along the bridge of his nose and formed thick droplets that dripped to the floor. A puddle was already beginning to form beneath his head.

The haunted expression permanently affixed to the deceased sheriff's features seared itself into Bill's memory like a molten iron cattle brand being pressed against the side of his brain. The disturbing mental image was one he would have gladly been rid of but would serve as both a warning and an unspoken promise. This hideous death mask before him was an eternal testament to the hazards of masquerading as an arbiter of justice.

Gunsmoke curled in the air, creating a ghostly veil that swirled around Bill like a spectral cloak. A flood of intense, and conflicting emotions waged war upon his already-overwhelmed psyche and soon the fissures began to spread. Desperate for clarity and seeking reassurance, he surveyed the cracked and brittle surface of his modern-day moral compass only to find its faceplate was now marred by bloody fingerprints. Rather than pointing out a specific direction, the needles were gyrating round and round like the hips of a hula dancer hopped up on crystal meth.

Struggling to justify his actions, Bill felt himself becoming unmoored, adrift on the fickle tides of indecision. Although he felt no pity for the sheriff—the pathetic excuse of a lawman had undeniably gotten his just deserts—his heart was under immense pressure. Weighed down, burdened with alternating currents of guilt and indifference.

Bill's emotions were bouncing all over the place, the way his guts were twisting and flipping reminiscent of being strapped to a runaway roller coaster. Never before had he suffered such a staggering sense of doubt. A life was lost, and regardless of the mental gymnastics he underwent in an attempt to find a way to shift the blame, he knew that no matter how the cake was sliced, he was the one at fault.

While he didn't think he was the one that actually pulled the trigger, the line between himself and his counterpart had become so blurred there at the end that it was difficult to say for certain. He could clearly remember the grim satisfaction that final squeeze of the trigger had elicited.

The sheriff was a piece of shit, Bill wouldn't even try to argue against that fact. But Dave Murdock was still a human being. He had a mom, and possibly even children who depended on him. While on the one hand Bill knew his actions were necessary, the guilt he felt seemed insurmountable. Bill felt that he had crossed a one-way threshold leading into the abyss. The essence of who he always thought he was had been submerged into a bottomless morass of moral ambiguity, and he feared the person who resurfaced would no longer be himself but instead, a monster wearing his flesh as a disguise.

Despite his earlier willingness to partake in the gruesome festivities, he couldn't help but question Wild Bill's method of remorselessly doling out vigilante justice. Was this truly the only way? Did we really need to kill him?

Hardly conscious of his actions, Bill nudged the sheriff's body with the toe of his boot. The only reaction was a fountain of wretched-tasting bile surging up his throat and raining down on Slavin' Dave's coat. A bout of frenzied laughter—the maddening cackle of a mad scientist—welled up from the pit of his stomach, spilling out between his chapped lips.

“Aww come on now Bill! Don't be a poor sport, this here's cause for celebratin'! We got em'. That stupid sumbitch is deader'n a can of corned beef!" His voice suddenly took on a somber tone. “Maybe now my Sara can be at peace..."

Suddenly feeling drained beyond all imagining, Wild Bill decided to take a backseat for a while. Bill needed time to work this through on his own. He briefly contemplated trying to offer up a few words of encouragement to his mental parasite. This was quite likely the first time Bill had witnessed death up close and personal, and Wild Bill was no stranger to what he was feeling. His own first kill still haunted his dreams to this day.

In the end, Wild Bill chose to remain silent. Some things had to be overcome without unnecessary distractions. As long as Bill didn't do anything too foolish, he planned to give him all the space he needed. Should he desire a pep talk, all he had to do was ask. Wild Bill wasn't sure what he would say if it came down to it, but remained confident that at the very least, he could rustle up something amusing.

As the echoes of Wild Bill's voice faded into the recesses of his mind, Bill found himself alone, once more in full control of his new body. It was his one comfort amidst the strife. Left to grapple with the enormity of what had transpired, he swiped his hand across the notification and watched as it floated up to the corner of his vision. Desperate to occupy his mind, he focused on the blinking red dot in his periphery and gasped as a massive blue screen materialized.

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Prepare for System Initialization protocols... 3… 2… 1… [Initializing]

[Initialization successful]

Prepare for planetary upgrade protocols… 3… 2… 1…

[Upgrading]

[Upgrade in process. Estimated time remaining to planetary stabilization: 60 days. Current planetary energy grade: G]

Planetary relocation will commence upon planetary stabilization. New Earth will be contained within a stasis field for duration of stabilization.>

“The Riftwarden? Why does that sound so familiar?" Having barely scratched the surface of the notification, Bill bookmarked that thought for a later study and pressed onward.

First, possession and control of New Earth has been granted to the System until a suitable planetary leader arises. Second, all planetary denizens have been integrated into the System. Through this connection, each denizen has gained access to Mana, and the ability to transcend the limits of their respective races. However, in return every denizen will be required to provide a small energy tithe until the System recovers the expended energy. This has been estimated to take 11,500 years.

Third, due to insufficient energy and density within New Earth, your planet is currently being reshaped. Failed worlds have been amalgamated into its matrix to enhance density and energy gathering capabilities. A World Core has been integrated, and the cost of these upgrades must be repaid. This repayment will take the form of forced conscription. In the event of war, the System reserves all rights to call for immediate enlistment. All planetary denizens are expected to contribute and demonstrate their fullest capabilities. Weakness will not be tolerated.

The wildlife of New Earth shall undergo forced evolution. Monsters and dungeons will be introduced to encourage rapid advancement among planetary denizens. After one year, the planet will be tested by a formidable World Boss.

Please be aware that this is a mandatory declaration from the current chairman of the System's Integration Committee, which has the ultimate authority in governing these matters.

Prepare yourself denizen, for a glorious path lies before you. When prepared, state the words 'Personal System Matrix' to generate user profile.

There were also two kill notices, one for the sheriff, and the other presumably came when Wild Bill finished off deputy Collins. The level up notification was there, as were several others that hinted at possible ways to get ahead of the competition. Unfortunately, those potential advantages wouldn't become available until the planet finished stabilizing. Besides, as things currently stood, he simply did not have the ability to focus on their contents any longer. For a reason he couldn't explain, the term 'Riftwarden' stood out over everything else, tickling something locked away in his memory.

Before Bill could make up his mind whether or not to state the prescribed words to generate a System profile, he was distracted by a bloodcurdling roar filled with unbridled pain and rage. His gaze flicked to the left. Reminded of the life debt he owed the slave known as Nero, Bill settled on his first act of repentance: Ensuring his savior didn't pay the ultimate cost for his last-second assistance.

The final embers of the sun shone through the gate as it dropped behind the horizon, leaving the horses, and the carriage they pulled draped in heavy shadows. Tied down and unable to flee, they were huffing and chuffing, shifting their feet, nervously pulling against their restraints. The beasts were obviously unsettled over the fight playing out behind them yet had no option but to endure. All Bill could see of Nero and Jupiter's struggle was a tangle of shadows writhing around on the floor.

Hip throbbing in time with his faltering steps, Bill limped toward the source of the sudden outburst. As he rounded the carriage, giving the slathering beasts a wide berth, a disturbing scene was revealed. Bill froze in his tracks, struggling to come to terms with witnessing yet another murder again so soon.

Mind still reeling from the alarming details of his notifications, he approached the carriage with both hands raised, pistol aimed up at the sky to show he meant no harm. He would've gladly put the weapon away, had he an extra holster in which to store it. If it weren't for Wild Bill's powerful feelings towards his Model 14 Bill would have happily tossed it on the ground. As his eyes fell upon Nero, the slave turned to face in Bill's direction, yet refused to meet his gaze.

Nero was battered and quite possibly in shock, covered from head to bare feet in copious splatters of blood. From the looks of the mutilated body he was sitting on, most of it wasn't his.

“Holy shit dude, uhh… I think you got him."

The hunting knife in Nero's trembling hand was still dripping with the blood of the would-be rifleman. Nero gave the knife a horrified look and cast it to the earth. In that moment, Bill felt a wave of deja vu as he watched Nero fall to his hands and knees. Where he noisily regurgitated the contents of his stomach amidst the dried crabgrass.

Bill tucked his weapon under his belt and cautiously closed half of the distance between them. "Thank you for saving my ass… I really appreciate it. And… I'm sorry. You only had to go through this because of me. I'm Bill, Bill Wolfe. What's your name?" he asked even though he already knew, his eyes searching Nero's downcast face, his voice thick with weariness. “If you don't want to tell me, that's fine, I won't press the issue. I just want to know how to address the man who saved my life."

For a moment it looked like Nero was going to stand, but instead, he hesitated and remained on his knees, staring wide-eyed at his bloodstained hands. His voice was barely a whisper when at last he replied. "I'm called Nero, suh," he said simply, his words and mannerisms both tainted with a lifetime of fearing painful repercussions.

Bill's eyes misted up, partially from the pain, but mostly because his heart was breaking for the man before him. He understood that rather than a personal slight, Nero's reluctance to meet his gaze was a behavior picked up over the years of oppression that had quite possibly crushed his spirit. "Are you hurt, Nero?" Bill inquired, all that blood leaving him genuinely concerned.

Nero shook his head and spoke down at his hands. "No, suh. Just some scratches. Ain't nothin' compared to what I done to… Jupiter." he said the name as if he were uttering a curse. “Are… are you gonna kill me now, suh?"

Bill's eyes narrowed in disbelief. Goddamn this 'New Earth' really blows.

"What?! No! Bro. You saved my life, Nero. I owe you a debt that can't be repaid with words alone. Not exactly sure how this works, but far as I'm concerned, you're a free man. And stop calling me sir!"