As the light dims, a series of notifications appears.

1.

Quest Updated!

ONWARD: Complete

(Optional) Kill the Flying Piranha Matriarch: Complete

Congratulations! You have discovered and successfully traveled through a designated portal station. Your planet’s challenges were no match for your tenacity. Due to your efforts and the efforts of countless others, your species has the chance to live on. Please use an Index console and attend our Meet & Greet Orientation for more details.

Rewards: 125 xp, 250g, Meet & Greet Invite

2.

Level up! You are now Level 7.

Exp to next level: 15/70

Attribute points available: 6

3.

Skill Proficiency Increased:

Melee Weapon Handling 6

4.

Title(s) Earned:

Elite Trapper: Use the environment to trap an Elite enemy.

Reward: (1) Trap Voucher

Elite Hunter: Kill an Elite enemy.

Reward: (1) Spa Voucher

Puddle Jumper: Teleport via an official portal station.

Reward: (1) Hotel Suite Voucher

Savior of the Stupefied: Teleport via an official portal station with an unconscious party member.

Reward: (1) Recovery Room Certificate

Repo Man: Intentionally dismember a teammate.

Reward: (1) Slashing Accessory Voucher

5.

Classes Discovered:

Mountain Man

Triggered by: Trapping an enemy.

What’s a budding civilization without a few fur trappers? With a pelt on his belt and freedom in his hand, the North American “Mountain Man” was instrumental in blazing trails, driving economic expansion, and killing beavers before usually meeting untimely deaths at the hands of the Native Americans from which they stole. Live the life of a hunter-explorer-survivor with this versatile ranger class.

Discovered Class Bonus Unlocked:

Trading Post: Sell consumables and accessories looted from enemies for 20% more.

Black Hand

Triggered by: Intentionally injuring a human participant.

In the early 20th century, this secret military society recruited and trained nationalists for a possible war between Serbia and Austria. Organizing spies and saboteurs, they allegedly helped plan the assassination of the Austrian archduke Franz Ferdinand, an event that ultimately led to World War I. And yes, the government knew about them, depending on who you ask. Sneak, hunt, and kill your own with this deadly rogue class.

Discovered Class Bonus Unlocked:

Sabotage: Attacks from behind do 20% more damage to human targets.

7.

Region Power Unlocked!

Call of the Matriarch: Beckon allies within a 1km radius to your location. For the next 10 minutes, a beacon will highlight your location. During this time, all allies will receive a 25% speed boost so long as they are heading in your direction.

As I read the notifications, the world slows to a halt. That’s new. I’m tempted to give the notifications another read, maybe another five reads, if only to keep the world frozen. I don’t want to see what I’ve done to Elias. I don’t want to know if he’s dead. Judging by the titles, he’s only unconscious. For now.

But it seems I don’t have a choice. The second the system understands that I’m finished, the text evaporates and life continues its cruel, unrelenting crawl.

I’ll be the first to admit when I’ve made a mistake. Hell, I even admit to mistakes I don’t make. I’m a guilt-hog, consuming blame like it’s dinner. And this… this is a big one. If this was a game, I’d reset. I’d level up early. I’d break into a gun range or a police station. Get some kind of weapon. Take this seriously. And if I ended up in a party, I’d formulate a more thorough plan. I’d drill. And I most certainly wouldn’t let one of my teammates do something as stupid and self-sacrificing as using a status ailment to trap a monster.

I know. I know I should be grateful we made it. We all made it. I didn’t think it was possible. And I am grateful. But it’s hard to feel that appropriate amount of gratitude when each of us looks like the final girl in a horror movie.

Every inch of me is drenched in dirt and gore. Luci too. It spatters her legs, chest, arms. Her hair is matted, strands glued to her face with sticky blood. Ron - well, for some reason Ron looks mostly fine. Just some specks and splotches, like he’s had a few mishaps with an ink pen. And Elias? I can’t even look at him. He’s bathed in his own blood. And it’s still gushing. He doesn’t have much time.

Luci kneels beside her uncle. She’s hyperventilating, tears carving streaks through the blood caked on her face. Her hands move frantically across his chest and legs, like she’s trying to find somewhere to stem the flow.

“I don’t know what to do. They took my bandages. I don’t know what to do.”

I glance around for my backpack, but of course it’s not here. We’re in a room the size of a walk-in closet, and everything we brought with us is gone. No weapons, no bags. We have the clothes on our backs. That’s all.

One of the walls is a sliding door, the kind you’d see in a train cabin. A window takes up the upper half. Before I have a chance to look, Ron pounds on the door.

“Yo! Open up! We got a man down in here!”

I slide past him and smack a button on the side.

It jams. Are you fucking kidding me?

I hit it again, harder, and the door begrudgingly creaks open.

We’re inside of a train station. To our left and right runs a wide sterling gray platform. An announcement sounds as a tram, rounded and sleek, closes its doors and zips away in a blink. On the other side of the track is a wall lined with rooms like ours.

At least fifty feet above us is an arched glass roof emitting warm, pinkish sunlight. It's historical, yet futuristic. It’s clean and polished. Ordered.

But it’s wrong. So wrong. There’s no inoffensive music. No chitter chatter. People aren’t lugging suitcases or sipping bland 7-11 coffee. No. This is the aftermath of a massacre. The hall echoes with wailing, crying, screaming. People spill out of their little portal rooms, clutching their loved ones and dragging their dead.

Where in the hell are we?

“Ron, grab Elias.”

“He’s dying,” cries Luci as Ron hooks him under the armpits. She lets his body slip through her grasp. “He can’t die.”

“He won’t,” I say. “He’s not going to die.”

I step out onto the platform.

Just as I’m about to holler for help, the air ripples like water. For a moment, all I see are smears of murky colors. Then the air calms, and a person appears.

He - as I’m pretty sure it’s a “he” - is not entirely human. I don’t think. I mean, he’s close. He’s got all the same features, but they’re distorted. He’s got a stocky, muscled build. And he’s short. Maybe a few inches shorter than Luci. His nose and mouth and cheekbones are bizarrely wide, like someone stretched the scales on their character generator a little too far.

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

His most defining feature is a thick brow ridge that shadows his round green eyes like a canopy. It reminds me of a Neanderthal. Less hairy and less wrinkled than in National Geographic, for sure, but a Neanderthal nonetheless. An early human.

Of course, his apparel is anything but. No loincloths for this guy. Instead, he’s wearing a horrifically revealing unitard and an open hooded robe that only goes down to his knees. The unitard is red and branded with a sandy-yellow triangle while the robe is sandy-yellow and branded with a red triangle. I think it’s a uniform.

I can examine him, but the description is rather slim.

Avimo - Clinical Physician (Lv 50)

“Greetings. I got a crit health alert in the- Oh, yeah, there he is. Oof. Missing leg. Least it’s just the one.”

Good god, his voice is deep. And raspy. He sounds like he smoked a hundred cigarettes this morning.

“Your boy needs to go to the med center. You can pick him up in two hours and twenty minutes. Earth-standard. So 14:50. That’s the last time on the list. You’ll see the times stamped around the city. Big list this go-around. Vole-standard obviously, then Handor, then Loxilil, then Earth. ‘Course you can always check your HUD.”

“Wait-”

“Nah nah,” he says, waving a finger in my face. “Sorry, honey. One question leads to another and another. You want answers, you’ll get them. Just not from me. Busiest day of the initiation, this one. You can guess why. Now once your boy’s done, your party host will get a notification. Just check the map or the Index to find the center. There’s just the one.”

Before we can say anything else, he and Elias ripple away.

“What? What’s happening?” Luci says through gasps and tears. She’s still kneeling in his blood.

“It’s okay. They’re going to take care of him,” I say, not knowing who’s ‘they’ or what their definition of ‘taking care of him’ would be. “He’ll be okay.”

My eye catches on another tram heading our direction. It seems to be the only way out of this place. Part of me wants to stomp my feet and stand here obstinately until someone tells us just what the hell is going on, but aside from the Neanderthal nurses teleporting in and out, there’s no one to go full-Karen at. There’s a clear, scripted path forward, and honestly, I don’t have the energy to see if I can break it.

“Come on. We should go. There’s another train coming.”

When Luci doesn’t reply, I take her arm and pull her up. She says nothing, but she lets me guide her. I can feel her shaking.

A gush of air blasts past us as the tram whips down the track. It stops on a dime, and the doors open.

Ron puffs up his cheeks and lets out a long breath. He looks at me with the most serious expression I’ve seen so far, his brain clearly mulling over something very important he’d like to say. “This is intense.”

A dude of words, that one.

As I guide Luci into a seat, I glance down the tram. It’s at least the length of a football field. A pair of metal back-to-back benches runs down the middle in a long stripe. People trickle in, some in groups, some alone. Not everyone looks like they’re from Chicago. It’s a diverse city, so it’s hard to tell, but I spot a cluster of Buddhist monks, a woman in a traditional saree, a trio of Japanese men in business suits. Some people are still in their work uniforms, from doctor’s scrubs to Panera polos. There are young people, middle-aged people. Literally one obviously senior citizen.

They all look like they’ve seen hell. All except for one boisterous bunch of guys. They saunter inside, elbowing each other and talking in excited, booming tones. I want to strangle them.

Luci rests her head on my shoulder as the doors close. I think about putting my arm around her. I should. Maybe. I don’t know. It feels awkward.

I wish Elias was here.

The scenery outside begins to roll by. Apparently, we’re moving, but I don’t feel it at all. Not the momentum as it gets going, not the rumble beneath me. It shouldn’t surprise me that these guys can mess with physics, seeing as they split the Earth into five million parts. Still. Shit’s unnatural, and I don’t like it.

In mere seconds, the tram exits the portal station, and the world opens in front of us.

“Hey, yo, you seeing this? Guys, are you seeing this?” says Ron, his face smushed against the window like a child.

Luci lifts her head, and I take the chance to move closer.

We are high up. High enough to get a bird’s eye view of the area as the rail spirals down and around. It’s clearly by design. A good way to give us the lay of the land. And what a beautiful land that is.

Below us is a city divided into six floating islands: one large circle in the middle and five petal-shaped islands surrounding it, each tethered by bridges and walkways. I don’t know where this city is floating though. Unlike our crumbling chunk of land, there’s no Earth-sized dirtball underneath. There’s nothing at all. Just clear sunset-pink sky. And there’s no sun, so god only knows how it’s lit.

The islands are rich with clusters of ornate buildings and spindly veins of residential roads, interspersed with greenery, grand market squares, canals, and fountains. While I’m no architecture buff, the buildings look like they've been stripped from an Italian painting. Maybe renaissance period or baroque. They’re large and ostentatious with pointed arches, overly detailed friezes, and stained glass windows that probably each cost more than a house.

Saying that, the city is still distinctly modern. It’s threaded with monorail tracks and weird Saturn-like rings I can’t begin to explain. The buildings, even the tudor houses, are far too tall to be structurally accurate. There’s no quaint cobblestone either. The roads are paved in a congruent gray and dotted with lights that look and float like bubbles.

There’s some of that batshit new-age architecture too. You know, those museums and art galleries that are designed more for magazine covers than any level of practicality. All weird angles and jutting edges.

Then there’s the center island. It’s a series of terraced marble-white discs, beginning low, and then stacked higher and higher toward the middle. They’re connected by tapered ramps, like little spiderweb strings. There are tall windows, glistening skylights, one-story overhangs that looks like mushrooms. It’s like the kind of project they make in Dubai or China when there’s too much money to go around.

In the middle of the discs, looming over the city, is a sculpture - the tallest one I’ve ever seen. It depicts a female figure in a long garment and a hood draped over her eyes. She extends her arm across the city, holding a globed lantern illuminated by an active blue flame.

I hate to say it. The view is jaw-dropping. Just astonishingly stunning. Insultingly stunning. Not like I want to hop right into another battle for our lives, but this is… I mean, my mind can’t take it. Seriously, it’s like dragging a hospital wing’s worth of bomb victims to Disney World.

I jolt as a voice suddenly speaks inside my head. It’s the same androgynous voice from before. Despite the enthusiasm of the text, they recite it with that same tone of casual disdain.

Entering Pharos!

Welcome to the city of Pharos, aka Rotapa, aka Quez. With a mix of Handor, Loxilil, and Earth structures, this city is one of seven hub cities designed and constructed as safe havens for this iteration’s participants of the Global Initiation. We understand what trials you must have had to endure to be here and appreciate your dedication.

You may attempt to reach out to other individuals from outside of your quarantine zone upon reconstitution. Survivors from other zones may file for a city transfer at an administrator’s office. Refer to the Index for further details.

As you may be aware, all words - spoken or written - have been translated to your language of choice. Be advised that not all words translate accordingly. This will continue until otherwise specified. If you desire to customize your settings, the option is now available on your menu and the Index.

Furthermore, hub cities are intended for recuperation and preparation. As such, levels, skill proficiencies, and titles cannot be earned unless you are inside a designated training facility.

Warning: All hub cities are non-combat areas. Any and all criminal activity will not be tolerated and will be strictly met with fines and/or imprisonment. Days spent in confinement will count toward your visa, so it is advised you remain in accordance with the law.

The tram erupts in murmurs. It seems we all got the welcome package.

“Hey, you hear that?” I snort. “They appreciate our dedication.”

“Dude, this is intense,” Ron repeats. “It’s like, boom, we all speak American.”

It doesn’t seem worth it to try and correct him.

With a thought, I pull up the transcript. There’s a lot to unpack here. More than anything, it pretty much confirms these guys are from another world. Handor? Loxilil? They must be other planets. Or maybe other dimensions. Or maybe various iterations of simulations, like Stephen Hawking’s theory on holographic projections.

No, no. Judging by everything that’s been said, I’m pretty sure they’re planets. What a way to learn there’s other intelligent life out there, huh.

That medical guy, was he from one of those? Or maybe another planet they haven’t mentioned? How many inhabitable planets are there? Are we all humanoid? And we’re all going through this at the same time? I suppose it’s nice to know we’re not the only ones being screwed.

Putting aside the science for a moment, I’m hung up on one specific detail. This city is one of seven. Seven cities. Seven cities to fit each and every person who survives the first stage of this game across three different planets. That’s insane. It’s too much to contemplate, and it’s certainly too much for me to feel at the moment. What did that one guy say? “A single death is a tragedy. A million deaths are a statistic.” Was that Mussolini or Stalin? What does it matter? What does any of it matter?

Ugh, I have a headache.

I look down the line of the tram, at everyone talking, speculating, hugging, mourning.

I have that feeling again. Maybe it’s not the right feeling, but it’s the one I’ve got. That funny feeling when everything is such a royal mess that it all just condenses into a steady, low-pitched buzz, like Ron’s idling amplifier. It’s a derealizing hum, the commencement of an altered state when everything is so unreal that the world begins to look and feel like a show.

It’s a defense mechanism, I suppose. But it helps. It allows me to see things from a distance. I can see what I need to do. What I want to do.

And what I need to do and what I want to do is wait for the tram to reach this beautiful, Disney-perfect city and get a goddamned drink.