Matt clutched his ears and splashed forward in the pounding dark, blinking. Lightning flashed. Droplets pelted his hat and tinged off his trashcan lids. Water streamed down his jawline and arms.

“Hello?”

No answer.

Fabric clung to his skin. He turned three-sixty. “Hello?”

Thunder boomed.

He was there and now he was here. He’d been dry in the red room. This was so much louder. Matt glanced at the clock on his interface: ‘17.2.’ Forced sleep would hit at 18. He didn’t have much time.

Where is everyone? Matt’s party interface was gone.

Thunder roared again—an actual roar. Then the basilisk was on top of him. Matt scrambled back in the mud. He sloshed and slid as the massive beak pecked at his legs. His armor mitigated the first few strikes, then the fourth peck pierced through.

He screamed. Lightning flashed and blood flowed from the gash. He tried to kick the beast away. Matt cast Rapid Regeneration and made wet snaps for Basic Heal. They were far less effective without his weapons equipped.

The basilisk roared again. It mangled Matt’s side with its spiked lizard tail. His scream was drowned out by the thunder. Talons sliced down Matt’s leg. Tears spilled from his eyes. His health was down a third and falling.

The basilisk hissed and Matt went for his inventory. He opened the window, blindly kicking, hoping chance and chaos could keep the beast away. He scrolled and scrolled, taking more and more damage. Then he pulled his shield to his body.

Matt wildly swung the huge black wall, hitting nothing but air. His health ticked past 50% and kept dropping. The basilisk clawed and screeched. Matt continued to kick. Then he found his sword and closed the window.

Matt dug his shield into the mud and pushed himself standing. The basilisk’s eyes reflected lightning and rage. Matt snapped again, health recovering to 63%.

The basilisk lunged, then twisted, lashing out with its deadly tail. Matt blocked, heaving his shield upward, searing a bright Blood Slash in the opening below.

Matt hefted his shield and drove forward with the point. He grunted and Shield Slam impaled the creature’s chest. Matt yanked; dark blood welled in the wound. The basilisk lashed out with its morning star tail.

Matt Conked the enemy, stalling the blow. It was at 32%; he was at 55%. Matt lowered his stance and took a deep breath, glowing soft blue in the storm.

The basilisk lunged. Matt dodged right, sliding in the mud. He Blood Slashed the creature’s legs then rammed the point of his shield into its abdomen. 20%.

The basilisk back-stepped, then started to twist. Matt cast Deflect. The tingles spread along his skin, nervous energy itching to get out. The spiked tail struck. A boom of bright light burst from Matt on contact, redirecting the blow. The basilisk slid back in the mud, collapsing, red text above its head turning gray.

Matt puffed out a breath, closing his eyes and clutching his side, living in the cold stream down his face. The wound knit closed but he remembered how it felt. He opened his eyes, shuddering, as the last trace of ‘Kill basilisks: 30/30’ faded into the dark.

Weird, he thought. He was pretty sure he’d been at fourteen or fifteen when—whatever that was—happened. The day didn’t feel real. And that was saying something, given what his life had become.

Lightning flashed, illuminating two basilisks ahead. Matt checked his map, looted quickly, and turned away from the beasts. He’d head back to the quest-giver, then to the tent. If his friends were anywhere, they’d be there. And it was getting late.

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Matt picked along the treeline, wishing he had Kurtis's hearing or Manuele’s sight. The pounding rain was almost deafening and its cold crept through his bones. Rapid Regeneration seemed to help with the temperature, but its glow wasn’t bright enough to light his way. He used it sparingly, wary of becoming a beacon for gankers. He prayed they wouldn’t be out in force, given the storm and the time. He wouldn’t have time to resurrect before end-of-day.

Matt forced his focus onto the landscape around him as the rain continued to pound. Thunder rumbled. He had to turn in his quest, then get to the tent; he couldn’t let himself think about anything more. The wind and the trees played tricks on his eyes. Then lightning flashed and revealed empty trunks.

He reached Little Red at 17.6 and yelled “I’ve completed my quest” over the storm. Then the blur formed around him, a strange reprieve.

“Welcome back, specialist,” the little girl in the red cloak said. There was no rain in their conversation bubble, just a quiet rush of distant sound.

“I’m done the quest,” Matt reiterated, his entire body cold and numb.

“Yes.” She smiled. She looked to be seven or eight years old, out of place in the Continuance. “Thank you. I feel much safer now. Return if you are willing to take on another task.”

A curtain of rain and sound descended. ‘792,000 XP’ floated through it. Matt was about to re-engage—to pick up the next quest for later—when he realized he was glowing.

“Holy shit,” Matt breathed, staring down at his hands.

‘Level 17,’ ‘5 Skill Points,’ ‘1 Stat Point’—the text rose through the storm.

“No fucking way.” He actually made it. He didn’t have time. “Uh, I’m back?”

“Hello, specialist.” Little Red drew the blur around them once more. “Are you willing to complete a task for me?”

“Yes.” His heart was racing. I made it.

“Great! I need you to check on Granny. Bring her this apple? Make sure she’s okay?”

“Yes.” Holy fucking shit I made it to seventeen. Where the fuck is my group?

“Thank you, specialist.” The red apple she held out zipped into his inventory.

Then the blur dropped, replaced by the heavy downpour, and Matt did a quick check of his map. He’d spend his points later; the clock said ‘17.7.’

Matt angled into the forest, towards where he remembered the tent. Under the canopy, the droplets fell more softly, their patter muffled and diffused. It was darker and Matt strained his eyes. Lightning flashed.

Matt caught himself, almost stumbling into a tree. The rocks and roots were slick like the mud. Then a flash reflected white canvas ahead. Nervousness knotted his stomach, joining his rapidly beating heart.

What if they’re not there? Matt pushed the thought down as he pushed his body forward.

He rounded on the tent’s entrance, seeing its warm glow before he could see inside. He set his shoulders and clenched his jaw. Whatever it is, Matt, you’ll deal with it.

He crossed into the light and ducked inside, stowing his weapons. Matt let the exhaustion seep into his face. Val, Fallyn, Sharkie, Manuele, and Kurtis all stared back at him, from the gray flannel mattress.

“Eee!” said Wiggles.

“Holy crap, it’s good to see you guys,” Matt breathed.

“We were getting worried,” Manuele said, “when we came back and you didn’t.”

“They took you too?”

“Just the boys,” Sharkie said.

“I think we went to the same place.” Manuele gestured between himself and Kurtis. “Were you in a room with crimson furniture and walls?”

Matt nodded.

“Why’d it take you so long?” Val asked.

Matt frowned and shook his head.

“They said I might have to talk in their trial,” Manuele continued. “It sounds like they have a messed up legal system. I said I wouldn’t do it.” He crossed his arms.

“I don’t think I agreed to anything,” Matt said, “but it’s not like I said ‘sure, transport me to your strange red room’ either.”

“Fudge,” Sharkie hissed.

“What now?” Manuele said.

“Just. It’s just messed up.”

Manuele went on to describe more of his experience as Matt scooted back on the mattress. He was looking forward to waking up dry in the morning. His interface clock read ‘17.9,’ so it could happen any second. He made a mental note to figure out how to display another decimal place. Tomorrow’s problem, he told himself.

Matt laid back and propped his head on his hands. Val passed him a furry neon blue pillow.

It sounded like they each met with a similar but different man. The stature, the robe, the name, the questions—they all tracked. Kurtis stayed very quiet throughout Manuele’s account. The size of the red room must have been tough on his friend.

“And then I was back here.” Manuele spread his arms. “Well, not here.” He pointed. “But here. You know what I mean.”

“Same,” Matt said. “Except there was a basilisk trying to kill me. Hey did you guys level?”

“We did!” cheered Val.

“We made it,” Matt said weakly. “Uh, invite me back?” He flopped out both his hands, seeing who he could reach without getting up.

Fallyn grabbed his left. “Add to party.”

Matt scanned the boxes. She, Val, and Kurtis were indeed Level 17. Sharkie and Manuele were 16, but they’d only reached it yesterday. There were four days left. They had to get them to seventeen. Then there was still the group-size issue. Tomorrow problems.