I searched across the land for my knight. For the one friend I had left, after I had lost everyone else.

I exhausted my Mana, over and over, to fuel my metal-radar. My body grew faint, and my breath grew short, as I spent every last drop of magic I could recover.

But soon I found the shape of his axe. And the shape of his armor. That grand, familiar silhouette. Only fifteen miles away!

I set out at once. Fifteen miles. I could cover that in a single day.

As usual, the journey itself was unremarkable, merely hasty steps through nondescript streets flanked by anonymous houses. After five miles or so of brisk walking, I reactivated the radar, to make sure Atlas hadn't wandered too far. And thankfully, he hadn't. He appeared to be inside some sort of building. Single-story, on the larger side, with many shelves and freezers.

A store, perhaps? Impressive that he managed to find one. As far as I could tell, stores in the suburbs of Gold were exquisitely rare. So much so, that groups of warriors would kill to take over one.

When the building came into view at long last, I had grown tired and sore from walking. But through the mist, I saw a small convenience store, and there was no sign of carnage.

It was a lone 7-Eleven, small and quaint, amidst a sea of residential buildings. I scanned one last time, confirming Mr. Atlas to be inside. Shaking off my nerves and fatigue, I focused my senses and entered.

Mr. Atlas was right there, at the cashier's counter. He looked to me as I stared back.

"Sophia," he simply greeted. My name, said in an easy voice. As though nothing had ever gone wrong. As though this was simply a day like any other. I approached him, stupefied. It all felt like a dream. He held his arm out, for me, and allowed me to walk close, close enough to lean my head against his chestplate.

And there he held me.

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"Are you hungry?" he asked me.

"Just thirsty," I said, feeling the solidity of his chestplate, convincing myself he was really there.

This felt too surreal. Too simple. Too perfect.

"Meal on the house," Atlas said to me, then showed me to a door at the corner of the store. "Get some rest in the backroom. How long have you been awake for?"

"I forgot," I said. The baffling normalcy of our reunion seemed out of place. It was as though I was back home on earth.

Atlas brought me into the backroom, a plain, unadorned room filled with shelves of goods. In one corner was a mattress on the ground, and a plastic chair and cheap plastic table. He prepared me a tray of chicken strips, battered and fried, alongside a tall cup of Pepsi. I sat at the plastic table and finished everything, in silence, as he manned the store counter in the main room. And when I finished, I fell asleep before I had a chance to get out of the chair.

I didn't know how long I napped for, or slept for. But when I woke up, I was tucked into the mattress-bed, with a blanket draped over me.

It still all felt so surreal. But waking up cleared my head enough for me to know that right now, this, everything around me, was real.

I looked around to regain my bearings. The bed sheets were clean and crisp, as though freshly washed, but without scent.

Which made sense, I suppose. Mr. Atlas didn't need to sleep, thanks to his magical Ring of Vigilance, or whatever it was called. Even if he kept a bed around, he'd never need to use it much.

Thinking back, I could sort-of recall him carrying me into bed and tucking me in. That part felt like a recollection of a dream, but I suppose it really did happen.

I found my railgun and mage hat neatly on the table. I donned the hat, but left the gun there, and then I walked out of the backroom.

Mr. Atlas was still there, standing at the counter.

"Atlas," I said. I had my wits about me again, and I knew the gravity of the situation. We had much to discuss. Me, and my only friend left in this world.

He looked me up and down, as though inspecting. I saw him blink twice to check my HP.

"Awake," he said, "and alive."

"Mr. Atlas, I think we need to talk."

"I think so too, Sophia. Where do we start?"

I looked around the store. Foods and drinks crowded the shelves. How did this place not get plundered yet?

"First of all, why are you here?" I asked him.

He shrugged, and the corners of his mustache lifted in sync with his pauldrons.

"I run the store," he replied simply.