At Velrick’s insistence, Alex stepped through the portal’s obsidian gate into a world devoid of light.

  Strange, that.

  No, not strange. Wrong. The entrance closed behind him.

  “I lied,” Velrick said. “We’re not late. We’re ahead of schedule by about three minutes, give or take. Mind your step—it’s a straight walk, but if you clip my heels, I’ll obliterate you.”

  As the last light from the forge winked out, the world darkened to the degree that it was no different from losing the sense of sight itself. Alex didn’t have to look to know that there were no stars in the sky.

  This is wrong. Nightmare should have the budget for instantaneous transport. Even the common channels still have stars watching overhead.

  Alex started walking, his ears following the sound of Velrick’s footsteps just ahead. His hackles were raised, but his trait wasn’t warning him of any immediate danger. Not physically, at least.

  That didn’t comfort him. Velrick had been his guide in his last life, and Alex knew the man didn’t need to lift a finger to hurt him. Negligence was enough. System Guides represented the System itself; their power was immense, and with it came a heavy responsibility.

  Negligence. Was that all it had been?

  Velrick yawned, and though Alex couldn’t see him, he still narrowed his eyes as they came to a stop.

  “Two minutes now,” Velrick said.

  “I see…”

  The man resumed walking, offering no further explanation. Alex followed, growing more perplexed and wary by the second. This had to be a private channel. Velrick must have prepared it before picking him up.

  “You’re a strange one,” Velrick said eventually, his tone droll. “You’re not a mage. You have no backers. You’ve spent the last few months either working or loitering in casinos. And yet, you’re a blacksmith.”

  “My father taught me the trade while he was still around,” Alex said. He added a note of sadness to the last part. It was the answer he’d rehearsed for curious inquiries, and he doubted the System had enough data to bother disproving him.

  Velrick let out a curious hmm. “One minute now.”

  Their footsteps were the only sound as they walked.

  Why does he keep mentioning the time?

  Hell, why was this even necessary? Forget instantaneous transport—a private channel in Nightmare had to be exorbitantly expensive. Such channels were typically used for secretive gatherings or illicit activities, things that shouldn’t be done under the Constellation’s prying gaze. Yet here they were, taking a leisurely stroll.

  Alex was so absorbed in his thoughts that he almost didn’t notice when Velrick stopped again. Almost. He made sure to halt just short of bumping into him. If Velrick was willing to leave a newly Awakened behind in the Soul Mists for walking too slow, Alex had no doubt he’d break something if he scuffed those fine leather boots.

  “You didn’t ask a question,” Velrick said.

  “What?”

  “There we go. But it’s still not the right one. You didn’t even ask where we’re going, or what you’re gathering for. You were like this last night too—no questions.”

  Velrick’s voice was monotone, and Alex couldn’t discern his intentions without reading his expression. Was he being accusatory? Was this concern?

  “I… I didn’t know I was permitted. Sir, please. If you could... could you tell me why we’re being gathered?”

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”

  Then why—

  “Still,” Velrick continued, “I have been assigned as your guide, and since you surviving Nightmare is not entirely hopeless, you should know what that entails. As someone who is newly integrated into the System, you have a right to a System Guide wherever the System is utilized for contracts or stipulations. You can summon one through the “help” function in your System user interface. This arrangement lasts for the entirety of your Integration”

  Hah.

  He delivered it like a rehearsed speed, and Alex fought the urge to roll his eyes. A moment later, Velrick drew his hand down as though unzipping the air, and light followed the motion. His expression turned stern as he faced Alex, his golden locks flowing in a sudden breeze.

  “This is as far as I go, but a word of warning. Keep your head down. Don’t draw attention to yourself more than you already have. And for the love of all that’s primordial, don’t agree to anything without me present. If you are offered sponsorship, call for me. They cannot deny me access to ongoing negotiations.”

  Right, because that went so well last time.

  Alex took another step, eager to leave the directionless dark. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Oh, and Alex?”

  “Yeah?”

  Velrick’s eyes had a sardonic gleam that his expression didn’t reflect. “The only type of person who doesn’t ask questions is someone who already has all the answers.”

  There was a sudden thrum as the gate closed. A hazy buzz followed it, like the sound of a vacuum shutting off, leaving Alex dumbfounded. He cursed his poor foresight for letting his apprehension get the best of him. And after he’d used the man’s honorific, too…

  But there was no point dwelling on it. He’d never gotten a good read on Velrick in his past life, and seeing the man’s expression hadn’t helped this time either.

  Regardless, Velrick was right. Alex already knew where he was.

  The Gathering Hub.

  Admission fee: 1 Nightmare Token

  Admission fee: Waived

  Alex centered himself and took in his surroundings. The wood floors had an inn-like décor fitting for Nightmare’s time period, albeit with a new polish. The trophies adorning the walls looked like they had been hunted yesterday, rather than a century ago.

  But it shouldn’t be open this early.

  The Gathering Hub was one of the few true safe havens in Nightmare, but that was hardly helpful since it was only accessible directly after the scenarios or during special occasions. Primarily, its purpose was, as its name implied—to provide neutral grounds for negotiation and trade amongst players. With so few Awakened around, he saw little point in that now.

  In fact, there were no people gathered.

  The dining hall was beyond vast, but empty, aside for its skeleton staff—literal skeletons, devoid of flesh. An information desk stood against the wall opposite him, flanked by barmaids, chefs, innkeepers, cleaners, attendants, and a handful of merchants. As he took his first step, they lined up along a red carpet laid out before him and bowed deeply.

  “Welcome, valued patron,” they said in a singsong tone. No matter how long Alex waited, their bow held.

  Creepy.

  No, this went beyond creepy; it was revolting. These weren’t like the undead from the night before, who retained a semblance of who they had been in some perverse fashion. No, these undead had their souls twisted out of shape entirely, fulfilling new personas to the extent that they were practically no different from robots or video game characters, except that they had once been human.

  “Please, come this way,” the attendant at the desk beckoned. Alex complied, still nodding politely to the bowed undead for some reason. He was grateful that his sword was in slumber. He was certain she would have urged him to cleanse them all, even from his inventory, and wouldn’t that have been just the loveliest idea.

  I wonder if this is how Camilla likes to be welcomed home, He thought idly.

  Camilla… She might even be here right now. Her life before the integration was a mystery to him, but she had finished Nightmare in the top five. It wasn’t hard to imagine she might have also received this VIP pass.

  Afterall, she must have pledged allegiance to her Constellation early on to become as powerful as she did. It wasn’t hard to conclude that this was what it was all about.

  “Where are the others?” he asked as he reached the attendant. His lips twitched in the corners at the lack of pain in his steps, finding a silver lining in all this to be thankful for.

  “Ah yes—valued patron, you must be referring to the gathering you have been called here for. The others have already arrived. Our coordinators don’t wish to force… interaction among our esteemed guests if it is not wanted. You are free to mingle as you please while you wait.”

  Congratulations! You have been granted an opportunity to meet with the Constellations!

  You will be received shortly.

  Queue: 24 / 24

  Alex looked around the empty venue in confusion.

  Well, it doesn’t get much better than this. The Hub had some private rooms and perhaps a few practice ranges as well, but he couldn’t think of many other places they’d be holed up…

  He scratched his head. “Can you show me all available lobbies?”

  “As you wish, valued patron.” The attendant gave another nod, and a list appeared on Alex’s interface. He scrolled… and… scrolled. And scrolled.

  His stomach bubbled, and he began to feel deeply disturbed by what he found there.

  Warning. Those who enter the VIP rooms are vowed to secrecy regarding all they witness. You may only discuss your experience with others under similar vows.

  Do you accept these terms?

  Yes / No

  This is wrong. Alex found himself revolted as he responded, “Yes.”

  No… This is very wrong.

  * * *

  Nightmare wasn’t just a place in Alex’s mind, not just a bad memory or a three-month blip marking the start of fifteen bad years. No, it was closer to its namesake in what it represented. Though some moments haunted his dreams more frequently, this was where it all started. Where they all started. Before they became the monsters they truly were, this was where those nightmares were born.

  Alex took a hesitant, shaky step forward as space cracked and warped around him—an effect he vaguely recognized, signifying he’d entered a pocket realm. The sky was dark, lit ominously by torches lining the walls to both sides.

  In some ways, he was thankful for Nightmare and its malicious cruelty. In his last life, he still might have been better off not coming; he would’ve been able to pursue blacksmithing more freely and wouldn’t have messed up his path. But he'd have also probably died at some point. Nightmare had prepared him for what was to come. It had been a harsh, early lesson on the nature of trust and on how to survive a world filled with monsters.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Voices spoke to him as he ambled.

  More undead, but their words were distant. He was too distracted to listen. Alex’s gait teetered. Tall totems stood along his path, with demonic carvings etched into their faces. He stared at the familiar markings in bewilderment.

  This is wrong. These shouldn’t be here.

  He walked forward regardless. His boots met the shuffling crunch of sand.

  The shore at night was a terrifying thing. The sky loomed dark with clouds overhead, and there was no telling where the horizon met the ocean’s depths. No telling where roaring tides met the blood-soaked sand, where riptides prowled, and which step might be your last. He’d fought in such a place, once. The crash of waves could hardly be heard over the ringing of steel that night, and no amount of perception helped Alex discern where heaven met earth. It was an all-consuming darkness.

  Even after the fighting, I had to wait until morning to know. I had to check the bodies as they washed up on the shore.

  But Alex walked forward regardless of how wrong it felt. At some point, he must have slipped off his boots. His feet met the cold ocean water, pulling at the sand between his toes. It was a peaceful night with calm waters. Too peaceful. Gentle torchlight lit the horizon, a soft acoustic strum lingered in his ears, and someone offered him a cocktail, practically forcing it into his hand. It took him a while to remember where he was.

  This is Nightmare.

  Room 12 - Hawaiian Tiki Bar

  Youthful women wore grass skirts as they danced—they did not look undead, their flesh did not rot when they smiled at him, but it was all the same. A man Alex recognized but had hardly spoken to lounged on a beach chair nearby. He raised his coconut and flashed a friendly smi—

  No.

  Space cracked around him as he left the realm.

  He selected “Olympic Swimming Pool,” a part of him still in denial, hoping it wouldn’t be so.

  Elizabeth Ainsworth, Heir of the Golden Dawn and eventual Godhand of the 13th Celestial Order swam the butterfly stroke. She suddenly stopped, sensing the disturbance in space, and turned to look at him questioningly.

  Alex gave a brisk nod, a brief wave, and noped the fuck out of there.

  A Southern bar. A Spanish Nightclub. A Scottish pub. Food courts. High-end restaurants. A horse range with skeletal mounts. Brothels.

  Alex now sat at a pristine, white-clothed table, joined by two others beneath the late-dawn sun. The gentle heat was not overbearing, balanced by the morning’s light wind. Surrounding him was healthy, green grass swaying in the breeze and an immaculate garden whose roses still dripped with dew. Everything was in perfect harmony, thoroughly serene.

  But Alex remembered it still.

  He remembered the burn-scarred man sitting atop an army of corpses on the dawn of their defeat. He’d had the red eyes of a demon and the beating heart of Earth’s Spirit in his left hand. When he’d crushed it, he sent a pulse of energy across the horizons that painted the skies in blood. He was Alex’s eternal reminder of the things monsters were capable of—the man who had killed the Undead King and beaten Nightmare—he was the first to achieve the title of Immortal.

  Yet Zhao Yuxuan held no denotation to the man who haunted his dreams.

  He had no scars, and his eyes were black and human. His expression was placid, unbothered by the others at the table, as he plopped three sugar cubes into his Earl Grey. He sipped it and made a strange face as if it were too sweet.

  Some men faced their demons with bravado. Alex simply stirred his lavender tea with a small spoon, set it down on its plate, and lifted the ceramic cup to his lips. His eyes were on the clouds, reminding him of those days he’d spent under his master on a distant planet.

  Looking back, they may have been the most peaceful he had ever known.

  One more cup. One more cup, then I can leave. As is natural. And polite.

  Yuxuan dipped a biscuit into his tea and ate it, brushing the crumbs into the grass. His eyes were sharp but distant, his movements quick and flawless. He moved with purpose, revealing nothing. Alex’s trait didn’t warn him of danger but instead did something new—something he could actually understand this time.

  I know. This man is Earth’s downfall.

  But Alex’s attention didn’t linger on Yuxuan for long. Sure, it lingered a little, but not overly so. He didn’t let his breath quicken, nor did he stifle it unnaturally. Whenever his heart beat too fast, he tried thinking of other things. So he watched the clouds drifting above, noticing their lack of elephant shapes and how they never seemed to block the sun. He sipped his tea, thinking of the good women and men who had trusted him.

  And who had died for it. The sky pulsed and darkened to the color of blood.

  “God! This is so fucking boring!” exclaimed the third man at the table. His name was Luan—a tan wolf-shifter who had finished near the top fifteen in Nightmare’s rankings.

  He’d been at the table before Alex arrived, bouncing his knee impatiently the entire time, and now he abruptly pushed his chair back and stalked off. “I’m gonna have some real drinks if anyone wants to join me!”

  The air shattered around Luan, leaving small cracks in his previously occupied space. They slowly started to heal and close. Alex, crying in relief at the excuse, sipped the last of his tea, pinkie lifted for the hell of it, and placed his cup on the table.

  “Yeah, I could go for a change in scenery,” he said to no one in particular.

  The Betrayer gave an imperceptible nod, and Alex almost flinched. Then he walked into the cracks in space, following Luan to gods only knew where.

  * * *

  As space shifted around Alex, he began thinking Camilla might not be here after all. In the last hour he’d gone from room to room and had come across nineteen others in that time. Most he recognized; some he didn’t. A few likely hadn’t made it out of Nightmare—it was known to happen.

  Regardless of whom he saw, Alex didn’t draw attention to himself. After the swimming pool fiasco, he had molded himself to be inconspicuous and forgettable. Even when having tea time with a literal world-ender, he kept his composure in check.

  Until now.

  Room 86 - Brazilian Pub

  He stopped cold as he entered the room, his eyes locking on a woman in the corner. She wore a long red dress with a slit for her legs. Her heels were steep, and pointy enough to gouge into groveling flesh. Her skin was pale, her fangs were sharp, and her eyes—

  Crimson eyes swiveled in his direction and Alex staggered back. Those eyes narrowed on him and his legs stopped working. His limbs were stiff as though bound in chains. His vision turned red and he almost puked before he steadied himself against a standing table.

  His breath came short, a furious shiver coursing through him. Then he reached for his—

  Warning: You cannot summon weapons in the Gathering Hub

  His hand came away empty. What was he even going to do with the sword anyway?

  He thought he’d been ready for this, that having tea with The Betrayer might’ve prepared him to meet her.

  No, Zhao Yuxuan had been so far beyond him that his betrayal was impersonal. Like a natural disaster destroying the world, he had been an incomprehensible terror, shapeless and hard to rationalize.

  But the Red Mistress…

  She gave him one glance then disregarded him, and that was almost worse. He was petrified yet he couldn’t still his raging heartbeat. He shouldn’t make an enemy of her so early—it would be his end. He needed to retain composure. But then Laura was there in his mind and without even thinking he took a shaky step forward, anger pulsing in his—

  The room erupted in chaos—but he wasn’t the one who’d lost it.

  “LUAN!”

  The vampire lunged at the other man where he stood facing away at the bar, defenseless. She moved terrifyingly quick—faster than Alex’s eyes could perceive; She closed in, her nails sharpened to a knife’s point, her fingers pricking the nape of his neck—

  And then they stopped there. A timer appeared above her head and she disappeared.

  Luan gave a delayed reaction. “Oh, hey Anne,” he said, waving his hand where she had been. He looked at Alex, laughing. “Crazy, right? They gave me one of those when I tried to fight the gray wolf earlier.”

  Gray Wolf… His mental count of the Nightmares ticked to twenty-one as he recognized the Gray Wolf moniker.

  “Yeah,” he responded, “That’s… just, yeah… crazy...”

  Good, he thought. You’re shaken, but not too shaken. You haven’t led a life exposed to violence. Quiver your hand slightly.

  That part was easy. He tried to walk, then faltered again as that image of Laura flashed in his vision. There was a locked box in his head that he did not open. Now, it opened of its own accord and he clenched his teeth, biting back the bitter cold Anne’s gaze had violated him with.

  He forced that box closed, for now. The chains faded with one final rattle.

  “Gods,” he muttered, “I could use a drink…”

  “Hah! Who wouldn’t after all this? Hey ’tender!”

  The bartender stopped polishing his glass. “Esteemed patron, what can I get you?”

  “Not me,” Luan said.

  “Orange juice,” Alex said, walking up to the bar. He hadn’t meant to make that complaint aloud, but now that he had, he decided to act natural.

  ‘Orange juice’ though…

  “On the rocks,” he quickly added, “With whiskey. And none of that cheap shit. I’m talking Columbia Gorge, not Florida’s Natural. High pulp.”

  The bartender mixed the drink to order. Luan gave Alex a strange look, but some things couldn’t be helped. Tropicana was all he could get in Dykriest and he’d been lucky to find even that after Earth’s fall.

  “It’s been… a rough few days,” Alex explained. A flimsy excuse, but even normal people had their quirks. It would suffice.

  Afterall, Alex was normal—at least compared to these people, for all intents and purposes. They had been born into this world of magic, as heirs and heiresses to the very “world leaders” who agreed to all this. Violence wasn’t new to them, even if they hadn’t known it on the scale of the apocalypse. They were all dangerous in their own ways.

  Even Luan.

  Luan had been one of the more personable individuals Alex encountered, but he didn’t mistake it for true friendliness. The man had long unkempt ginger hair, with a patch of black in the middle, and a frame built with both an acrobat’s length and the lean-muscled stock of a wolf. He carried the air of a wild beast yet moved with the grace of a prodigious talent. Even at Alex’s strongest, Luan was the kind of man he would’ve avoided.

  Well, all of them were, really. For all that it seemed to work out for him.

  Alex swirled his glass, acutely aware of Luan’s gaze lingering from his right. The man had ordered a beer, sipped it, and asked the bartender to put on some football. Alex took another sip of his own drink, disgusted by the pairing of pulp and whiskey. His heartbeat was nearing normal now, but Luan had demonstrated keen hearing earlier, so Alex kept it a touch erratic. He swirled his glass again, letting himself appear lost in thought.

  It had all happened so fast; he barely had time to process everything. But Christ, an Olympic swimming pool. In Nightmare.

  And the Godhand had been swimming in it!

  It all sounded like a sick joke. And hell, it might have been one. She’d been swimming the butterfly stroke too…

  Alex almost grimaced at the botched first impression, even if it was better than the one he’d made from his last life. Encountering even a single Nightmare used to be something he’d spend a day preparing himself for. In the last hour, he’d met so many that his mind spun. Despite Velrick’s advice to keep his head down, Alex knew he had to make his presence known here. His name would eventually appear on the leaderboards, and it was safer to be seen as inconsequential than as an unknown threat.

  Honestly, Camilla’s probably the least of my worries right now. Why am I so focused on her?

  Well… that was no mystery. Spend a few weeks obsessing over a woman, and it’s hard to get her out of your mind afterward.

  Alex sloshed his drink, downing the rest in one go and asking for another. It was time to start asking questions. He glanced at Luan, opened his mouth to speak, and hesitated visibly.

  “Luan—”

  “You’re doing it again,” Luan said, not turning from the screen. A match between two Brazilian teams was being replayed, and Alex thought he sensed some melancholy in the man’s posture.

  “Doing what?”

  “I can smell it, you know. The fear.” Luan thumbed his nose, flashing a sharp, toothy grin. Alex’s heart skipped a beat.

  Wait, then had he been bailing me out earlier?

  “And hey, look. It’s not like I don’t get it. That guy out there? You’d be stupid not to fear him. The vamp? Eh, debatable, but she’s not a looker, I’ll give you that. Me? There’s nothing to fear, kid. I don’t bite on the first meet.”

  …Kid?

  Alex paused, recalling his age. Well, that made things easier in some ways. Whiskey and orange juice—fucking hell, it all made sense now.

  “I am not afraid!” he snarled indignantly.

  Luan returned the growl with a guttural one of his own. “Don’t take that tone with me, pup.” He slammed his hands onto the bar top, glass shattering under his palm.

  Alex flinched subtly, then quickly masked his aggression with a layer of sullen acquiescence as he clicked his tongue.

  It was enough to make Luan drop his hostility. In his eyes, Alex was just “a pup”, as he’d put it. A talented one sure, but a pup, nonetheless. He was a mundane who had lived in a completely different world. A pup should know its place—true—but Alex’s belligerence came from ignorance and was to be pitied, not taken as an insult. And thus, tolerated.

  Surely, Luan would’ve expected utter docility from his own pack, yet now he looked almost guilty for yelling. “Hahhh, don’t be so stiff! Don’t tell me your dad never beat you?”

  What?

  Luan slapped Alex on the back hard enough to knock some air out, sending Alex into a coughing fit.

  In anycase, his act seemed to have had the desired effect. With these types, you did not want to challenge their authority, but they wouldn’t respect you if you showed utter obedience. Fear—in small—was useful here.

  Gods… shifters are so complicated.

  Alex quickly recovered from his coughing spasm, and Luan scratched his head in befuddlement before his expression lit up, “Ah, I know what’ll loosen you up. How about a friendly bet?”

  His eyes gleamed with eagerness as they found the Snooker board in the bar’s empty center. Alex’s eyes gleamed too, but he stifled his desire.

  “I… no, I’ve been trying to abstain from gambling late—”

  “Hey, bartender! We could use a switch-up!”

  “Of course, esteemed patron.” The bartender tapped and swiped something, and the Snooker table switched to billiards.

  “There! That should be more your speed. So how about it?”

  “Billiards?” Alex felt his resolve cracking. Gambling tended to go well for him—until it didn’t. The house of cards always collapses eventually, but…

  “Are you sure?” Alex asked, smiling.

  What could he possibly think he could get from me? Essence crystals? Information?

  Despite his reservations, he followed Luan to the table. His lips tugged in an exasperated smile when the man held up a ten brazilian-real bill, scratching his head.

  “Damn, that’s less than I thought…”

  Alex shook his wallet, two dollars and some change clattering onto the table.

  “You and me both,” he said.

  They just looked at each other for a second—Luan with his unruly hair and tattered clothes, Alex covered head to toe in wounds and wrapped in gauze—and both of them dirt broke in dead currency. They shared a laugh and began playing. Billiards. Here, of all places. It was so outrageous that it took Alex a second to realize his laugh was genuine.

  Nightmare. What a joke.

  Your Queue to meet with the Constellations has moved up!

  12/12

  Expected wait time: 1 hour, 23 minutes.