Location: Off-Grid Neighborhood — Safe House — Elijah's Room — Night
The spectrals surged.
They poured from the cracks in the dungeon walls—translucent bodies, needle teeth, eyes like voids. The red dots on the mini-map multiplied faster than Elijah could count. Zane stood at the edge of the ridge, his sword still sheathed, his cloak billowing in a wind that had no source.
Level one, Elijah thought. Let's see what you can do.
The first spectral reached him.
Zane's sword left its sheath.
Not a draw—an extension. The blade moved in an arc that was neither fast nor slow, just precise. The spectral split in half, its body dissolving into pale mist. A notification appeared above Zane's head: +10 XP.
Another came. Another swing. Another dissolution.
They came in waves—three, five, seven at once. Zane's blade traced circles, figure-eights, arcs that seemed to predict where the spectrals would be before they arrived. Each kill added a sliver to his XP bar. The bar filled. Green turned to gold.
Level 2.
Level 3.
His health bar didn't drop. Not because he wasn't hit—because he wasn't there. His avatar moved like smoke, like water, like the spectrals were attacking a memory of him.
In the distance, the others fought.
If08's rifle cracked—each shot a burst of pale blue light that punched through three spectrals at once. Her avatar moved in short, controlled bursts, never staying in one place for more than a second.
Mindomi, revived and bitter, swung his sword in wide, angry arcs. His health bar fluctuated—green to yellow, yellow to green—as he chugged ether orbs to stay alive.
Ron and DoubleJ fought back-to-back, their blades a blur of silver and steel.
Saluniyt hung back, her staff raised, casting bolts of golden light that arced between spectrals like chains.
They're competent, Elijah thought. Not great. But competent.
The wave ended.
The red dots vanished.
A portal appeared at the end of the corridor—shimmering, blue-white, humming with the promise of the next level.
---
The second level was different.
Not a cave. A swamp. The ground was wet, sucking at the avatars' boots with every step. Trees grew from the murk—twisted, leafless, their branches reaching toward a sky that was the color of a bruise.
In the center of the swamp, a single tree stood apart.
It was taller than the others. Its bark was silver, almost glowing. And hanging from its lowest branch, a fruit—golden, pulsing, the size of a fist.
Quest item, Elijah realized. Whoever gets that gets the prize.
Ron's avatar broke formation.
He sprinted toward the tree, his boots splashing through the muddy water, his sword raised.
"Mine," his voice crackled through the chat.
The water beneath him moved.
Not ripples—forms. Scales. Dark green, almost black, slick with mud. A tail emerged—thick, muscular, armored. Then a snout. Then eyes—yellow, vertical, hungry.
Crocodile daemons. Three of them. Their bodies were the size of the trees, their jaws wide enough to swallow an avatar whole.
Ron's avatar stopped.
"Oh no—"
The first crocodile lunged.
Its jaws snapped shut inches from Ron's avatar's leg. He jumped backward, his sword swinging wildly, catching nothing but air.
"A little help?!"
Saluniyt's voice was dry.
"Seriously? That's just wrong."
"Tell me about it," DoubleJ said.
The crocodiles circled. Their tails swept through the water, creating waves that pushed the avatars back toward the edge of the swamp.
"We need to work together," Elijah said.
His voice—through Zane's avatar—was calm. Measured. The voice of someone who had done this before.
"Mindomi, If08—draw their attention. Keep them busy. Ron, Saluniyt, DoubleJ—cover them. I'll get the fruit."
"And why should we trust you?" Mindomi asked.
"Because I'm the only one who hasn't died yet."
Silence.
Then If08: "He's got a point."
---
The plan worked.
Mindomi and If08 charged the crocodiles, their weapons flashing, their avatars dancing between snapping jaws. Ron and Saluniyt and DoubleJ picked off the smaller spectrals that emerged from the mud.
Zane moved.
Not toward the crocodiles—around them. His boots found patches of solid ground that no one else had noticed. His sword remained sheathed. His cloak trailed behind him like a shadow.
He reached the tree.
The fruit was warm to the touch—he could feel it through the controller, through the screen, through the strange haptic feedback that the game provided.
He plucked it.
"EMI has acquired the Golden Fruit."
The crocodiles stopped.
Their eyes turned toward Zane.
Then they dissolved—not into mist, into light. The same light that had been pulsing from the fruit.
Quest Complete.
Reward: Level Up. +100 XP. +1 Constitution.
Zane's level rose from 3 to 4. His health bar expanded. His sword gleamed.
The other avatars turned toward him.
"Hand it over," Ron said.
His voice was flat.
"The fruit. The prize. Whatever it is. You're one guy. We're four. Don't be stupid."
Saluniyt raised her staff.
DoubleJ drew his second blade.
If08 and Mindomi stayed back, watching.
"Stupid?" Elijah's voice was amused. "I'm not the one who ran into a swamp without checking the water."
"Last warning."
Zane's sword left its sheath.
---
The showdown was quick.
Ron attacked first—a lunging thrust aimed at Zane's chest. Zane sidestepped. His blade came down on Ron's wrist. The avatar's hand—and the sword in it—fell to the ground.
Ron has been eliminated.
Saluniyt's golden bolt arced toward Zane's back. He didn't turn. His sword swept behind him, deflecting the bolt into the swamp, where it exploded in a shower of light.
Saluniyt has been eliminated.
DoubleJ charged, both blades spinning.
Zane stepped into the spin. His shoulder pressed against DoubleJ's chest. His sword—reversed, hilt-first—struck DoubleJ's temple.
DoubleJ has been eliminated.
The bodies dissolved into pixels and light.
Their ether drifted toward the survivors—If08 and Mindomi.
If08 absorbed it.
"Nice," she said.
"Thanks."
Zane's sword returned to its sheath.
The portal to the next level appeared.
---
Tyla's voice cut through the game's ambient music.
"Are you seriously going to play this whole... shitty game?"
Elijah didn't turn.
"Of course not. I'm just going through it to buy some time. Those turf bozos sniffing around can at most stop and give me a breather."
"A breather."
"A strategic pause."
"While you play a video game."
"While I play a treasure map disguised as a video game."
There was a knock at the door.
Elijah's expression shifted.
"Right on time."
He stood. Walked to the door. Opened it.
A young man stood in the threshold.
He was tall—not lanky, but lean. His hair was dyed a faded blue, swept to one side. A silver stud gleamed in his left ear. His clothes were expensive but worn—designer hoodie, ripped jeans, sneakers that had seen better days. His face was sharp, almost handsome, with the kind of expression that said I've seen things and I don't care.
"Nathan Drayke?" he asked.
"That's me."
"The one who's hiring?"
Elijah put an arm around his shoulder and guided him into the room.
"Inko, right? Certified gamer. Top-ranked in three different dungeon crawlers. Wilder spoke highly of you."
"He did?"
"He did."
Elijah led him to the gaming chair. The monitors glowed. The game waited.
"Your job is simple. Sit here. Play through the game. Find me the hidden coordinates—the subliminals that Wilder found in the Hollow. There are six more."
Inko stared at the screen.
"That's it? That's all?"
"That's all."
"And I'm getting twenty grand for this?"
Elijah patted his back.
"Twenty-five. Just hit your phone."
Inko's phone buzzed.
He pulled it out. His eyes widened. His mouth opened. His face flushed—not red, pink.
"This is... this is..."
"Don't worry. I'll double it if you find me the next coordinate."
Inko's hands trembled as he set the phone down.
"So the one Wilder told you about—not that one. The next one. You want me to find it."
"Yes."
Inko nodded.
"I can do that."
---
Tyla pulled Elijah aside.
Her voice was low.
"You hired some docky brat who literally saw your face. Aren't you worried he might rat you out to the authorities?"
Elijah's expression didn't change.
"Relax. His mom got sick a while back. Medical bills. The works. Someone paid them—anonymously. Guess who?"
"Elena Tuner."
"Wilder's big sister. Inko owes her. And he owes Wilder. He'll never betray their trust."
Tyla was quiet.
"Oh."
---
Elijah's phone buzzed.
Not his burner—his personal. The encrypted one. The one that only Erickson and Wilder had the number to.
He pulled it out.
The screen glowed.
A video file. Long. Uncompressed.
He opened it.
The footage was grainy—shot through Erickson's glasses, the lenses that doubled as cameras. But the images were clear.
Zhang Han. His aethernova suit glowing orange, the lines on its surface pulsing like veins. Madam Lynne, her palm crackling with crimson light. The fight. The pressure. The way Zhang Han absorbed energy from Pauline and Andreas, converted it, redirected it.
And the names.
Saiyan. Wycliffe. Halverns.
Elijah paced the room as he watched.
His footsteps were soft on the carpet. His eyes never left the screen. His jaw tightened. His breathing slowed.
Tyla watched him.
"I can't believe it," she said. "Who knew there were deeper waters beneath Crestwood? Things that are not so appeasing. Even shocking."
"There are always deeper waters," Elijah said. "You just have to know where to look."
His phone buzzed again.
An incoming call. Erickson.
He answered.
"What now?"
His voice was calm. Businesslike.
"We have three minutes. Maybe four. Use a burner. Different alias."
"Already did."
Erickson's voice was low.
"I didn't get to find out which subclan Chicky is from. She's Wycliffe—that much is clear. But which one?"
Elijah stopped pacing.
"If she's from that dreadful Wycliffe family... then she must be Erynder."
"Erynder?"
"Order. Control. The opposite of Kaelos." Elijah's voice was distant. "I remember. Back when Azaqor's bot was battling Vivian's puppet. She was spouting nonsense about being from the Erynder clan. At the time, I thought she was spitting bullshit."
He paused.
"But everything she said was true. The way I view the world now—it's been flipped sideways. Nothing is what I thought it was."
"So what now?" Erickson asked.
Elijah's expression shifted.
His eyes narrowed. His lips curled—not a smile, the beginning of one.
"I have a wild idea," he said.
---