SYSTEM ALERT: Critical dehydration and nutrient deficiency detected. Biological integrity: compromised. Immediate sustenance recommended. Penalties applied.
My tongue felt like it had been sandblasted and left out to dry. Every joint ached, and when I tried to sit up, the room spun slow and ugly, some combination of low blood sugar and an antidote hangover. My HUD showed blurry red triangles in my periphery—bio-warnings I’d later learn to stop ignoring.
I swung my legs off the bunk and nearly toppled. Muscles protested with dull, persistent pain, my body reminding me I was running on fumes. My hands shook. Even the simple act of standing up left me winded, heart thumping like there was a hammer smashing out of my chest.
I was covered in sweat and fur. Slop had snuck in the bed at some point and had slept on his back, legs sprawled in the air in every direction. Now sitting on the edge of the bed, he crawled up next to me, putting his snout under my hand and flicking it up until it rested on his head, yearning for a scritch.
“Let’s go find the galley,” I barely croaked out.
The hallway outside my quarters was dim and sterile, an infinite kaleidoscope of doors, brushed metal and quiet hums. Slop padded ahead, tail wagging in slow, tired arcs.
“TACTICAL MODULE ONLINE :: Advisor bandwidth restored”
Coach’s voice slid back into my skull like a headache.
“Mornin’, kid. You got about two hours ‘til your next round starts. First order of business: don’t die of stupid shit like dehydration."
“Already on it,” I rasped, one hand holding the wall for dear life, the other flailing for balance. This wasn’t my first rough morning. Not my hundredth or my worst. But unlike before, I was alone, confused, and lost.
Soft yellow arrows blinked into place on the deck, guiding me down the curved corridor. Slop stayed glued to them like it was a scent trail, nose low, paws steady. I clung to the wall more than I’d like to admit.
SYSTEM ALERT: Temporary Status Effects
- Dehydrated: -12% Agility, -10% Focus
- Underfed: -8% Strength, -10% Endurance
- MedChem Residue: -5% Reaction Time, +50% Nausea
“Yeah,” I muttered, “I get it.”
The galley was three decks down and way too bright. I had nearly thrown up as the internal elevator descended, but there was nothing to heave. I looked out over rows of modular tables occupying the center area, ringed by serving bays like a food court found in a mall. Lines of various aliens snaked past recessed counters where anonymous machines dispensed trays. The air almost smelled like food, but there was a sharp, chemical-clean undertone that registered as “sanitized military cafeteria” more than “buffet.”
Slop beelined toward a low dispenser off to the side, where icons of various quadrupeds cycled above a feed chute. His neckerchief ID, which I had found in our room and pinned to him last night, pinged as a bowl slid out with a dense, steaming block of… something… on top of thick gravy.
A line flashed in my HUD:
“PET RATION DISPENSED :: Charge: 400f :: Canine-Compatible Nutrient Brick [Standard]”
I could hear System vocalize the message, the first time I had seen and heard her at the same time, confirming my running theory that she was, in fact, the operating system.
The ‘human-compatible’ section was mercifully labeled. The screen at the kiosk was blank, automatically pulling up my HUD menus instead. I selected a protein slab that looked like chicken if you squinted, a pile of grain similar to rice, and a can of water that said, “Just like Earth,” and tasted like it came straight from an apartment tap. A moment after confirming my purchase, a tray sized slot opened and a green, scaly, and clawed hand pushed my food through before quickly snapping back shut.
Everything felt confusing, unexpected. Nothing worked like how I thought it should work here. I attempted to sit at multiple different tables, but the seats were in odd shapes and sizes, designed to support other-than-human lifeforms. I finally gave up and sat on the floor in a corner.
Halfway through inhaling the meal, the HUD flickered with resolved debuff icons fading away. My hands had stopped shaking by the time I was scraping the last of the fake rice off the tray. Slop’s bowl was spotless. He sat politely, watching my can of water, tail thumping against the deck in slow, hollow whumps.
“Oh, of course,” I said, pouring some into the bowl. He lapped it up with a burp.
Coach cleared his throat. “Alright, now that you two ain’t about to fall over, we got business. That ‘Hostile Environments’ sim timer is runnin’ down. We need to get to the training wing and prep.”
“Coach, that last sim… I don’t know if I’m-”
He interrupted me, “This one’s different. A timed gauntlet run with prizes on the line. And more importantly—” His tone shifted to something sharper. “You’re gonna need to see how other species move when the shit hits the fan. Good chance to watch, learn, and test that dog of yours in a group setting.”
“You're just ignoring that I don’t want to do this.”
He forced his reassurance on me, “Of course you want to do this.”
“And what if I don’t?” I said sharply. I sounded like a petulant kid, but I didn’t care. “You can’t stop me. You don’t even exist when I’m in my room.”
“Zach…”
“No, Coach. Advisor. Whatever the hell you are. Don’t you get it? I don’t-”
“Damn it, Zach! I’m tryin’ to help you. Don’t you fucking get it? Do you think this is some game? I can’t get you out of this, but you better believe that, when those frogs come for you, you’re gonna end up behind enemy lines. Like it or not. So, it's either figure it out now, or figure it out then. Now, I’m trying not to be a “tough love tactician”, but you’re pissing me off.”
It was a slap. I was brought back to a tough love moment from my past, one that had shaken me to my foundations and changed core principles.
“You’re pissing me off, Ainsley,” one of my senior shipmates—one I respected, looked up to—had said through clenched teeth. “We’re all unhappy out here on this-tin-fucking can, but bitching and whining and fucking off ain’t fixing shit. You’re here. Stop sucking your own dick and do something productive.”
I had been young then, inexperienced, and several months into my first year long cruise, what sailors called their deployments. Here, in this moment, I felt ashamed, as I had then. Coach was right. There wasn’t much I could do but keep going. I didn’t even know the situation at home. I was missing a past that would never be in my future. It was time to move on.
“Define ‘prize,’” I finally said, standing.
A new notification pulsed into view.
SIM EVENT AVAILABLE :: “Hostile Environments - Tenfold Traverse”
- Location: XTTOTS, Training Arena C
Start Window: 01h:47m
Entry Fee: Waived (New Asset Promotion)
Reward Tier: Variable (Gear / Credit / Sync Bonus)
“God damnit,” I lamented. “Come on, Slop.”
The elevator to Training was busier than before. Harnessed trainees in various outfits packed in together, carefully not touching. A four-eyed chameleon in desert camo side-eyed Slop until the dog casually yawned in his direction, displaying his teeth. The reptile double-blinked and shifted away.
When the elevator doors opened post-expanse, we stepped into a wide lobby carved into rings along the perimeter. Holographic signage floated overhead, translating itself as I stared.
Simulator Arena C :: Queuing and Registration :: Hostile Environments
On the far wall, a huge status board flickered with event listings. Most were tagged RESTRICTRED, ADVANCED, or MILPRIO ONLY. One line pulsed in bright yellow.
OPEN EVENT :: TENFOLD TRAVERSE
- Type: Cooperative Competitive Gauntlet
- Team: Duos (2 Entities)
- Zones: 10 Sequential Biomes
- Primary Hazards: Environmental, Topographical, Elemental
- Interference: Allowed
- Reward: Tiered by Completion Order & Performance Rating
“Cooperative competitive,” I murmured. “That can’t be good. What’s ‘Interference’?”
“PvP,” Coach replied. “You’re going to be doing a lot of learnin’ today.”
Another yellow arrow pulled my attention to a registration kiosk built into a pillar. I laid my hand onto the pad.
IDENTITY CONFIRMED
- Harness ID: EH-8008135
- Rank: Entrant [Probationary Asset]
- Eligibility: Qualified
- Requirement: Team of two (Harnessed | Certified Familiar)
Beneath that, a new pane opened.
SELECT TEAMMATE:
- No linked Harness Users detected
- Eligible Companions:
→ Slop [Canine Familiar]
Slop bumped my leg as his name lit up, like he could see it. Maybe he could.
“Alright, Slop,” I said. “It's me and you again.”
I focused on his name’s line. It highlighted, then locked in with a soft chime.
TEAM REGISTERED:
- Zachary B. Ainsley
- Familiar: Slop [Canine Familiar]
- Event: TENFOLD TRAVERSE
- Staging Zone C-4, -00h:19m
The announcer voice popped online in my head, voice bright and obnoxious as any midday TV game show host.
“Connnn-testant registered! Welcome to the Tenfold Traverse—the only gauntlet where the floor is really lava. And ice. And sometimes acid, too! Please proceed to your staging zone for preparations. Now might be a good time to hit up the market, ready your gear, and high five your Macker!”
Staging zone C-4 was a wide, semi-circular room with a transparent wall looking out over the entry gate. The gate itself was a massive iris door, sealed for now, with thick reinforcement ribs radiating out like a metal flower about to bloom.
Nine other teams were scattered around the room. A few I recognized.
The mantis woman from the hallway stood in a corner doing some kind of breathing exercises, bladed forearms folded behind her. Her jelly-brain companion hovered nearby, tank lights pulsing in irritated yellow as servo-arms checked utility mounts along the chassis.
A trio of Liizalith had apparently split into separate units; one of them—the dull-scaled elder—leaned against a pillar, talking quietly with a blocky, stone-skinned humanoid whose joints glowed faint orange. The other two were not far off, near enough to hear each other while facing in nearly opposite directions.
At the far side, two purple Slimes in their exoskeletons hunched over a shared holo-slate, their skulls bobbing in sync. The one holding the deck was built similar to a human, but too straight. The other was on all fours, apelike. They were being watched by two creatures resembling dwarves, short and stout, powerfully built, but without beards.
And all at once, the room turned and watched our entrance. Being the only human wasn’t subtle. I could feel them judging me, wondering how someone like me could be here with them. My standard issue uniform must have looked ridiculous, each of them outfitted beyond what my credit line could handle.
Coach mused, “Good spread. Climbers, burrowers, fliers, jumpers. If these rooms are as big as they look on the schematics, the real game’s gonna be route planning and not falling into whatever death soup they dug outta the archives.”
“Coach, everyone has a Macker.”
He sheepishly said, “Yeah… this is the kind of thing you’re gonna want one for. We better scope the markets before we get in. Plenty of time. You got eight skill points, too, so don’t sit on them. We’re gonna want some more agility-based stuff.”
As the stares wore off, I approached a lonely bench in the corner, Slop hopping up and putting his paws under his chin.
I pulled up the market interface, asking Coach, “Any other antidote-like things we need first?”
Coach said, “Definitely. Grab some burn and frost-bite remedies. We’re probably going to want some gravity reducers, a flashlight, and-”
“Some god-damned armor,” I finished for him.
We quickly ran through the menus, snagging what we could. Several hundred thousand florins later, my belt and inventory were stacked. My capacity pistol was strapped in, and I opted for the bandolier of MediBalls over the more cumbersome canisters.
I pulled off my blazer and put on the new jacket Coach had guided me to. Without the proper skills, most armor would severely limit my movement—a poor play for a slightly, just barely, hardly at all chubby guy trying to move fast. Instead, the padded jacket was more like a light firefighter’s coat but more casual in appearance. It had front cargo pockets over top of the side pockets, and a pistol pocket on the inside of the left breast. I was tempted to move mine, but would deal with that later. The bandolier was snug yet accessible as I quarter-zipped the jacket.
The pants were akin to Carhartt overalls, a thick canvas like material dyed black with shoulder strap suspenders built in. Since the uniform’s slacks were fairly nimble, and I had no clue how space felt about public indecency, I slid them over top.
The set provided two things: Actual protection from the elements for my skin, both hot and cold; and, to my excitement, a set of hostile environment resistances. Coach said it wouldn’t be enough to walk through fire or anything, and they only covered heat, cold, some slashing, a few poisons, and a little acid, there was going to be a slew of things I was still exposed to. Namely, blunt force trauma of falling objects.
“The high cost,” Coach continued on, “comes from the installed Agility Sync. This gear is literally made for someone like you doing something like this. Hell, there’s something for everyone, for any occasion. If they can afford it.”
“Alright,” I said. “I’ve got around thirty million left. That seems like a lot, and very little. Let’s check out the Mackers. Maybe I can get a refurb or something.”
Coach hesitantly said, “Uh, yeah. Let’s not do that.”
I opened the market back up and moved to the desired section, filtering down the list by price range, ratings, and type. Some of them were like the flying orb drone I had seen, others like spiders that could crawl about, and a few that could move underground and through liquids. I thought about the possibilities, continuing to filter arbitrarily through categories I didn’t quite understand.
With a little guidance from Coach, I cleared out all the ground based ones, except those that stayed on your person but could scout ahead if needed. The price seemed to hop up several million as soon as the flying models were displayed.
“Scanner?” I asked.
“Must have,” Coach replied.
“Recon mod?”
“Definitely.”
“Personality mod?”
“Ah, uh. Nah, man. We don’t need that. Nah. You wouldn’t wan-”
“I’m getting it,” I said. “What about arms?”
A little salty, Coach said, “What’s he need arms for? He ain’t gonna be moving things… oh, like guns? Yeah, if you can afford it.”
“Wings, drone, graviton, or phased?”
Coach thought for a moment before responding, “Wings and drone propellers are too susceptible, cost more to replace than to just go with the gravity or phase movement. Phase is gonna run you a subscription fee, but gravity pods are cheap. Go with graviton.”
Once filtered down, I was left with three options.
Xiamiti GRS-84X 15,065,500f
- Range: x8.4 LS
- Capacity: -0.54/h
- G. Rate: -0.01/m
- See more….
Kastallion Death Claw 25,155,300f
- Range: x2 LS
- Capacity: -0.84/h
- G. Rate: -0.1/m
- See more….
Farr Seeker III 12,500,000f
- Range: x24 LS
- Capacity: -0.1/h
- G. Rate: -0.001/m
- See more….
“Which one, Coach? And how long do we have left?”
Coach replied, “Six minutes, plenty of time. The Xiamiti Macker is a good choice, well rounded, good range.”
“Coach, objectively what is the best Macker, for me.”
“Not the GRS,” he admitted. “The death claw is definitely quite the machine. Full LMG with phase-delivery reloads built in. Pretty fucked up personalities, though. They’re all trained killers, and you usually find Kastallion gear on the front-lines. Probably not for you.”
“No, what you need,” he continued, “is the Seeker Three. It's fast, long-ranged, has its own Capacity SMG onboard, and won’t break the bank. It might not be the best hunter, but the scanner is pretty powerful.”
I hesitated, but looking at the other teams confirmed what I knew. I put the Seeker in the cart, grabbed the personality and library attachments, and clicked the 13,800,000f ‘Purchase’ button, then the ‘Deliver’ button.
A grey capsule, like a six-inch pill, appeared first, then a small ball, like a head. Next, a cone, the beak. None of them were attached. It was like a blank slate floating in front of me.
A small screen appeared, hovering in the space between us, a simple configuration system. The holo-screen expanded, resolving into a simple 3D model—a floating gray pill with a ball and cone orbiting it like confused punctuation.
[DRONE CONFIGURATION INTERFACE]
- Base Chassis: FARR SEEKER III (GRAVITON)
- Status: UNASSEMBLED SHELL
- Required:
→ Frame
→ Locomotion
→ Weapon Port
→ Tail Assembly
→ Armor Finish
→ Personality
“Build-a-bot,” I muttered.
The blank model spun slowly, waiting. Tabs slid into place along the side.
→ FRAMES
LOCOMOTION
TAIL ASSEMBLY
ARMOR / TEXTURE
WEAPON EMITTER
PERSONALITY
I opened FRAMES.
A series of presets populated the grid, several dozen that each had their own unique features.
- Watcher – smooth, featureless sphere with a single blue eye.
- Defense Cube – literally a flying box with gun ports.
- Silken Wingframe – too many glowing feathers, definitely a liability.
As I continued scrolling, a preview cycled each one onto the floating parts. Near the bottom, a sub-category blinked up at me.
EXOTIC MICROFRAMES (RESTRICTED)
- [ACCESS: GRANTED — Earth Mythology]
A new set of options appeared in a nested list. The range of options was suspicious, going from crow to Zapdos quickly. In the middle was a small, sleek silhouette with a long neck and swept-back head. It reminded me of the dragon from Mulan, but with wings and a thicker head.
DRACONIC SCOUTFRAME [Mk.III]
- Profile: Narrow, agile
- Hardpoints: 1x forward weapon port (oral), 2x side sensor arrays
- Note: For users who value intimidation and aerodynamics.
“Yup,” I said immediately. “That’s the one.”
I selected it. The gray pill stretched, reforming into the little drake shape. The ball snapped into a head placeholder, the cone slotted in where the snout would be.
Next tab: TAIL ASSEMBLY. The default was just a stick.
Dozens of options scrolled by:
- Segmented Cable Tail – flexible, doubles as a garrote. Looked like a robot rat. Pass.
- Manipulator Tail – tiny claw at the end. I could see that being useful.
- Stabilizer Fin Tail – more like a fish. Not what I was looking for.
- Scaled Serpentine Tail – armored vertebrae, flared plates the whole way down.
The preview flipped between them. The serpent one added overlapping scales along the tail, then crept them further up the body in a subtle gradient.
“There we go,” I said, tapping it.
The model now had a proper tail, curling side to side as the preview loop ran. Scales rippled when it moved.
ARMOR / TEXTURE opened into a color and pattern grid.
Metallic plates, ceramic, carbon fiber, simulated bone. I skipped past the “NEON GRAFFITI,” “TACTICAL CAMO,” and “CANDY SHELL” options.
A muted set caught my eye.
Obsidian Scaleweave
- Finish: Matte black
- Accent: Deep blue
- Bonus: +5% Visual Stealth in low light
The preview dragon darkened, scales turning a dull black with faint blue tracer lines along the edges of each plate, like cooling metal.
Next tab: WEAPON EMITTER.
By default, the Farr Seeker came with an integrated Capacity SMG. The question was where it fired from.
Options:
- Chin Mount
- Back Turret
- Side Ports
- Oral Emitter
The preview showed a little test video for each.
The oral emitter video popped open in the center of the display: the dragonframe hovered over a cartoon canyon. It inhaled, cheeks puffing comically, then opened its mouth. A tight stream of bright tracer rounds stitched across a row of target dummies of straw holding a sword and shield, each one popping into smoke with a squeaky plink sound.
The little dragon did a victory spin, then landed, tail wagging like a dog.
I chose ORAL EMITTER.
SYSTEM NOTICE:
- PRIMARY WEAPON PORT: ORAL CAPACITY EMITTER [SMG]
- Ballistic compensation profile: CALIBRATING…
The dragon preview now opened its mouth in the idle loop, a faint glow building at the throat before fading.
Last tab: PERSONALITY.
A short list scrolled up.
- Silent Recon (Minimal VO, data-focused)
- Tactical Analyst (Dry, procedural)
- Enthusiastic Mascot (High chatter)
- Drill Sergeant (Aggressive, high-pressure)
- Wisened Wizard (Advisory, metaphor-heavy)
“That’s it?” I asked. “No ‘perfect, teammate’ option?”
“You pick Mascot, I’m unplugging myself,” Coach warned. “And Drill Sergeant plus me is just gonna lead to early PTSD.”
I eyed Tactical Analyst—probably useful, probably similar to Coach. Silent Recon would be smart, but I was looking for something to give me more context as a live-feed.
“Wisened Wizard,” I read out loud. The preview box changed: a short clip of the dragonframe perched on a rocky outcrop in a Gandalf outfit, voice filtered to sound like a kindly old man coming through a radio.
“Be wary of your footing, young bearer,” it said in the clip, as a cartoon trainee walked right off a cliff and respawned in a puff of light. “Gravity is an unforgiving tutor.”
I snorted. “Okay, that’s probably what I am looking for.”
“You sure?” Coach asked. “Wizard packs come with… extra commentary.”
“It’s either that or ‘enthusiastic mascot,’” I said. “This is the only one that sounds like it will help without driving me insane.”
I selected Wisened Wizard.
SYSTEM UPDATE:
- PERSONALITY MODULE INSTALLED: WISENED WIZARD [v3.4]
- LIBRARY PACK:
- Battlefield Topography (Basic)
- Hostile Environment Field Guide (Unabridged)
- Encyclopedia Disastora (Vol. I-MMXIV)
- Mythic Archetypes (Advisory Flavor Layer)
“Advisory flavor layer,” I echoed dryly.
A final prompt appeared.
CONFIGURATION COMPLETE
ASSEMBLE UNIT?
[YES] / [NO]
I nodded at the [YES].
The capsule, ball, and cone hovering in front of me hummed. Tiny streams like iron flakes in a magnetic field poured in with a faint buzz, flowing in from all around. Parts lifted, rotated, and stitched together with precise, mechanical clicks. Little armor plates phased in from nowhere, locking into an orbit around the display.
The pill split into body segments. The ball deformed, panels sliding back, revealing two deep-set sensor pits where eyes should be. The cone grew and extended, forming a proper snout. Along the spine, coin-sized rings blinked to life, casting a low blue halo around the newly formed wings.
Scales tessellated across the chassis in real-time, each plate growing out from bare metal like animated armor. The tail extended vertebra by vertebra, plates locking into place with soft tchk sounds.
“SCOUTFRAME ONLINE :: Module synchronization complete”
The little drake-bot went from a stiff metal toy to what appeared to be a living breathing creature, hovering at eye level. Wings flapped as if holding it aloft, its body gliding up and down through the air with each pump. Its eyes flickered from dark to bright, resolving into twin, faintly glowing circles of blue light. It tilted its head, examining me, then Slop.
When it spoke, the voice was exactly like the preview: aged, patient, with a faint amused rasp under the metallic filter.
“Ahhh,” it said. “A new bearer has arrived. Unsteady heartbeat, elevated stress markers, yet a brave face. Eager hound at your side and willing mentor guiding you forward, is it?”
It paused, head cocking further, tail rising up enough for him to scratch at it absently. “A promising party, indeed. How marvelous!”
From the bench, Slop leaned in and sniffed the dragon-bot’s snout. The drake recoiled its head back an inch, then extended forward again, softly chomping Slop on the nose. A soft blue light swept over Slop in a scan. He retreated with a sneeze.
“An admirable steed, I do say. Handsome, durable, and soft.” Slop peered around my legs, unsure if he could trust the drake.
A naming field appeared in my HUD.
DESIGNATION: __________
The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
I thought about it for a moment, but I knew my prep time was running out. The only name for a drake I could think of came from a book series I had read countless times throughout high school and into the military. That’s what I went with.
SYSTEM UPDATE:
- Unit Designation: Fantus
- M.A.C.R. Link Established :: Fantus <-> Client EH-8008135
- Shared Data Channel: SECURED
- Tactical Advisor Integration: SYNCED
The dragon-bot dipped in a little bow mid-air.
“Greetings, Bearer Zachary B. Ainsley,” Fantus said. “I am Fantus, seeker of paths, preventer of plummets, watcher of the watching. Together, we shall endeavor not to die to stupidity.”
With a sheepish grin, I reached out my hands, and we shook.
“Can you hear Coach?” I asked.
“One Tactical Advisor? Not directly, not without being module-linked,” he replied. “However…”
A small box appeared in the center of my vision that said, “Add Tactical Advisor to M.A.C.R. Linkage Group?” with two buttons for “Yes” and “No”.
“Don’t you dare do it, Za-” Coach started. But I had already clicked.
“MODULE LINK COMPLETE :: Tactical Advisor now linked to M.A.C.R.”
Moments later, two successive chimes sounded and an announcement began, both over a loud speaker and across my notifications area, contending for my attention as Coach started to bitch about basic freedoms.
TENFOLD TRAVERSE — EVENT BRIEF
Objective:
- Navigate 10 consecutive large-scale hazard chambers
- Reach the exit of each chamber as a team
Chamber Parameters:
- Each room represents a unique biome or hazard profile
(examples: volcanic caldera, arctic crevasse field, low-gravity debris canyon, corrosive swamp, phased platforms, and more) - Hostile entities: Minimal. Present only as environmental pressure
- Primary danger: Terrain, traps, environmental effects
Competition Rules:
- Ten teams of two begin in staggered lanes within each chamber
- Physical and tactical interference with other teams is PERMITTED
- Lethal force is DISCOURAGED but NOT PROHIBITED
- “Excessive collateral damage” will negatively affect final rating
Failure Conditions:
- Both team members simultaneously incapacitated or ejected from course
- Time limit exceeded for any given chamber
Rewards:
- 1st–3rd: Equipment vouchers, Sync bonus, debt-offset credits
- 4th–10th: Reduced rewards scaled by completion order and performance
“Remember, folks: it’s not just about surviving the rooms. It’s about out-performing your peers. Xiamiti thanks you for helping to calibrate our risk models!”
“Translation,” Coach said, “they want to see who panics and who gets creative. And they don’t care if someone gets ‘accidentally’ knocked into a gnashkor.”
Slop pressed against my leg, gaze fixed on the big door. His ears were up, body tense in that hunting-dog way—ready to run, not quite sure where yet.
I looked around at the other teams. Every one of them had some unfair advantage baked into their biology or their gear. I had a big sword, a glitchy immortality package, a sarcastic coach, and a golden retriever who broke the rules just by existing.
I couldn’t help wondering what the hell waited behind that door that needed ten rooms, ten biomes, and permission to sabotage the competition just to make it “interesting.”
“Once we’re in,” Coach started, “throw those skill points into Constitution, Agility, and Capacity Pistol Charge. Three, three, and two. And try to have fun!”
The door opened, the other teams trailing through, Slop and I walking in last.
We were immediately shifted from the landing platform to another location. I could see the other teams across the white hologrid, small colorless dots in the distance. The lights cut out, the ground began to rumble as the tilegrid generated the biome. Music like something you might hear at a fight night filled the room as a single, insanely bright spotlight snapped to the center of the map.
A roar of applause and cheering went off. An announcer reverberated throughout the space, deafeningly loud. Slop pawed at his ear.
In a meaty voice, it growled and said, “Get. RRRR-Ready. To RRR-RUN!”
“Oh, wow! Can you believe that?! It’s Bark Killsbark!” Coach said, nearly shouting in excitement.
“What?! Who?” I could barely make anything out between the rumbling, the music, the announcer, Coach, System…
“Only the greatest Orc personality to ever live!” Coach gushed.
I threw open my menu to quickly assign the skills. Time did not freeze. Through the chaos, I was able to grab what Coach had recommended. The ground was tossing me around as it shaped, much rougher than the previous times. The grid finished bucking under my boots with one last violent jolt, like the whole world had hiccuped.
Then everything went still.
The lights crashed on, huge chunks of earth fractured, split, and fell away into impossible blackness in grand eruptions. New slabs of stone shouldered up from underneath at odd angles—jagged, dark, shot through with glowing seams. A shockwave rippled out from somewhere beneath us, and the ground flexed in a way that ground was not supposed to.
[BIOME 1/10: SEISMIC BASIN]
- Primary Hazard: Quake-Shear & Tectonic Uplift
- Secondary Hazards:
- Fissures
- Falling Debris
- Lava Exposure (Localized)
- Objective: Reach Central Descent Platform
The hologrid had become a massive shattered basin. We stood on the rim of a wide, cracked plate surrounded by other floating plates at different heights. Fissures glowed red-orange between them, burping clouds of steaming vapor. Slabs jutted like broken teeth, gnashing together in the upheaval. Some sections tilted slowly, see-sawing, while others hovered on invisible gravity locks, grinding against each other with a deep stone-on-stone groan.
In the far distance, dead center of the chaos, a circular platform hovered over a chasm. A fat industrial elevator was parked in the middle, safety rails folded up. Four massive chains anchored it to the walls around the void.
On my HUD, a waypoint pulsed over it: GOAL. The yellow guidance line flickered over hundreds of potential paths before giving up, a strobe light of possibilities.
“Welcome, welcome, welcome to the Tenfold Traverse!” The announcer boomed, voice now layered with a second, synthetic growl—Bark Killsbark in full performance mode. “For those of you watching from home, from the office, from your hospital beds, and from the comfort of our fine Xiamiti-branded lounges—this is Biome One: Seismic Basin!” His voice echoed with incredible reverb.
“Today’s event is brought to you by Xiamiti Corporate Holdings,” a smoother secondary voice added, all corporate polish. “Xiamiti: Keeping you alive, supplied, and entertained.”
Text slid across my HUD:
SPONSORSHIP ACTIVE :: EVENT COST OFFSETS APPLIED
- RESPAWN FEES: 50% REDUCTION (EVENT-ONLY)
- M.A.C.R. REPLACEMENT: COMPLIMENTARY (LIMITED)
- MEDIDRONE INTERVENTION: INCLUDED (STANDARD PACKAGE)
Coach whistled low. “There it is. Broadcast rights, betting pools, sponsor ads—this is how they keep your standard respawn packages ‘affordable,’ kid. You die on their shows, they make it back in ad revenue.”
“Comforting,” I said as I tried to take in my surroundings.
Fantus hovered at my shoulder, eyes wide open, tail flicking. The grav pods along his spine pulsed faster than before. “Ohhh,” he breathed. “Shifting stones, treacherous ledges, molten seams… delightful,” he finished in dreary sarcasm.
Around the basin rim, the other teams shimmered into view on their own starting plates. Each was isolated by a thin band of flickering light—a temporary barrier to keep us from dog-piling at the starting gun. Above us, a translucent scoreboard unfurled:
TEAM STANDINGS — BIOME 1
1st: —
2nd: —
…
Under that:
SCORING RULES:
- 1st to Elevator: +100 pts
- 2nd–5th: +60 pts
- 6th–10th: +25 pts
- Bonus: Style, Route Efficiency, Hazard Utilization
- Penalty: Excessive PvP, Collateral Damage
“Remember,” Bark announced, “each biome is its own little slice of unpleasantness. First to the elevator scores big. But don’t worry if you trip, stumble, or die along the way! During today’s event, respawns are HALF-OFF, courtesy of our generous sponsor, Xiamiti Corporate Holdings!”
The crowd roar piped in again, recorded or live, I couldn’t tell.
“And for all you tech-heads: lost a drone? Blew up your M.A.C.R.? Don’t cry, little baby. Replacement units will be provided at the start of the next biome! MediDrones will also be swooping in to patch our contestants up, with no need for that pricey ‘Extended Support’ upgrade package. You’re welcome.”
“Translation,” Coach said again, “they want you to take risks. Try dumb shit. Make good TV. They’ll foot the bill as long as they get the data and the show.”
“User-versus-user interference is fully authorized,” the crushing guttural voice added. “Please exercise sportsmanship! Or don’t. We’re not your parents.”
Fantus rose up several meters off the ground and said, “Let’s see how these pesky prize poachers are preparing.”
A small viewing pane popped up on my HUD in the lower right, a clear feed of what Fantus could see. Across the expanse, the mantis woman twitched her scythes loose, chitin rattling. The jelly-brain’s mech flashed red along its tentacles like it was revving up. The stone-skinned brute three platforms over rolled his shoulders, little clouds of dust breaking off his arms. His companion lizard-man crouched next to him, more spry than his assumed age led on to. The Slime duo sat nearly motionless, their exosuits calmly pulsing, skulls bobbing in synchronized rhythm.
A countdown appeared dead center in my vision.
00:00:10
Fantus rotated, mapping the terrain. Lines and arcs painted over my view as he sent route projections to my HUD—some solid, some dashed, all terminating in possible hazard zones.
“Bearer,” he said calmly, “the basin’s crust is already unstable. Expect periodic uplift and subsidence. The plates closest to the goal will likely shear and rotate during quakes. We must move when the earth is breathing in, not when it is exhaling.”
“In English,” I said.
“Go when it dips,” Coach said. “Not when it jumps. Watch how the plates bounce and time your runs on the downward stroke. Less chance of getting launched.”
00:00:07
Slop leaned forward, claws chattering on stone, body shaking—not from fear this time, but from barely contained energy. His eyes tracked the closest path of plates toward the center like they were ducks he wanted to herd.
“Slop is highly motivated,” Fantus observed. “A fine example of reckless enthusiasm.”
00:00:03
The barrier between starting plates flickered, then dimmed.
“Viewers at home,” Bark roared, voice dropping into his guttural hype growl, “place your bets! Which team will seize the center, and which will take the express elevator straight down into the lava? Remember—collateral damage is frowned upon, but not forbidden!”
00:00:01
Slop whined, muscles bunching.
“Oh, dear,” Fantus said in a nervous voice, “seismic activity spike in three… two…”
00:00:00
“RUN!” the announcer bellowed.
The block-sized plate under us dropped a full meter like an elevator in freefall, then snapped back up. Slop slammed into me, landing on my legs as we fell in a heap, the stone below uppercutting my tailbone. Pain radiated through my left hip socket, System confirming the fracture.
The shockwave tore out across the basin, cracking new lines through rock, blowing ash and heat up through the fissures. Plates tilted, pivoted, some snapping upward into ramps, others sinking toward the glowing magma below.
I rolled over, gritting through the pain. Unsure of how the roaming MediDrone swarms were supposed to work, I grunted and pulled the pin of my first MediBall. Several very uncomfortable moments passed before I again stood up.
The world was shaking. Bouncing itself to pieces.
Slop launched off our starting plate like a furry missile, landing on the next slab as it tilted down. Fantus surged ahead in a smooth arc, grav pods humming, tail whipping for balance.
“Forward, but measured,” Fantus called. “That stone to your left will rise on the next tremor. Use it as a bridge.”
I could hear Coach sigh in response, as if he had huffed onto a mic.
Arcs flashed across my HUD, marking a zig-zag path over four plates, then onto a narrow spine of rock slanting toward the basin center. I focused on the first gap. The plate ahead of us was already see-sawing, its far end rising.
“Wait—” Fantus warned. “Breathe with the stone. Now!”
The next tremor hit. Our slab pitched down, the target plate’s near edge dipping just enough to close the gap. I took two hard steps and jumped. For a heartbeat, there was nothing but heat and an impossible distance under me.
Then my boots hit stone.
I rolled, came up on one knee, and half-slid as the plate shifted under my weight. Slop landed beside me, claws scraping, tail windmilling for balance. He barked once, sharp, like he was agreeing with the plan.
The next plate bucked sideways instead of up, shearing along a glowing crack. A chunk tore loose and dropped away, leaving a jagged path like a snapped jawbone. Fantus fed me another route overlay, adjusting on the fly as the terrain rewrote itself.
“Left, then up-slope,” he called. “The steep one with the hairline fissure. It will settle just before the next tremor.”
All I could do was trust him and move.
Slop moved ahead, angling up with a scrambling jump off the leaning wall. I kept my focus on my feet, on feeling the flex of the stone under each stride. When it dipped, I crouched into the landing, hips towards my feet. When it rose, I rode it like a ship hitting a swell, instead bringing my feet to my hips.
We leapt a narrow gap onto a rolling ridge. The path climbed toward the center, a cracked ramp with one side already crumbling into the molten glow. Heat hit my face, dry and sharp.
Halfway up, Fantus’ feed pinged.
“Contact,” Coach said. “Right side, forty meters. Two hostiles. Vectors converging!”
The little window on my HUD swung over. Two figures rode a rising plate like a slow elevator, maybe three plates over on our right. Humanoid, lean, skin a pale blue that almost matched the gravi-pod light. Their faces had the newly familiar tentacles like a Fu Manchu mustache, more swaying out from under their helmets.
They were already on me, Fantus yelling, “Move!”
They came into view over a hill line, the squatter, uglier of the two kneeling down and loading some kind of bazooka.
He aimed it straight at me.
Coach began to yell, “Shadows!”
It was too late. A stream of steam whistled at me, a net opening wide and swallowing me. My hands and feet tangled in it, and I quickly lost my balance, falling and rolling into a tight crevice ten feet below. My face was scraped, and I couldn’t get free, but I was otherwise still healthy.
I wriggled my knife out of my belt, but the rope was more wire than fiber. The ground under my face was heating up, my body protected by the coat and pants. It went from “uncomfortable car seat” to “warming stove burner” in a few seconds, and I was straining my neck to keep my ears from burning.
“CRITICAL EXTERNAL TEMPERATURE :: Facial tissue damage: 3… 7… 12% and climbing.”
“Little busy,” I croaked into the rock.
Above, stone groaned. One side of the crevice was slumping, the plate we’d been on tilting toward the lava seams. The net anchored somewhere I couldn’t see, at least two corners pinned into the cracked walls. As the slab rotated, the wires tightened, hauling me like hooked meat. Smoke curled up around my face. System dropped a brick of information into my vision.
Another tremor hit. The world bounced. The crack yawned wider. My chest slammed into hot stone hard enough to knock the air out of me. I watched a glowing vein of magma open three feet from my face, like a line of molten teeth.
Slop barked overhead, frantic. I heard claws scrabbling uselessly at rock.
Then the first blast hit.
Not at me—their aim was better than that. Something slammed into the lip of the crevice and detonated with a wet thump. It wasn’t fire. It was concussive, a pressure wave that punched through stone, through me. My HUD glitched; half the icons smeared into colorful static. My ears rang. A gout of liquid rock splashed the wall above my head, spraying burning flecks down into the crack.
A few dots landed on the net.
The wire glowed cherry red where they struck, heat racing along the strands. The smell of scorched polymer and cooked hair hit me, and then the pain followed.
“FLESH SEARING :: -32 HP / tick, minor armor integrity failure”
I screamed. It came out thin and ugly in the narrow space, swallowed by the roaring basin.
“Zach!” Coach shouted. “You gotta move, now! They’re walking that fire right down the line!”
The heated section of net sagged toward me, molten beads sliding along the mesh. One landed on my neck, burned through the collar, and kissed skin. I spasmed, banging my forehead into the rock. For a second, I saw nothing but white.
Fantus’ voice cut in, tight but controlled. “Bearer, they are bracketing your position from the right. Angle of impact suggests they are trying to collapse the crevice, or perhaps, cook you out. You have approximately… twenty seconds before unconsciousness.”
I couldn’t cut the net. I couldn’t crawl forward; my hands and feet were tangled. If the crack widened much more, I’d drop straight into the glow.
Retreat does not take environmental factors into account.
“Coach,” I coughed. My throat tasted like pennies and ash. “Which way am I facing?”
“Face down. Ass up,” Coach said, catching on. “You got ten feet of crack, then the plate edge. Above that? Flat rock. Might be jagged, but jagged is better than boiled.”
Another blast chewed the lip of the crevice. Chunks of rock rained down, bouncing off my back. One nailed my hand, and I lost the knife. It tumbled away into the glow like a bad magic trick.
Slop barked again, closer this time. He couldn’t reach me. I was glad. I didn’t want him down here.
Health dropped in the corner of my HUD, ticking down in ugly red bites.
42%… 36%… 29%…
“Do it,” Coach said. “When the plate dips. You mistime this, you might pop yourself straight into a wall. Or the magma. But slower, you’re dead for sure.”
The basin shuddered around me, a low inhale as stone flexed.
I gritted my teeth, sucked in a breath of heated air, and waited. The plate under me began to settle, dipping down. The world tilted another few degrees. Lava light crawled closer.
“Now, kid!”
“Retreat!” I screamed.
The world yanked backwards.
For one awful heartbeat, there was only motion—my stomach left behind, my skin left in the crack, net strands phasing through me like ghost barbed wire. The rock, the heat, the roar of the basin all stretched into a long smear.
Then I was elsewhere.
I snapped into existence thirty feet back, up and out of the crevice onto solid stone. Momentum tried to throw me on my ass. I windmilled, boots skating on grit, and dropped to one knee hard enough to rattle teeth.
The net didn’t make the trip.
It jerked taut somewhere behind me, still anchored in the collapsing crack, now sizzling empty. One corner gave way with a twang, snapping back into the fissure.
Cool—well, less hot—air hit my face. Compared to the oven below, it felt like an air-conditioned office.
“Yesss!” Coach whooped. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about!”
I didn’t feel victorious. My neck, wrists, and ankles were raw where the wire had dug in, skin blistered and wet. The jacket and pants had done their job; without them, I’d be a grill mark. I used a burn remedy, relieving System and Fantus both.
Slop crashed into me a second later, almost knocking me over again, licking my face with frantic, ash-flavored kisses. I grabbed his scruff, grateful he was solid and alive.
“Bearer,” Fantus said, dropping into view, wings beating hard in the rising heat. “The Aureli—your would-be poachers—are repositioning. One is reloading. The other is tracking you with… ah, incredible, a micro-mortar.”
In my HUD, a little box showed their vantage point: a higher plate, maybe two jumps away and one level up. The one with the bazooka was kneeling again. The other had some squat launcher braced to their shoulder, barrel glowing a sickly green.
“Coach?” I rasped.
“You got one card they’re not expectin’,” he said. “Nobody jumps into the idiots with the explosives.”
My hands shook as I pushed myself upright. The world swayed. The basin heaved again—another quake rolling through, plates rising and falling like a slow, murderous ocean.
Fantus painted a path on my HUD, curving from our current plate to a lower one, then up a slanted slab toward the duo’s perch. Three jumps. Maybe four, if the rocks decided to shift.
“Can you get me line-of-sight?” I asked.
Fantus brightened. “But of course. I shall take the high road.”
He shot up, grav pods pulsing, then angled toward their plate. The HUD window followed his view, giving me a side-angle shot of the whisker-squids bracing for another round.
“Zach,” Coach said, “if you Blitz in, remember—don’t be flat-footed when it pops. Knees bent, jump, anything. You ground yourself, you’re the shortest path to earth.”
“Pretty sure everything is earth right now,” I said.
“Then be air. Go.”
Another quake. Our plate dipped. Theirs rose, settling a little lower relative to us.
I could have tried to run the path, leap the gaps like a normal person.
Instead, I did the stupid thing.
I braced, feeling the tremor cycle through the rock. Downstroke. Upstroke. Down again. I timed my breath to it, knees flexing with the motion like I was back on a ship in heavy seas.
The next dip came. I took two quick steps forward to the edge of our slab, eyes locked on the taller of the two aliens as Fantus highlighted him with a pulsing ring.
“Blitzkrieg!” I shouted.
The universe inverted.
There was no tunnel this time, just a brutal snap. One moment I was on my plate, Slop barking behind me. The next, I occupied the air three feet in front of a very surprised alien holding a very loaded tube.
They had just enough time for their tentacles to flare.
Lightning exploded out from my chest in a ten-foot radius, a halo of white-blue that erased color and sound. Every nerve in my body lit up like someone had poured fire ants under my skin. My teeth slammed together. My muscles seized.
I remembered Coach’s warning and forced my legs to kick as the blast went off, lifting my feet off the stone.
The bolt hit them harder.
Both aliens convulsed, their gear sparking, tentacles snapping rigid. The bazooka fired straight into the air with a sad poof as its owner stiffened and toppled. The second one’s mortar burped a short, useless puff into the ground at his own feet before detonating in a shower of green sludge and stone splinters.
They went down in a smoking, twitching pile.
I hit the ground a heartbeat later, rag-dolling across the hot rock, every muscle arguing about whose turn it was to cramp. A residual charge skittered along my limbs, little aftershocks making my fingers spasm.
System vomited numbers.
Still, through the chaos and noise, I heard Bark shout across the PA system, “First blood! And to the human and his dog! Who would have thought?!” The crowd roared, the ground cracked. “Let’s see where the Aureli team takes it.”
I heard Coach yell, “Fantus, cover fire!”
Fantus weakly replied, “Yes, yes. Right. Of course.”
The stunned ‘Aureli’ in front of me began to recover, three fingered hands reaching out for me, latching onto my ankle. I kicked at him, but his strength was surprising. Fantus needed to lay down the SMG cover soon to keep the other off me.
“Fantus!?” I yelled. “Fantus!”
Slop hit the Aureli’s flank hard, biting deep into its arm with a feral growl. The creature shrieked in pain and I whirled about to face the other. I was met with a smile between two blue, beaded skinlocks. He punched me in the gut.
Pain exploded through my stomach, my kidney completely impaled by a trenchknife. I felt him twist, and my inside felt like I was being blended. Blood leaked out of me in sick gushes, sliding down the plate, sizzling into iron odors on the hot rock below. He let me down gently, a sneering grin on his face as I was laid to rest. I heard Slop give out a yelp, Coach screaming at Fantus, and System with her usual critical biology bullshit. The last thing I saw was the two Aureli fistbumping before moving along.
I awoke on hard, slanted rock. I had expected the soft respawn bed, but quickly realized a swarm of MediDrones were pouring out my ears and mouth. Slop was standing over me, whining.
“Are you okay, boy?” I finally grunted after the last of the nanobots departed me.
“Those bullish brutes bestowed boots upon our bestest boy,” Fantus said matter-of-factly, “But the bugs—curiously—tended to his wounds as they did yours, Master Ainsley.”
Coach said, “Yeah, that dog is fucking weird.”
“How behind am I?” I asked.
Fantus shot skyward, neck extended towards the fake sun. My drake-o-vision reappeared, and I could see the two Aureli intersecting the slime team. I was waiting to see who would attack who first, but to my surprise, the four came together, shaking hands and laughing.
“Assholes,” I said through clenched teeth. “They're ganging up on me. Fantus, routes!”
“Right away, master”
As Fantus returned, I asked, “Where was the cover fire, buddy?”
Sheepishly, he said, “I… I got..”
“You got what?!” Coach snapped.
“Chill, Coach.”
“I got shy…” Fantus finally finished.
“Shy?” Coach and I both asked in unison.
“Yeah,” he said, rubbing his neck with his tiny claws. “What if I hurt them?”
“OH, MOTHERFU-”
“Coach!” I stopped him. “Let him talk.”
“His job is to shoot that godda-”
“COACH!” I shouted again. He finally stopped.
“I’m sorry, Master Ainsley,” Fantus started. “This won’t happen again.”
Coach said, “You see what I mean, Zach? You see? This is what I was warnin-”
I cut him off, “I like him. Get over it.” This time, it sounded like Coach blew into a mic on purpose, roughing my hearing.
I covered my face with my hands. This was my nightmare. Two incompetent AI modules, one with an ego, the other too shy to help.
“Listen, you two. I am the one getting fucked up. I am the one with the death bill. I am the one you two are supposed to be supporting, not doing whatever the hell this is! Let’s go.”
“Sheesh,” Coach said.
“Grouchy,” Fantus agreed, adding in, “Low blood sugar, perhaps.”
I didn’t have time to show my frustration, though. The ground beneath me started to vibrate. Intensely.
Fantus yelled, “Quick. Jump!”
Slop was first in the air, myself just behind him. A moment of hesitation more and I would have been sizzling in the lava that had just melted the platform below me, a warning from the simulator, I assumed. I mantled the ledge, rolling my hips and legs onto the top with a heave, a task made much easier by my improved agility.
The earth in front of me was crashing together, daring me to test my luck. Plates slammed edge to edge, then slid past each other, high and low pitches wailing in deafening discord. Somewhere off to my right, an entire chunk sheared free and dropped, a waterfall of lava unleashing hot, radiant fury.
Fantus spun once overhead. “Two options, Bearer. The safe but slow staircase of misery,” he painted a long looping route that zig-zagged back and forth. “Or, a shorter, more dubious sprint across the biting rocks.”
“Guess which one I want,” Coach said.
I muttered, “Short and stupid?”
“Oh yeah, short and stupid,” he agreed. “Now’s the time to take risks. To push yourself.”
Fantus sighed, a weary teacher and his dolt pupils. “Very well. We will need to book it across,” he giggled to himself as Coach groaned. “Mind the gap!”
Slop didn’t wait. He bolted for the first fissure, slipping between two jagged edges closing together. I gasped as he dashed through, clearing his tail by the smallest fraction of an inch. As the rock-mouth reopened, I saw him sitting in wait for me.
When it snapped shut, I pushed against the monster’s jaw, dropping into a sprint as it yawned once more. I had roughly twenty seconds to get past. The ground below the thrashing pillars shuttered, jumping to the left as I tried to step, sending me twirling to the ground. I did my best roll-out, a summersault that ground my spine into the hard rock. The next plate rolled forward and launched me towards Slop, now rolling end over end through the air.
I briefly saw Fantus, then Slop, then Fantus again before landing belly first, just beyond the mouth.
Overhead, Bark’s voice rolled across the basin.
“And look at Lane 4! Our late human starter is somehow still in it after that tactical Aureli ambush. As always, the Xiamiti MediSwarm has done its job and he’s back in the game. Love to see it. Terrible strategy, and we love. To. See it!”
The invisible crowd went wild.
“Bastards…”
“Careful,” Coach chided.
Fantus said, “Enough, boys. The first few teams are descending now. It would appear our opponents have allied.”
FantusTV slid onto my HUD and I could see the Mantid, her jelly sidekick, the Aureli jerks, and the trio of Liizalith with their stoneskin accomplice casually chatting as the exit elevator timer counted down. Fantus slowly panned the view up to a hanging scoreboard like one of those NBA megatrons. Apparently, I was one of two teams left still making their way to the center, the dwarf-like guys somewhere ahead of me but not quite there.
“Damn,” Coach said. “That’s okay, every level is going to be easy for some and harder for others. With you humans… Huh. I guess that makes sense.”
“What?”
“My library doesn’t really have much information on what you're uniquely best at. It just says, ‘Profuse internal water displacement’. I’m guessing that means ‘sweat’, or pissing yourselves. However, it shows that your species is decent at pretty much everything but flight and deep sea activities.”
“So, you got me to come into this death race so R&D can make some entries?”
“Nah, just an added perk—one you’ll benefit from once I have better information on you. Now, let’s get out of this earthquake in one piece.”
Fantus mapped out a few paths, all obscured by large columns of earth currently shaking themselves to pieces. Each quickly reformed itself from rapidly cooling lava which spewed from the core.
I picked the shortest route I could, dashing across several different obstacles straight out of Bowser’s castle. I was forced to pop Retreat twice more, once in the wrong direction to prevent being crushed by a rolling boulder, and again, more cleverly in the correct direction, when I realized I could phase past some of the bullshit.
We cut across a plate that was more crack than rock. Magma glowed in a rushing river seen through hairline seams under my boots. Slop didn’t care. He dashed ahead, tongue out, tail straight. He leapt a gap with way too much joy for a creature without shoes in hell.
“Left!” Fantus barked. “That narrow fin. It will rise on the next cycle. Use the back ridge.”
The ‘fin’ was more knife than plate—a long sliver pitched at a bad angle over a worse drop. I hit it sideways, sliding more than stepping. The next tremor hit mid-stride, the fin lurching up and hurling me toward the next slab.
I, again, flailed, sailing through open air over a smoking fissure.
Something grabbed the back of my jacket as I plummeted, just short of my intended landing that had quickly slid away. Slop had latched onto my jacket mid-jump, front paws scrambling on stone as my weight swung under him like a sad backpack. The two of us jerked together onto a higher landing and collapsed into a heap.
I laid there, staring at the sky, feeling my heart crawl up my throat
“BIOLOGICAL INTEGRITY DOWNGRADED :: Minor shoulder dislocation, right”
Coach grunted, “Pop that shit back in and let’s go. We’re burning clock!”
I rolled to my side with a whimper and jammed my right arm against the edge of the plate. A small shove against the vibrating earth, a loud pop, and a sharp yelp later, the joint slid back in.
“Fffff… fuck me!” I hissed through my teeth.
Another quake rolled the world, the higher plates sending debris down in loose patches. Plates all around groaned as they compressed together. Ahead, one tore loose and flipped like a coin, dumping a pair of small flying things straight into the magma. They vanished in a flash of white, followed by black smoke.
“Allll-Rrright!” Bark barked. “Who wants toasted Gremalian?” He cackled, and it dawned on me that the dwarves, apparently called Gremalians, were both just dunked into a lava bath.
Fantus dropped lower, his grav pods buzzing hard as he releveled. “Route correction. Ahead, then down, then a little… ah.. Parkour, I believe you call it.”
My stamina was drained, and I was already moving sluggishly.
“Parkour?” I barely worked out.
The view from his camera popped up. Our path dipped over two more broken slabs, then dropped to a narrow bridge no wider than my shoulders—a natural stone tongue stuck out over a gap, leading toward a bigger, flatter plate closer to the center ring. The tongue was cracked. Lava colliding with a pool of water was rolling out steam clouds, an exhaling demon of a jump.
“You think it will hold us?” I asked Fantus.
“One at a time, yes. Be quick about it, and let Slop go first.”
I looked to Slop. “Alright, buddy. Lead the way, and be safe.”
He sprinted like a dog at the park, jumping in a strange half rotation that ended with his face pointing downward as his paws hit the far wall of the vertical shaft down. He was quickly out of sight, but I could hear his claws clicking the stone as he bounced down. I quickly followed, less gracefully, much quicker, more bounces.
Picking myself up off the ground, I saw he had already cleared the tongue gap.
I reached a foot out and pushed on the tongue. It rocked under my weight with a worrying creak. But, there was nowhere else to go now. I thought about Retreat, but I didn’t know if it was a proper thirty feet, or if I would phase into a wall, a horrifying experience I wished not to relive.
“Alright,” I said to myself. “You’ve got this, Zach.”
Coach said, “Come on, kid. Show me what you got!”
I broke out in a full sprint, the stone surprisingly sturdy after its initial movement. Halfway across, as if triggered just for me, another quake exploded.
Coach began shouting, Bark was shouting, Slop was barking, Fantus was… whining. My legs pumped in midair, no longer attached to the tongue which had been violently thrown into the lava. I felt weightless, my backside rapidly approaching another death.
“BLITZKRIEG!” I screamed as my resistant jacket caught flame, my ass making contact with the molten rock. I was immediately thirty feet in the air, lightning thundering in a ball surrounding me, flames smouldering out. I could feel my hair standing on end. I realized I was now upside down, my momentum slowly tumbling me.
“RETREAT! I screamed again. I was shot backwards, now forwards in my inverted state. For once, luck must have been on my side. I slammed into a corner of two moving plates, body folding down around me as I rolled to my belly, away from the grinding vice.
Slop licked my face. I righted myself, shaking off the daze as I sat on the pulsing ground, the dust and gravel around me shaking like a rainmaker.
Fantus pointed my attention toward the center. The big circular platform and its industrial elevator loomed closer now, still floating stable in the middle of the chaos as if it were not attached to the world. Only two teams hadn’t descended yet. Ours, and the dwarves who were now somewhere near their starting point.
“Last stretch,” Coach said. “Lay it on us, Fantus.”
Fantus said, “One wide plate, one broken ring, then a hop to the goal. Also, a brief advisory: temperature readings are spiking, Bearer. I fear we are low on time.”
Ahead, lava seeped through a huge slap at a slight tilt. Dozen of cracks formed thin glowing lines that bled thicker with every rumble. Hot wind was blasting across it, carrying the smell of brick kilns and burned flesh.
I pushed to my feet, legs shaky. Slop pressed against my thigh once more, then moved ahead, slower now, ears low against the heat.
We jogged across the wide plate, dodging little vents that burped steam hot enough to peel paint. One went off under my heel and sent me stumbling, boot sole softening for a second, System logging a critical alert about my feet.
As I hopped clear, Coach said, “Just a bit more. Big ring, then we’re outta here!”
The ‘ring’ was a curved arc of stone that had once been a full circle, probably. Now, it was three big segments floating around the central platform at different heights. Our segment sat a few meters down and to the right. A narrow broken column connected our plate to the ring like a drunken staircase.
“Route locked,” Fantus said. “Down the rubble, along the ring, then a nice tidy jump to the platform. Be careful—sections of the ring are-”
“I see, Fantus. Thanks.”
We climbed down the crooked column. It wobbled under our weight, but held. Slop went low, belly close to the rock, moving like he had done this every day of his life.
My thighs burned. My lungs burned. Everything burned.
I hit the ring and quickly worked my way across to the last gap. It was absolutely fucking huge.
I heard the crowd again, mildly entertained. Bark announced, “And coming in ninth place, it's the meatbag and his furball, Zach and Slop!” The crowd got louder, but somehow still seemed dull. “Can he clear the final jump, or will he give us one more respawn for the highlight reel?”
“Don’t you dare go getting clipped, Zach,” Coach said.
As I sat there trying to spot my landing, the arc began to shake. At first, it was just a little, but as the seconds counted, it got worse and worse. Soon, I would be bucked off. Retreat and Blitz were down.
“Now!” Fantus yelled.
Slop jumped, cleared the gap clean, and landed with a skidding bark.
I took one last shaky step and pushed off. For a heartbeat I hovered over molten nothing, every muscle screaming about today’s choices.
I hit the platform shins first, slamming my knees into the metal floor and slapping my palms hard enough to sting. Panting, bruised, and bloody, I finally slammed the red button that called the central descent elevator.
“Holy shit, guys. How am I going to get through nine more of these?”
Fantus said, “Rest easy, Bearer. I believe a reprieve from your struggles is nigh.”
“Is nigh?” Coach asked in disbelief. “This fuckin-”
“Coach…” I scolded.
“You’ll get a restore between floors, kid. Don’t worry.”
The thirty seconds it took for the elevator to arrive went in a blink. I must have blacked out. The elevator arrived with a deep, loud thunk, snapping me back to reality.
Coach and Fantus were arguing about something, Slop waiting patiently by my side. As we boarded, I could hear Bark talking about the inevitable fate of the burning dwarves.
“...and we’ll see how those little shits do in the Cauldaran Mines, our next biome!”
That was the last thing I heard Bark say to the roaring crowd as blackness enveloped me. A simple recap screen scrolled down my vision to the center.
TEAM STANDINGS - BIOME 1 - SEISMIC BASIN
- 1st: Mantiuok
- 2nd: Aureli Blue Falcons
- 3rd: Team Stone Lizard
- 4th: Liizalith Lurkers
- 5th: The Kaarbian Killers
- 6th: Purple Phase
- 7th: Chimareans
- 8th: The Shift Phased Pirates
- 9th: Z. Ainsley and F. R. Slop
- 10th: Gremalians (DNF)
A sad little horn sounded over my head.
BIOME COMPLETE
- Time: 63 e-mins [Terrible]
- Style: Poor [Irradict, Non-strategic]
- PvP: Excessive Damage [Warning Issued]
- Rating: C-
:: LOSER :: LOSER :: LOSER :: LOSER ::
It kept blinking on my screen, blood red against pitch black.
“C-minus, not bad,” Coach read out. “Could be worse. Could be an F. You’d probably have to purposely swan dive into your death to score that bad, though. So, y’know… room to grow.”
Chains clinked in the background as I continued to descend. The leaderboard faded away. Above me, I could see the hole of light shrinking. Deep down, I knew I was safer up there than whatever hell this elevator was taking me to.
Still, I rode my open coffin down, deep into the abyss.