The sun rises at dawn; the sun sets at dusk. Those who cling to these constants for sanity will find themselves broken by this world. In Nightmare, the sun rose at dawn just as it did on Earth, but it was a reluctant, slow crawl. Come nightfall, it didn’t so much set as it did fall, as though struck down by the Constellations that took its place. And the next day, its recovery would be slower; by evening, its death a little sooner. The cycle would repeat. Days cut shorter, nights growing longer, until before long, there would be no light at the end of the tunnel—only the terrors of the dark and a night that would never end.

  Suffice it to say, Alex was having an awful morning.

  His auburn hair stuck to his face like a mop. His odor had grown sour; his button-up shirt was caked with dirt, dust, mud, and blood, and stuck to him in a ruddy crust that hurt to peel free. Alex had accidentally reopened his wound so Jun re-stitched it—unprompted and grudgingly—but the dull pain remained. There were about a million other discomforts Alex could list, and yet none of them compared the utter exhaustion weighing him down.

  When was the last time I slept?

  The thought flitted past, and it occurred to him he quite literally had no way of knowing. Fifteen years ago, at least, and back then, he’d allowed his superiors to take advantage of his desperate need for money and bad habit of gambling it away. With how little he’d cared for himself, Alex could’ve been awake a day, two days, or perhaps more than that. He’d been well on his way to a working man’s death even before Nightmare, and last night, he’d pushed this body and mind harder than they could go. It’d taken its toll—the price being his optimism and rationality.

  Now there was this slow crawl of light climbing the horizon. It was the first dawn Alex had seen in years and he couldn’t even enjoy basking in it.

  What’s taking them so long? Last time they came before sunrise.

  He glanced again at the notification.

  Please await your Guide at the designated meeting point. We will be with you shortly.

  It had come two hours ago.

  Alex, Jun, and Gloomy all sat atop the sloped hill. They had mutually and wordlessly agreed that they were visible enough sitting where they were. Better to wait all bunched up here than near the designated beacon, which holographically speared a woman’s head in the clearing’s center. And so there they all were: a studious doctor, a brash teenager, and a veteran-turned-adventurer-turned-call-center-wage-slave. He was hard-pressed to imagine a scenario where they’d have much to talk about, even on a normal day. Instead, they just passed the time in silence.

  That was fine by him.

  Gloomy sat to his left. She’d spent most of the night in the darkness of the forest, and Alex noticed that a few of her fingernails had ruptured. She’d hissed at the sun when it had first come up, her eyes puffy, and dilating. Now, she had her drawstring hoodie clenched tight around her like a student trying to fit a whole night’s sleep into a scant few minutes.

  Jun was to his right, just staring into the distance. He was the only one to get any sleep, and even he’d been up before the sun. He’d refined some more of his Essence as well, if Alex’s senses were still working straight.

  As for himself, he’d just sat under a tree all night, staying as still as humanly possible in an attempt to recover some stamina. He’d managed a measly 9%. And now he was waiting. Patiently, waiting.

  Suddenly, there was a distortion in space above the beacon, and a dark gate warbled open. It expanded, and a man dressed in an inconspicuous, tattered cloak stepped out.

  Alex would’ve been grateful his wait had ended. If not for the fact that he recognized the man. He had messy, unkempt hair at odds with his prince-like jawline, and when he took his first step out, his boot squelched between a woman’s rib cage. He looked down distastefully and swatted at the flies and blood wasps that swarmed in a haze around him. He soon spotted them, but his expression didn’t change much as he sauntered over.

  “Velrick,” he said. “I’ve been assigned as your Guide. And you three are?”

  Jun seemed as if he were about to answer, then hesitated. Gloomy simply scowled. Alex had almost missed the question entirely, but he knew Velrick could access that information if he really wanted it.

  “Lively bunch, aren’t you? Not often that there’s… three.” He took them in, his eyes seeming to linger uncomfortably long on Alex. “You could… like… make friends, you know?”

  They all shared an awkward glance, then pretended they didn’t.

  “Uh, excuse me,” Jun said. “What does ‘Guide’ entail?”

  “Nothing for a while, really. It’ll mean something if you survive, I guess. Right now, it just means I’m here to take you to the nearest town.”

  “Town?”

  “A type of urban settlement.”

  Jun blinked as if he weren’t expecting that answer. The man yawned. “Let's go then. I’m… already behind schedule. If you slow me down, I won’t hesitate to leave you.”

  Velrick didn’t wait for an answer as he turned and walked away—just as he did the last time. Visions of the past overlaid the man's back, and Alex decided to heed his warning this time. Before long, they had already reached the barrier to the mists, and the voices of lost souls began to whisper in their ears—visceral and airy. Those of the Wraiths shrieked deeper within—filled with longing for flesh.

  Jun clutched his ears, “W-What are those?”

  “Scared?” Velrick asked sardonically.

  No one answered.

  “Ah, those? Don’t worry… They’ll wait until I’m gone to eat you.”

  There was a bored humor behind his eyes. That was the last time Jun tried asking questions.

  ***

  The sun had long settled into the morning, but it still struggled to penetrate the forest’s cloudy air. Mist wove through the valley’s trees like water around jagged river stones, and the shifting currents concealed terrors Alex had been hiding from just the night before.

  Just the night before?

  For some reason, the phrase didn’t register. The night before this, he’d been down in the caverns, trying to get some shut-eye while his dangersense raised alarm at Camilla’s presence. Immortals didn’t need to sleep, and Alex couldn’t sleep while she was awake.

  Sleep…

  His eyelids were heavy with double vision, and for a second, he saw himself walking from an outsider's perspective. It was a different him, but the path he followed seemed eerily familiar. That should be a good thing—it meant he knew what was coming. He supposed he might’ve felt good about that if not for the fact that nothing good would be coming his way.

  His hand instinctively went to his eye, tracing the grooves of the scar he expected to find there. Nope, just baggy skin.

  The guide yawned, and Alex had to stifle one of his own as they all ducked under a crooked tree while something passed overhead. Aside from the ghoulish whisperings and the crinkle of leaves, it was dreadfully silent. They continued until the trees suddenly stopped, lined unnaturally as if some barrier separated the forest from the grey-grass plains where they refused to grow.

  The guide led them out of the forest and onto a dirt road. With each step farther from the unnatural line of trees, the fog lessened until it was almost gone entirely. Soon, the outline of a town came into shape, steadily becoming larger as they approached.

  “Well, looks like we’ve arrived,” Velrick said. “And my job’s done.”

  Alex looked back at the man. Truthfully, he wasn’t certain whether Velrick was actually human or just appearing that way for professionalism’s sake. You could never tell with the System’s guides—and especially not with this bastard. In any case, he caught that glossy, distant look people had when issuing mental commands, right before Velrick vanished. He’d left their lives just as unceremoniously as he’d entered them. Unfortunately, not for good.

  Jun looked bewildered when he realized their guide had disappeared, and Gloomy, who hadn’t spoken a word the entire time, simply scowled before continuing to the town walls.

  The three of them now stood before a vast array of wooden pikes, each more than three times their height. There must’ve been a platform on the other side, as a group of guardsmen stood atop them as lookouts.

  A chill went down Alex’s spine as they were spotted.

  So it’ll be the same this time as well.

  He grew stern, looking at his two companions in deliberation. They were far from perfect company, but Alex had grown used to them since last night. There was an odd bond between people who were perfectly content to ignore one another and pretend the others didn’t exist.

  “If I were you guys, I wouldn’t trust anyone or anything behind those gates,” Alex said.

  “No shit,” Gloomy spat.

  “Ironic coming from you,” Jun added.

  Of course… Why even bother?

  But then, why not bother? It would cost him nothing, after all. Either they would get it, or they wouldn’t. It wasn’t safe to explain now in any case, and he hadn’t been about to say anything in front of Velrick either.

  Alex had been mid-sigh when the gates shifted.

  An old man stepped out, and his breath caught in his chest. For a second, he was stuck reliving the past. The man walked forward with poised elegance. His hair was short and gray, his eyes lined by creases, and he wore a smile that seemed permanently plastered beneath his mustache. His voice rasped kindly, serenading in the way only the wise and elderly could.

  “Hello,” he said, bowing slightly. “Mr. Jun, Mr. Alex, Ms—”

  He looked at some interface and seemed taken aback for a second before giving a hearty laugh. “Well, suffice it to say, we’ve been expecting you all. My name is Samwise.” He bowed again. “I am the mayor of this town. I know things must have been harsh and unforgiving thus far, but believe me, it doesn’t have to be that way.”

  He approached subtly, stopping right next to them. He rested a hand on Alex’s shoulder, and it took all Alex had to quell his raging heartbeat.

  “I understand you must have many questions. I was like you once, but all will be answered in time. So, what do you say we get a hearty meal first?”

  Gloomy didn’t hesitate. She had a strangely resigned expression Alex hadn’t seen on her before as she took the mayor’s cue and stepped forward. Jun, however, hesitated for a moment but followed shortly after

  Alex stayed, his heart hammering.

  “Is something wrong?” the mayor asked. He was standing right next to Alex now. His eyes were narrowed into wrinkled slits as permanent as his smile, though, as Alex met them, he thought he saw them open just slightly.

  “No.”

  Alex walked past, scratching at his right eye. He glanced at the subtle lump at the man’s hem where the tip of a knife peeked just beneath the fabric.

  Just wondering how I’ll kill you, that’s all.

  The three of them glanced back as the gates closed behind them, the mayor still smiling. “Oh, and one more thing,” he said, taking the lead. They turned, tracking him with their eyes, then took in the sight: stone and wooden medieval-style houses, walkways lined with aged cobblestone, people milling about, a woman selling flowers by the bundle.

  “Welcome to the Starter Town.”

  ***

  The mayor had led them as far as the tavern entrance before leaving to attend to other business.

  “My humble apologies,” he’d said, bowing. “But I assure you, this is the finest hospitality we have to offer. They’re an unruly bunch but very gentle at heart. Just head to the front desk; the attendant will get you situated.”

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  Their heads tilted up at the signboard: Adventurers’ Guild Hall.

  “What in the…” Jun’s voice trailed off as Alex pushed the swinging doors open.

  Let's get this over with.

  As the doors closed behind them, it felt as though they’d walked into another world.

  Celtic music blared from a stage corner. There were cheers and whoops, deep chuckles and high-pitched howls. Shouts echoed from a vast array of wooden tables, accented by the clinking of coins, the clatter of spilled pints, and calls to the barmaid for more besides. The smell of hops and the strong musk of armored men and women bombarded Alex as they wandered table to table in festivity. It was like so many places he’d frequented over the years—a pleasure seeking splurge-pit for those who knew they wouldn’t live long.

  Or in this case…

  A bare-chested man with a mohawk pushed the door open behind them, bumping into Jun.

  “Oh, excuse me lads,” he said, shoving past. A burlap sack draped heavily over his shoulder guards, soaking at the bottom where a purplish liquid dripped steadily onto the floor. Alex followed the man to the far wall where the reception counter stood. He dropped the sack onto the information desk with a steady thud.

  The music and laughter paused for a second as a ghoulish head lolled partly out of the sack. Jun, who seemed to have stuck to Alex like a duckling, went pale. Then several tables erupted in laughter, and the music resumed as if nothing had happened.

  “Oh my,” the attendant exclaimed. “Back early today, aren’t you? That’s quite a haul.”

  “Why don’t you come back to my place? I’ll show how much I’m truly packing.”

  The man’s smile didn’t fade, but Alex detected a hint of animosity in his voice. The woman just laughed and they exchanged a few more pleasantries before the man pointed to a poster on the bulletin board behind her. She tore it down and handed him a sack of coins

  Alex paid close attention to the posters on the bulletin board, committing each one to memory.

  “Um, Alex,” Jun whispered, his face drawn with concern. “Just what the hell am I witne—”

  The man turned around. “Oh! The three from the entrance, right? He wore an intense look as he leaned in closer. “Fresh blood?”

  “Yeah, something like that,” Alex responded.

  The man’s grin widened into something almost friendly. “Welcome to the gates of Hell!”

  “Uh, Alex—”

  “Oh! You three must be new initiates! Just one second!”

  The freckled woman was wiping purple blood from the counter when she scrambled off, returning with a strange steampunk-esque mechanism with a floating orb projected in the center.

  “This here,” she explained, “will test your magical output and determine your starting Adventurer rank. Naturally, the guild won’t access any sensitive information, and this won’t count toward your actual registration—”

  “Uh, wait… Hold on, hold on,” Jun interjected. “Adventurer? As in—”

  Gloomy stepped forward, cutting him off. She placed her hand on the orb. The contraption whirred, and the orb pulsed with mana. After a moment, she removed her hand, and it settled. She still wore that permanent scowl on her face.

  “Now what?” she asked.

  The woman smiled. “Now, we’ll have you all meet our guild master. Though… we’re still waiting for other initiates to show up, so how about we have you… Oh, that table has space. Hey, Storth!” the attendant hollered across the room. “Got another!”

  An old man with a cheeky grin beckoned Gloomy over.

  “Psst, Alex!”

  He glanced over. Jun was clearly panicking now, but he shot him a harsh look, and the man shut his mouth, understanding that there was a reason for Alex’s silence. Thankfully, Jun resisted the urge to glance around in paranoia and followed Gloomy’s example without another word.

  The fact was, from the moment they’d entered those gates, to if they exited, they wouldn’t be left unattended—not even for a second. Even now, Alex could feel gazes resting on his back.

  Still, playing along with this convoluted nonsense needled at him. He knew what would happen when he touched that orb. He’d get some random letter or color signifying his rank and a name tag declaring him one of them. And maybe the déjà vu was getting to him, or maybe he was just too tired, but he didn’t want to play along this time.

  He’d followed that same path for far too long. This was where those paths had to split.

  “Uh… sir?” The woman looked at him expectantly.

  “Sorry, I’m not feeling well. Do I need to?”

  “I… I do apologize, but we need everyone to be registered—”

  “Then how about I do it later?”

  She looked as though she might refuse. Then something intangible flickered across her face for a second, and she harrumphed. “Fine, but you better do it when the guild master arrives, okay? Please, take a seat. We’ll have some food out for you in a second.”

  ***

  “Eric… agh, I…” The slightly chubby woman slammed her pint down, red in the face, as she forked another bite of steak. “I just don’t know what to do on my own…” She sobbed and grabbed another pint from a passing barmaid

  From the context provided, Alex gathered that this “Eric” had sacrificed himself to save her in the last scenario, luring away a horde of ghouls. And that he was apparently very suave.

  “Oh, Jolyn,” an older man slurred in a deep southern accent, “Just forget about that man! Look around. There’s plenty’ a well-built men around ’ere. If I learned anything the past day, it’s that stickin’ to the past won’t do ya any good, you git’ what I’m sayin’?”

  He had his arm draped around another woman, one of the guild’s mages. She had a large bust with open cleavage and leaned in close while he showed her his gun, bragging about the technology from their world as if he’d created it. He was falling for the oldest trick in the book and didn’t even know it.

  Alex glanced around the wooden circle table where they’d been seated. The southern man and the woman named Jolyn were the only other ‘initiates,’ as they’d been called, but three other adventurers filled in seats between them.

  Storth, the man who’d called from across the room, was currently engaged in a one-sided conversation with Gloomy, who was… well, not so gloomy anymore so much as downright disgusted as she looked at the dish in front of her. The third adventurer had an arm hooked around Jun, her other hand running up and down his chest in flirtation. Strangely enough, he was reciprocating. Either he’d woken up since their last talk or suddenly turned very dumb. Frankly, Alex was too tired to figure out which.

  He’d done some thinking on their walk there, as slowly as his addled brain could handle, and Jun’s skill could be invaluable in defeating this scenario—if he could count on him. He was beginning to think that was a big if.

  There are other options, he reminded himself. None so talented, perhaps, none that he was as fond of, but he was certain some of these other people could prove useful. Possibly. And if not, he would handle it on his own. He had his methods, even if they weren’t ideal.

  After a nap maybe.

  Alex’s vision started failing as he looked down at his plate in a disgust equal to that of Gloomy’s. The rations in his inventory weren’t so plentiful enough to waste when he had a free meal before him. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d eaten something he didn’t want to, and it wouldn’t be the last.

  He tried to recall the last time he’d had a full meal, but that was also a hard one to figure. His memories were still confused by the time jump, and he was mostly acting on autopilot. Years of honed instincts kept him sane, but only sane. Not quick, not sharp. If he truly wanted to beat Nightmare, he needed to be both.

  The adventurer called Storth seemed to have given up on Gloomy and started talking to him now. Alex didn’t care to figure out what he was saying; he was too preoccupied.

  What had done it?

  In his past life, everyone had been knocked cold. But how, exactly? He’d already run Identify on both the food and the mead, and though he knew the flaws with that method, he doubted this back-end place would be using anything too high-level. More importantly, he’d had plenty of both in his past life and he’d been just fine. So, what—

  The music stopped playing. Alex was snapped from his reverie, feeling as though he’d been drawn out of a haze.

  Storth started slamming his pint on the table, the liquid spilling messily. The two adventurer women joined him, then the southern man as well, clearly having no idea why. All around them, at every table in the hall, pints thudded against wood in a cacophony of noise. An inhumanly tall and broad man stepped onto the info-desk counter.

  The first thing Alex noticed was his equipment. Where every other adventurer’s weapons were rusted and poorly made, his sword had the shine of quality steel. Alex felt like an idiot—all these details coming to him now that he’d never noticed way back then.

  “All right, you rascals, quiet it down! You don’t wanna scare our new initiates, do ya?!” the man shouted. If anything, the room cheered louder, but the man’s booming voice and commanding presence cut through the noise with ease.

  “Now, for all my fresh-faced initiates here.” Every face turned toward their section of the tavern. “My name’s Lionheart, your Guild Master. I’m gonna keep my speech here short and peachy so y’all can get back to drinkin’, but listen up! I want you to do one simple thing for me. Look to your left, look to your right, look at all these beautiful men and women—yes Lugrin, I’m talkin’ about you—”

  From the direction of laughter and the look on his face, ‘Lugrin’ appeared to be the large mohawked man from earlier.

  “Point is! I want you to look at the person next to ya and just know they’ve got your back! You’re one of us now! You all—” he paused for dramatic effect “—are ADVENTURERS!”

  At once, the room went absolutely ballistic, with the man receiving the rough-hewn adventurers’ version of a standing ovation. It involved a lot more sloshing mead and a handful more concussions. Alex knew firsthand how infectious that energy could be. He saw Jun let loose an uncharacteristic cheer and couldn’t tell if he was playing it up or not

  Either way, Alex wouldn’t be sticking around to be sure. He’d decided he hated this place. Hated how it seemed so familiar, yet wasn’t. It wasn’t the tavern’s comfort he’d grown nostalgic for on backwater worlds; it was a fabrication. A distorted tapestry woven within the fever-dream that was this tutorial. A false sense of comfort to lull you into the trap.

  Or, I suppose, the Nightmare.

  The thought made him grim.

  And as each of his fellow initiates—twenty-four of them, because of course he’d fucking counted—sat back down with a pint in hand and a flirt by their side, they would open up their stat sheet and have the same exact thought: Wow, this is just like a game.

  The System being designed to mimic a game wasn’t at all unintentional—it only went further for the tutorial. It was the reason why he couldn’t bring himself to register as an adventurer. Not in a place where that title held so little real meaning.

  But there was something else to it, wasn’t there?

  Alex focused inward on his senses, then quickly eyed one of the so-called adventurers and he almost felt like he saw a difference in the way their essence moved. Sloppily yet strangely captivating, and without the sterilized efficiency of the System. He frowned. Could that really be correct?

  But… why? Why create a tutorial on a Systemless world, and why Nightmare?

  The observation snapped him out of his tiredness. Momentarily. He took a sip, grimacing at the mild numbing sensation that went through him. He hated this place. Hated the manipulation, the false comfort—and above all, hated that it worked.

  A crude facsimile of the adventurer lifestyle though it might be, it was all anyone needed after surviving the hell of the first Scenario. In his first life he’d let his fatigue win and simply gave in to the convenience of it all; he’d never thought to question any of this. It made his blood boil just thinking about it, to the point that when everyone settled down, he hardly even noticed the glass of water the barmaid had brought him.

  He identified it. Poisoned water, it said.

  Examine.

  Status effects - Sedation

  Of course. Get a few drinks in their system and their blood pumping, and they’ll hardly even question the glass of water.

  How many of them knew they could use Identify on objects? Not many, he figured. And those who did notice were wise not to make it obvious.

  Alex, on the other hand, had no reason to be inconspicuous. Any attention he drew from these assholes was something he could deal with himself, and he’d already been marked for watch by refusing registration. So, as he went to stand, he found himself clumsily tripping over his own feet, his glass sloshing in his right hand.

  Truthfully, he only had to act out the first second. After that, the clumsiness was real. He stumbled a few steps and then tripped, spilling his water all over the open-necked outfit of the mage who had been clinging to Jun. She gasped, stepping back from the table.

  Whoops… Really, he could be so clumsy sometimes. He restrained a crazed laugh as he straightened.

  “Shoot! I’m—I’m so, so sorry. Let me clean that up.”

  The woman scooted aside as he bent over the table, using his sleeve to mob up the water. While he was doing it, something slipped from his sleeve onto Jun’s lap: a hastily scribbled note written on paper. With his trait, he was able to write it hidden from view in the few moments he was certain nobody was watching. He’d had to move it in and out of his inventory a dozen times just to scribble three words: don’t drink water.

  Alex quickly used his flustered act as an excuse for some fresh air, not waiting to see if anyone else had noticed—or if Jun had seen the note. If it all worked, Jun might be a useful asset, so long as they could put things behind them. If it didn’t… Well, talent wasn’t so often an indicator of survival as much as simple luck, and when it came down to it…

  I’ll just play the hand I’m dealt.

  He gave the others all one last look. In the end, there would be 217; there was nothing he could do about that in his state. Gloomy, Jun—all of them—he knew that in time they would become nameless faces. There’d been thousands over the years: children, elderly, men, women—people he’d abandoned for the sake of survival. This was no different.

  But maybe that was just the thing. No matter what he told himself, he was still just surviving. He forced the thought down, pushing his way out of the Guild Hall. Sure enough, two presences trailed behind at a distance, watching.

  He took a corner, walking past some shops the mayor had shown them earlier. The townsfolk had all been very friendly when they’d first come through, but they were noticeably wary of him now. The woman who’d been selling flower bundles earlier now glared daggers at him. No smiles. No forced greetings. He wasn’t where he was supposed to be, but he knew nothing would come of it. Not yet.

  Subtly, he chanced a glance and spotted the mayor and a couple of adventurers slinking into the alleys behind him. He let them follow, knowing nothing would come of that either. Nothing he wasn’t looking forward to, at least.

  He pulled up a bucket of water from the well and cut the rope with his dagger—the one from his bonus set, not the one he’d looted from the Chimik. The weapon was already collapsing, cracking in places. Then he walked up to one of the houses and stole a large basin from their front porch, re-tying it to the well’s rope and drawing more water.

  People watched as he passed, blank stares on their faces. It sent shivers down his spine. But while the Awakened were at a disadvantage in Nightmare, the Tutorial had its own limitations, and Alex fully intended to exploit them.

  Soon, he found the place he was looking for: a beat-up shed on the outskirts of town. It was nondescript to the untrained eye, but he could tell immediately what was inside from the type of chimney.

  Just like he could tell from the cloud of dust that hit him when he entered that this smithy hadn’t been used in a long, long time.

  All right, enough mulling. Time to get to work.