Silence. Finally.

  No more screaming, no more heavy footsteps shaking the ground, no more car sirens. Just the sound of our three wheezing breaths echoing in the small, enclosed room.

  I’m sprawled on my back, arms spread wide, staring at the rough stone ceiling without really seeing it. The weight on my shoulder has vanished. The toad evaporated when we crossed the portal. The System probably deleted it like a temporary file once its nuisance function ran its course. I rub the spot where it was stuck. I swear I can still smell its phantom glue soaking into my vest.

  “Holy shit…” I wheeze between gasps.

  Kim is sitting against the wall, knees pulled to her chest, hands trembling. She stares into the void, pupils dilated. Chris is on all fours, head low, a string of drool at the corner of his lips, trying not to puke his lungs out onto the clean floor.

  “What was… what was that ending?” Kim asks, her voice still charged with adrenaline and broken by sheer disbelief. “We went from ‘Red Light, Green Light’ to Temple Run in a single second.”

  I sit up painfully. My joints crack like dry wood, and I massage my thighs. They burn like someone poured sulfuric acid on them.

  “It was complete bullshit, that’s what it was!” I explode, anger instantly replacing my exhaustion. “What kind of carnival level design is this?!”

  I punch the ground, furious.

  “We play the game! We respect the silence! We crawl for four hours like slugs! And then, bam! The game decides it isn’t funny enough? It spawns an invincible magic toad on my shoulder to aggro the whole map? The damn thing stuck to me, started screaming, and I didn’t even have time to run an analysis! That’s lazy scripting just to force an action cutscene!”

  Chris drops onto his butt, looking pale, wiping the sweat and soot off his face. “If you hadn’t pulled aggro… if all those monsters had dropped on us at the same time… we wouldn’t have lasted three seconds. Even with my 1,920 HP. They shredded concrete like it was tissue paper.”

  I nod, still pissed, but calmed down a bit by the kid’s logic. “Yeah. But it’s still an atrocious ending. I almost died because some dev thought, ‘Hey, what if we throw in a sticky alarm they can’t remove?’ I ran faster in those last ten minutes than in my entire forty years of existence. My knees are going to sue me.”

  My hands seek out a familiar comfort. I dig into my pocket, my fingers meeting the cold metal of my best friend. I unscrew the cap. The smell of cheap booze is the absolute best perfume in the world right now. “I need a pick-me-up.”

  I take a long swig. The alcohol burns away the fear, scours the dust from my throat, and numbs the pain in my legs. I feel my nerves relax. My shoulders slump. I’m alive.

  I look around. We’re in a new Safe Zone. A natural cave, but furnished with suspicious care. Thick rugs with geometric patterns cover the floor. Soft lanterns hang from the stalactites, diffusing an amber light, and a magic campfire crackles without smoke in the center. It’s warm. Almost too welcoming after the gray, cold hell of the previous floor.

  But I feel vulnerable. “Kid,” I say, screwing the cap back onto my flask. “Give us our gear back. I feel naked without my shovel.”

  Chris nods. The air vibrates slightly as he starts pulling our equipment out of the void.

  He hands me my Excali-Spade. I grip the black handle with immense relief. The weapon’s weight reassures me, anchoring me back in reality. I’m no longer prey on the run. I’m armed.

  Next, he pulls out the Viper rifle. Kim almost throws herself at it. She snatches it from Chris’s hands, frantically checks the breech, strokes the cold barrel, and hugs it like a teddy bear—or a lost child. The helplessness of the last hour marked her way more than she wants to admit.

  She slowly turns her head toward me. Her gaze is as sharp as a razor blade. “Don’t ever ask me to put it away again,” she says in an icy tone that leaves zero room for debate. “Never again.”

  I raise my hands in surrender, fully aware I just brushed against a hard limit. “Promise, Kim. It was a one-shot.”

  Chris retrieves his own shield and lets out a sigh of relief as he feels the familiar weight on his arm. We’re alive. We’re armed. And we’re alone in this cave.

  “No Guide?” Kim remarks, scanning the room.

  I scrutinize the cave, looking for the famous column of blue light that usually announces our tutors. Nobody. “Weird,” I mutter, my voice echoing a bit too much in the silence. “Maybe they’re on strike. Or the NPC budget got slashed.”

  Suddenly, a tiny sound catches my attention. Scritch. Scritch. Like dirty fingernails scratching stone. It’s coming from behind a large mossy rock at the back of the cave. I signal the others to stay put and approach slowly, shovel gripped tight, ready to flatten whatever pops out.

  I round the rock and spot him. Crouched in the shadows, a creature is watching us. A skinny thing, with grayish, translucent skin revealing blue veins underneath. His limbs are too long, completely emaciated, and his spine forms a jagged ridge down his hunched back. He wears a dirty, torn vest hanging down to his knees like a diaper.

  His large greenish eyes, bulbous and lashless, shine in the gloom. They stare at my yellow vest with an unhealthy intensity.

  “They saw us!” he hisses. His voice sounds like two stones rubbing together. “The fat yellow one saw us! Hide!” He slaps himself, leaving a sharp red mark on his pale cheek. “No! The Guide must speak! The Guide must teach! It is the rule! It is the duty!”

  I slowly lower my shovel, caught between disgust and pity. “Another basket case,” I sigh. “Hey, buddy! You the Guide for this floor?”

  The creature leaps onto the rock with a spider’s agility, crouching like a frog ready to snatch a fly. “The Guide? Yes, yes! The Guide, that is us! But first… a question, we have. A little game, yes?”

  He leans toward me, a toothless smile on his lips, his eyes searching my soul. “What has roots as nobody sees, is taller than trees, up, up it goes, and yet never grows?”

  I roll my eyes. Seriously? “A mountain,” I answer in a deadpan tone. “That’s older than dirt. Next.”

  The Guide frowns, clearly disappointed, and spits a gob of black phlegm onto the ground. “The yellow bird is clever… Very clever. But can he answer this one? Listen closely, Tourists!”

  He rubs his hands together, making a sound like dry paper. His bulbous eyes dart from Chris to Kim. “I am invisible but I carry great weight. I separate you from your neighbor. I am won by blood, but cannot be touched. I make you a king or scum, but I only exist in the heads of others. Who am I?”

  Silence settles over the cave. Chris frowns, concentrating hard like he’s taking a math exam. “The soul?” he guesses timidly.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “No! Stupid little man! It is not the soul! The soul weighs nothing!” the Guide spits with absolute contempt.

  Kim thinks it over, hand on her chin, searching for some tactical logic. “Reputation? Or fear?”

  The Guide snickers, hopping in place, completely delighted by their ignorance. “Cold! Ice cold! The female does not know! Hee hee hee!”

  I adjust my vest. It’s obvious. It’s the foundation of every rotten society. “It’s Social Rank. Or Status. It’s what defines hierarchy.”

  The Guide freezes, mouth hanging open, looking absolutely outraged. “He cheats! He reads the Guide’s thoughts! Naughty yellow one!”

  He gives himself a little slap on the head as punishment for asking a riddle that was too easy, then resumes his grotesque seriousness, pointing a knobby finger toward the ceiling. “Yes! Rank! It is life! It is order! But not here, no! It will be on Earth, once the Tower Scenario is finished! The System will unlock the Hierarchy there. Your Power here will define your place in the pack of tomorrow!”

  He counts on his twisted fingers, listing the tiers with growing reverence, like he’s reciting a prayer. “From 1 to 600 Power: Commoner! The plebs! The scum! You are useless! From 601 to 800: Citizen! You are tolerated! From 801 to 1,100: Knight or Dame! Honor begins! From 1,101 to 1,800: Baron! Minor nobility!”

  He gets carried away, his voice rising in pitch, eyes rolling back in their sockets. “From 1,801 to 2,500: Viscount! From 2,501 to 3,800: Count! From 3,801 to 6,000: Marquis! From 6,001 to 9,000: Duke! The top of the pyramid for many!” He spreads his arms as if to embrace the whole world. “From 9,001 to 15,000: King! You reign over lands! And above 15,000… Emperor!”

  I look down, feeling the heavy reality of those numbers. “So, to sum it up, all three of us are ‘Commoners’.”

  The Guide snickers. “For now! But it changes, yes, it changes! Rank gives privileges! Unique Quests! Reputation with NPCs! You will be able to claim territories, build cities!”

  Suddenly, his face darkens. The smile vanishes. He leans toward us, whispering as if he’s terrified the walls themselves might hear him. “But there is another Rank… A cursed rank.”

  “Which one?” Chris asks, suddenly worried.

  “The Slave.” The word drops like a death sentence. The Guide shivers. “This rank depends on Debt. If you owe too much Cosmic Gold to the System, or if you sell your freedom without reading the fine print… you become a Slave. And then, no more rights. No more climbing. You belong to someone.”

  He shoots me a sideways glance, his bulbous eyes locking right onto my Lilith collar. “Beware of contracts, yellow one. Beware…” He freezes, like he just realized he said too much.

  Meanwhile, Chris, who was only half-listening, leans toward the ground. He spotted a small metallic glint in the dust, right next to the creature’s foot. He picks it up. It’s a simple gold ring, looking as basic as they come.

  The Guide suddenly brings his hands to the small pocket on his dirty vest. He pats the fabric frantically. His eyes widen, snapping from sadness to pure, unadulterated terror. He starts hyperventilating. “Where is it?” he hisses, voice shaking. “The Guide had it! The Guide had it in his pocket! Where is his Treasure? We lost it!”

  He starts spinning in circles, totally panicked, flipping over pebbles. Chris extends his hand innocently, the ring resting on his palm. “You looking for this? It fell on the gr—”

  The Guide stops dead. He stares at the ring. His pupils dilate until they swallow his entire eye. His face twists into a snarl of absolute hatred, revealing rows of pointed teeth. He isn’t the helpful guide anymore. He’s a junkie in full withdrawal.

  “DIRTY LITTLE THIEF!” he shrieks, spitting rage. “HE STOLE IT FROM US! IT IS OURS! GIVE IT BACK TO US!”

  Forgetting every rule, every safety measure, he leaps at Chris like a rabid spider, claws extended straight for the kid’s throat. Kim is already moving. In a fraction of a second, her rifle is shouldered, the barrel tracking the Guide’s mid-air trajectory, her finger squeezing the trigger. “Chris!” I yell, raising my shovel.

  But before he even touches my nephew, a strident alarm tears through the cave. A cage of solid red light drops from the ceiling and traps the Guide in mid-air, freezing him like a bug in amber.

  [SYSTEM ALERT]: Violation of Non-Aggression Protocol.

  [Infraction]: A Guide attempted to attack a GodRunner in a Safe Zone.

  [Sanction]: Immediate Expulsion.

  The creature struggles inside the light, reaching a desperate hand toward Chris and the ring. “NOOOO! NOT THAT! ANYTHING BUT THAT! MY TREASURE! THEY ARE TAKING IT FROM US! MY TREASUUUURE!”

  He disappears in a brutal flash, sucked right into the System’s void. Silence falls back over the room. Kim slowly lowers her rifle, taking her finger off the trigger. “I was half a second away from putting a bullet in his brain,” she says coldly. “What’s his problem with jewelry?”

  Chris, still shaking from the sudden assault, looks down at the gold ring resting in his palm. “No idea… But if he was willing to die for it, it must be incredibly powerful.”

  I step closer, my curiosity fully piqued. “Let me see that,” I say, taking the ring from his hand as a precaution. You never know with this stuff; it could be cursed or dangerous for a kid. I keep the ring in my palm and run a quick analysis. Chris, too curious for his own good, leans his head over my shoulder to read along with me.

  [Cursed Object: The Ring of the Old Pervert] Rank: Mythical (Unique) Statistics: None.

  Passive Skill: [X-Ray Vision] Effect: Allows the user to see through layers of fabric, leather, or metal worn by a female target. Reveals the “naked truth.” Note: The ring heats up when active.

  My eyes go so wide they nearly pop right out of my skull. I reread the text three times. I look at Chris. His mouth is hanging wide open, his face turning a deep scarlet red as he stares at the description.

  Kim, who can’t see the interface, frowns when she spots us stammering. “What? Why are you two making those idiot faces? What is it? +50 Strength? Invulnerability?”

  “Nothing at all,” I answer way too fast, fighting to keep a neutral face. “Zero stats. It’s just a useless cosmetic trinket. A piece of junk.” I turn slightly to hide my hands. “I’m going to… I’m going to test it to make sure there’s no hidden curse. It’s a safety issue. You never know with these cursed items, it could be dangerous for a kid.”

  Sorry, Kim. Really. It’s not personal. It’s not like I take any particular pleasure in checking you out. Well, actually, I totally do, but that’s beside the point. You’re the only female test subject available in this dungeon. It’s pure science. If this thing works on you, it’ll work on every woman in the universe. I have to know. It’s a biological imperative.

  “Why are you making such a fuss over a cheap ring with zero stats?” Kim asks, annoyed, taking a step closer.

  I don’t answer. I don’t even think. With a fluid motion, guided entirely by irrepressible “scientific” curiosity, I slide the ring onto my index finger before she can reach it.

  “Don’t move, Kim,” I say, raising my hand toward her with the dead-serious expression of a Pope. “I have to verify if the enchantment reacts to life signs. It’s strictly for your safety.”

  I aim the ring right at her. I feel the metal heat up around my finger. A low vibration runs through my hand. This is the moment. The veil of reality is about to tear open and reveal the greatest mysteries of creation. I squint, my heart pounding in my chest, ready to receive a divine revelation in glorious Ultra HD.

  The ring starts to pulse with an intense golden light. I see the outlines of Kim’s tactical armor start to blur, turning beautifully translucent…

  And suddenly… A blue system window pops up right in front of my face, blocking the view.

  [System]: Item recovery complete.

  [Usage Duration]: 0.5 seconds.

  [Feedback]: The trial version has ended. We hope you enjoyed this brief moment of fantasy. Nice try.

  Poof. The ring vanishes instantly from my index finger.

  I just stand there, finger fully extended toward Kim, pointing at absolutely nothing, looking about as smart as a traffic cone. I saw nothing. Just a graphical blur and a damn error message. A monumental silence settles over the cave, thick with awkwardness and crushing frustration.

  Then, right behind me, I hear the sound of someone collapsing. It’s Chris. He falls to his knees, hands desperately reaching toward my empty finger, his face twisted by an agony no physical wound could ever match. He read the description. He knew exactly what it was. He was waiting for the vicarious miracle.

  “NOOOO!” he screams, unleashing a wail of pure, unfiltered agony that would make a battle-hardened Orc cry. “MY TREASURE!!! THEY TOOK IT FROM US!!!!”

  Kim looks at us, one eyebrow severely arched, utterly convinced we’ve both lost our minds. “It despawned?” she asks, completely oblivious to the tragedy unfolding. “Good riddance. If it really was a cursed object, we just dodged a bullet.”

  I slowly lower my hand, a single, manly tear flowing silently within the depths of my soul. I tap Chris on the shoulder with absolute, sincere compassion. I understand the kid. I truly do. We just got robbed of the single item that ninety-nine percent of the male population on Earth would have killed for. A sacred artifact capable of revealing a woman’s naked beauty by erasing the superfluous layers of reality with a simple glance. It’s an absolute tragedy. It’s like finding the winning ticket to the libido lottery, only to watch it blow away in the wind.

  “That’s life, kid,” I say, my voice heavy with profound regret. “The System giveth, and the System taketh away. It’s déjà vu all over again.”

  I straighten up, shaking off the loss.

  “Come on, let’s go. To Floor 7.”