Blinking our eyes, we’re left in utter shock and disbelief. Does this mean that he was right? About everything?

  New skills are typically enthusiastically celebrated within the human communities of Kyklos. At least, amongst the vanishingly tiny communities of people trusted enough to tell. For many, that’s only themself.

  Live as long as we have and you’ll have witnessed countless radical transformations in behavior after receiving even a modest amount of unique power from the ladder. One day a climber preaches charity and forgiveness, and then the next it’s all sabotage and murder against everyone perceived as preventing one more step up.

  The fortunate climber will rant and rave about your greedy hoarding and slanderous slights. Their festering, preposterous stories always sloppily spill out once they believe themselves now possessing the stronger hand. Who knows how long they’ve harbored that absurd degree of jealousy and resentment. Every bit of it carefully stoked by the same sour source.

  The guild. That damned guild. Sweet saviors and social sorcerers for the lonesome travellers freshly delivered from Earth. Bearing free gifts and kind words, endless piles and piles of encouragement and praise. Why doubt such a beautiful, welcoming viper? One nibble on their treats, and you’re hooked forever. Who can resist their silver tongued invitations to join them higher up on the ladder?

  Climb and gain your freedom! Every step up will make all of us stronger. Better! Don’t worry about those below, the guild will take on their sad, limiting burdens. In fact, the guild will remove all of yours too! Only focus on climbing the ladder and nothing more. Only power matters. Only overcoming the great oppressor, Anatoly, matters. Without defeating him, none of these other petty concerns are meaningful in the slightest. That’s why the guild will take care of those silly, insignificant, little things, while you seek the truer, higher glory.

  Rubbish. The higher and higher we got, the more that the sneaky and envious plotters snuck up from behind. Daggers in the back, entrusted secrets pawned off to our greatest foes, and sabotage. So much sabotage. The only thing better than conquering a new step by one’s own sweat is scrambling over your peers and heartlessly casting them back down into the lower rungs. After all, tearing others down brings you higher by definition.

  Besides, the endless, trustworthy whispers from the guild inform the soon to be ex ally of your secret subversions. Therefore, the counter sabotage is justified. Moral! The guild only wishes to protect all of us. To protect the integrity of the community. To deliver the whole of us back to paradise. Back to our true home, Earth!

  Be careful! Be cautious, brave warrior! You’re our only hope. You, you, you. No one else. We’re all a team of equals, save for the clear, necessary, special winner. That’s you and only you, and the guild is here for you. For a few measly points, the guild will even fix the game. Send the target of your envy off to some remote dungeon with minimal protection. Accidentally slip you a missive with the exact time and place. What happens after that is purely your business. Purely your morale responsibility.

  No, we haven’t trusted the guild for a long, long time. Not from our high up vantage point. Especially not after speaking with the elder, despite our regretfully harsh words. It’s always been best to leave the guild to their own devices while we focus on managing our own affairs. Not that they’re likely to leave us alone.

  After all, the game really is fixed. Fixed from the start, and not by those minor players of envy, greed, and malice. Something much bigger is afoot. Something impossible to defeat, even from the very top of the ladder. However, that doesn’t mean that we’ll ever stop trying. Even in death, we’ll bite that ugly, invisible hand sneaking through to restrain us. Even drawing the tiniest drop of blood, we’ll be satisfied. We’ll smile at that small victory!

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

  Standing up from the rocky alcove, we stretch our legs. Enough ill temper and regret. It will fix nothing. We came to this simple, one dimensional dungeon to get away from all the awful intrigue and worthless plotting, but it’s time to go back. The team needs support and direction, and we’re the only one who can honestly offer it.

  Clapping our hands, a tempest swirl of nearby spacial energy spools around us before encasing a skin tight suit of total isolation against our body. Both hands making tightly squeezed fists, the perspective before our eyes shifts wildly. However, we’re content and calm, as if taking a casual stroll down a deeply familiar street for the thousandth time.

  We… I feel sick. My eyes can’t take the rapid shifts of scenery, and a dry, empty vomit wells up into my throat. It’s too much for my limited, little senses, but the ride won’t stop. I have no control.

  We’re barrelling down this vortex of chaos, hiding within a carefully constructed ripple, quickly transporting ourself to the others. We have to hurry. They need their rest and relaxation, but they must also be informed about what’s coming. They must know the risk. We’ve delayed long enough.

  Sliding off the end of the masterfully tamed spacial wave, we softly place our feet onto the ground inside the tower. Everyone’s already here, loudly laughing and enjoying each other’s company. The isolation still wraps and hides our body, so we decide to delay a moment longer to quietly watch. Yes, a moment more. We can give them a moment more. It’s almost time. We don’t need to rob them of their innocent naivety quite yet.

  “Do you think there’ll be any goblins there? I’m so tired of dealing with them all the time,” the Susan voice dreamily wondered out loud.

  “They’re everywhere else, so why wouldn’t they be in Anatoly’s domain?” the Kevin voice chided.

  “Well, he’s almost like evil royalty, right? Why would evil royalty mix with the evil peasants? Wouldn’t he have officers or something that’d do that?”

  “What? That’s ridiculous. Then why haven’t we ever seen or heard of them before?”

  “Ugh, because we haven’t been told about it?” the Susan voice accusatively complained towards Kevin. “We all know the tower has its secrets. The City Lord probably even has a special task force especially for dealing with them.”

  “If we’re making things up, then I also heard that we’re all getting tower funded private chefs,” the Brian voice snidely remarked. “Also from their special forces teams.”

  “You’re being ridiculous. My theory isn’t that outlandish. The towns all have their special investigatory teams, so why wouldn’t the tower? Why would they bother to tell us? We’re not leadership.”

  “Aren’t we all in a special investigation team for the tower right now?” the Thomas voice calmly inquired from his meditating position on the floor.

  “We… yes, I suppose that’s true. We’re members of the tower and coincidentally on a special investigation team. However, we aren’t directly working for the tower, since we serve his eminence, Linus. That’s different.”

  “How? Isn’t Linus nearly as important as the City Lord at this point?” the Kevin voice quizzically challenged.

  “Don’t say such things, the walls all have ears,” the Susan voice urgently nagged. “In fact, just yesterday I passed by Arthur’s lab, and he was growing literal ears on the walls. It’s disturbing.”

  “That guy has a few screws loose,” the Brian voice coldly explained. “Apparently he spent a few decades obsessed with advanced flesh shaping. They initially forgave the research since he found a few new paths. He was convinced that it could be used to infinitely generate fresh meat from willing subjects. However, it got so bad that the stewards finally cracked down. Guess that’s why he’s doing the ears now?”

  “Willing?” the Susan voice whispered, shivering. “Was he working with Dennett?”

  “Yes, that’s why the stewards stepped in. The human will is incredibly flexible under that stupid bard’s machinations. An entire town district disappeared practically overnight, and we were on the verge of another war.”

  “How tragic. All for something to eat? Aren't there enough adventurous food sources already littering the city streets these days? Why does the tower need to create new monstrosities? There’s enough hiding out there in the wilds.”

  “Ha! Just ask this dunce. He’s a literal connoisseur of those little green freaks.”

  “Shut up, Brian…”