“Zach?” Elk’s voice called to me, but I couldn’t place it. It sounded so distant.

  It felt like I had two shells over my ears, and the world around me was a blur.

  I blinked.

  Reality struck me right in the chest. My heart pounded against my ribs as I raised my hands to eye level. Where’s all the blood? I asked myself.

  “Zach? Can you hear me?” Elk shook my shoulder, and I jolted to the side, expecting the Goblin Abomination to be right there, ready to strike.

  “Calm down, it’s me.”

  Tress stood beside Elk, her face as calm as a high sea. The waves of her expression were barely noticeable, just small twitches of her lips now and then. Still, something in her eyes unsettled me. It wasn’t fear—it was something deeper, something unnerving.

  “Where’s Mary?” I asked, glancing over their shoulders and realizing we were in a large hall with lights embedded in the ceiling among metal beams. The place looked like a Hollywood studio: fake walls everywhere and a harsh fluorescent glow threatening to blind us.

  But there were no director’s chairs, no crew bustling around, no one yelling orders like in the movie sets I’d seen on TV.

  There were just four fake walls and, on the farthest one, a single wooden door stood closed. Above it, the words Waiting Room were stenciled in bold letters. Leaning against the wall beside the door was Mary, her arms crossed.

  In that moment, under those blinding lights, she looked even more like a magazine model. But when her eyes met mine, I noticed something missing—she lacked the detachment of a model. She wasn’t stoic; she was terrified.

  When she quickly averted her gaze, I knew the truth. She was afraid of me.

  “It was that bad?” I asked, glancing from Elk to Tress.

  “You saved our lives,” Tress began, stepping closer, “but it was… intense. Mostly the laughter part.”

  “We call it The Bloodcraving. The greatest warriors on our planet all experience something similar in the heat of battle. You don’t need to be ashamed.” Elk patted my shoulder, making me feel anything but reassured.

  “When I saw it coming for you…” I started, looking down briefly, “I just couldn’t let it get you like that.”

  “And I’m grateful for that, mate.” Elk gave me another pat on the shoulder. “Mary will understand in time.”

  “I’d better go speak with her,” I said, not waiting for a response.

  As I walked toward Mary, my mind swirled with conflicting thoughts. The whole fight was a blur; I could only recall using [Lightning Momentum] both to disengage and to reengage. The second time, I’d used it to save Elk and Tress’ life, and everything after that was chaos.

  I knew I’d lost control, just like in the past. But unlike before, I didn’t feel a moral hangover. A broken jaw or a few cracked ribs had once been enough to make me not want to keep going, but I’d always fought again—sometimes for survival, sometimes just because I felt like it.

  No matter the reason, I always felt like crap afterward.

  Not today.

  This wasn’t some street brawl or a fight for money. This was life or death, against actual monsters. I glanced at my hands, searching for any trace of the fight—a bruise, blood, anything—but found nothing.

  And that, strangely, made me… sad.

  I shook my head, not ready to unpack those thoughts, and decided to check my notifications.

  I’d earned new stats and, incredibly, a god had decided to sponsor me.

  A new notification appeared just as I was a few steps away from Mary. I stopped to read it.

  Lyrathos, the god of Mercy and Destruction, has decided to sponsor you.

  You’re their first sponsored competitor since they joined our show. More details about the sponsorship will be given after tonight’s show is over. Expect great powers and prepare yourself for great enemies.

  As if that’s any different from what’s already going on, I thought, recognizing that powerful enemies seemed to have been on my trail ever since I clicked "yes" back on Earth.

  I’d chosen to be here, though, so there was no reason to complain.

  “Hey, you all right?” I asked, careful not to get too close to Mary.

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  She lifted her eyes to me and tried to smile.

  “I’m sorry if I scared you. I don’t really know how to explain it,” I said. What could I even say? A few times in my life, I’ve entered this killing state, and people had to pull me out of a fight before I killed someone? Yeah, no way I was explaining that.

  “You did what you had to do,”For a moment, I thought that was all she was going to say, but then she clicked her tongue and looked me square in the eyes. “It’s not you, Zach. There’s… stuff that happened in my life. Seeing you like that brought it all back. So, you’re fine, right? As long as you keep killing the monsters and don’t hurt us, I’m fine. I’ll get over it.”

  She smiled again, and this time it felt more genuine.

  “I’ll never hurt you,” I said, extending a hand.

  She glanced at my hand, then back at me, gesturing around with one hand. “I don’t think this place is exactly fitting for a promise like that.”

  “I’ll never hurt you. I promise,” I insisted.

  She looked at me again, trying to read my eyes, but I had nothing to hide. She shook my hand firmly.

  “I hope you’re not that good of a liar,” she finally said before stepping away. “Let’s go in? I’m curious to see what’s inside.”

  “Sure.” I smiled, glancing back to see Tress and Elk approaching. They were nearly the same height, and seeing them side by side was oddly comforting.

  Elk was down-to-earth—if that still meant anything—resourceful, and funny, while Tress was stoic, her mind seemingly both elsewhere and present at the same time. She was so… enigmatic.

  Comparing them to me and Mary felt almost absurd, but somehow, all of us together worked better than I’d ever imagined. If we planned to stick together after the tutorial, we’d need to find a way to cover our weaknesses—especially the lack of healing.

  Pushing those thoughts aside for later, I walked to the door and turned the handle.

  The scent of earth and herbs hit me instantly, like stepping into a flower shop. A soft light filled the room—sunlight. I closed my eyes briefly, only to feel someone gently shove me aside. It was Tress, rushing past me into the room.

  “It’s just like home,” she grinned from ear to ear, her face glowing with excitement.

  As my eyes adjusted to the light, I took in our surroundings. It was as if we’d stepped into a miniature forest. The four walls were entirely covered in plants, making it almost impossible to tell where the walls ended and the ceiling began.

  A fake sun glowed on the simulated horizon, and grass and flowers I’d never seen before blanketed the ground.

  In the center of the room, a wooden table surrounded by four chairs waited for us. The craftsmanship was exquisite, as if the furniture had been made by a master woodworker.

  Tress touched the furniture like someone reconnecting with a long-lost friend or relative. She seemed so happy, and I wondered if she truly understood that her planet was being colonized by whoever was running this show.

  She seemed too smart not to notice, so I let myself enjoy her happiness.

  On the wooden table, another spread of food awaited us, along with a few jars of a drink I didn’t recognize.

  As I sat in one of the chairs, a message appeared before my eyes:

  Welcome to the Waiting Room.

  This particular room resembles the culture of the Myriads, one that the empire will always cherish and encourage. Eat well, drink well, and enjoy the show. Rooms like this will become less and less common as you advance in the game. Keep going, competitors, and don’t forget: There’s no place for the weak in the multiverse.

  The show will start in thirty minutes.

  I ignored the ominous undertone beneath the pleasant words and glanced toward Tress, who was seated at the head of the table, her joy still intact.

  “What’s all this? Tell us.” I gestured toward the table. She seemed to snap out of her joyful trance.

  “This is our fish dumpling,” she said, pointing to something that looked like a Japanese gyoza, “and this is what we eat the most: vermillion paste.” She gestured to several bowls filled with the most vividly crimson food I’d ever seen.

  She introduced us to some teas her people drank, along with various cereals and a few types of meat. It seemed her people preferred vegetables over fish, and fish over other meats. Still, there was a creature resembling a piglet in the center of the table—except this one had six legs instead of four.

  We listened intently, eager to learn more about the Myriads. It wasn’t every day you met literal aliens.

  What surprised me most was how similar their culture was to ours. I could see echoes of Asian habits, as well as some indigenous influences. Their preference for fish reminded me of the former, while their emphasis on vegetable- and fruit-based foods mirrored the latter.

  The vermillion paste was particularly delicious—sweet and salty at the same time, with crunchy grains adding a satisfying texture. The aftertaste was refreshingly light. It was hard to focus on the other foods, but when Tress offered us the fish dumplings, my opinion shifted.

  They melted in my mouth, both salty and savory.

  “We eat it like this,” she said, grabbing a dumpling and dipping it into the vermillion paste before popping it into her mouth in one bite. “Try it,” she added through a mouthful.

  The combination of flavors exploded in my mouth, sending me straight to paradise. For the next thirty minutes, I completely forgot where we were.

  We talked mostly about Myriad culture—how deeply connected they were with nature and how incredibly good their food and drinks were. But we also shared small talk, laughing at the differences in humor between planets.

  When I did a spot-on impression of Elk saying I was disgusting by the standards of his people, Mary nearly spilled her drink on the ground from laughing so hard. I joined in, and neither Elk nor Tress could understand why we found it so funny.

  It turned out the Myriads and the Arahaktar were both more direct and literal than humans. They struggled with subtlety in jokes, which could be either hilarious or dangerous, depending on who you were talking to.

  Tress explained how her people lived in small communities in harmony with nature. Tribe wars weren’t as common in her time as they had been in the past. Her planet was vast, and she was sure wars were still being waged in other regions, but she was equally certain that conflict had never come close to her home.

  Still, they’d learned how to hunt and fight. Doing so was their way of honoring their ancestors. They seemed to embody the saying, “It’s better to be a warrior in a garden than a gardener in a war.” to the letter.

  She didn’t elaborate much on how or why she had the ability to see the future, but it didn’t seem to be a secret. She was simply more focused on other aspects of her life.

  Just as I was about to ask her more about it, a message appeared before our eyes:

  The show is commencing in thirty seconds.

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