The hot, humid air rushed over me as I snapped back into the present. No longer trapped in another man’s body, I felt my own again, and a strange sensation took control of me.

  My knees buckled, my heart racing. But before I could hit the floor, Nefa rushed to my side, steadying me before I collapsed from the transfiguration I had just endured.

  When I was settled, she fidgeted with her wrist while Sparks zipped through the air, then circled me like an eager insect.

  I stared at Nefa, locking onto her amber-colored eyes. She blushed but refused to smile. I felt the want coming from her but stayed still. Two souls, different but the same. One compelled to dignity, the other too stubborn to act before the other, like it was some sort of competition.

  Her lips parted as she placed a hand on my chest. “You have done well,” she said with a blush, her voice low and calm. “And yes, if you left now, you would have the necessary protection needed to face Linuux. But if you do that and not complete the second half, my people will never open the road to his domain, and you would be forced to wander until the way is made open.”

  She paused, straightened, and set her hands at her sides. “The second trial is more physical. If you complete it, you will be an honorary member of the Flish’ar. A warrior in blood and respect.”

  My legs stiffened at her words, like being part of her tribe meant something deeper than my mind could explain.

  “In this trial,” she continued, “you will face one hundred of the greatest assassins our people have ever produced. You will choose a weapon, and you will be given a bangle carved from a fallen star. With it, you will be able to warp from person to person, striking at electric speed. To activate it, you must land ten uninterrupted hits. Once the bangle awakens, you will have only thirty seconds to use its power.”

  I stood there, taking it all in.

  “The warriors are mirages… ghosts the Flish’ar keep to train future assassins. I myself went through the same exercise a few years ago and won the right to be called an assassin.”

  I nodded.

  “The trial is timed and will be conducted in the next room,” Nefa said. “Once there, you will begin as soon as I exit the room. Also, the assassins play for keeps. They will not injure you or cripple you for the remainder of the fight. They will try to kill you. Fail this trial, and you will meet your ancestors. So before we begin, I ask you a question.” She swallowed hard. “Do you wish to continue, or do you forfeit? The choice is yours.”

  This part of the trials was new to me, and it was a fight to the death. Neither she nor Cashius had said anything about me possibly dying. Just thinking about it caused a bead of sweat to form on my forehead.

  Sparks paused mid-flight, sending a wave of worry through the bond, then descended onto my shoulder with a concerned look. Even Nefa shivered, as if the thought of me dying would cause her distress.

  Death was always a possibility in this bat-shit crazy world, but being given a choice, to either face one hundred lethal assassins or go after Linuux alone, was one hell of a decision.

  I mean, Linuux would kill me if I went at him without an advantage. That much I knew. But at least I would last longer, you know? If I died here, though, the music would fade and the credits would roll.

  It felt like minutes passed before I could make a decision. In the silence, feelings of calamity wrecked my nerves. When I did, an icy calm settled over me. A do-or-die feeling that steadied my nerves.

  “I’ll face the assassins, Nefa,” I said, standing straighter than an arrow. “But if I fail, tell Cashius that I tried my damnedest to get both of us back home, and that I’m sorry for not living up to his ideals.”

  She looked confused at my words, a flicker of something unreadable passing through her eyes, but she shrugged it off. “There will be no delivering of messages,” she said firmly. “Because by the Maker himself, you will succeed.”

  I smiled at her, and for once she returned it. “Now, follow me to the battlegrounds,” she said before turning around and walking away.

  As I followed her, a million things flashed through my mind. Images of what I would miss if I did not make it. Things that shaped me into who I am. My mother’s embrace. My father’s tough lessons. My sister’s irritating voice. My grandmother’s love. Cashius calling me “boneheaded boy.” Even my geometry teacher, Mrs. Fairchild, screaming at me in class.

  I looked up, nervousness making my stomach flip and my legs tremble. It was like duty gave me strength, but reality was right there, stripping away my choices. And what I was left with, no man could face without caving.

  Orbralis had shown me a world that should not exist, and in it, I had become something greater than I ever was at home. Here I was a hero, a leader, slashing my way toward victory.

  Just the thought of losing all of that gnawed at me like a cannibal.

  The final steps to the massive doors she led me to felt like walking on caramel, each footfall sticking to the gooey ground of my decision.

  Sparks buzzed around my head. When I caught a glance at her face, it showed a hopeless smirk. “Cheer up, little lady,” I whispered to her.

  She attempted a smile, but I could tell her heart was not in it.

  Nefa looked over her shoulder, taking her own sweet time, which only added to my anticipation. When she reached the rusty bronze doors, I settled and took a deep breath.

  “Are you ready?” Nefa asked, her voice calm and steady.

  I rubbed my palms together. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Lamont, perhaps I shouldn’t say this, but my advice… is to keep moving, because when you’re dealing with this many enemies… offense is the only defense you’ll have.”

  “I’ll take that to mind,” I said. “Now, when do I begin?”

  She leaned on the door, giving it a strong push, and a resonant hum filled the chamber, enveloping all of us in silence. When the door opened fully, she turned to me, her face a puzzle, and motioned for me to follow.

  The room was massive, empty except for an alcove a few feet to my right. Inside, a wall of weapons gleamed, each one polished to a lustrous shine.

  The chamber stretched the length and width of a football field. Its dirt floor was hard, with bits of vegetation poking through. The walls were covered in strange shapes and designs, lined with tubes glowing faintly with bluish gas. When I asked how it was powered, Nefa only shrugged. “The ancients’ devices remain useful, even after their downfall.”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  I inhaled the dank air and clasped my hands. While doing so, Sparks darted toward the weapons and plopped onto a shelf, crossing her legs, her bootlaces dangling in the air.

  Nefa and I walked over, neither of us speaking, both weighed down by the seriousness of the trial. By the time we reached the cubicle of weapons, my palms were sweaty, and my heart fluttered like a bird.

  Nefa and I both looked at each other. “You may choose one weapon,” she said. “Now please, decide.”

  The shelves were lined with every kind of weapon imaginable, from the standard longsword to the ever-reliable dagger, each one neatly displayed. Shotguns and darts. Even a flail and a Japanese katana. I studied them closely, calling up my display to read each description with care.

  I still could not figure out why so many of these weapons were from Earth, but since this was a game, it made sense that whoever created this world had detailed knowledge of my planet.

  I compared advantages and weaknesses, thinking fast. Since I was almost naked, I needed something that would not accidentally slice me open. Something deadly.

  My eyes lingered on the spiked bat and the axe for obvious reasons. The bat could hit multiple targets if they got too close, but assassins were not the type to crowd around and wait their turn.

  What I needed was something efficient, with reach and mobility.

  Then I saw it, the long spear. Something about it clicked instantly. A weapon I could defend with, twirl, and throw.

  Solid steel formed the shaft, tipped with a strange metal I could not identify. When I wrapped my hands around it, the game locked my knees and made my body bounce to some unheard rhythm.

  The description appeared:

  Oathpiercer—Rare—Level 31

  

  

  I gave it a test swing through the air. The tip flared, glowing an electric red that hummed with restrained power. When I set the base on the ground, the power was still there, waiting to be unleashed.

  “I choose this,” I said, trying my best to sound confident.

  “That is a fine choice,” Nefa smiled. “You might not die so…” she trailed off. “Sorry,” she said, lowering her eyes.

  I stepped closer to her, closing the space between us. “It’s okay,” I said softly. My hand found her shoulder. “I won’t die at all… promise.”

  Her eyes flicked up, and for a second the tension in the room eased, though what came next was left to chance.

  “When Sparks and I leave this room, the battle will begin,” she said, taking my hand. “At first, two combatants will appear on the battlefield every two minutes in random locations. After you’ve killed twenty, they’ll start arriving in five-man squads. Kill twenty more, and then all hell breaks loose—totally random, from any direction.” She squeezed my hand. “To defeat them, you’ll need to pace yourself. No potions, no buffs. Respect is fought for.” She withdrew her hand, pressing it to her chest in a formal gesture. “Good luck.”

  “I won’t need it.”

  She and Sparks left me alone. The walk to the door felt like eons before they closed the heavy door after one last peek.

  My calm demeanor vanished the moment I was alone. A fluttering stomach was the least of my symptoms. With my pulse racing, I gripped Oathpiercer and muttered a prayer. “Please don’t let me die before I get a chance to make love to Nefa,” I whispered. “That’s all I want, besides getting Cashius and me back home.”

  The gas lamps along the walls grew brighter, allowing me to see the entire battlefield. What I had thought was the ceiling was a dome that slowly pulled back to reveal the night sky.

  The temperature dropped several degrees. Fog descended, coating the hard dirt in dense clouds. The warmth and comfort I had felt vanished in an instant, replaced by cold and a gripping sense of anticipation.

  In the distance, two figures emerged, dressed in chain mail. Both held katanas, running toward me like shadows of the night, phantoms walking through the fog.

  Fear leapt up, but I pushed it back, shaking off the terror clawing at me, and met them head-on.

  Our weapons clashed, accompanied by grunts and short, sharp breaths.

  When one tried to decapitate me, I ducked and thrust my spear forward, driving it into his ribs.

  He fell and vanished, leaving behind no orb or gold.

  The other man proved more difficult to defeat, but in the end, he too fell, disappearing into a cloud with a sharp, piercing yell.

  In the corner of my HUD, a counter appeared: 30 seconds until next enemy drop.

  Beside it, a tally displayed my progress—02/20 defeated

  I gripped my spear and waited, the cold biting deeper as the temperature dropped even further.

  Nefa had left this part out. Standing there in nothing but my underwear in a freezing, foggy arena was utterly ridiculous.

  I bounced in place until the next two enemies appeared on the battlefield—and this time, they dropped right beside me.

  So close, I could feel their breath.

  Before I could react, a massive hammer swung past my face, wielded by a husky man in a mask. At the same time, a sharp dagger pierced my hip, spilling blood everywhere.

  [-93]

  I hopped back, waving my spear to fend them off. The one with the dagger smiled and flicked his weapon in the air. The one with the hammer pounded it against his fist, the slaps sounding faintly in the cold wind.

  You wanna surprise me? Well, I’ll surprise you.

  I planted the spear tip-first on the ground, gripped the handle with both hands, and vaulted into the air. The enemies’ faces froze as I brought it down with tremendous force, sending dirt and debris flying.

  Both staggered.

  Without giving them a chance to recover, I jabbed again and again in rapid succession, moving so fast I blurred.

  It was then that the tip of the spear began to grow a fiery red, radiating heat with each thrust.

  A counter appeared.

  Seven, eight, and nine.

  Then, before the spear could activate its special ability, they both collapsed in the fog. They fell, still and silent.

  I checked the wound I had received. A little deeper, and I would have been seriously injured. And to think, this was only the beginning.

  I wiped the blood away and braced for the next two enemies to arrive—this time staying nimble on my feet, since they could come from any direction.

  After a short wait, two dropped onto the battlefield a few feet ahead, both sneering. Wasting no time, I dispatched them, along with the others that followed.

  When I looked up, there were only two more before the first wave was done. For this pair, I spun one around, sending him crashing into his partner. Then I drove my spear through them both, and they collapsed to the ground.

  [Twenty assassins defeated]

  SECOND WAVE INITIATED

  Now squads of five will attack. Defeat four squads, then the swarm begins.

  The message appeared on my display.

  “Now it gets tricky,” I muttered, my grip tightening on the Oathpiercer. “Whatever you do, don’t let these bastards kill you.”

  The five enemies were not all men this time. Among them were three women, dressed in skin-tight leather and holding small tubes with feathers attached to one end. Their faces were covered in wild tribal markings and more piercings than a goth chick.

  The other two were large, muscular men, clad in light armor and face masks, each carrying a long metal shield.

  The men sprinted ahead, dropped to their knees, and pressed their shields into the dirt, while the three women positioned themselves behind them and began shooting silver-tipped projectiles from the tubes, which they lifted to their mouths.

  One projectile clipped my shoulder. The other lodged itself in my thigh.

  [-146]

  A grunt escaped me as I ducked the rest, rolled on the dirt, and ripped the dart from my leg, all while dodging the other flying projectiles.

  “Holy shit,” I let out, and spun to my feet.

  Another dart whizzed past my head, close enough to see its silver tip.

  This was going to be difficult, but if I could break their shield line, I could make them fight me instead of shooting at me.

  I dug my feet into the dirt and ran straight at them. When they aimed, I either deflected the projectiles or used my speed to dodge them. Thanks to my stats, I was damn fast on my feet.

  Inches away, I grabbed a handful of hard soil and hurled it at the women. Stopping on a dime, I drove my spear into the men again and again, as many times as I could.

  When the counter hit nine, the tenth strike activated Oathpiercer’s special ability.

  Berserk mode engaged, warping me from enemy to enemy—a ghost with a red-hot spear, moving like lightning.