Chill vibes, music to set your mind free, and the occasional recreational substance. Ren was a live-and-let-live kind of guy. He had been raised with a healthy dose of distrust toward wealthy elites, as Katrina reserved her enmity for them alone. Collaborator was her favorite insult, and when she used the term, it was delivered with a venom Ren scarcely recognized in her.

  Like most children, he ignored things he didn’t understand – dismissing her contempt as a thing adults did. As he grew and his social media feed started filling with mind-melting "don’t believe your own eyes" propaganda, he wasn’t surprised. He’d ignored the noise and focused on music – the one thing that gave his life meaning.

  The one constant was Katrina; she was always there. Until she wasn’t, and it had broken him. He had been weak and given in to despair. But he knew now, someone…something had given him his memories back, and he was angry. So angry.

  Why had they been stolen? What purpose would that even serve? His mind came to the same conclusion again and again. Something did not want him to remember. And so he clung to his hatred of elites, like a drowning man to a raft.

  He had to do something, had to remember, had to make those responsible pay. But he was in another world – fortunately for Ren, the perfect stand-in for all his hatred had been served up on a silver platter. The Xylos elites would pay. He did not know their individual crimes, but he could guess, and that was enough for him.

  You see the truth now.

  “Huh…” Ren looked around. Where had the voice come from?

  Clara interrupted his thoughts, “Slow down, will you – and what was that thing you did? Was that some skill?”

  He turned to face her, “Sorry – what thing?”

  She blushed, “The thing with your lips.” Her eyes lingered on them for a moment before looking away.

  “Oh, that. Sorry. I –”

  He looked into the distance, “I was attacked by a ReaperDrone. Something happened to me – and I remembered…there was a girl, you remind me of her – and I just reacted. It won’t happen again, I’m sorry.”

  He missed the way her head rocked back as if he’d slapped her, “Oh. That’s fine then. It’s just…what was it?”

  He frowned, and one look at her uncertain expression told him it wasn’t a joke. “It’s called a kiss…” He trailed off, unsure what to do with the information. What kind of place was this?

  “Kiss…” She said breathlessly.

  “I need to run – to clear my head. I’ll see you there.” With that, Ren turned and sped away, leaving naught but a trail of notes in his wake.

  Majordomo helped guide Ren out of the city centre. The city was a disgusting place. He’d walked stinking trash-filled streets populated with unwashed homeless covered in their own excrement – and yet, those places held more beauty and life in a single cobblestone than could be found in the entirety of the Senate Burrow.

  At least those places had life, had feeling, the memory of the craftsman who’d built the cities of Earth lived on in brick and mortar – long after their deaths. It was something untangible – the kind of thing that was impossible to explain, and for Ren, it felt like a longing for home.

  For him, home was beginning to feel like Murkspire, and as he dreamed of titans stretching to the heavens, he longed for its boggy soil and lush verdant jungles. A stern holographic image of Mercer rotated on a street corner; Ren ran straight through it, obliterating the pixels, like sand cast into a stream.

  He ran up the side of buildings and hopped across the heads of the busy droids and their mana-powered servos, whirring them from place to place.

  The city gave way to the suburbs, defined by wide-open spaces and buildings isolated from each other. Looming white-picked fences stretching several times Ren’s height encased every property. Each was taller than the next, so that as he moved toward the city's edge, it was as if he followed a timeline power display. He could imagine each new resident building a bigger fence than the next – until he saw it, and knew his destination.

  A tower like a pillar stretched into the sky, resting atop its peak a black saucer. As he traced the structure upwards, he noticed the pastel display of colour flowing like the fingers of a gaseous river. The sun was out – somewhere, Ren couldn’t find the glasses-wearing trickster – but he had to admit the display put Earth’s sunsets to shame.

  He looked to his left at the vehicle whose speed he matched, and marveled at what he considered his new normal. He was powerful – beyond his wildest dreams, but was it enough to topple an empire?

  “Probably not – but I’ll try anyway.”

  It is your destiny.

  The voice urged him, stoking the newly awoken embers of hate.

  He could run, he knew, the emptiness of the void was returned – his void slip was off cooldown.

  “I need more information…running into a taraq would definitely ruin my day.” He shivered as he imagined the eyes of the beast stalking him in that place.

  “Gimblox…dude owes me answers.”

  Pulling his mind into the present, Ren slowed to a jog, and then a walk, as he approached his destination.

  He stood at the foot of a driveway, looking at a Tucson-style mansion. The tower he spotted grew from its center and was clearly a symbol of power, as the residence lacked the white picket fence of its neighbors.

  Crystal sculptures, like tiny castles, lined the drive. Smokey pastel displays danced and flowed between them. There were no plants of landscape of any kind – only droids frozen in heroic poses – like toy soldiers arranged for a child’s pleasure.

  ReaperDrones on patrol marched from around the back of the property. The lead drone and largest carried a chain gun on its back – as evident by the rounded grouping of gun barrels. Ren’s dangersense kicked into overdrive as his instincts screamed at him to take Clara and slip from this place, never to return.

  Speaking of Clara, he could hear her now, as she sucked in air, trying to catch up with him before he reached the front door.

  He sucked on his teeth as he waited for her.

  “Took you long enough.”

  “I didn’t realize it was a race – if I’d known, I would have changed the speed settings…” She crossed her arms.

  “Hah, anything you can do I can do better.”

  Clara didn’t bite, and in fact, she wasn’t listening at all.

  “Helloooo?” He asked.

  She clasped her hands in front and nervously played with them as she looked over Ren’s shoulder. He turned and looked from the front door to Clara, and back again.

  “What’s wrong. Got beef with this dude?”

  The System’s translation had Clara cross-eyed, “W-what?”

  Ren sighed, “Never mind. I got your back in there, let's roll.”

  Inside the mansion was cosy and well-decorated – it screamed wealth, and Ren felt like a bull in a china shop. Paintings of stern-looking giga chads, battles in foreign terrestria, and gladiators pitted against fierce lizard men wrapped in desert garb. All the essential histories of Xylos – he thought.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Majordomo led them through several corridors before they stepped into an elevator; it seemed they would be dining in the tower.

  Gravity fell away beneath them as the padded, enclosed platform ascended the tower – a stark contrast to the scenic safety of the force-shielded lifts of Murkspire.

  “So, you’ve been here before, I take it?” He deactivated his skills under his breath as he waited for her response.

  Clara eyed him suspiciously, “Of course, Father often has dealings with the Conglomeratess – and none more important than Percevel – Chief Executive to MaxTech. Their contracts are mostly with the XDF.”

  “XDF?”

  “The Xylosian Defense Force.”

  “And your dad is one of them?”

  “Yes.” She said proudly.

  The elevator doors opened, and Ren waited for Clara, who did not move; he shrugged and went first.

  “REN, Scion of Earth, welcome.”

  A chin with a body spoke from across the room where he entertained Mercer, as the two stood over a table containing a large scale model of the senate arena.

  “Yooo, Big L – these threads are sick. Do I have you to thank?” He approached the pair; Clara close on his heels.

  Percevel, if indeed that was who the other man was, swelled like the waves of a tsunami inside the stiff fabric of his tuxedo. Odd shapes bulged in all the wrong places, and Ren wondered if the material might rip apart at the seams if he moved wrong.

  “Big L?” Percevel murmured.

  Mercer watched Ren with interest, and Percevel gritted his teeth.

  “Big L! I like it. Good to see you again, Ren. I see you received my gift. But of course you did – hah. I delivered them myself!”

  A good reminder that everywhere a reaper went, so too the emperor.

  He dabbed Mercer, it was only slightly awkward – and Ren thought he heard Percevel's teeth crack under the strain of his bite – as he and the Emperor bonded over the customary Earth greeting ritual.

  Divide and conquer. Pit them against each other. Destroy them.

  The voice was a comfort, and the burning embers grew.

  “What did I tell you, Percy – he’s a real cowboy! I never understood the term – but surely you can see it! Piss and pill wrappers, but can you imagine him with levels and gear? The next undefeated arena champion – hah!”

  Clara remained silent at his side, and Ren noticed the way the corners of Percevel’s eyes twitched when Mercer used his name.

  Ren looked around, “Got anything to drink?”

  The four of them sat around a round table as a small drone, just big enough to hold a cup, circled their table, filling drinks, positioning pill platters, and adjusting serving tongs. The miniature droid wore a painted tux and was, Ren had to admit, very cute – if you ignored the danger sense warning you to run and hide.

  “Is everything here deadly to me?” He muttered.

  “Ren, messenger of the System, what news do you bring? Have the mass migrations started yet, or perhaps the nuclear holocaust of the second civil war? It is said Gunnderson came from a time just before the West’s steepest decline. It must be a great pleasure for you to know you are safe, and amongst the rightful heirs to civilized society?” Percevel’s voice had a nasally, self-important quality to it.

  Use his voicebox to make a flute, young bard.

  Ren eyed Clara, who remained suspiciously quiet – she was almost meek in her appearance, her shoulders slumped forward, and her eyes remained downcast. Resisting the urge to reach out and take her hand – Ren felt a set of eyes on him. He met the gaze of Percevel, who watched him like a hawk.

  This is a test.

  “Mass migrations, enemies from within – dark times indeed.” Ren kept his expression neutral and his tone earnest.

  Percevel smiled; it did not reach his eyes, “To imagine the founders forced to flee our ancestral homeland because of some…rabel. You must take them more seriously, Mercer.”

  Emperor Mercer banged his fists on the table, sending the serving droid into a frenzy as it scrambled to reorder the perfectly positioned table settings. “You will address me as Emperor Mercer. The proles are my responsibility, and mine alone – and the conglomerates would do well to remember that fact.”

  The aether crackled with power, Mercer’s fury made manifest. Clara’s knuckles whitened as she clung to consciousness and the edges of the table. Ren shrugged off the oppressive aura, a fact that did not go unnoticed to the observant Percevel.

  Ren decided to change the subject, “Clara was telling me about her father's role in the XDF. I was curious, why have they gone to Murkspire and…why now?”

  Mercer said, “Ancient sensors long forgotten and buried beneath the Crystal Plain – were triggered. As a result, a temporary anomaly allowed us to get a clear reading of what we now know to be Sinking Gods Mire – thanks to a recent System message–”

  Percevel chuckled, “System, but that was magnificent – to think, a raid warning during our era. Ahh, but it’s a pity Gorthow doesn’t have any children to pass on his legacy. But that is the System’s will.”

  The two politicians shared a look of amusement as Mercer continued, “You doubt me, Percevel, of course, such an event would occur during my reign. And it shows my judgment was sound in sending our Great General – soon we will have the resources to finish the fight in the Stonecoils.”

  Mercer said, “That land beyond the Crystal Plains is something of an unknown – but ancient sensors – their technologies lost to us – triggered after remaining dormant for generations. We have sent our greatest general an exemplary Xylosian man, for he possesses a skill even I covet – the ability to portal an entire armada across the planet. I await his contact for an update on the situation.”

  Ren looked at the child of Gorthow, who seemed to fade from existence with every passing moment.

  Cut their shins off – they can serve from their knees.

  “It seems our messenger already brings word from the new zones. And from the looks of it, excellent genetic stock. The Soul Shell Syndicate is drooling at the mouth with desire. Their early modelling has given some…interesting results.” Percevel said, stroking his chin.

  Mercer nodded, “I suspected as much. We’ll have to root out the shaman first. I have no doubt those nature-worshipping demons have infected the place. They always do.”

  Ren placed a PillFood between his pinched thumb and pointer finger and Clara’s forehead. Biting his tongue and squinting through one eye, he launched at the unsuspecting young women – it was a direct hit – right between the eyes.

  The two Xylosian men showed no notice.

  Clara rubbed the space between her eyes. She did not look up. Ren’s heart broke.

  “Apostle Vim should be consulted.”

  “Yes, yes. Of course, Percevel – you worry too much…”

  Ren pretended to pay attention as the two men bantered back and forth, about this and that. But after they stopped including him in the conversation, he noticed Clara was absent from the table. So he stood to find her, making his way to the open balcony.

  “Is everything alright?” He kept his distance.

  “You wouldn’t understand.” She kept her back turned as she leaned over the railing.

  “I think I get it. It’s like you didn’t exist. It was surreal – I’m sorry.” He scratched the back of his neck lamely.

  She turned – her eyes wide, “How did you – your class. Are you a mind mage?”

  He chuckled, “I am not a mind mage – probably. I’m an [Echo Runner], I do music, run fast, and sometimes shoot mostly useless energy notes. I’m like a DJ with an edge.” He chuckled.

  He waved a hand in her direction, “Your whole demeanor changed the instant we got off the elevator. That’s why I bounced a PillFood off your forehead, to see if they would even notice – they did not.

  He cast his eyes in her direction, “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s alright, I’m used to it.”

  A comfortable silence rested between them, and Ren joined her as they took in the view from above.

  “Things don’t have to be like this.” As she spoke, Ren said, “Things don’t have to be like this.”

  She blushed, and Ren smiled, “Jinx.”

  She flinched, and Ren held up his hands, “Sorry, it’s from Earth. It’s what you say when two people say the same thing at the same time. It wasn’t a curse skill or anything. You do owe me a Coke, though.”

  She raised an eyebrow, and Ren nodded once, “Right, let's get out of here? I’ll tell you about Earth, Murkspire, and all the cool stuff you don’t have here.”

  Ren and Clara were able to leave the mansion without any trouble. No polite excuses were necessary, as the two Xylosian politicians were nowhere in sight after their time on the balcony.

  Majordomo, the helpful and obtrusive alien entity now living rent-free in his head, informed him that the pair were on a tunnel with General Gorthow and could not be disturbed.

  Ren decided to ride a robo taxi back with Clara, and they sat together in a surprisingly spacious sidecar, their driver a more basic drone. In contrast, the ReaperDrones appeared as soldiers in uniform body suits. The robo taxi was more of a hodgepodge of mismatched armor plates, exposed wires, and gears.

  “It’s so lonely here. Where are all the people at? What do you do for fun?”

  “I like to read DigiScrolls…and other things.”

  Ren pointed to the small building, like the one he kept in storage, which reminded him of an outhouse, “What is that little building – right there. See it?”

  Clara leaned over his lap to get a better view, and Ren noticed her hair smelled like a summer breeze – his mind flashed with images of home.

  She wrinkled her nose, “That – it’s nothing, just a waystation. Proles use it to deliver supplies.”

  A transportation hub allowing one to move around Xylos, Ren’s interest was piqued, “Pull over. Yoo taxi dude, pull over.

  He pointed out the window, but it was unclear if the bot was aware of his request. “Clara, how do we get this thing to pull–”

  The taxi slowed, then pulled over before doing a U-turn and heading back the way it had come.

  “Huh, driver, where are you–”

  Majordomo informed him of their redirection.

  Clara looked concerned, “What’s happening? What did Majordomo say?”

  “Uhh, someone called Quarg…is requesting my presence…request denied, I’m busy.”

  Sometime later, they found themselves in the shadow of the arena.

  “An entrepreneur? Who made his [capitals] in the MischiefBoards. Sounds like a real winner, and what does he want with me?”

  Clara smoothed her uniform, “He probably has a business opportunity. Whatever it is – don’t accept – he can’t be trusted.”

  Ren smiled a gallows grin, “Perfect.”