Tate crossed the street and headed to the alley. His muscles were tight, and he was constantly watching over his shoulder.

Thin rivulets of sweat ran down his back, sticking his shirt to his skin. Though it was Fall, The Palisades, a neighborhood in Old Moulding, was hot and muggy as hell. It was also busy for several reasons. Increased villain activity led to an increase in sales of both assault and defensive weapons. Hero presence in Old Moulding was reduced, as well as mundane city patrol, which meant that petty crime was on the rise.

Everyone blamed everyone for the problem and whispered and whined about it constantly.

Mostly, though, they blamed a man called Dominic Vacek, who was the head of the hero association. People blamed him for sending too many heroes off-planet to deal with alien problems, leaving humans to suffer for it. They figured he was probably paid a pretty penny by the aliens, and the head of the hero anti-corruption unit had all but revealed it in his speech. Almost everyone here concluded that Vacek was a corrupt, anti-human pig.

That wasn't any of Tate's business. Even though things weren't going according to plan, there was not much he could do about it at his current power level.

He glanced over his shoulder, his usual paranoia creeping on the edge. Even with Doberman dead, Tate still had many enemies that he had to worry about. He had Doberman's seal, the one they'd stolen from the Dungeon Union, and probably a bunch of people wanted that, including the [Heroes].

Not to mention, he had to be on his guard against the other players in the game, however many they were.

Tate had done a lot to figure out how the games worked. Though he couldn't interact with the other players, there was a loophole in that he could interact with some people who had interacted with those players, and from them, he could glean information. He knew how some of the other players' powers functioned. One of them, the one he was most worried about, was a man called Vulcan.

Tate had never seen Vulcan's face and never met him, but through deduction and aggressive loopholing, he'd figured out Vulcan's powers.

They were the most dangerous of all, to everyone except Lexie Sparrowfoot.

According to Ael, Vulcan's powers glitched when it came to her. He didn't know why. Ael figured it was because Lexie wasn't officially a part of this game or this world and had not been incorporated correctly. But could that be it? Or was there more to the story?

When Ael had told him, Tate hadn't thought about it much further than that. He'd been too consumed with envy at the time because Lexie had so many privileges already that had not been afforded to him. She had caring parents and a network of powerful people ready and willing to protect her. She had magic, ambition, and the intelligence to grow her arsenal.

Most importantly, she had the freedom to do whatever she wanted.

At a point, Tate's jealousy had turned into an intense dislike for her. He'd avoided her for years until he needed her.

The problem with Tate's association with the Alchemist, and using the man to figure out more about Vulcan, was that Vulcan was probably doing the same thing with Tate. The criminal was probably also trying to figure out ways to eliminate Tate even without meeting him. It would be difficult to do so, though not impossible, especially given the risks that Tate had to take. After all, Vulcan had done it before and eliminated some other players. ISTS oversight could only stretch so far, and Vulcan was a man who was willing to drive himself mad and tangle with chaos just to achieve his goal.

He was probably letting Tate be for now because he didn't view him as a threat, and Vulcan had a lot more things to worry about. But when Tate had started exploring dungeons, he'd known he was putting himself in danger, and giving Vulcan a simple way to get rid of him.

He'd realized then that he would need extra protection from someone Vulcan couldn't wholly predict.

Lexie Sparrowfoot.

Having Lexie around when he explored dungeons made it less likely that Vulcan's plan against him would work. In a way, her presence shielded him and gave him the ability to explore the dungeons without fear of strange and sudden death. It also made it more difficult for Vulcan to know about all the goodies that Tate had accumulated while raiding, and how much of a threat Tate was becoming.

Now, without Lexie around, Tate felt extra sensitive and suspicious of everything.

He also had that nagging guilt at the edge of his conscience that he always promptly pushed away. Guilt wasn't for people like him. It was for people who hadn't sold their souls a long time ago. He didn't get to feel guilty about anything he'd done. He'd already told himself that he would crawl through whatever hell he needed to and get out on the other side. That was exactly what he was going to do.

He finally got to his destination, an understated weapon shop that was at the end of the street, the one he'd brought Lexie to that last time. Being here reminded him of her again, and he felt that familiar pang of loss.

Once again, he ignored it and stepped in.

On the outside, it looked like a weapon shop.

On the inside, it also looked like a weapon shop, until you walked to the very back between the dagger aisle and the stall for handheld explosives that you could only purchase with a tier 3 weapons badge.

Once you got there, you had to ensure no one was around, and then you could knock three times on the wall.

A small black door appeared, and he walked through into a doll-maker's workshop, complete with creepy wooden Pinocchio-like dolls arranged on shelves around a man seated in the center.

The man called himself a variety of different names, but Tate knew that it was the Alchemist who sat on the edge of a desk.

He was working on one of the dolls, screwing on a hand, and adjusting it. Around the doll, a pool of black gurgled.

When Tate sat down, the doll-maker looked up and his face transformed into that unnatural smile that still creeped Tate out to this day. The closest reference he could use was that it looked like the man had gotten a lot of Botox, stiffening his muscles and giving him a doll-like appearance. Tate often wondered if this was the Alchemist's real face, or if he'd reformed it over the years, for he was a very, very old man.

"Ah, if it isn't number 9," he said. Tate didn't take offense. The Alchemist never called any of his test subjects by name. "Is it already time for our meeting?"

"Yes. Though I'm not surprised that you forgot again."

"Of course. Time is a very interesting thing with how often it changes." He went back to working on the doll as he spoke. "Well, tell me. What adjustments do you need?"

"Um, my reflexes are still a tad slow. My muscles aren't catching up as fast as they should be."

"Mmm," he said. "That's likely on you. You need to practice more and fight better candidates to give your muscles the workout they need."

"I have been doing that." It was one of the reasons he'd joined the AFC in the first place, apart from the glory and the money. It was the quickest way to test his skills against stronger opponents without dying.

But even after training in that dojo for months, he still wasn't as good a fighter as someone like Boris.

Perhaps that was what had frustrated him on the day of their match, as the difference between them became so stark it was blinding. He'd sacrificed everything, his humanity, his health, nearly his life a few times, just to have powers that were half as good as someone who trained half as much. And there Boris was, dancing around smiling, having fun, meanwhile, Tate was out of breath and in pain.

All because the other boy had the privilege of being born lucky. Tate would have been born lucky, too, if he hadn't been stupid enough to sacrifice whatever potential he had for someone who now had a cushy life in Hero school and probably hated his guts.

You forgot to add that someone died saving your life.

He shook his head. Whenever he started having those thoughts, about his past life and how it had ended, a war would begin inside him, driving him crazy. He didn't want to think about any of that stuff, about Boris, or Lexie, or anything else but achieving his goal. That was the only thing that brought him calm. It was the only thing that mattered.

"Any notable side effects?" The Alchemist asked, not looking up from his doll-boy.

"Recurring headaches," Tate said, the familiar complaint. "They may be getting worse, especially when I try to sleep. Does that mean something?"

He made a sound like a murmur. "Probably nothing of consequence."

"Probably?"

"Yes." He finally looked up and stared him in the face."There's a friend of yours I'm interested in."

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

"I don't have friends," Tate said shortly and added, "Now, when you say 'probably,' what do you mean? Like you're 90% sure? Or could it be a sign of some defect?"

"No defects. My work is perfect," he said, and stood up. The goo followed him, crawling on the ground and creating a toolbox out of nothing. "But it seems you might need adjustments. This will not be pleasant."

"It never is," Tate murmured weakly, and within the next two minutes, he was washed in wave after wave of agony.

***

Abernathy was texting and deleting as he walked, trying to find the perfect set of words for his first message.

"Who are you talking to?" That was from Doyle, who was walking beside him down the busy street of The Palisades.

"Lexie," Abernathy answered, and Doyle instantly gave him a shit-eating grin and began making kissy faces. Abernathy simply raised a middle finger.

"I'm just trying to see how she's doing."

"You guys talk?"

"Yeah, sometimes. Not a lot, though. She's in hero school now, so she's probably busy."

"Nice." Then Doyle frowned. "How come she always tells you what she's up to but not me?"

"Because I actually check up on her, and you only talk to her when you need something from her."

"You check up on her because you like her."

"I do not."

"Yes, you do, bonehead."

Abernathy gave him the second middle finger of the afternoon.

"It sure is a bummer that Lexie didn't want to continue the AFC." Doyle sighed. "We could have been her managers, and we could have been rich already."

Abernathy simply shrugged. "It's her decision at the end of the day, and I think that last fight traumatized her." She'd gotten super pale when he asked about it, and a hauntedness entered her eyes. "She doesn't want to do it, so we'll just get rich some other way."

"Easy for you to say. You're a teaching intern now, while I have to get an apprenticeship."

"Yeah, but we're still kind of in the same boat."

It was clear Lexie's dad was coaching Abernathy for some sort of future teaching role and was even making him learn potion-making as well. Abernathy didn't mind. He liked Lexie's dad, who was very nice and very warm. Professor Sparrowfoot didn't treat him like he was stupid for being a mundane, and didn't mind when Abernathy asked questions, even if they were stupid. He always answered it with enough detail, gave him notes, and even let Abernathy borrow his teacher's ID to do more research, although he wasn't supposed to do that.

"It'll be our little secret," he'd said, winking at him.

Abernathy liked the man and desperately wanted to impress him. But he had little hope of actually doing it.

"Working for Lexie's dad doesn't mean I'll get a job teaching after it. Even if I do, it's not going to be teaching at a college like that." Abernathy was nothing if not pessimistic, and recent years had taught him not to get his hopes up about anything. Having hope was a good way to get disappointed. As his mother would say, acceptance was much better than hope.

"We all have a place in this world," she often recited. "A role to play. Life's a lot easier when we abide by it."

Abernathy agreed with her, even if the thought of it made him angry sometimes. It made him mad that he wasn't a scholar like his mom, that not having a ranking meant he would constantly have to fight to prove his worth and work twice as hard to be half as smart.

But such was life, and he was learning to accept it.

As they passed an alley corner, which was filled with all kinds of shady shops, Abernathy did a double-take. He thought he just saw someone vaguely familiar, one of the guys from Lexie's team. The mundane one. Tate.

Abernathy had always been curious about him, and even though he never said anything, he was secretly rooting for him to succeed in the AFC, simply because he was a mundane. He craned his neck now to see Tate stumbling out of a store, trembling and swaying like he was drunk.

Abernathy frowned as he watched him turn the corner.

"Do you think Lexie will eventually marry you and make you her trophy husband? Or are you too nerdy and ugly for the role?"

The question snapped Abernathy's attention back to Doyle and earned him a shove, which had him slamming right into someone's back.

And when that someone turned around, both boys froze in apprehension.

Oh no.

"Hey, Rich," Abernathy immediately assumed a placating tone to the large boy, a well-known bully in this area. "I'm super sorry about that. We weren't watching where we were going. Our bad."

Abernathy didn't expect his apology to solve the problem entirely. At the very least, he expected some money to exchange hands to avoid the beating.

Instead, Rich smiled widely, showing yellowed teeth.

"My boys," he said. "You know, I was just talking about the two of you the other day. Someone told me you were friends with that girl…the one with the dungeons…."

Both Abernathy and Doyle shared a look. "Huh?"

"The card girl."

"Oh," Doyle said. "You mean Lexie?"

"Yes. You're her friends, right?"

"Well…yeah? We were in the same class and hung out a few times."

"Nice. Tell me, is she like they say she is?" he leaned in conspiratorially and waggled his eyebrows. "They're saying she's secretly this ultra-powerful evil psycho who can create dungeons out of the ground, and she's gonna be a villain worse than her dad. Is that true?".

"No." Abernathy immediately jumped to her defense. "Lexie didn't create those dungeons. She would never do that."

"Yeah," Doyle said. "She found the dungeons, but she didn't put them there."

"Then how did she know they were there?" Rich asked.

Both boys had no answer.

"I don't know," Abernathy finally said. "But trust me, it's all a misunderstanding. The Lexie I know is nice and good and always helps people out. She wouldn't hurt a fly."

***

Lexie was going to kill these kids.

Not literally, of course, even though their smirks pissed her off. She knew the reason they'd left her alone before was because she was usually at lunch with Dewie and Xena, the S-Rank Lightlark princess.

But today, she'd come to lunch by herself, and there was barely anyone there, so they figured she'd be a good target.

Lexie activated the card right as the inky black substance stuck to her palm. It also wrapped around her feet, holding her in place, preventing her from moving as the group circled around her, ready for their humiliation ritual.

The tall, slender spell-caster seemed pleased with her work.

"Aww, look at that," she said. "Were you trying to do something?"

"Let me go," Lexie warned.

"No. That's what you get for being a card mage," the other girl said. "Now what are you going to do without your han–"

The sentence ended with a sudden whack when a tray of chicken pot pie floated in the air and slammed into her face.

She screeched, and the others were on alert as more floating pans of food were thrown at them, some getting them in the face, chest, or even feet.

Lexie felt the drain of her mana because the card she'd activated, <Handy Helper>, was mana-intensive, but it was worth it even just to wipe the smug looks off their faces. She wanted to teach them not to mess with her.

Even if it just ended as a food fight, she needed to make her point.

"Let me go," she said, louder, firmer. "Before it gets much worse for you."

Of course, it couldn't be that easy.

The spell-caster glared at her, wiping pie from her face. "You have no idea what you've just done, you moron." She flared her fingers and suddenly, Lexie was flying through the air and slamming into a wall.

The slam knocked the wind out of her, but fortunately, she had enough experience with that from the AFC, so she didn't even scream. She was on her feet again, about to use Handy Helper to cause more damage, but then a piercing sound echoed in her ears, driving her back to her knees.

She did scream for this one. It was a different type of agony than anything she'd experienced before. It felt like someone was drilling through her eardrums and into her brain.

Make it stop! The dark voice within yelled. Make them hurt!

Over that raucous sound, she heard laughter and yelling, but Lexie focused on how to escape the torture.

The answer came to her, something she never thought of before but now had to pull off in a moment of pain and desperation.

While <Handy Helper> remained activated, she poked around in the mechanisms and hoped for something that would help trigger a merge. She found a variety of nodes, and while in pain, she twisted things around, desperately connecting pathways through the air, and then she opened her inventory again, calling for a card.

She opened her eyes that she didn't realize she'd closed, and a glass card appeared in the air, held by Handy Helper. One more push that made her brain pulse, and her mana deplete, and it was done.

She used a hand from Handy Helper to activate <Music To My Ears>.

A minor shift later, she targeted her opponents, hitting two of them at once. They immediately dropped to the floor screaming, and finally, the inky gloves around Lexie's hands and feet disappeared.

"Stop!" she heard someone say, but she wasn't going to. Those asshole needed to be taught a lesson. They needed to know not to mess with her again.

They need to die.

No, she caught herself. Not death. That was too crazy. Just a little payback is fine. No need to do anything extra.

Until someone jumped her from behind.

Without looking, she used <Handy Helper> to fling them in the air, slamming them into the wall. She knew she'd tapped into Eldritch mana at this point, as her human mana was long drained. <Handy Helper> also started working without her direction, taking anyone who came close to her and tossing them around like they were rag dolls. Someone else attacked her, and she swung, punching them. The guy's face was hard as stone, and pain exploded in her hand, but she didn't care. In fact, she wanted to laugh.

Not with joy, but with something else…maybe madness.

She knew something was taking over, but she didn't care enough to stop it.

He attempted to hit Lexie back, but <Handy Helper> intercepted and grabbed him, swinging him away.

Several others were calling her name now, but Lexie ignored them. <Handy Helper> was still at work, more erratic than ever before. More of the food lifted into the air and was tossed at random at anyone who could be in the way.

A wall of fire intercepted her last throw, and it cleared Lexie's head somewhat.

"Enough," a familiar steely voice said.

Lexie stopped, as though cold water had been poured over her.

She glanced around to see that the cafeteria, which had been nearly empty when Lexie had arrived, was now filled with first and second-years, including Torin Firebringer. Xena was there too and had been shouting Lexie's name. The floor was littered with food, and about six or seven people were groaning and attempting to get up but slipping on the mess instead.

Luckily, no one looked too hurt, but it might have gone too far had Torin not stepped in.

Did I do that? Lexie wondered, tensing all over, biting her lip with regret.

"How did she do that?" someone asked.

"By being a frigging genius," Xena responded, looking and sounding proud.

Lexie would have been proud, too, if she didn't feel like she'd just landed herself in a whole heap of trouble.

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