Surrounded by blackness, Ben felt the power of the shattered Crystal swirling all about him. Around him. In him. He was the power. It flowed in his veins; exploded in his brain. He could do anything he wanted; be whatever he wished to be. Nothing could ever stop him.

Yet, at the same time, he felt trapped. Unable to do anything. He was caught, helpless, in the power’s deadly embrace. The contradiction made him want to scream in frustration, so he did.

A sharp pain - like a thousand needles plunged into his forehead - drove the blackness away. Ben’s eyes - or was it his mind? - popped open, and he could see… what?

What he saw made no sense. Swirling wisps of colorful lights filled his vision, a million million forms in different shapes and hues. They revolved around him, frantic, urgent. Afraid.

Afraid? How can wisps of light be frightened?

He opened his mouth to ask, but he had no mouth. He was pure energy, without a face, a body, or anything else substantial. Ben tried to comprehend, but the urgency of the swirling wisps made him unable to focus his mind or his will. He was too disoriented and confused to do anything but mentally stare at the swirling colors.

Then - after a few seconds or a few hours, he couldn’t tell - the lights parted, and Ben found himself looking beyond them at a large chamber that looked like... a sick room? His mind cleared somewhat, and he managed to drift closer, floating on the waves of the Crystal’s unleashed power, so he could better see.

A dozen beds were arrayed in a circle around the room, and all had nearly naked people lying in them with their eyes closed, seemingly asleep. Men in dark suits walked about between the beds, checking on the patients, and each bed was connected by several black tubes to some kind of machinery: large screens and consoles with multiple tentacles.

Ben drifted closer and saw that his initial assessment about a sick room wasn’t accurate; a laboratory would be a better description of what he saw. What he thought of as beds were actually some kind of hollowed white pods the size of a sarcophagus - and the machinery next to each pod was connected directly to the people nestled inside. Ben saw familiar tentacles with sticky pads that were attached not only to each of the men and women’s shaved heads but also to other parts of their naked bodies: their chests, hands, and legs.

These are VD players, he thought as he studied the sleeping people. These are gaming consoles they are hooked to. And those are technicians, whose job is to take care of the physical bodies of the players. His mind - more focused with each passing moment - grasped those insights without much difficulty, and once it did, Ben immediately knew them for facts.

The energy that was once the Scout of Sonadin drifted even closer as he let the waves of the Crystal’s power carry him. A group of technicians was standing around one of the pods, looking frantic. He couldn’t hear what was going on, only watch, but some of the black-clad men were obviously shouting, while others were busy with the machines connected to the pod. Ben filtered through and between the people to look at the figure lying inside the pod -

- and saw himself. It was him, 19-year old Benjamin Keen, though with a body that was much better toned than he remembered. This real-life version of himself was lying in the white pod, naked but for short pants. His eyes were closed, and he had sticky pads glued to his bald head, as well as his chest, legs, and hands. Or rather, only his left hand; the right one was missing, the arm cut at the elbow, and blood was gushing from the open wound, spraying the pod and the people who huddled around it - the reason, probably, for their distress.

Thoughts formed themselves in his consciousness, becoming more coherent with every passing moment. The first: this is what Jarod talked about. The memory of the conversation he had had with Sullivan’s soldier on the balcony of the Great Palace came to his mind. Fuller immersion, said Jarod. It means we upgrade your console, unlocking its ability to keep you longer in the game. You won’t have to log out for days, possibly even a week. Your real-life body will be nourished by our crew while your virtual character keeps on playing and gaining strength in VD.

This was it. It appeared that the people of SH Gaming were true to their word: they smuggled Ben’s body out of his apartment and brought him to whatever this place was. Here they put him in a pod and connected him to an upgraded console - which probably was what enabled him to play for three days straight without having to log out. Neat, he thought.

The technicians kept bustling about him - one was trying to stop the bleeding, wrapping a piece of cloth around the stump beneath the elbow - and several more moments passed before a dreadful comprehension filled Ben’s mind. I lost my arm in the game. And I lost it in real-life as well.

Fuller immersion, it seemed, had other - more dire - consequences than just prolonging gameplay. Ben didn’t understand how it was possible, but it appeared Sullivan’s breakthrough technology went both ways: it helped him turn into a real-life superhero, but it also inflicted the same damage his VD body sustained on his real body. And, judging by the panic reflected in the technicians’ eyes, this fact was not common knowledge.

Ben wondered if he was about to watch himself bleed to death or if the SH people would get a grip on themselves and staunch the blood flow before it was too late. He knew he should feel afraid for his life, but his emotions were as scattered as his thoughts. I am nothing. I am no one. I am all and everything. I can die there, but I won’t; I will never die. I will consume the power. I will have complete controlllllll

It went on like this for the briefest of moments or the longest eternity, but then something caught his attention, disturbing his thoughts. Ben mentally sighed and drifted away from the scene around his blood-spattered pod to examine what his subconscious insisted he should see. Several other people were lying in their pods - no one he recognized - but then his bodiless form came to a stop above two pods that were a bit separated from the rest. His gaze settled first on the man in the left pod, then on the woman in the right one, and for a moment, his heart - if he had one - ceased to beat.

The black-skinned nearly-naked man in the left pod could be no other than Charlie, the real-life man who played The Red Mercenary. He wasn’t as tall, muscular, young, or handsome as the VD warrior, but there was no denying those strong facial features. Even as Ben watched, the man’s dark eyes popped open, and there was a murderous glint in them. He began to shout and tear the sticky pads that were glued to his body.

But Ben spared Red’s player only a passing thought and promptly forgot about him as his gaze fixed on the young woman in the second pod. Her head was as bald as the rest of the people in the pods, but she wasn’t naked - she wore dirty jeans and a long-sleeved white blouse - and she wasn’t hooked to any of the consoles. Instead, thick rubber bands encircled her body tightly across her chest and legs, making it impossible for her to move. She also had duct tape over her mouth, and her face was bloodied from a deep gash across her cheekbone.

What made Ben’s world shudder was the knowledge that the woman he was looking at could be no other than Shiraz’s player.

Just like in Red’s case, there could be no denying that simple fact. The woman he was staring at was about his age, maybe a bit older. She was pretty - not as stunningly beautiful as the shadow mage, but pretty enough to make Debby jealous - and her freckles were nearly the same as the ones of the red-haired VD character he grew to love. And, above else, her facial features were too akin to that of the shadow mage to have any doubts. Everything about her was a bit more real - the high cheekbones were less high; the heart-shaped face a bit more round - but her brown eyes were as amazing in real-life as they were in virtual reality.

Those eyes were wide open, showing genuine fear. She turned her head sideways, so her gaze fell on the pod that held Ben’s real-life armless body. He thought she must be screaming under the duct tape that covered her mouth.

Ben’s previously scattered thoughts instantly became focused: Shiraz was alive - at least her human player was - and he had to save her. But how could he do that? She was there, and he was… where?

Ben forced his consciousness away from the scene in what he now knew was a VD game room - and found himself surrounded once more by the colorful will-o’-wisps. The ghostly lights swirled around him ever faster, and Ben suddenly knew that unless he did something, he would become one of those wisps of light himself. He couldn’t afford that - it would mean abandoning Shiraz - so he concentrated and mentally shouted for help. Benjamin! He cried, sending the thought into the energy all around him. Please come to me! I need you! Beeeeennnnnjaaaaaamiiiiinnnnnn

Abruptly, the lights stopped swirling - and vanished. Ben was surrounded again by complete blackness, and a familiar voice filled his mind.

Why don’t you join us? Asked Old Ben. Stop fighting. His voice was soothing, with a touch of bewilderment. What happened is wonderful beyond everything we could have imagined, said the legendary scout. Don’t you see? You have found a way to join us without the restrictions -

No! Ben thought back, frantic. I can’t. Not yet. I have to get back. I have to help her.

Back? Old Ben’s voice sounded dubious. Are you sure? I cannot guarantee your safety if you do that -

I don’t care, Ben cut him off. I need to get back. Whatever is needed -

- but you should care, snapped old Ben’s voice. His voice wasn’t as pleasant as before. You must understand that we are still bound by the rules - and so are you. If you leave our world now, it will be considered a forced log-out. You will lose XP and the consequences -

I don’t care! Ben thought again, putting every bit of will and strength he had into that mental shout. The image of the frightened young woman tied in her pod filled his mind.

His old namesake was relentless, though, and when the forgotten hero spoke again, there was a touch of desperation in his tone. There is more that you must consider, Ben. The Crystal’s powers have been unleashed. Instead of finding a conduit, they were dispersed into the void… and into the fabric between the two worlds. For now, they enable you to be both here and there, but by leaving Nolxar, you would forgo the greater part of those epic powers… Do you understand, Ben? The power that you worked so hard to achieve would be lost. You might gain some small boon - whatever has been absorbed into your body before your arm was cut - but not much else. Are you sure you want to do this?

Ben never hesitated. Yes! He mentally screamed. I am sure! Let me get back, and I promise - I will return to fulfill the Quest you have given me. I will help you gain your independence. I do so swear.

The blackness was silent for a long moment, and when old Ben spoke again, a million others echoed him: we accept.

A prompt filled his vision:

Are you sure you want to forcefully log out? The penalty is 20% of your current XP.

Ben chose “yes”.

There was a sense of being pulled away. The blackness was gone, and Ben opened his eyes - his real eyes - to look into the startled face of the man who was in the progress of wrapping another bandage around his bleeding stump.

For a moment, a myriad of sensations nearly overwhelmed him. First came the pain: searing pain from his torn arm that should have shocked him and made him scream in agony. Only he didn’t. Ben’s constitution had risen considerably since the last time he had logged out, and he found out he could endure the pain. He could also feel the incredible strength in his body - not only physical strength but something much more profound than that. Magic, he knew. My mind has evolved together with my character. I can do real-life magic now.

There would be limitations, he instinctively knew. It was newfound knowledge, one that didn’t occur to him before - perhaps it was his high wisdom and intelligence scores that enabled him to understand - but he realized that the rules of VD were different from RL, and there was a limit to what and who his enhanced brain could affect. Some of his virtual powers would be useless here, but he didn’t care - there would be time to explore his real-life potential. First, he had to do what he came here for.

“He’s awake!” Cried the man who held Ben’s half-arm in his hands. From the corner of his eyes, Ben could see the other part of his arm lying in the pod and stored that knowledge in the back of his mind: the connection to the VD game was strong enough to inflict the same wound in both worlds but not so strong as to make the severed arm vanish like it did in VD.

Other men looked down at him from their places around his pod. “He logged out!” Came another cry. Hands reached down to seize him.

But those hands were slow. So slow. How much dexterity did these people have? No more than 8, by the sluggish way they moved.

With a roar, the enraged young hero sat up in his pod. He used his one good arm to punch the man who was closest to him, breaking the fellow’s nose with a loud crunch. It was strange how easy it was to use his left hand - Ben was right-handed - but the reborn scout didn’t linger to ponder that revelation. Even as the man staggered back with a hand to his bleeding nose, Ben ducked under a clumsy blow from one of the other men and leaped out of the pod, tearing the sticky pads off his body in the process and knocking down another man who tried to grab him.

Ben rolled over the man and jumped to his feet, kicking the fallen technician in the side of his head as he did so. The awakened player was barefoot, but the kick was still brutal, and the man’s head snapped to the side, hitting the floor. He immediately stilled, unmoving, and Ben wondered if he broke his neck.

The room fell silent. Ben stood there, nearly naked, his stump covered in a blood-soaked bandage. Strangely, the pain of the gruesome wound subsided somewhat, and he even had a tingling sensation around his elbow - a feeling he usually associated with healing. However, there was no time to ponder that; five men in blacks - including the one with the broken nose - now stood around him, slowly positioning themselves to surround him from all sides. A sixth man was running away from the group toward one of the room’s multiple exits.

One of the technicians - if that was what they were - took a tentative step forward, his hands up with the palms toward Ben as if trying to calm a wild animal. The man was clean-shaven, but Ben noticed that his hair was rich and flowing - a clear sign that he was not a VD player. “Mr. Keen,” the man said slowly, “you have just suffered a major trauma.” He glanced at the unmoving body of his comrade on the floor and gulped. “You should get back into that pod and let us take care of you. That wound might kill you if we don’t -”

He stopped when Ben grinned madly at him. The tingling sensation intensified, and the VD Beacon realized that what he suspected was actually happening: the wound was closing. In fact, it felt more than simple healing - by the way his skin rubbed against the bandage, it felt like his arm was slowly growing back. I must have gained a level despite the loss to XP and regained my HP, he thought. But even as he thought that, he realized it must be more than that - simple healing couldn’t make his arm grow back. Could it be the work of the Crystal? The small boon old Ben was talking about?

Later, he told himself. He widened his mad grin and flexed the fingers of his left hand - a gesture that made the men around him gasp. “I’m not going to die so easily,” said Ben. His voice was hoarse - the voice of a man who was sleeping for three days straight. The technician licked his lips and was about to retort, but Ben focused his eyes over the man’s shoulder, looking at someone behind him. “Isn’t that so, Charlie?”

The men in black turned to look, and Ben heard several curses when they saw Red’s player standing in the center of the room. Two sticky pads were still glued to the man’s naked skin, but the tentacles were torn and dangling off him like discarded vines.

Charlie smiled unpleasantly. He was still a big man but not nearly as big or muscular as his warrior character. He also was much older than Ben - around forty, if Ben had to guess - and when he focused his murderous dark gaze on Ben, the trickster realized he wasn’t even a bit intimidated by this pale imitation of the Red Mercenary. Power surged in Ben’s veins, and his heightened senses made him feel invincible.

Charlie regarded Ben with a long and hard stare. “You are a fool, Mr. Keen,” he said. His voice wasn’t as deep as Red’s, but the sarcasm was the same. There were hollowed sockets under his eyes and wrinkles around his mouth. He still looked dangerous, but Ben simply couldn’t bring himself to regard him seriously. The power in his veins was intoxicating, and the bandage around his stump was on the verge of falling off as his flesh grew anew.

“A fool?” Ben laughed. “You are the fool, Charlie. You thought you could control me, but I’m free of you. Free of them -” he gestured with his good arm at the people surrounding him - “and free of your boss. I’m -”

“Free?” It was Charlie’s turn to laugh, or rather, snort in derision. Ben frowned, but the man quickly continued. “The only reason you’re here is because of Kiera. Without her, you would already be Sullivan’s puppet, just like he wanted. But it matters not. He will still have you, and sooner than you think.”

Kiera. That was the name of Milenna’s player. Ben thought back to the epic battle between the angel and the hulk. He didn’t see how it ended, but that searing beam of heavenly light could come only from the angelic form of the sorceress - which meant, thought Ben, that Charlie was probably right; Milenna was the reason he was here. Without her, he would have claimed the Crystal of Bree as his own, completing the last part of Sullivan’s plan and losing the last shreds of his free will to SH Gaming. Ben growled. “What happened to her?” He snapped.

Charlie shrugged. “To Kiera? Nothing, probably, other than her wounded pride. Milenna’s angel is dead, though. I sliced her in half.” As he spoke, the man edged closer to one of the pods. Ben fumed and glanced the other way - toward the pod that held Shiraz’s player. He could see the upper half of her bald head and her wide-opened eyes staring back at him. Both Shiraz and Milenna are dead. But I can still save their real-life players.

He turned a furious gaze back to Red - and then to the five technicians, who anxiously watched the exchange. They, too, were slowly walking away, edging toward some of the still-occupied pods. “I am taking Shiraz and leaving this place,” he told them. “You’d better not stop me - unless you want to suffer the same fate as your friend here.” Without waiting for their response, Ben turned his back to them - they posed no threat - and ran towards Shiraz’s pod. The technicians who were directly in his path moved away to let him pass, watching him silently.

Ben reached the young woman’s pod in several quick strides and looked down at her. He smiled, remembering that time a few days before when it was she who came to his rescue and freed him of his bonds. “We have to get you out of here,” he said, using her own words.

Her eyes - teary but less frightful now - looked at him with hope and love. Without hesitating, the VD scout reached into her pod and removed the duct tape from her lips. She breathed, and her lips trembled. “You came back for me,” she whispered. Those, too, were the exact words he used when she came to save him.

Ben reached to grasp the band around her chest and flexed his muscles. “Of course I did, silly. Now let’s go. Before Red does something stupid.” He winked and pulled at the rubber band with all his might. His strength had risen from 12 to 17 since the last time he was in real-life; it was his weakest attribute, but it still made him incredibly strong compared to most regular humans. He grunted and heaved, and after a few seconds of pulling hard he managed to tear the band away from around her body, freeing her hands in the process. He sighed in relief and reached for the band around her legs -

But had to stop and turn around in a rush, as his perception - his highest score skill - alerted him that someone was closing in on him. Ben instinctively ducked under a blow from a metal rod meant for the back of his head and kicked high, catching the man below the ribs. The technician who was about to hit him with the rod grunted as the air left his lungs and staggered backward. Ben immediately leaped forward and snatched the rod from the man’s hand. Then he bared his teeth and glared around him. “I told you to leave me alone,” he started - but stopped.

The rest of the technicians moved back to stand behind the semi-circle of white pods - and out of these pods were now climbing the men and women who were previously deep asleep and connected to the game. When he looked at their well-toned bodies and noticed the strange glitter in their eyes, Ben immediately realized his mistake: these players were connected to VD using the same type of console that Ben had used. They must have gained some of their VD skills, just as I did.

It was a frightening and discouraging thought. Frightening because it meant these players might have the power to resist him; discouraging because it meant he wasn’t the only one in real-life with special abilities. Another thought popped into his mind, and he looked at Charlie, who stood next to one of the pods, smirking. As if reading the scout’s thoughts, the VD warrior nodded. “You really thought it was all about you, skin?” He almost sounded like the Red Mercenary, and the contempt was evident in his voice. “We all have new powers now, you fool -”

Something exploded inside Ben. He had enough. Enough of the manipulations, enough of the lies, enough of self-doubt. His mind, which was focused on saving Shiraz’s player and escaping this place, shifted back to anger, ambition, and megalomania - feelings that were carefully nurtured in him for the past week. Forgetting about Shiraz - she was trying to sit up and free herself from her last bond - Ben roared something unintelligible and charged straight on, the metal rod held firmly in his left hand.

His first victim was the technician who had tried to hit him. The man cried in alarm and tried to duck, but Ben’s rod caught him on the side of his head, breaking his cheekbone and sending him screaming to the floor. The other technicians turned tail and ran away, but Ben had enough to occupy him: six men and three women were charging right at him. All were wearing undergarments, and none of them was armed, but there was confidence in their stride and movements. They knew things none other did. And they intended to use them.

But Ben was the Beacon. The pawn of prophecy. He had absorbed powers from not one but two Power Crystals. And he, unless he was wholly misguided, had a mind that was so unique it enabled him to turn the NPCs inside the virtual world into living, independent, conscious beings. His arm was growing back inch by inch, defying all medical logic. He was a hero of the Second Echelon. A vindicator. A war leader. A scout, trickster, death mage, and no longer a noob. He could do things none of these players could ever dream of.

It was time to test his abilities.

The first woman - young, tall, agile, and muscular - was upon him before he managed to make his first move. Despite half expecting it, Ben was still amazed: the woman covered nearly 15 feet in the space of a heartbeat. It wasn’t teleportation she was using, but some kind of bull rush power, making her unbelievably fast. The woman’s punch was less than an inch from his nose.

Ben acted instinctively and Paused the Game.

He knew, now, that he wasn’t really pausing time. The power enabled him to think much faster than ordinary - so fast that for five seconds, everything else seemed to freeze. Ben looked from the fist in front of his face to the rest of the players, who were closing in on him in a half-circle. He saw Charlie, his lips twisted in a snarl, watching from behind the rest. From the corner of his eye, he also saw Shiraz’s player, frantically trying to release herself from her bonds.

The trickster’s sharp mind quickly devised a strategy. Much depended on what he could and could not do in real-life, but Ben thought he started to understand the different rules. He could affect real-life reality with his enhanced mind, but he was pretty sure that the scope of his influence was limited to himself and people and things in his immediate vicinity. At least until I grow more powerful.

So when time resumed its normal course, Ben teleported away. Not far - he didn’t think he’d be able to do that and didn’t want to take the risk - but just behind the woman who was about to punch him.

Success. Ben’s altered mind was able to change the laws of physics, bend the air, turn his molecules into pure energy for a millisecond, and reform himself in another location, three feet away.

The magic, he knew then, was real.

The trickster wasted no time. He had only 3 points in unarmed combat, but he didn’t need more to grab the woman’s head from behind and twist with all of his strength. There was a sickening sound as the woman’s neck broke. She fell dead, but Ben was already spinning and running away - toward a group of three players, two men and a woman.

The three were staring wide-eyed at the dead woman - or maybe at Ben - and the scout took advantage of their surprise. He used Air Steps, using the air as leverage to boost his stride and hurl him upward. Just like with the Teleportation skill, this power was limited and not as good as in VD, but Ben wasn’t looking to jump over their heads - he just wanted to jump high enough for his legs to be level with their faces. The three raised their hands as if to grab him, but Ben was already attacking: he kicked straight at the woman’s face and swung his acquired metal rod at the head of one of the men.

Both attacks were accurate. His shin connected with the woman’s cheek, sending her sprawling back, where she hit a low stool, lost her balance and fell. The rod was more lethal; Ben used it like a sword, and with 17 points in that skill, it was easy to direct a deadly blow - one that crushed the man’s skull and killed him on the spot.

The third man - one who was nearly as big as Red - surprised Ben by snatching the scout’s other leg from where he leaped and pulling him down, hard. Ben gasped as he lost his balance and hit the floor hard, his head banging against the hard floor and even cracking one of the marble tiles. Dazed, it was all he could do to try and roll away, but his assailant was quickly upon him, hitting him with enhanced fists, first splitting open his lower lip, then cracking one of his ribs, then once again hitting his face and nearly breaking Ben’s nose, then striking him on the stomach. A Flurry of Blows, thought Ben dazedly, even as he grunted against the unrelenting assault.

Ignoring the pain as best he could, Ben waited the few seconds he knew should pass before he came out of his dazed status. When that happened, the scout used Death Aura, draining some of the life force of the man that attacked him and using it for his weak magical shield. The man’s widening eyes and surprised grunt told Ben the spell was successful - as was the slightly dark aura that suddenly surrounded Ben’s body.

I have magic, you sons of bitches, he thought. Don’t fuck with me. Ben used the short pause in the man’s attack to hurl the fighter - he must be - off him. He still held the rod in his left hand, so Ben used Swift Strike - it was a Daggers power, but apparently, real-life rules couldn’t make the distinction - to complete his maneuver. The rod came up and down, once, twice, and when Ben stood up, panting, the dead man’s face was a gruesome ruin, and Ben’s face and chest were spattered with the man’s blood.

Three down, six to go. From the corner of his eye, Ben saw the woman he had kicked, trying to crawl away. Starting with this one. First, though, the Beacon shook his right arm and let the bandage fall from where it once enveloped his stump: beneath, his arm was still incomplete, but it was already halfway toward growing a new hand. The skin above his elbow was white and new, and he could actually see the bone growing inside the flesh. I am the chosen one. Nothing can kill me. He started to turn toward the crawling woman -

“Stop, all of you! Stop! Please!”

Shiraz’s familiar voice rang throughout the room, full of emotion. There was nothing commanding about it, but it was so full of plea and anguish that everybody in the room did stop and turn to look at the young woman.

She was outside her pod - she had managed to free herself and climbed out - and her face was a mask of horror as she looked from the bodies scattered on the floor to the bloody mess which was Ben. Around her, the remaining players stood, poised and ready, eyeing the one-armed menace with glittering eyes. The black-clad technicians were gone, having fled the room during the short but fierce battle. And Charlie… he also remained in the room, but his expression had changed. He no longer looked angry or hateful but thoughtful and deeply disturbed.

“Ben,” said the woman who played Shiraz. “What are you doing?” There were tears in her eyes. “These are real people, Ben. This is not the game anymore. What have you done?”

Ben’s lips twisted in anger and his chest heaved as he breathed hard. He still held tightly onto the bloody metal rod, but no one was attacking him at the moment or posing any kind of danger, so he gradually relaxed. Looking at the young woman’s anguished face, he found he couldn’t maintain his rage, and once again, his focus changed. No longer angry. For a moment, he was confused; he came here to save Shiraz, didn’t he? What happened?

“I am…” he started, then paused, blinking. His eyes fell on the smashed face of the man he just killed, and he recoiled. These are real people. “I…” He swallowed. His gaze shifted to the man with the broken skull and from him to the woman whose neck he had twisted. Not far from her lay the unmoving body of the technician he had probably killed when he jumped out of his pod. This is not the game anymore.

Shiraz took a tentative step forward. “You must stop, Ben. Is this who you are? The real you?” Her voice trembled, her eyes big and frightened and full of emotion. Her next words were spoken in a near-whisper, but Ben heard every one. “Have I fallen in love with a killer?”

Ben hesitated. Was he? A Killer? His mind was pulled in different directions; the adrenaline rush and his anger battled the horror that he just killed living human beings. Not NPCs. Real men and women. “They wanted to kill me,” he said in a broken voice. She loves me. She said she loves me. Why did I kill them? I could have disabled them easily enough. But I had to kill them, didn’t I? I wanted to. Dear God, I still want to. But I can’t. I can’t become a killer, not here. Does she really love me?

Around him, the players eyed him carefully, but they didn’t move to resume their attack. Some of them were looking not at him but Shiraz, and judging by their anguished expressions, they, too, seemed to battle conflicting emotions. Looking at them, seeing the strange glitter in their eyes, Ben felt his lip twisting in anger. It was their fault!

“They attacked,” he said, louder this time. In a sudden fury, he turned at the players. “Why do you want to kill me!” He directed the question to the last woman standing. A girl, really; she seemed younger than him, with big green eyes that were wide as she looked at him. Her lips trembled, though he wasn’t sure if it was from anger or fear.

The girl’s eyes narrowed, and a single tear streamed down her cheek. “You have to die. We have to finish this.”

Ben was taken aback. “Finish this? What do you mean?”

The girl’s lips pulled back in a snarl, but when she spoke, her words didn’t match her feral expression. “Don’t you see? We either kill you or fail.” Around them, the rest of the players - most of them as young as her, Ben saw now - turned their attention back to him. They still didn’t move, but all of them seemed on the verge of exploding into violence: Ben saw them clenching their fists, biting their lips, breathing hard. Their eyes, above everything else, told him they were about to lose control again.

Fail? Ben’s eyes widened when the implications of what she said dawned on him. “Do you mean -”

“She means they have a Quest to complete.”

Ben turned his attention to Charlie, whose expression went from thoughtful to troubled to disgusted. He mumbled something, and Ben, whose hearing was exceptionally good, heard him clearly enough: “Is this what’s in store for me?”

Aloud, the big man said: “They are Sullivan’s tools, just like you have almost become.” The other players didn’t even glance at the warrior, focusing their full attention on Ben. “He used his special consoles on them too,” continued Charlie, “and twisted their minds by giving them quests to complete. And unless I’m wrong, their most recent quest is to hunt you down and kill you.”

Charlie shook his head, obviously angry. He muttered to himself again, and Ben heard, “I didn’t sign up for this shit,” and - “isn’t worth it.” Around Ben, the remaining players kept looking at him with those conflicted expressions. They were also exchanging glances, and Ben suspected - no, he knew - that they were somehow coordinating their next attack. Do they possess telepathic abilities?

With a snort, Charlie turned away from all of them and started to walk away toward one of the room’s multiple exits. Ben would have run to catch him, but he had the feeling that any movement he made would break the momentary ceasefire, and the killing would be resumed.

“Where are you going?” Ben called after Red’s player. “You can’t go now!”

Charlie stopped, half turning. “Why? I have no intention of doing what Sullivan wants me to. Not any more. Not now that I know…” He shook his head again and resumed walking.

Ben’s lips curled in anger. “You killed Milenna,” he called after the retreating man. “You manipulated me and helped Sullivan gain control over my mind.” Saying it aloud, he realized the truth in the words - it was indeed becoming increasingly challenging to be in control of his thoughts. “I became a murderer because of you!” The word felt like poison on his tongue, and stinging tears burned his eyes. “And now you leave? When you know I have to either kill the rest of them or be killed?” The tears streamed down his cheeks. “Milenna was right; you are evil. Not just your characters; this is who you really are.”

Charlie stopped, turning again to regard the one-armed VD scout. Ben could detect a scope of emotions on his face and hoped that one of them at least was regret, but there was no time left; the remaining players started moving, taking slow steps to array themselves in a tight circle around Ben. Whatever turmoil was in their minds seemed to be gone; what remained were anger and focus. Ben could see their muscles flexing and knew that they would unleash themselves at him as soon as they knew they gained enough advantage over him.

With battle again about to resume and having no other choice, the scout quickly considered his options, already forming the best tactic to overcome their joint assault. No killing this time, he thought. I will kill no one else. He wondered if he could live up to this promise.

Ben gave Shiraz one last look. She said I’m a killer. But she said she loves me, too. “I’m sorry,” he told her. “I can’t let them have me. I have to survive this, Shiraz. You must understand…”

The woman started to say something, but then Charlie spoke, his deep voice cutting both their words. “Effie,” said the big man, turning to look at Shiraz’s player. “I need your help.”

Both Ben and Shiraz - Effie? Her real name is Effie? - turned to look at their former VD companion. The young woman looked startled, and Ben narrowed his eyes. Another scheme?

Charlie ignored their looks. The man sounded as if he had come to a decision. “Effie, you see that big desk over there? Right behind you, with all the screens?” He gestured. “If you open the middle drawer and feel inside, you’ll find a big button under the table. After Ben leaves, I need you to push it. It will lock the doors of this room, so these players can’t follow him.” He spoke of the players as if they weren’t there, and Ben realized that in a way, they weren’t; all their attention was on him, and nothing else seemed to distract them.

Shiraz - Effie - looked uncertain. “What -” she looked from Ben to Charlie and changed her question. “A button? How do you know? And what do you mean, after Ben leaves? If Ben’s going, then I’m going with him -”

“I know because I live here,” said Charlie swiftly. He already started moving, not toward one of the exits but to a different desk, on the other side of the room. “This is my ranch. My home. We’re underground, but I know how to get us out of here. You should come with me, Effie. Ben must go his own way, and we can’t let these players get to him. They want to kill him, not us.”

The young woman stood there, looking anxious, but this time it was Ben who spoke. The VD scout could detect no lies in Charlie’s speech, and he realized the man was offering him a way out - a way without any more killing. He knew he couldn’t trust Charlie after everything that had happened, but he had to make a decision, and he had to do it now. “Go with him, Shir - Effie,” he called out. The players have formed themselves in a perfect flanking array. “Do what he says. I’ll find my way out and come back to you.”

The green-eyed young girl player started to nod as if communicating a battle sign to the others.

Ben raised his rod. I have a choice. I don’t have to kill -

Charlie, who reached the desk, pushed a few buttons, and suddenly a loud screeching noise filled the room. It was loud enough to make Ben and Effie gasp and cover their ears, but the effect on the players was more profound - they stopped where they were and turned as one to look at the white pods around the room, their lips twisted in rage.

“Their minds are attuned to the pods!” Cried Charlie over the almost-intolerable screeching. “I saw Sullivan use it; I think I just called them back!”

“You think!” Shouted Ben back. He could hardly hear himself over the screech, and he gulped when he realized that he, too, was drawn to the sound - and that his mind was filled with the image of his white pod. He managed to force the idea out of his mind - his will was still strong enough to resist it - but that it had any effect on him was a frightening thought.

Charlie shrugged and grinned, and for a moment - a very brief moment - Ben felt like they were adventuring again together in the game. The moment passed when Charlie shouted again: “Go, skin! I don’t know how long this would last!” The screeching did seem to decrease in volume somewhat. “Effie, the button! Get ready!”

Ben forced himself to tear his eyes from the pod and looked from Charlie to Effie. I’ll be fine, he mouthed.

She looked at him with eyes full of tears. I’ll find you again, she mouthed back - and started running toward the desk that Charlie had talked about.

Ben wouldn’t let the bravery of his companions go to waste. He gathered his will, ran straight at the nearest exit, and went through and into a wide corridor. Behind, he heard Effie crying, “found it!” and then the doors shut close behind him, locking the VD shadow mage and warrior inside with the rest of the players.

Ben kept running without looking back. He ran as if possessed, away from the screeching noise that demanded he return to his pod, down a long and well-lit corridor. There were doors on both sides of the passage, but they were closed, and he didn’t pause to check where they led. He had to find a secluded place where he could stop and think and figure out his next steps.

Right in front of him was an open door. Ben ran through it without thinking. It led into a chamber that was even bigger than the game room. Ben ran. Slowed. Stopped.

A single white pod stood in the center of the room, larger than the pods in the game room. And next to the pod -

Ben breathed hard as he slowly moved forward. Next to the pod was a young man’s body, lying on its back and staring with dead eyes at nothing, just like it did in a nightmare Ben recently had. There was a hole in the middle of its throat, and its right thumb was missing.

Ben fell to his knees next to the body, which, by the hollow eye sockets and blackening skin, was decomposing for some time now. Almost a week, he thought numbly. I plunged my dagger through his throat so I could claim the Power Crystal as my own. I killed him.

A voice came from behind him, echoing his thoughts. “Yes, Ben, it was you who murdered your friend. How many more would you kill before the end?”

Ben felt hot tears on his cheeks as he turned from Mike’s corpse to face Sullivan Vincent, the CEO of SH Gaming and the man who held his destiny in his hands - and the fate of both worlds.