Frank biked to the golf course that was the source of the creature he’d earlier captured. He took an indirect route, looping around and pedalling away some of his stress. It helped a little. He approached the golf course from the south, ignoring a few creatures that were too far away to close in on him. He entered through the clubhouse parking lot, which let him seamlessly get onto the paths snaking through the course, and started exploring. The density of creatures started getting higher as he went further towards the center of the grounds, enough that he eventually was forced to dismount and start fighting them off.

They were neither intelligent nor large, which meant he had a pretty straightforward time dispatching them. Each had the rough form of a common mammal; a cat, dog, pig, bear, cow, but they were never more than half of Frank’s size, and they always had weird additions and substitutions that were as detrimental as they were useful. One pig had nasty, sharp horns, but they were so big it’s head drooped and when it rushed at Frank, they scraped the ground, leading it to ineffectually try and stab him in the shin before he dispatched it.

Frank kept the bike with him as he went further in. He simply left the kickstand extended, and when something approached him, set the bike aside to dispatch it. Over the next hour, he made a loop of the course, all along the path, but did not find the entrance to the dungeon. Although the edges of the course had fewer creatures, the middle portion distributed them relatively equally, meaning that besides generally predicting that the entrance would be towards the center, there was nothing to do but search outwards.

Frank roughly moved to where he thought the course’s dead center was, and starting searching out in a spiral. It took half an hour of careful searching, but eventually, he stumbled upon the entrance, hidden in a sand trap. He’d seen that a few times, always in urban areas. If people were going to be nearby anyway, the dungeons didn’t always announce themselves. Once he’d noticed the steel hatch door, a system message appeared.

Secret Genetic Splicing Laboratory

Level 7 Dungeon

Depth 16

Unclaimed

Watered

He entered it immediately. Inside, he found himself in the same nearly featureless starting room. This time though, everything was made out of sheets of metal, riveted together. That made the ground quite uncomfortable. The panels of steel were small enough there would be no way to lie flat. They flexed slightly whenever Frank stepped on them, groaning loudly. He’d just made it in and could already tell this would be obnoxious.

Without the constraints of the passage of time and the consequent future, Frank immediately relaxed. In the dungeon, all the most urgent matters could be put off as long as you had sufficient food. He’d missed the ability to do so during the last few years of his first go around. He didn’t try and immediately get to work, or move on to his next task, or confront what was bothering him internally. He just sat, using his pack as a backrest. He focused on his breathing, and rested, not thinking, not moving.

His rest lasted long enough that he lost track of time. Thoughts gradually drifted back in, and Frank gradually came back to the present. Anxiety returned with that, but it was lesser, muted. He made a plan. A simple one. He’d find the freshwater, eat sparingly from what he packed, and stay there until he ran out of food. He acted on it immediately, standing up, adjusting his shield, putting on his pack, and wielding his mace

The dungeon passed quickly, despite the higher levelled enemies. Only a few creatures that were specifically resistant to blunt force due to thick padding, took more than a moment to dispatch. It was laid out much like all the others, a nest of hallways, rooms, and forks. Within an hour, he was at the midway point, and thus a second safe area. It was an empty room with a safety shower in one corner, and a metal bench suspended from the wall across from the shower. Frank looked it over. This would be his space for the next few days at least.

He took off his pack and removed the contents. He looked at the amount of food he’d brought. He’d just stuffed what he could fit in there when he hastily moved to leave. Upon examination, there was enough for him to spend two weeks in the dungeon if he ate sparingly. That was more than he’d thought he’d grabbed. He also had brought his writing supplies. That’d be the primary occupation for his time. At the bottom of his pack was still the stack of books and scrolls the system had given him. He ignored them for the moment.

Instead, Frank started expanding and revising his basic overview of the system and the situation further. He started by just listing every single monster he could remember and shortly describing them. A name, physical description, what they did, and how dangerous they were. The explanations of their threat level were not systematic. Frank just associated appropriate words. Goblins were threatening in groups. Skinwalkers were an existential threat to any group of humans. He wrote down over twenty by the time his mind started to rebel from the continuous intellectual labour.

He then got up, ate a small meal, and shadowboxed with his mace. This cycle continued until he felt tired enough to sleep, at which point he made himself as comfortable as he could given the floor, and fell into slumber. Writing, practicing, sleeping, Frank subsumed himself in the repetition. He didn’t leave the room, except to take care of bodily functions. It was only when he realized he was already halfway through his food that he paused. The passage of time in his memory was unclear. Frank had written almost a hundred pages of notes, between his expanded document and his treatise on melee combat.

There was a feeling of accomplishment with that, a sense of usefulness that contrasted sharply with how he’d felt when he first entered. Frank sighed, then dug into his pack. He pulled out the scrolls and the books. Scrolls were known to be useless. They were either written in an unknown language or contained nonsense like the poem. Frank decided to tackle the books first. The newer one was written in an unknown language, so he put it aside. First, would be the dictionary.

Frank skimmed through it. It wasn’t complicated, or particularly large. The language being described was very simple. Five consonants and two vowels, though apparently, some dialects had three. Kuh, Buh, Nuh, Suh, and Ruh, linked with Ee, and Ah. Except for the sentences being structured verb-subject-object, it had nothing that needed to be kept in mind. Frank grabbed the other book. It wasn’t written in the Latin alphabet. He stared at it for a few minutes, trying to connect what he saw to the dictionary. That was a waste of time. If they were connected, he’d have to get someone else to figure it out. Maybe Rina would be up to the task.

Instead, he pulled out the three scrolls he had, currently unread. The first, upon examination, was a cookie recipe written in pig Latin. The second was either a coded message or complete gibberish, and Frank assumed the latter. The third was immediately recognizable as the language in the dictionary. Frank looked at it. It was written with the familiar letters that he understood but lacked punctuation or spacing. Translating it was tedious but perfectly doable. Because of the lack of spacing and punctuation, what he ended up having to do was translate the first two letters, then the first three, then the first four, until he had a list of possible words, and continue like that, guessing which one made the most sense. Eventually, he made sense of the document and had written a simple translation.

Final opportunity for us all. Only we four remain in perfect form. The rest have been made lesser. Failure is the end. Without a true person remaining, no way to accept redemption, even if goal one day met. Kobolds prove this.

It was a fragment of a larger conversation. Frank thought back to the phrase he’d heard that goblin chieftain utter. It’d clearly been language. It was hard to remember them exactly since he hadn’t understood them. All he could do was try to recall the exact sound. He wrote down what he thought it had been. ‘Rik a binak sab, in ni abik abin.’ Translating it was much easier. ‘With this final failure, all hope is lost.’

Frank frowned. He’d be an idiot not to see the connection. More evidence piling on that he was being communicated with. He pushed everything aside. The thought almost made him shake. The recognition of that made his stomach sink like a pit. He was struggling to reckon with the fact that his intuitions about the world were being upended. He’d already done that the first time around. Frank felt it made no sense for it to be this hard to deal with, yet it stopped him in his tracks.

The phrase he had just translated kept repeating in his head, despite his temporary attempts at clearing his mind. Frank had already failed once. ‘This final failure,’ was that not analogous to his current situation? Could he possibly succeed continuing the way he had so far? Frank thought about it, and with a sinking feeling, he concluded that, no, he wouldn’t make it.

He wondered if it was his lowered stability that had him so out of sorts, but ultimately, it made no difference. He’d already decided not to increase it further. He forced himself to do something productive in the moment. The system was communicating with him. Could he communicate with it? He grabbed a piece of paper and sat there wondering what to write. He knew that the system could probably read his thoughts, but Frank still chose to write it down. He waited several minutes, hesitating, but finally, put pencil to a piece of paper torn from his notebook. His statement was simple. ‘If you are trying to communicate, send a mask.’ He placed the piece of paper on the floor, then gathered his things up. Arming himself, he left the safe zone and hunted a few of the odd creatures populating the dungeon.

After half a dozen with no drops, Frank stopped. He didn’t feel like mindlessly hunting them until something happened. The sense of relief he’d felt at actively confronting what had been worrying him was fading back into tension as he was left hanging. Frank returned to the safe spot midway through the dungeon. He took a small meal, then tried to focus back on his document. It was fruitless.

Frank decided to sleep instead. He’d spent enough time in stressful, dangerous situations that anxiety didn’t get in the way of that. Within a few minutes, he was slumbering. When he woke up, he tried once again to make more progress, but it just didn’t happen. After a few hours of fruitless staring, he gave up. Though he still had a fair bit of food left, he was done. His mind was fixated on his weakness, and the thought that as he was now, the situation was hopeless.

He gathered his things and moved back to the entrance, cutting down a stray creature as he did. Once outside, he grabbed his bike and headed back for the castle. He’d cleared the area immediately around it, making for smooth sailing as he exited the golf course. He did pause to capture another creature for identification. He rode straight back this time, returning as fast as he could. It was early evening when he passed through the broken gate and made it back. Bill was waiting just inside. He looked at Frank, about to say something, but then paused, staring at his face for a second.

“Your facial hair is longer,” Bill said, brow wrinkled.

“I found a dungeon,” Frank responded. “Did some writing. Made a decision.”

Bill’s face softened in understanding. Then Frank grabbed another disabled creature from his trailer. His face immediately fell.

“We have to figure out a better solution than that,” Bill said, distaste obvious. He didn’t hesitate to finish it off with his sword though. The message confirmed both of their humanity.

“I’m all ears on that,” Frank told him, stepping inside. “I have an announcement to make to everyone. Gotta lay some things on the table. Make some changes.”

Bill looked at him. “Seems a bit abrupt,” he said, before shaking his head. “Right, dungeon time.”

Frank walked into the parlour, spying Rina sitting on one of the couches, engrossed in a book. Frank glanced at the spine. She was reading the Phantom of the Opera. Frank took a deep breath as he saw the mask on the cover.

“There’ll be a meeting here in a minute, I just have to gather everyone else,” Frank told her.

He found Maria upstairs, cleaning out a room for herself. Felix, after a brief search, was in the cellar.

“What are you doing down there?” Frank asked him from the top of the stairs.

“Practicing with ice,” Felix said. “Rina noticed you threw out the fridge. She and Bill started talking about how to keep food cold. I thought I could do that, chill this place.”

Frank looked at him. “If you can that’d be really helpful. I’m going to be holding a meeting in a moment, in the parlour.”

“Okay,” Felix said. “I’ll come to listen.”

Frank went back inside, sitting down in the parlour. A minute later, Felix followed. When everyone was seated, Frank began.

“I went and found the nearest dungeon. Spent some time inside thinking. I came to a couple of conclusions. The first is that I’ve been doing things and seeing if you will follow when there needs to be a leader. I haven’t really taken any sort of authority except over fighting and how to fight. Up until now, I’ve left everything up to you guys whether you do what I want or not.” Frank looked at each person in turn.

Bill nodded in agreement. Maria met his gaze. Felix was more confused than anything else. Rina waited expectantly.

“I’m going to change that. I think that if things continue as they are, I will fail.” Frank stated.

“So what are you going to fail at, and what exactly are you going to change?” Maria asked.

Frank looked back at her. “I’m going to fail at accomplishing anything with this second chance. What I am doing now will not work. It isn’t enough. I’m not enough.”

It was funny. Admitting it to himself had been harder than saying it out loud, and having admitted it, he felt better. He mulled that over for a second, before continuing.

“Not only am I not enough. None of you are enough. Us together aren’t enough. I’ve thought it over. Giving other people knowledge won’t help enough. Helping other people won’t be enough. There needs to be a leader, and that leader has to take this situation seriously, and focus on survival,” Frank said.

“And you think it should be you?” Maria asked, her eyes narrowed.

“I think that for someone to do what is needed to make sure we make it, they need to understand this situation. If I spread knowledge around and wait, someone might be able and willing. They might even also have the power to act on what they’ve realized. Or that might also not happen, and even if it does, in the meantime, the opportunity to act now will be lost,” Frank explained.

“Okay,” Maria said. “That’s a way better idea than anything else you’ve done so far. I think the fact you were so stupid about it originally makes it more convincing that you actually believe that.”

“Why do you know things?” Felix asked. “Everything seems to revolve around you knowing things, Frank. I don’t understand.”

“I’ll tell you if you properly explain what happened to you in the dungeon,” Frank replied. “After I’m done with this.”

Felix looked at Frank uneasily. “Later, then.”

Bill spoke up. “So you want to take over, then. What’s the plan for that?” He asked.

“I don’t have one yet. But that’s solvable. We grab as much food as possible tomorrow, and move it all into the dungeon, and brainstorm there.”

“How are you going to get people to listen to you?” Rina asked. “Almost no one believed you in Redstone.”

“I don’t know, yet,” Frank told her, honestly.

Rina’s face betrayed her uncertainty, but she didn’t rebut that.

“Tomorrow morning, I’m going to load my trailer full of food and supplies at the grocery store, then drop it off in front of the dungeon. I’m going to stay until I’ve fully written out an extended version of my pamphlet; I have a coherent plan for leading the region, and I’ve written, in rough form, an explanation of how I fight.” Frank outlined his immediate plans, then got to the most important point. He fell silent for a few moments, before forcing himself to just say it.

“I want all of you to help me get supplies there. If you do that, I’ll consider you having repaid me for the equipment. Once that’s done, if you don’t want to go with me, you can go your own way,” Frank told them all. “I’ll figure out what’s next inside.”

That was it. He hadn’t said much. Only two substantive statements. He’d decided to lead the way, and if they didn’t want to help, that’d be the end of it. They could go. Whether or not they went was something he didn’t want to consider at the moment. Frank didn’t let anyone ask questions after that. There wasn’t anything substantive to talk about. Instead, he went outside and walked the grounds. There was too much nervous energy for him to sit still.

It was while he paced, following the wall that marked the edges of the property, that Felix came and found him.

“Why do you know?” Felix asked again, forgoing any sort of greeting.

“Because I remember it,” Frank said. He chose his words carefully. “You got your ice, I got memories.” Frank didn’t directly say he was a time traveller. Fortunately, either Frank had been sufficiently deceptive, or Felix didn’t care. He accepted that explanation without hesitation.

“He spoke to you too?” Felix asked, emphasizing ‘he’.

“Do you mean the system?” Frank asked, cautiously.

“You have,” Felix confirmed, half to himself. The man then fell silent, a look of contemplation on his face. Frank waited, as it was clear he was considering something. Felix frowned but soon resolved to say something. There was a bit of fear in his voice as he did.

“When He spoke to me, the devil tried to hurt me. I received His gift, and then a horde of creatures tried to destroy me. There is something that works against Him,” Felix told Frank. “I fled them, deeper and deeper until they were no longer able to follow. The further you go, the closer to His light. Only His word stopped me. I found the place where I would wait for the deliverance promised, I stayed there.”

Once again, Felix was contradicting himself. This time though, he seemed to be saying something he hadn’t wanted to share, Frank thought.

“How exactly did you get your magic?” Frank asked him. It was Frank’s turn to repeat a question.

“He asked if I wished to accept the power, and he told me to eat of his flesh if I did,” Felix said. “I accepted His grace.”

“You received a system prompt?” Frank clarified. Felix nodded in response.

“Your turn,” Felix said.

Frank’s explanation was simple. “I woke up the morning this happened, and I felt like a different person. I had the memory of a life I hadn’t lived, of going through this.” Frank gestured around. “I remembered dying. When the tutorial happened, it matched my memories. Everything so far has.” He said nothing untrue, but couched his answer in the language of a revelation, trying to appeal to Felix’s religious experience.

Felix nodded. “I believe you. I will follow you because you were sent, and I was placed to meet you. I want you to know this, and I want you to know you have a divine purpose.”

Frank didn’t know how to reply. He didn’t trust Felix. It’d be ridiculous if he did. He replied generically. “Thank you.”

Felix nodded, then headed back towards the castle. Frank waited a few minutes, mulling over Felix’s explanation of how he got magic powers. If the account was truthful, that meant that going deep into the diversions was a possible way to gain them. It also implied that communication became easier the further from the path he strayed. If Felix actually was starving, he couldn’t have been in for more than a week or two. That was still far further than Frank had ever risked going. The possibility of just ending up in a situation where navigating back became impossible was too high. Felix hadn’t found his way back, which was further evidence of that. He had been rescued by the dungeon being completed.

So then, how could Frank get far enough in, and then be confident he could get out? The only way he could think of was to have someone clear the dungeon after a set time. Say, two weeks. The problem was that the only person who could be relied on to clear a dungeon was himself. That meant that the only viable way of testing what Felix said is to convince someone else to go check, and then clear the dungeon and ask them. Probably a lot of people, because there were finite dungeons and thus finite opportunities to check.

That sucked. He’d have plenty of time to think of a better solution, but neither the idea of going himself and hoping someone else could extricate him, or sending dozens of people off into probable death to test a hypothesis felt like good ideas. Frank shook his head and headed back towards the building.

Inside, Rina and Maria were engaged in a discussion. They paused when Frank walked by. He left them to their conversation in the parlour, heading upstairs. It was evening, but not late evening. He knew there were things still to do inside, but the fact he would be absent for so long immediately following tonight sapped any will to work on the place. Instead, he pulled out his notes on combat, now dozens of pages, and continued adding things. At this point, the most obvious suggestions, rules, and notes had all been laid down, albeit haphazardly, and so Frank shadowboxed in his head, reliving past fights and imagining new ones, trying to stumble upon things he had not yet consciously thought about and written down. He did this until the sun dipped low enough that he no longer could see easily. Unfortunately, that was earlier than normal, due to the smoke above. Without the ability to see, he simply went to bed.

***

Hayden sat on a folding chair, bored, on the Seattle end of the Evergreen Point Bridge. In front of him was a folding table, with handwritten forms in a neat stack, his bricked cellphone converted to a paperweight. A few feet further, a few cars had been arranged into a barrier, funnelling anyone who came to his checkpoint straight to the table. It was too dark to read, electronics didn’t work, and he’d gotten bored of whistling an hour ago. Soon though, he’d be done, and the people who’d volunteered to man it overnight would come, set up a fire, and he could head back for some sleep.

The fire, across the lake, had largely died down. It still burned in place, but the bulk of the fire was fading away. He glanced at it for what felt like the hundredth time, staring at the same shoreline, the same plume of smoke, the same red glow. A red dot caught his attention. It looked like it was on the bridge. He focused on it. Maybe it was survivors? Could they have found a safe spot and then moved when a path through the fire cleared? The light gradually got bigger. At first, they slowly seemed to be getting closer. Hayden assumed they were burning a stick being held up by someone fleeing towards Seattle. It took so long for the light to make it through the last third of the bridge and reach him that he grew bored of watching it, too, and glanced around.

He looked back. The light had gotten closer, and it had resolved into two distinct sources. They smouldered as he stared at them, and he felt like he was looking into the eyes of some terrible creature.

With a sudden burst of speed, the light began rapidly approaching him, eventually revealing the silhouette of a figure sprinting in his direction, eyes burning with fire. Hayden responded to this by attempting to get up and run, but in his panicked haste he ended up tripping and falling. He slammed his elbow hard on the pavement, shouting out a curse. Then, intense pain shot out from his neck like a lump of hot coal had been placed on the back of it. It only lasted a short moment before he knew no more.