Behind the fort where the young heroes were battling the wolves, a hidden bunker shaking from the vibration of exploding spells.

A bald figure was mumbling as he twirled a lightning bolt accessory attached to the pommel of his sword. "Great Amagwu, grant unto we who brave the waters the swiftness of your lightning-kissed steel. Let our sails billow and our masts ache with the force of Tempest's breath, and cloak our passage inside her stealthy veil..."

Instructor Apari was alone in the bunker, the other trainers having just sailed off down the river under the cover of the flames. To bless their treacherous journey and his own to come, he'd been reciting an invocation to his patron Goddess. He'd also spared some words for those who'd never made it back to the fort, hoping Amagwu would guide their souls in choosing a more prosperous and peaceful existences in their next Cycle.

As if answering his prayers, a crack of lightning sounded outside.

Simultaneously, from a dark hole in the corner of the bunker, a stooped figure emerged, a Cutthroat with an assortment of Spelltomes strapped to his chest.

“It’s me, Bob,” Henry clarified, noticing the Instructor's grip on his sword hilt.

Instructor Apari, nodding, snapped his head towards the bunker's river-side opening above their heads, from which could be heard a series of unusual squishing sounds.

“Not wolves," said Henry. "My friend."

Instructor Apari—still mistaken about his affiliation, his nerves already on edge—tensed up with paranoia.

The Cutthroat outfit, the trainer observed. Surely not...no way...the members of Carcinogen wouldn't be so demented to save his life and then kill him? To what end?

The trainer, not taking his grip off his sword, watched as a woman leapt down to join them.

She was soaking wet after falling into the river, her straw-textured hair clinging to a square face, her wet shirt emphasising the spare tires of her belly. For a player, her avatar looked oddly homely, not resembling a youth of 2050 but a potato-planting, potato-stewing babushka.

Her landing, if one were observing closely, was slightly off balance.

Instructor Apari, as this woman waved her plump hand at the trainee and himself, caught a glimpse of the elemental droplets in her irises. There was one each of water, ice, wind, earth, and lightning, and two of fire - a Shaman who’d sworn allegiance to the Fire God Glathr. From the size of the elemental droplets, she'd risen to the 5th Tier, a much more powerful figure than himself.

Instructor Apari exhaled in surprise, not at her level, nor in fright, but because he recognised this frumpy Offworlder.

Caramel_Sprinkles_Sunshine, better known by her epithet, The Defiant Flame, on account of her specialising in fire magic despite this being forbidden by the local religion. She was a prominent member of The Company’s Suchi branch and a celebrity in The Slums.

Why was this figure, whose actions resounded across the world, here, in this bunker? Detecting no hostility from either of them, the Instructor frowned, as he tried to reassess the evening's events.

Henry, meanwhile, much more casual in his reaction, gave the drenched girl a nod. "Yo."

For him, Caramel was a former schoolmate and a member of his guild’s inner circle.

She'd been recruited by Alex to transfer his 'Digital Justice Club' at the same time as himself. Back then, a member of their school's Fencing club, she'd been recovering from a shoulder injury, and the beaver-head had convinced her that playing Saana would help her maintain her skills. Half a decade later, like Henry, she'd yet to escape.

The babushka avatar had been punishment for losing a stupid bet.

Caramel gave him a quick once-over. “Nice ninja outfit, dude.”

Henry shrugged. “Better than your used towel cosplay."

“Speaking of which," Caramel rang out the bottom of her shirt, "why aren’t you asking me why I’m soaked?"

“I heard the .”

“And that’s not surprising?”

Henry shrugged again. “It’s a bit complicated. One second."

Passing her by and climbing out of the bunker, he emerged on a circular earthen platform in the middle of the river, which resembled a boulder from outside.

With flames raging along its bank, the river was carrying away fragments of a destroyed boat and, in the distance, the trainers beating their oars.

Henry, pondering the absurdity of his coinflip to decide spells fitting perfectly with The Great Black's prophecy, wanted to test a theory.

Extending his hand towards the river, he summoned his spare reed-boat onto its waters.

As 'luck' would have it, no sooner did his vessel finish materialising was it bitten in half by a 6-metre long fish with armoured scales that'd been lurking below.

The monster, unable to eat the boat and blind to the human sighing on the opposite side of the illusion spell, dove back into the water and continued swimming along.

“What the heck?” remarked Caramel, standing beside him. “Aquatic monsters shouldn’t be down this way. The river's gated where it branches off from The Suchi.”

“Yep," said Henry flatly.

Also, more absurdly, that fish hadn't been a freshwater species; its natural habitat was nowhere near this place.

Reeds lined the other bank, and Henry could make a new boat, but he suspected it would be struck by a meteor.

That epiphany might have been distressing to most, but, paradoxically, it relieved him of all his prior stress, the absurdity popping his concerns like bubblegum.

It was simply too much.

He sent a frustrated message to someone.

-Bob From San Francisco: I know it’s you. What is this manipulative crap about? Is this The Cap questline?

No response came.

-Bob From San Francisco: I swear to god, Hannes, you've fucked me too many times. I don't owe you or Mayo anything that would justify enduring another minute of this dog-shit universe.

Who was 'Hannes'? God.

"What the heck?" said Caramel. "Is that a maple leaf? Here?"

Indeed, a leaf from this species unsuited to Suchi's savannah climate was floating down to them.

Henry quickly snatched it up.

On the blade were some scratches that were actually an ancient writing system. They read, 'Go to the end, my buddy. Trust me. You'll seriously regret missing out on the reward. No further spoilers.'

A game reward that Henry would care about? There was only one...

His gaze suddenly flicked a few centimetres from the leaf to his gloved hand, to the outline of the rusty ring hidden beneath it.

And his heart, much faster than while he'd fought these monsters, much faster than it'd beaten at all in recent days, began to race, to thud heavily in his chest, stirring back up some of the blood clogging his tired veins.

Henry, crumpling up the leaf and tossing it into the river, turned to his guildmate with a pleading look.

-Bob From San Francisco: Kara, my best friend, I need your help...