2

An Insincere Apology

When the bus rolled up, Rian stepped on and deposited his fare through a mobile app. There were two other people seated, one staring listlessly out the window and the other staring into her phone. Rian took his seat near the front, and as the electric engine soundlessly propelled them forward, he stared out at the passing buildings. Dilapidated, shuttered, and closed. It had stopped snowing at least, but the sky was still blank and overcast—an empty, bleak gray.

He couldn’t wait to leave it all behind.

This new game was his chance. He felt it deep within himself: the opportunities, the untold adventures awaiting him.

And, of course, it was his chance to make a decent amount of money doing what he loved. If everything turned out well, streaming Mirage would be enough to support himself and his mom—instead of relying on the software royalties of his father’s work, which had begun to taper off.

That wasn’t even considering the income he could get from the player-versus-player scene, something he was more than ready to dive into. The e-sports community would be thriving for Mirage. With the level of control that the game offered, Rian knew he was a prime contender to become one of the best.

After all, he had one of the best coaches of all time.

Emily Karasawa. The legendary Azure, a professional Comrade Clash player.

Or, well, that’s what his mom had been, back in the day. Whenever Rian went to visit at her house, her room was always filled with greeting cards and gifts from the Comrade Clash community.

When she’d no longer been able to compete, it had certainly been dark day for them.

A few years had gone by since her diagnosis. The doctors had called it Isaac-Simmons’ disease, a condition arising from a genetic defect. It was a mostly invisible sickness, its symptoms only becoming apparent after it reached its final stages, later in life: a gradual weakness, spreading throughout the body. A hollowing of the bones, atrophying muscles. The decline was rapid once it began. Rian was thankful that it was at least a painless way to go.

As much as he wished he could pay for some kind of operation to save her, it just wasn’t possible. The disease was incurable. He supposed that even if a cure existed, playing video games for an audience wasn’t a likely way of affording it. There were other ways; he didn’t doubt the power of crowdfunding through social media, but he didn’t exactly have the greatest outreach as a gamer—a speedrunner, no less.

His mom had a few more years to live. He was going to make sure those years were comfortable and well spent. Given that Mirage was fully-immersive VR, she would be able to play in spite of her condition, and she was just as excited for the game. It was only a matter of coordinating with the caretaker staff at home. Once Emily got the doctor’s approval, she’d be ordering her headset.

Rian checked the time on his phone. As soon as he picked up the package and stowed it away within his apartment, he’d go visit her again. He still had time.

His phone was blowing up with texts from his online friends, asking him if he’d gotten his headset yet, what server and class he was going to play. They kept going on about how excited they were for all the gloriously addictive leveling, crafting, and combat mechanics they were expecting—and, of course, their endless theorizing about the unique features that the game would have.

If he’d had the choice, Rian would’ve stayed in the dark about Mirage to experience it “blind” for the sake of offering genuine reactions for his stream viewers, but very little information about the game’s world had leaked regardless. It was supposedly your standard MMO—or rather it was at the beginning. The further players got, the more unique things began to happen. Things no game had ever done. The closed-beta testers were under some hefty non-disclosure agreements, keeping them from giving certain details, but what they’d said about the game was incredible.

It was so lifelike that, for the first time ever, the distinction between game and reality was blurred. Not perfectly, but damn well close. Reflect Systems had chosen the name Mirage for more than one reason, the testers had said.

The bus rolled to a stop near the local supermarket, and Rian stepped out. According to the tracking app, the drone was stuck a few blocks away. It was currently sending out a distress signal—for use of the delivery employees to find and recover it. Thankfully, since Rian knew the tracking number, the locator app would match up with the signal’s frequency and point him to it. There was virtually no chance of someone else using the app to intercept it. The drone wouldn’t even physically release its grip on the package until Rian signed for it.

He breathed into his hands as he walked. It was only November and he was already missing the warmer months of Toronto. Then again, it wasn’t like he went outside much.

He stopped as the app told him to turn right into an alleyway, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the yawning darkness ahead.

Something wrapped itself around his heart.

It was enough to make him flinch, this feeling of something being wrong. Relaxing, he dismissed it. Just a pang of superstition. A few metal staircases wound up and down the alley, but there wasn’t anyone there. Even the light snowfall on the ground was absent thanks to the overhangs of the buildings.

Ahead, the drone lay on its side, a blinking light atop it. The package was still attached. Rian breathed out in relief and stepped up to it. There’s my fetch-quest for the day.

The drone’s body and propellers were disfigured and sparking as if it had run into something at high speed. Probably one of the railings of the staircases. Whatever happened had to’ve been some kind of massive equipment failure. These drones usually didn’t have navigation problems, but he supposed the cold weather must’ve gotten to it somehow.

He knelt down. The signing screen was still active, thank goodness. He punched in the four-digit delivery code he’d received earlier and signed his name. The mechanism released, and the package slid out of its grip.

He picked it up. The box was…lighter than he expected, which made sense given that he’d have to wear the headset for hours at a time. But he gently shook it anyway, just to make sure that it wasn’t empty.

Satisfied, he headed out of the alley. Or at least he started to, because the moment he looked up, someone was in his way. Blocking his path stood a large man in a black winter coat, un-zipped and with the hood up. He was already approaching.

Aw shit, Rian thought, are you kidding me.

“Hey kid,” the man said, stopping a few feet away. He tucked his hands into his coat. “Drop the box. Set it down and you won’t get hurt.”

Rian almost rolled his eyes. Of all the days this had to happen, it was on release day. He unclenched his jaw, quelled his frustration. No, he could get angry about this later. Right now, he needed to do something, and quickly.

Snapping to, Rian realized he’d been staring at the guy for a few seconds. “Uh…no?”

“Well, okay then,” the man said, shrugging. He started to approach again. From his coat he took out a metallic pipe. At first Rian thought it was a police baton, but a second later he recognized it as one of the supports for the staircase railings—sawed off.

So there was the cause of the “massive equipment failure” on the drone, Rian thought morbidly.

He started stepping back, adrenaline surging through him not for the first time today. The man swung the pipe at Rian’s hands, but he backed out of the way, barely keeping his balance on the slick ground.

Cool, my reflexes are still intact.

Take that, people who think video games are good for nothing.

As nervous was he was, he was primed for this kind of situation—making high-pressure decisions. All that mattered was his next choice.

There was no way he was fighting this guy. But if Rian turned to run, he couldn’t keep his eyes on him to judge the distance between them. It was a gamble. Rian was decently in shape; staying fit was important when you played video games for a living, and he could sprint for at least a minute, he supposed. But that was without having to carry a cumbersome box with a seven-hundred dollar headset inside.

And so in that second, Rian sized him up, turned around, and ran as fast as he could into the alley. He didn’t know exactly where he was, or where he was going, but he’d figure that out later. Right now, getting the hell away from this guy came first. Moving into the open would help his chances of the guy backing off. There was a street ahead, and it looked like there were people on the sidewalk.

He could hear the man’s running footsteps. Judging by their sound, Rian had widened the distance. He took the chance and looked over his shoulder. The guy was barreling toward him with the pipe raised, but he wasn’t getting any closer.

The end of the alleyway approached, light returning.

Thank goodness, that was a close—

Pain exploded across the side of Rian’s head. Slipping, he fell backwards, releasing his grip on the box as he collapsed. A second later, a loose metal pipe clattered to the ground beside him.

Something was very wrong—more so than the fact that something had crushed itself into his head. For the speed of the impact, he knew, it hurt way more than it should’ve. The way it had struck was like everything had lined up perfectly to break something inside him. It felt as if a drill had opened a hole in his skull, but he didn’t feel the warmth of blood cascading down his head. And yet the pain was so strong that he could barely move. He couldn’t even breathe in to scream.

A nasally voice spoke down at him.

“Sorry, Cob.”

With one eye closed, Rian squinted up at the man who’d struck him with the pipe. If there was ever an example of a textbook nerd, he was standing over him: skinny, pasty, wearing thick glasses, face full of acne. He was cradling his hand and rubbing it as if he’d hurt it. He stepped away from Rian and picked up the box, which had slid away.

“Well, I warned him,” the other, larger man said, panting as he caught up. “Damn, how hard did you hit him?”

The pain in Rian’s head built to a blinding pressure. And yet he wanted to laugh, because as everything began to darken, it occurred to him that his last thought was going to be: shit, you really got outplayed this time, huh?

All the sounds of the world around him muffled into each other, rising into hushed static like ocean waves until he couldn’t see anything anymore.

“What a shame.”

Her voice startled Rian into waking, but when he opened his eyes, there was nothing but darkness. When some part of his mind rationalized it as being nighttime, relief swept through him. He’d survived. He’d made it far enough out of the alleyway for someone on the sidewalk to find him.

Alleyway? Sidewalk?

Everything was still fuzzy. Where had he been going, before?

“I wish it hadn’t taken so long,” the woman continued, her voice like velvet, “but at least it’s working.”

“Are you sure about this one?” Another voice—male, but the pitch was higher than hers. “I don’t see what makes him so different from the rest.”

“Nothing, actually,” the woman said. “Well, there is something different about him. It’s a bit ironic. There’s no way to know if it’ll make a difference or not, though.”

Rian tried to speak, but his body still wouldn’t move. What the hell were these pedestrians talking about? It didn’t sound like they were helping him.

“I thought you were supposed to be all-seeing,” the man said. “Wouldn’t you know the outcome ahead of time?”

“I’m not all-seeing,” the woman said, irritated. “Not like I used to be.”

“I suppose that’s true. He is the fourth one, isn’t he?”

Rian stirred. Faintly, he could feel his body again. His vision was still darkened, but he was standing, and above him there were slivers and blobs of light coming down as if he were at the bottom of a lake. And, worryingly, he didn’t feel the urge to breathe.

“Can you hear me?” the woman said, closer now. There was a pause, as if she were expecting Rian to answer, but he still couldn’t speak. “Good,” she said. “It’s almost time to begin. You can open your eyes, now.”

As if her words had lifted a weight upon him, he let his eyes drift open. He was still floating in darkness, but there was the soft reflection of a floor against an unseen light.

Am I…dead? he thought.

“Not quite.”

Rian turned, and there was a petite man standing in the void with his hands folded behind his back. He wore a dark, purple suit and bow tie—a butler’s tuxedo. Two pairs of stubby gray horns protruded from his head. Smiling, he blinked: his pupils were long and vertical like a cat’s.

“What a hand you’ve been dealt,” the man said. “Things couldn’t have gone much worse for you.”

Where am I? Rian wanted to say, but he still felt something pressing against his throat. This is all just a dream, isn’t it?

“Maybe. Whether or not it is, who knows?” The man splayed his hands, gloved in white. “What matters is that you survived, and now the games begin.”

Games? Something about a game in a distant life—Rian remembered. There was a game he was going to play, one that he’d been looking forward to. But now there was nothing, he felt, just as there was nothing all around him except for this strange creature resembling a vampire or a demonic butler.

“You may call me Corvis,” the butler said. “And I’d prefer you think of me as your guide.”

Oh no. This wasn’t what he thought it was, was it? That hit to the head—it had killed him after all, and now…

A guide to the underworld was standing before him.

“You’re not dead, Rian,” Corvis said with growing impatience. “You’re ruining the bit.” He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. “I don’t suppose you’ll believe me, but you’re still on Earth. It’s really not that hard to understand.” He turned his head and spoke aside, “Please, if you will. It’s almost time.”

Footsteps clacking upon the void, stepping forward was a woman dressed in flowing black and violet trimmed with gold. Standing above her ears were twin pairs of horns which bulged outward then inward before rising tall to sharpened points. Long, black hair shimmered where it slid across the jutting folds of her dress. Amethyst jewels glinted and dangled from her ears.

“Oh, how could you let this happen?” she said in mock chiding, gently shaking her head. Tsk tsk. “Letting the world take things from you like this. Doesn’t it anger you? Doesn’t it fill your heart with fury? It’s such an age-old tale. Isn’t it?”

She stepped closer, pressing a hand against Rian’s chest as she leaned over him. Her irises glowed with shifting color, pupils shaping and reshaping into fractals, sacred geometries.

“Here’s your second chance,” she said, fangs spilling over her red lips. “Your chance to take everything back. I know how much you humans just love revenge. Even if you think you don’t. It’s a primal part of yourselves that needs”—her eyes flared wide—“satisfied.”

She placed her other hand against his left shoulder, and Rian smelled something burning. Smoke rose from her palm as light seared through the cloth of his t-shirt and onto his skin. It was painless, but he felt the urge to scream as if in reflex. Yet something held his fear at a distance.

When she pulled her hand away, between the molten remains of his sleeve was a symbol etched into his shoulder: a “Y” with two extra branches splitting outward from the first pair.

“She’s going to be missing, when you wake up,” the woman said. “But she will be here, with me. All you have to do is…”

Her hand, still against his chest—she released it, and he began to fall backwards as if that had been the only thing keeping him here.

“Return,” she said as he fell through dusty curtains of wind rising up around her, a howling gale that let only her last words through: “To me.”

He fell, and the fall wasn’t stopping. In a few seconds, he knew, he was going to end up somewhere else. And when he woke up, nothing would be the same. From this sense of finality came a moment of clarity to his thoughts, everything in his life flashing before him.

He was a bit disappointed, if anything. He’d only just gotten started with life, and things had really started to kick off recently. But that was how it went, he supposed. Nothing was ever fair, and disasters always seemed to strike whenever life was finally turning around. He’d really wanted to play that new game with his friends, but…

Oh my god.

Did that mean—

The realization struck him. It was really happening.

He had died and was getting reincarnated in another world. It was just like one of those old Isekai stories back from the 2010s!

He couldn’t believe it. He was going to be free.

He was finally going to live out one of his—