To pass the time, young Tenner wandered through the neighborhood’s row of shops, thoughts focused on the television screen.

Today he didn’t have to be careful -- the scientists who used him as a testing dummy were still stuck in class. They’d made walking around a rarity: Tenner spent most of his time in front of the TV, soaking up the fuzzy pictures of action heroes single-handedly blasting through waves of enemies, and the worship of rock gods on magnificent stages. The screen taught him all he knew. Along with his parents, it helped him realize the truth of the world: anyone could choose to be a hero. Anyone could kill anyone and it was the loser's fault for not defending oneself. Simply put, the world is a free place.

Yet Tenner held off from indulging in everything one could freely do. He knew too damn well what getting thrown into the barrier every single day of the week, being called the son of rats felt like.

Dad taught otherwise.

That man was never afraid to beat a disrespectful customer to pulp. So was mom not afraid to ravage her office once everyone left if the boss had assholish tendencies. Decades ago they met. Dad loved carving knives and molding them from all sorts of odd materials as much as he loved mom.

Then someone murdered a child using one of his knives. It caused as much outrage as the murder of a child tended to.

Mom and dad ran, hid in attics and basements, and tried getting out. To no avail. After years of exile, the neighborhood let them back in exchange for slaving away for a few years.

Such an experience molds a person into somebody completely different. Someone who’ll use every last drop of freedom the world offers because even that doesn’t compare to what they faced--

Tenner bumped into a kid. Long yellow hair and thin hands, the stranger tossed a few curses Tenner’s way. Tenner returned them. After an exchange, they started calling one another names, ten minutes later, falling into a fit of laughter. The time came for the scientists’ classes to end -- Tenner left with a smile on his face.

Days later, Tenner searched for him in school and in the streets. He’d vanished, then out of nowhere, appeared two weeks after their encounter. Tenner and Rob became friends. Being a part of a power duo, they had to get nicknames. Tenner’s name sliced down to Ten. And for some reason no one really remembered, Rob became Robot.

Robot and Ten were the same person: they grew up on TV, knew they were different from the rest, dreamt of glory and couldn’t bear being locked in the neighborhood their entire lives. Their only difference? Ten mastered cards and tricked other kids to fight the scientists, Robot -- explored and caused chaos.

Together they were unbeatable. And they were always together.

Ten woke up in the middle of the night from a loud noise from his window. He opened it and put his head through. Down on the ground, Robot stood, long hair covering half of his face.

“What are you doing?” Ten asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Come down, we’re gonna escape,” Robot said, his voice a bit unusual, and turned around.

“Hold on!” Ten’s eyes narrowed. ”How? Why?”

“Why?!” Robot spun around, frowning. “Did you forget everything we dreamt of?! There’s a whole world out there to explore, guitars to learn to play, stadiums to sell out! I should be asking you why… are you even waiting?”

“And how are we gonna do it?” Ten said. “We’ve checked every last centimeter of the barrier--”

“I found a way through. It opens at night. That’s all I can say,” Robot spoke. “I’m gonna wait at the Stardestructor table. You got fifteen minutes. If you don’t come, I’ll leave alone.” He headed out.

Ten shut the window and sat on the floor. What would he do? For fifteen minutes he worried before passing out. He couldn’t make up his mind that badly. First, he thought it was a well-thought-out prank Robot tended to pull. Then he thought it was real, but feared the consequences of jumping into the dark and leaving home.

In the morning, Robot was gone. It hurt more than getting thrown into the barrier. Half of Tenner felt his only true friend was taken from him. The other half felt betrayed. It made him realize all the things the TV showed were true and his parents had never spoken a lie. Even though Tenner forgot their nicknames and his friend’s existence, he’d always remember one thing: don’t fear.

Rob believed and found the freedom he wished for. Tenner was afraid and kept his pitiful life. Along with that lesson, the spark of darkness was born in him. He could let it blossom and achieve everything he wanted. Or he could keep it an ember and hurt no one. It depended on how much he cared about those around him.

Now that he remembered Rob, he had to ask himself: was Devon Dungeon--the hobo he killed--his best friend? Well, hopefully, there was no way that could be possible…

But he could just one day meet him in the desolation--

[Warning! Damage: -1 to health]

Tenner jumped out of his slumber. What? Am I the victim of a bird attack again...

The dafa slept in his grip. Traversing the endless desolation managed to bore to sleep not only Tenner. He managed to wander the wasteland whilst his mind wandered the past. Perhaps the dafa dreamed of its past too. He turned in every direction, searching for the source of the mysterious damage. It came without pain or visible injury: if not for the CHEK, hours would’ve passed before he noticed a thing.

On the ground behind laid a long trail of Tenner’s footsteps. No tiny ones beside them. That took the Death-Rodents off the list of suspects. The dirty clouds cleared, revealing a landscape of a dried-up river and trees that had turned to rock and let torn wires hang off their ancient branches. Beyond all of that, hills stood, covered in purple shards.

There was nothing that could damage Tenner.

Maybe it’s a glitch with the CHEK? he thought, searching for any indents or loose wires. Did I damage it somehow?

The thing was a bit dusty, but apart from that, in perfect condition.

Tenner concluded that it had been… something. He didn’t know how to figure out, nor was willing to bother: the damage came once and it could be ignorable. Though one thing it had screwed up was his sleep. Tiny purple crystals crunched underfoot with every step. It had to be an incredible sight for someone in the distance: a silhouette with a dafa in hand, traveling to who knows where.

An hour passed. The pictures of the biomes in Tenner’s path melted into one. Even though the desolation seemed bland, color shone through. The gloomy gray of stone tainted the naked hills, green of the loose leaves left alive dotted the forests and sand flowed through the plains. Somewhere in what used to be a pine forest, the dafa awoke. First, the bird fluttered, amazed at its new surroundings, then tried getting out, hopeful that it had been let go by the giant passerby. Then its head dropped, eyes staring at the hand tightly holding it. Tenner grinned. The dafa faced him, giggled and bit at the air to his right. He slowed down, scratching his chin. It is a wandering dafa, he thought. Doesn’t that mean it should know where to go? It must be leading me somewhere. He turned right and the dafa giggled once more.

The way led Tenner into the depths of the dead pine forest. Countless fallen and stonified trees surrounded him. With the added clarity of a thick layer of dirty clouds above, the visibility was as good as inside a dark cave. He turned the CHEK’s light on, giving himself a meter to see ahead.

[Warning! Damage: -1 to health]

Well, it hadn’t been a one-time damage. Most likely, exhaustion taking its toll. A hero couldn’t traverse the endless desolation without getting tired, taking a bunch of damage and winning a dozen fights.

Tenner made it into a clearing and the dafa started giggling. Dust arose from the treeline as something rustled.

Dafas, lots and lots of dafas, rushed out towards Tenner, giggling back to its fellow. Then, they noticed Tenner, bigger and stronger than all of them combined. The army stopped. He raised his eyebrow. Came to save their friend, but got too scared? Or are they waiting for backup? He stepped forth. A few dafas jumped and they all ran away. The latter. Tenner glanced at the one in his grip: it returned the gaze with the most disappointing expression a bird could have.

“I don’t think they were real friends anyway,” he said, turning back, then sighed. “I’m lost. At least you won that much, you evil bird.” No matter where the CHEK’s light shone, it seemed that every direction contained trees. Dense trees. And no footstep trail.

Time to forge my own path… Tenner hiked through the thick of the woods.

[Warning! Damage: -2 to health]

As he made it out, his chest began tickling. He coughed and banged it, a few seconds later, falling into an uncontrollable fit.

[Warning! Damage: -3 to health]

The dafa awoke, picked the right moment and ran away.

Tenner hurried to catch the bird again, but fell, coughing his lungs out, the corners of his vision darkening. His arm covered his mouth and nose while he tried clinging to consciousness.

A tide of damage warnings spawned and there was only one reason why: the air was toxic.

He tested it by putting his sleeve against his face.

When something filtered what he breathed, the damage was three times smaller.

With all the proof he needed, Tenner hurried. No, he didn’t know where he or anything was. But deep inside, something told him that the universe wouldn’t let him die. Not when he’d made it all this way and did so many good deeds over the last day. He could’ve killed the whole Realm! He could’ve eaten the dafa raw!

I’m expecting something! Show me a sign!

[Warning! Damage: -1 to Health] [4x]

[Being’s HP: ++]

Another great CHEK improvement was the shortening of the damage messages. Though Tenner wouldn’t appreciate them as they signaled just how quickly his HP drained.

Out of gray moss, from under fallen trees and mounds of dust, swarms of dafas emerged, and terrified, ran in the opposite direction from Tenner.

After a few minutes, the pine forest was behind him and the peak of a hill stood under his feet, sweat dripping down his face, soaking his sleeve.

Down the hill, large rocks littered a barren field. The remains of a road weaved in between them and led to a building. Hundreds of meters farther away, ascending dust formed a steep mountain of dense mist.

Ah! A sign!

After the rush of excitement, Tenner tumbled down the hill and ran to the mist. The pain in his chest became crushing. Every step seemed an impossible distance. This nuclear pain without a doubt wouldn't stop Realm 349's chosen one. But before he knew it, he was facing the building. He shivered from the thought of reaching the mist and its theoretical salvation.

The door wouldn’t budge.

Tenner pulled harder then let go and jumped at it. A loud bang sounded and the whole thing shook, but stood its ground. Grunting, he kicked and seeing he’d almost made it, jump-kicked.

Pieces of wood cracked off the door. It opened by a few centimeters. Tenner backed off and, staggering, collected all his strength, channeling the remaining energy into one brutal kick.

The door flew off its hinges, crashing into the floor tiles inside. Tenner rushed in, put the door back in the doorway then, spent, fell on his haunches and gasped for air, keeping his fingers crossed.

No more damage messages appeared, yet two-thirds of his health had vanished.

The distance to another Realm might not have been that far, but the idea that he’d need to find a way to breathe outside never crossed his mind. And it shouldn’t have -- what sort of toxic air starts working after hours and hours?! If it had instantly done him damage, he would’ve instantly caught on!

The person who made this planet unlivable did an awful job. Tenner turned his CHEK’s light on and gazed into the depths of the odd structure.

***

“Anyone who might be in here -- I look like I want to kill you, but I promise that I don’t.” Tenner's voice echoed off the walls of his new temporary hideout. The echoes faded. The darkness ahead remained still. He grabbed a sharp chunk of wood and stood up.

The building’s insides contained a few rooms filled with shelves of scrap and counters. It had to have been a gas station hundreds of years ago. Yet its overground part was vacant of interestingness like Tenner had guessed. He opened the metal trapdoor in the middle of the room and descended, confident he could whoop the ass of anyone discreetly waiting for him.

A dizzying smell of rot lingered down in the basement.

His feet reached the floor and his CHEK’s light cleared most of the darkness. The room was cramped with a few wooden crates, small piles of trash--some organized, some random junk--three empty beds--one of which was perfectly made--an open wardrobe full of clothes and a table covered in papers with a rusty lamp atop it. Whoever resided here didn’t live luxuriously, but had been used to luxury.

Tenner stepped forth, giving light to the rest of the basement.

In the corner, there were a plethora of holes in the wall. Under them, a corpse laid. Tenner frowned. That’s unpleasant, but not really unexpected. He grabbed a torn rag and threw it on the corpse’s face. Don’t stare at me. It’s disrespectful. His hand jumped to cover his mouth. That sounded a lot like my dad. Could make me think I’d let the darkness in if someone as perfect as me didn’t know he was fully in control.

The rag fell perfectly, outlining every detail of the corpse it meant to hide.

The body would’ve been the thing that scared the last shit out of any other explorer, but it unfazed Tenner -- a corpse couldn’t jump him nor call him names.

Perhaps, to whom this hideout belongs to will return. Tenner turned away from the corpse and contemplated looting the place for a while. Hopefully, by then I’ll be gone. He opened the crate closest to him.

This was a fight for survival -- any missed opportunity turned itself over as an advantage to the grim reaper.

Out here, nothing but Tenner mattered.

The crate contained a dozen colorful mushrooms that throbbed. Upon further inspection, tiny pores on its stalk became visible, seemingly the source of the smell of rot. Tenner put one in his hand to feel the odd pulsation then licked it. A mix of blood, dust and feces couldn’t compare to the putrid flavor its spores released on his tongue.

Coughing, Tenner dropped the mushroom and opened another crate. A chain inside it fought his efforts, stopping the lid from coming off. The crate contained a bunch of eroded tools and metal parts. He moved on to the last crate. Its cans of food shined the CHEK’s light back towards his eyes. His grin shot through both ends of his face.

Until now, Tenner had forgotten to eat or drink. Indeed, he’d captured the dafa to turn it into a meal, but it hadn’t been prepared nor did it smell nice. Now, not only did his stomach gurgle, but it demanded something to eat while his mouth became as dry as the wasteland it had recently passed.

Tenner opened a canister--took a whiff to be sure it wasn’t poison--and downed it in an instant. Then, he moved onto the food. His meal was a mixture of potatoes and mashed meat sitting in an open can. The mush didn’t have any rot and smelt like food. When poked with a finger, it bounced like jello, but that could be overlooked. Tenner finished it in three bites. Better, but I’m still hungry, he thought, eyeing the good-looking mushrooms. Wondering if eating helped with health, he opened his character.

The screen popped up and showed -- it did, but by very little. A second, almost transparent + had appeared.

The mushrooms called him. His body required at least one big bite. His instincts watered his mouth.

He bit off a chunk.

It rolled down his throat, filling his nose with the awful stench and mouth with the unbearable taste.

WHY?! WHY DID THESE HAVE TO LOOK SO--

[Health Immensely Increased: +50 to Health!]

Oh. I knew it all along! I could feel these mushrooms would lead to great things! Tenner wiped his mouth and approached the table. Yet I can also sense I shouldn’t ever eat them again and finish looting instead.

Atop the table, beside the lamp, laid a list of names with ripped-out pictures, some sort of schedule, a list of crossed-out goodies, and a diary with a burnt cover. Tenner picked the diary up and flipped through, reading an occasional entry.

“Day 3 ...Can’t believe I married a criminal. And not a normal goon who can sit in bars all day, rob grandmas all night and sit in jail if he gets caught. No, a class criminal!”

“Day 4 ...Nonetheless, love is love.”

“Day 6 ...Almost a whole week in this journey. Maybe… maybe I don’t love him enough to risk my life traveling to another realm. Can’t return now, can you, foolish Margaret?”

“Day 8 ...Petiola was right all along -- sixty years of experience goes a long way. Though now I’ve gotta listen to the second part of her advice instead. True love can wait when your life’s at stake.”

“Day 13 ...Surprise, surprise, we’re running out of food already. He set up camp in an ancient shop so we can get everything together. I’m not worried -- the food will last twice as long as he thinks it will.”

“Day 18 ...It was the right decision for me. But I still can’t let him go...”

“Day 20 ...Just found out that, taking his last breath, he tore my cloth mask. I can’t breathe if I get out of here. I’m stuck.”

“Day 21 ...Going for a hasty loot run. If I’m not back in an hour, I won’t ever be back.”

The book slipped out of Tenner’s grip and with a thud, fell on the table.

That corpse was male. He put everything into place. This building is like a gas station from the olden days… Damn, Margaret is a badass and about to come back. Until then, I’ve gotta get myself a mask, a weapon against the creatures that’ll be less friendly than dafas, and some armor for when the same creatures play dirty tricks and get cheap shots on me.

How in the world would he get all of that? Well... crafting!

In the past, he hadn’t been too great at it and now… also not. His attempt started off well as he stacked all the crates on the desk, then took out their parts and clothes. The mask came together with a chain and a thick cloth, and his weapon, which the parts available to him decided would be an axe, was made from metal tied by a few coat sleeves. There his lucky streak died in a blaze of glory -- the attempt at armor ended with a new pile of scrap and a fire he barely took out.

Waving away the smoke, an idea came to Tenner and he inspected his new weapon.

[Weapon: Makeshift Long Axe

Damage: min. 7]

My greatest success yet! Does a ton of damage and in my grip feels like a guitar to a rock god! Tenner patted himself on the back. The failure that was his armor caught his gaze. All out of materials, but I could get some more. Tenner turned to the ladder up.

The step under his feet broke.

He fell, smashing his nose and cursed, rolling around on the floor.

[Warning! Damage: -4 to health]

The ladder tipped back and crashed on him, shattering completely.

[Warning! Damage: -5 to health]

Fuck you, world! Such disrespect is unreal... Tenner grabbed the pieces of the ladder and started stacking them on the remains of the crate he’d destroyed. But I’ll prove this shitty planet wrong by making the best set of armor it has ever seen!

At the same time, in his view, but out of his focus, the rag slid off the corpse. It did it with some subtlety, not causing any suspicion that something might have emerged from its facial orifices.

Tenner finished the rickety stairs. Some parts could be added, but overall, the thing could be climbed with some risk. He took the risk and started clambering. The stack veered backward, knocking him off. Tenner’s heart dropped, but he managed to land on his feet, on something mushy… that started sliding up his leg.

A slimy snake-like creature with large, glowing eyes, a wide mouth and a large cap over its head nibbled at his knee. Tenner elbowed it off and gripped his axe. Right before the swing brought justice down on the odd creature, he inspected.

[Name: Mushroomhead

HP: 7]

[Non-C creature]

The axe splattered the creature and shook the floor.

Tenner sighed and wiped the slime off his leg then his eyes widened, his back landing against the wall.

Something shuffled in the floor above.

She’s back already?

[Notice! Nearby, a bounty is available! (This warning can be turned off in the Class Settings)]

***

The chain tightly held the mask over Tenner’s face, ripping strands of his short hair and a coat, which was way too big, hung on him like a massive bag. If the mask made sneaking hard, the coat made it impossible.

Tenner pulled his sleeves up then clasped the axe’s handle with both hands, spinning it around, feeling each of its crevasses and scratches. Perfect it felt. Footfalls and grunts sounded outside the door. Without the CHEK’s message, it would’ve still been obvious that Margaret wasn’t the one trying to get in.

Tenner crouched and waited, still as possible. He needed to see what would happen to decide what to do.

With every minute, the banging on the door intensified. The person trying to get in was desperate, perhaps close to death or an easy bounty. First, they seemed to kick, then the sounds slowed down and intensified, like person was throwing their whole body at the door.

Tenner started from each crash.

Who could be so relentless yet so weak they couldn’t open a door in one try, like I-- almost did?

[Nearby bounties: 1

Worldwide bounties: 8334]

[Expand nearby bounties?]

[Expand worldwide bounties?]

Expand nearby. Having learned from his previous attempt at checking the bounties, he closed one eye and readied his tongue to spit a swift “dismiss”.

[Ned “Desertlegs”

LVL: 8

Bounty: 130C$

Crimes: murder

Wanted: dead]

[Not required to accept contract before claiming bounty]

The crashing, banging and beating stopped, and the footfalls sounded from further away.

Tenner had to choose what to do now.

He was too good for such a low-level bounty. The target--Ned--had barely reached level eight and the money on his head was only 130C$. Logically, Tenner shouldn’t even waste his time, instead staying quiet so he could return to his journey healthy and geared up.

Though what was the point of his journey? To become the greatest bounty hunter. That wouldn’t happen if he didn’t hunt bounties and didn’t jump into dark sewers. On top of that, he missed humans, especially dead ones. His innate talent for bloodshed urged him to be entertained, whispering into his ear that Desertlegs bothered him and disrupted his peaceful crafting, therefore deserved to die.

Tenner stood up. It seems that people who have bounties are all like the hobo I killed, he stepped forward. Useless and ready to do me harm. He kicked the door down. Like dad would probably say, ending them is the only right choice -- time for murder Nr. 2!