To the pilot, the complexity of the levita--requiring two to operate it--was a blessing in disguise -- alone, she would die from the boredom and the pressure of traversing the endless wasteland.

Countless screens and a few windows in the cabin gave her and her co-pilot a view of their surreal surroundings. Desolation stretched on as far as the eye could see, working as a wonderful anti-insanity measure. Something about seeing the outside world assured her brain that the levita wasn’t a prison.

“Y’know, luck can only run for so long -- how many days has it been without an encounter?” the pilot replied, reaching for a button, her tight blue uniform stretching around her arm. It might look like a spacesuit to an outsider, but having seen one, she couldn’t ignore the numerous differences.

“Four?” the co-pilot--whose voice was deep like a morono’s grumble, but frail like a pentainjection stick--responded

“Right. If you think about it, those damn things should cause some havoc for a week--maybe a bit longer, maybe not--before disappearing and letting us work in peace again.”

Nature always works in patterns. Humans could count on it--or what remained of it--to return to normal after a period of chaos. It worked the other way around too. After an age of flourishing, nature collapses into chaos out of which it slowly builds back up. In the end, that’s what had happened to humanity too.

“Yeah, I get that, but why is it so sudden? What could trigger all those blakills to go out and one of them to get so close to our levita...? Those red flickers?”

“Wild creatures are unpredictable and wild, especially blakills. And we’re not. No need to worry about it or try to figure them out -- we simply can’t. More so, we can’t know what red lights or beings might be hiding out of our view.”

“I’m not worried about them. I’m worried about the weirdness that came in just one night.”

Oddness was nothing unusual--the universe was one weird pot of swirling nonsense--especially to pilots. Yet any traveler with half a brain understood that all the weirdness coming together at once was the first sign of something bad.

“To think there’s only a year's difference between us… but don’t worry, you’ll learn, eventually, that shit happens in the world and there’re mountains of it in the desolation. But people only have a shovel and a choice: try to dig through or wave the bad smell away as you hike.”

“Huh… that’s your saying?”

“No, an instructor’s. I’ll admit: a pretty weird saying from a very weird gramps who kicked the bucket when a classmate put a contract on his head. Still, sound advice.”

“To ignore responsibilities?”

“To risk it and mind your own business.”

Like weirdness didn’t always mean something, something bad didn’t always mean it’d affect the person. Dangerous professions taught that the dangerous part had to be avoided best as it could. Not tackling the danger might end up harming another person, but tackling it might harm the one doing so. Minding one’s business was the way -- heroes died broke, injured and alone.

Anxiety riled her co-pilot up once more. “What if that blakill damaged a door or even the cargo...?”

“Then what could we even do about it?” If he wasn’t as young, she would’ve opened his copper helmet and given him a slap to be remembered like the academy’s lessons. “We’re the last shift and the wasteland is crawling with those things. Let’s say you’re right: do we go back to get a few crates or do we hurry up so the haste bonuses offset any possible penalties?”

“I guess we hurry…”

“You gotta more than just guess: no shame in spinning the clock and hoping that it don’t land on midnight!”

This time it was her saying, not a teacher’s. The old geezer’s ramblings inspired her, but she wouldn’t ever sound as cool. At least not until she reached fifty. By then, she could spend every day sitting at a bar with an overflowing bag of money tied to a belt and ramble as the teacher had, whilst everyone quietly listened

“Damn, am I hungry right now!” After a minute break, the conversation in the cabin returned. Maybe she’d listen to the co just to rid the place of the silence. Right now, she wanted to fantasize about the chief’s cafeteria she once sneaked in, out loud. “Imagine not eating for half a week then grabbing a fancy steak with a pipe and some wine!”

“Didn’t your class get a graduation lunchbox too? You keep dropping all this advice, but never bring food, idiot! Just-- just kidding.” The co-pilot sighed. “Maybe we could veer off course and stop at a--”

“Money! We don’t stop even if we’re starving -- the haste bonuses won’t grant themselves! I was just trying to talk about food... Anyway, have you ever thought about this control panel? Always weirds me out. Back at the academy, the outside matched the inside. Now, these new L3s look like damn spaceships, but when you go in it feels like exploring an ancient temple!” the pilot spoke her mind. “Why are all these knobs, buttons and damn screens here? We’ve had CHEKs for as long as I remember, but the damn Corporation still can’t make them work with levitas. We’re transporting million-credit worth cargo with literal rookie training equipment!”

“Yeah, and the fuel doesn’t even last a full trip…”

“Hold on, how much we got left?”

“Six percent.”

“Shit. We might make it, but I wouldn’t count on it.”

“So we might actually need to stop…?”

“No, we won’t. There’s a method: you take a laserpistol charge and put it into the secondary electricity port. It’ll fit, almost perfectly. And it’ll charge the levita. Hopefully. Learned it from an old friend and we might have to test his truthfulness.”

“How did your friend even discover a thing like that…?”

“Perks. Absolutely loved engineering, but couldn’t let himself slave away as a low-level Worker or a Pilot. So he trained endlessly. Gained insane perks. Naturally, they came with noticing tiny ass things I wouldn’t even think about.”

“Oh… speaking of… what are your Pilot perks? I feel like it’s taking forever to get anything...”

“I got the typical Graduate, Experienced in the Art of the Road II, Mechanical Traveler VII, but there’re also some rarer ones like I Am the Lead and You Won’t Faze Me III.”

“Any boosts come with them…?”

“The boosts I never notice, but the abilities are always a charm. You Won’t Faze Me, for example, slows down your perception for a few seconds when you’re in an extreme situation.”

“I’d like something like that myself… living with only Graduate and Mechanical Traveler I can be a pain, especially when I’ve got no perks outside piloting.”

“Classless family?”

“Shut up.”

***

Slowly, Tenner’s consciousness returned against the will of his body, which protested any sort of movement. His eyelids opened to reveal… nothing. Darkness. This place would seem like the endless oblivion of a hero’s death if not for the slight rattling and voices seeping from the wall behind him. It felt like being lost in space. His memories were taking their time coming back and explaining how he ended up in this place, and what those voices were. Those memories took some pretty strong hits and got fragmented, some parts here, others there.

One thing Tenner remembered and made sense was that the odd creatures got him into such a bad situation that even luck or a god couldn’t help. If his skills didn’t compare to the world’s greatest fighters’ and bounty hunters’, he wouldn’t have made it.

I did some incredible things tonight. He leaned back and closed his eyes. I deserve some rest. And a fancy meal. And a few million creds. Too bad I can only get one of these…

First, peace took over his mind. Then faces from his past appeared. Tenner ripped his eyes open. A meter ahead, the bottom of his face, whose short beard was graying, lit by the fuzzy TV screen, sat dad. His favorite, a simple wooden chair with a few off its corners clipped off, rattled a little. Tenner forced a deep breath, his limbs shaking and closed his eyes.

Dad was still there.

“Remember? Mom told you this again and again. I told you. But whenever someone tells a man the truth, he fights it. A man must live it to believe it,” dad spoke. “That mushroomhead, quietly parasitizing a corpse, could’ve left you alone, but it chose to attack. Those blakills waited just so they could corner and devour you. Even a fucking dafa led you into the depths of a forest. Everyone is looking after themselves. If you’re in their path, they’ll trample you. You did right looting that Margaret. If not for her stuff, that scum Desertlegs wouldn’t have died. Don’t tell me you don’t get it now!”

Dad stepped out the door of his home and froze at the sight. A mob, at least twenty people, with one in the middle carrying a pale child, waited five meters ahead. Dad ran to mom’s house, but there, another mob waited. He turned back to his home to find it ravaged, the fortune he’d amassed off his passion taken. Dad hid behind a tree, heaving, all of his thoughts coming into place.

The neighborhood knew he was the richest of them all.

They killed a kid to take all he had, didn’t they?

Tenner awoke, the back of his head crashing into the wall behind him, sweat soaking his clothes. He rubbed his face and touched the back of his head, making sure he didn’t bleed.

The dream faded, his memories taking its place. That’s why my body feels like concrete.

As he jumped on the vehicle, which a small engraving named “levita”, he banged on its cargo bay door. The metal had soaked kick after kick, chop after chop, whilst a light beside it scanned Tenner. At some point, he cracked and screamed for the thing to let him in.

His CHEK had responded.

[Fate Is My Weapon has succeeded! Manipulating nearby devices to being’s will…]

Before Tenner realized what had happened, the door slid open, the axe still lodged in the metal. He had crafted the weapon well: it held his entire weight without bending as he hung off the vehicle’s edge.

Tenner jumped back on the levita, took his axe and fell inside. It was dark. He stumbled through, bumping into every obstacle in the way, losing a dozen HP. Then a wall crashed into his nose. He lost balance, fell to the ground and slipped into a slumber as voices, who had to belong to the pilots, echoed into his head from behind him.

Didn’t I crawl past a shitton of loot? he thought, finished with recounting memories. The bullshit he had to go through was designed for him to repay the years of suffering spent locked inside Realm 349, and the suffering of his parents.

The universe had mysterious ways to punish goons and reward good people. The hobo was quite mad and disrespectful -- he got a plank to the face. Tenner was talented and destined for greatness -- in the darkness ahead, crates banged on one another. Lots and lots of crates. Lots and lots of loot.

Tenner stood up, swung his arms around to find balance and stepped towards the treasures waiting for him. A light went off in his head. He halted.

If I deserve this much loot for surviving so much struggle, I could get more if I jumped back out there. Those pilots talked about just how many creatures are out there. It’d be a field day for my axe.

Now that I’m well-rested, the amount of havoc I could wreak would be glorious. The number of levels I could get would be glorious! The perks… glorious!

An idiot who couldn’t spot patterns would say the idea was dumb, but Tenner was far from a fool. He was incredible and after a night of hunting creatures, he could become god-like. Then he waved the idea away. What kind of a monster-slaying bounty hunter will I be with just an axe and a coat? His CHEK started glowing a faint light, his hand reached for the loot.

***

Trudging through strands of wires hanging off the ceiling, Tenner kept half an ear on the pilots’ words. His knowledge of the real world quickly expanded, getting tons of info from a conversation just fighting boredom.

A lot of the “loot” was parts for the levita’s engines. The first thing, other than those spares, that Tenner reached was a glass box, which shined his CHEK’s light back at him. Inside, a triangle-shaped mechanism worked, changing into a hexagon and then shifting back, stuck in an endless loop whose purpose he had little chance to figure out.

Nevertheless, Tenner wanted to try and searched for a way to get to it, approaching it from a few angles. The box didn’t contain any loose screws or pickable locks. Unless there was a secret CHEK command or the glass shattered, it wouldn’t open soon.

Tenner’s axe tempted him to crack the glass, but judging by how easily the cabin’s conversation seeped through the wall, that little stunt would attract the pilots’ attention, if not the whole wasteland’s.

I don’t even know what this is. Tenner waved and approached the other loot. He might figure out how to open it one day, but right now there was no reason. It couldn’t be that the only things the levita carried were spare parts.

Beyond the glass crate were a few rows of similar mechanisms. Amongst them levitated a crystal, the height of a homemade wooden sword. Or so it looked held by the metal ropes of the crate that contained it. A metal plate kept the glass shut. Tenner opened it and groped the crystal. Its surface drowned his hand in sludge, though there was none. This has gotta be the weirdest feeling--

The sludge burned, like the air around his hand turned to pure lava. Tenner pulled the arm out, bumping the crate in the process. The crystal shook, unleashing a floating wave of sharp purple dust. It choked him. His lungs unleashed a fit of coughs. That much sound could easily go through the wall -- he choked himself with one hand. The other crawled up the glass crate, shutting it.

Drowning, he let light coughs out for a few minutes until he could breathe well enough.

They almost killed Tenner’s hope, but beyond them, tied to the floor with duct tape, laid some good cargo. Tenner took a pack of work clothes and a wrench. It must be traveling to a factory. Even though he had no use for most of the supplies a factory needed, a resilient outfit, tools and food were a completely different matter.

Under those supplies was a cardboard box with a few indecipherable symbols on its sides.

[Sign: Instruction Mini-Books, Volumes 1 - 10]

Tenner sighed and was tempted to leave the box unopened. Yet he dug in nonetheless. He read very little, but there might be useful information in those books. Perhaps clues about the world, tricks on improving faster or anything, really.

Most of the mini-books were instruction manuals, work rules and other junk. Volume 7 was entitled “CHEK Upgrades”.

Tenner’s eyebrow rose. There was neither the light nor the time or the will to read, but the book could come in handy. He shoved it into a shoe.

Tenner scanned the bay once more. Farther away, beside the closed entrance, were security guards’ supplies -- weapons, ammo and armor.

Putting the wrench and pack of clothes in his coat’s inner pockets, Tenner approached the jackpot. His hands grabbed as many little boxes of esoteric supplies, magazines and armor pieces as they could, shoving it all inside the coat. Once the weapon reached his hands, he slowed down, observing its every centimeter.

The metal was cold, the edges were sharp and engravings -- precise. This laserpistol was a tiny, more efficient version of the one his bounty had carried. Perhaps it would even hit.

Tenner blew on it and inserted a magazine of charges. The weapon released a quiet “zoooop” and three holographic dots appeared, floating a few centimeters off its right.

It was so efficient there wasn’t even any space on it for a screen.

There were massive engines under the levita that glowed and drove the floating truck. Because the levita never bumped into anything, the interior was relatively still, rattling a little from low flying clouds passing by, dust and the engines' inner mechanisms. Even though the traveling was perfect, no break smoothing technologies had been implemented. Whenever a vehicle went from top speed to zero in an instant, especially when it also fell to the ground, more than a subtle rattle was generated.

An overwhelming force flung Tenner in one direction, then to another, then to a third. His CHEK’s flashlight performed a light show as the things in his vision blurred, twisted and changed color.

[Warning! Damage: -2 to health!]

After Tenner crashed into half the crates the levita carried, everything calmed down. His stomach twisted and his vision returned to normal. He clenched his jaws, taking deep breaths.

There were shards on the ground around him, shattered crates, whose straps he’d loosened, and a few bends in the walls. A few drops of blood revealed shallow cuts on his hands.

Tenner grabbed onto a crate and got to his feet. One hand tapped his coat, making sure all the loot remained while the other wiped away its blood.

What happened?! Tenner thought, rubbing his head. Did this levita crash into a massive blakill?

Something popped and wooshed in the darkness right outside his CHEK’s light. Apart from those noises and Tenner’s breathing, there was nothing. Silence and stillness. The levita had stopped, its engines had turned off.

And the door had opened.