Chapter 6: Level 20, Mildly Panicked, and Hugging My Last Nerve
(Chris's POV: Now With 300% More Existential Dread)
So there we were—me and Diana, the unofficial co-captains of the "We're So Screwed" squad—sitting on a magic bench in a magic palace trying to figure out who else we could convince to join our "let's not die horribly" adventure.
Diana had just suggested we try to recruit that girl who looked like she could fry a demon with her pinky when I felt a shiver run down my spine. Not the magical kind. The "someone-is-standing-way-too-close-behind-you" kind.
I turned around.
There was nothing there.
Which, honestly, would've been fine. Maybe a ghost. Maybe indigestion. But then, out of literally nowhere, a voice spoke up. Flat. Quiet. And definitely too close to my ear.
"I'll join your team."
I jumped. Diana nearly flipped backward over the bench like she was doing a gymnastics routine no one asked for.
Then—pop—Felix appeared. Not dramatically. Not with a puff of smoke or glitter or even a magical "ta-da." Just faded into existence like someone had turned the opacity slider from 0 to 100. Black hoodie, pale face, eyes that said please don't talk to me even louder than his words did.
"Felix?!" I squeaked. "Dude, we were just talking about you! Were you invisible this whole—wait, were you following us!?"
He blinked slowly, like I'd just asked him whether he liked paper or plastic. "I said I'd join. But there are rules."
Diana and I glanced at each other. I knew that look—the 'we are absolutely dealing with someone who may or may not vaporize us for breathing wrong' look.
Felix continued, holding up a finger with each point like he was reading a list of legally binding terms from the Invisible Guy's Union:
"One: Don't talk to me unless I talk to you first."
"Sure," I said immediately. "No problem. I'm great at not talking. I'm practically a monk—"
He held up a second finger.
"Two: Don't shout at me. Ever."
I nodded so fast I probably looked like a bobblehead. "Got it. Whisper mode activated. Diana, make sure I don't use my 'excited about snacks' voice."
She gave me a warning glare that somehow said, Chris, I swear on every enchanted blade in this place, don't mess this up.
Felix raised a third finger.
"Three: Don't make fun of me."
He said that one more quietly. There was a tiny crack in his voice, the kind people usually miss if they're not paying attention. But I caught it.
The guy had walls taller than the palace itself. Something told me he'd built them brick by brick, out of survival, not drama. And now here he was, breaking his own rules to be with people.
I wanted to say something—something cool and comforting like, "We're not jerks, man. We've got your back." But I remembered Rule One, so I just gave him a thumbs-up like a socially awkward wizard-in-training.
Felix stared at us for a moment like he was waiting for us to break one of his rules already. When we didn't, he turned invisible again with a whisper of magic, leaving behind only the faintest shimmer in the air and a vague sense of Did that just happen?
"Okay," Diana whispered, when she was sure he was out of earshot. "That was terrifying."
"But he joined," I said, a little too cheerfully. "We've got a stealth specialist now. This is great! Every party needs the brooding rogue with trust issues!"
She stared at me. "We are one meme away from being a walking fantasy cliché."
I grinned. "Hey, clichés survive for a reason. Let's just try not to die before we unlock his tragic backstory."
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Let me just start this off by saying: I was totally not panicking.
I was calmly freaking out in the most organized and quiet way possible.
From the outside, I probably looked like a perfectly normal teenage guy with a magic bracelet and mild eye twitches. On the inside? Full-blown "What do you mean we can turn into chaos monsters if our willpower goes negative" meltdown. A perfectly reasonable reaction, thank you very much.
Still, I held it together. Not because I'm some ultra-cool chosen one or anything (though I am rocking a level 20 magic rating, thank you bracelet), but because Diana was holding it together too.
And I knew she was faking it just as hard as I was.
She was smiling way too much, cracking jokes that were only slightly more forced than my internal pep talks. Like, "Well, at least the lighting's flattering in here—do you think dying horribly would ruin my skin?" That kind of joke. The kind that keeps you from screaming.
I appreciated it.
I was not ready to talk about it.
Felix, meanwhile, was being Peak Felix™—completely invisible, completely silent, and probably losing his mind somewhere two feet behind us.
Which, in a weird way, was comforting. If someone that stealthy had decided to stick around us, it probably meant we were the least threatening people here.
So. Yay?
Anyway, while we were all coping in our own "emotionally repressed young adult protagonists" way, the rest of the players had started trying to break out of the palace.
Which, honestly, was hilarious.
Not in the "ha-ha" way, but in the "What part of 'you've been chosen by chaos magic overlords in a literal infinite palace' made you think punching the walls would help?" way.
I watched a guy with biceps the size of my self-doubt try to karate-chop a magical pillar.
Spoiler: the pillar won.
Somewhere in the background, a group was yelling at a wall. Not yelling to get help. Yelling at it. Like maybe if they scolded it enough, it would crumble out of shame.
Meanwhile, some of the more rational folks had started talking about the only useful information we actually had: the bracelets.
Turns out these magical Fitbit-things were the real MVPs.
Each one had a digital interface floating above it—kind of like those holographic menus in sci-fi movies, but with more glitter and ominous Latin text. The most important thing? The levels.
Everyone had a different number on theirs. Diana: Level 23. Me: Level 20. Felix: ???
He hadn't told us, and I wasn't about to violate Rule One by asking. I value my organs.
But here's the thing—they said levels were based on willpower. Like, how strong your sense of self is. How much you believe in who you are. Or maybe how much trauma you've been through and still kept walking.
So Diana's number made sense. She'd always been confident. Not arrogant, but unshakeable. A "run toward the explosion" kind of girl.
Mine... okay, I'll admit I was kind of proud of that 20. It wasn't 23, but it sure beat the kid across from me who was staring at his bracelet like it personally insulted his mother. He had a 4.
Yikes.
After a little while, people started to accept the whole "we can't leave unless we win" thing. It wasn't because someone gave an inspiring speech or anything. No, it was more like the palace itself refused to break no matter what we threw at it.
And once the collective tantrum ended, reality settled in like a wet blanket.
We weren't escaping.
We weren't soloing this.
Nobody here had "secretly a reincarnated battle god" energy, despite what that one guy in the trench coat insisted (his name was Chad and he had a katana—need I say more?).
So people started forming teams.
The bracelets helped with that. If you invited someone into your team, it would show their location on your personal mini-map. Once linked, the interface would even glow a little—like you just caught a new Pokémon but emotionally.
I officially invited Diana, and a soft little ping sounded in my bracelet.
[Diana has joined your team!]
Felix, somehow, had already accepted an invite. Probably while invisible. Probably while we were blinking.
Not creepy at all.
We took a break and sat on a long bench near the center of the palace floor. The "safe zone," as the mage guy had called it, had some perks: unlimited water, clean air, no monsters... and exactly enough food for everyone to barely not starve.
It was like a magical camping trip.
Except, you know, with the looming threat of turning into a chaos beast if your mental health took a dip.
Also, did I mention the massive magical painting that covered the main wall?
Because wow, was that thing both cool and terrifying.
The portrait of the palace showed ten massive doorways stacked vertically—each one labeled with glowing runes. Each one a boss room we'd have to clear. The levels above us were hazy, like they didn't want us peeking at what was coming.
Which... rude. But also fair. I probably didn't want to know what a Level 6 Chaos Beast looked like anyway.
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Once the panicking stopped—or at least dropped from "screaming in circles" to "aggressive pacing"—people did what humans always do in new environments:
Form cliques.
It was like the first day of school, but instead of cafeteria tables, we had magical palace benches, and instead of gossip, people were trading opinions about who had the best chance of not dying.
Naturally, that meant the strongest players started collecting followers faster than a new streamer with a cat and a British accent.
And no, the game didn't have a built-in guild system, because apparently the developers wanted to punish the socially gifted. But that didn't stop people from acting like they were in a fantasy MMO. Makeshift factions were popping up like mushrooms after a rainstorm.
Except these mushrooms could shoot fireballs and might eat you if you upset the group leader.
Let me introduce you to the Main Characters of our glorious cast of "We're all going to die but maybe not first":
1. Abyss Gazer
I know. The name sounds like an edgy knockoff superhero.
But this guy owned the name.
He was tall, dressed in black and blue robes that swirled like a galaxy with trust issues, and had this constantly smug expression like he already read your stats and found them lacking.
Word spread quick: Abyss Gazer used to be a top player in multiple VR games. People online apparently treated him like the internet's version of a dark prince—brooding, mysterious, allergic to smiling.
And yeah, he gave out free advice, but always with the tone of someone expecting a statue in their honor afterward. Like:
"If you want to survive the second phase, don't use wind magic in closed corridors. Obvious. But of course, some of you will learn that by exploding."
Thanks, Dad.
Still, people flocked to him like pigeons to an ominous statue. If you squinted, you could already see the unofficial guild logo floating over his head.
2. Mr. Corporate Contract
Imagine your least favorite businessman. Now give him a magical Armani suit and the ability to turn literal contracts into magic.
That was this guy.
He didn't even bother with a code name. Just "Lucius," like he wanted you to know he was rich, powerful, and probably going to sell your soul for slightly above market value.
His whole vibe screamed, "Let's synergize your trauma for long-term results."
Apparently, he could forge magical contracts that gave power boosts or buffs in exchange for things like stamina, memories, or your firstborn. Not even joking—someone asked him if that last one was metaphorical and he smiled.
It wasn't metaphorical.
People still joined him because he offered "protection plans." Like a magical insurance salesman from hell.
3. Mr. Imagination
Now this guy was like every kid who ever said "I'm a dragon with laser eyes and rocket arms!" and meant it.
Except here's the twist: he could actually do it.
Shape-shifting, reality-altering, full-blown transformation powers—anything he could imagine within some kind of mental limit, he could become. One minute he was a hulking beast with glowing antlers, the next he was made of glass. Just... why?
He was fun to watch and even more fun to avoid in a fight, because you never knew if he'd turn into a tank or a tornado.
He didn't even care about recruiting. People followed him just because he was chaos in a hoodie.
4. Swordnado Girl
Technically her name was "Vera," but after watching her conjure a fountain of swords out of thin air and giggle like a gleeful gremlin while doing it, I dubbed her "Swordnado."
She had the power to make swords appear anywhere within a certain radius—like a walking blender with a bloodlust problem. And she loved swords.
"I named this one Gerald," she said, petting a broadsword. "Gerald only cuts those who are boring."
Okay then. I was now terrified and impressed.
She had a decent following too—mostly other battle freaks who looked like they'd stab you just to see what noise you'd make.
5. Money Mage
Finally, there was Money Mage.
Real name? No clue. Everyone just called him "Cash."
He was about my age, but walked like he'd been wearing expensive shoes since birth. His bracelet glowed like a stock market crash, and his whole thing was simple:
He could buy magic.
Need a fireball the size of a bus? That'll be $10,000. Want a temporary force field? Swipe your card. Summon a mythical beast? There's an app for that.
Apparently, he was the actual son of a billionaire who invested early in the game's launch, and his bracelet translated literal currency into power.
I watched him shoot lightning out of a gold-plated watch and order a healing spell like it was Uber Eats.
I hated him.
I also wanted to borrow fifty bucks.
Each of these people was already level 40+, which made me feel like an adorable hamster next to a pack of hungry lions. Felix said nothing, of course, but I knew he was watching each one like a shadowy accountant.
Diana? She was fascinated.
"Look at them," she whispered. "They're already powerful, but they're all so different. I bet their magic reflects their personalities."
"Then mine must reflect emotional repression," I muttered.
She patted my shoulder. "No, yours is loyalty. You're here even though you're terrified."
Which, okay, might've made me blush a little.
Just a little.
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I've always wondered what it'd be like to be recruited by the cool kid. You know, the one who walks in slow-mo while music plays and wind mysteriously blows even indoors.
Now I know.
It's weird.
Abyss Gazer didn't walk up to us. He glided. He stood tall, glasses gleaming with that classic "I know more than you, peasant" look, arms folded like he'd never once been wrong in his life.
We were just sitting on one of the worn marble benches near the palace center, trying to figure out if bread counted as dinner, when he showed up.
"Your powers," he said bluntly, eyes scanning the three of us like he was grading our souls. "Tell me."
No hello, no I'm Abyss Gazer and I like long walks on the battlefield. Just straight-up analysis mode. Typical.
Felix, true to form, vanished the moment he sensed someone genuinely trying to talk to him.
Probably behind us, on the ceiling, or cloaked in shadows somewhere. Or maybe disguised as a potted plant. Wouldn't put it past him.
So that left me and Diana.
Diana was unbothered. She stood up and gave a little bow like she was on stage.
"My ability is darkness manipulation. It's semi-solid. I can shape it into weapons and armor, or spread it as a shield. It's faster when I'm angry."
Abyss Gazer raised a single approving eyebrow. "Hmm. Versatile, responsive. Full-spectrum offense and defense. And it fits you—sharp and elegant."
Diana actually blushed. Diana. The same girl who could turn into a shadow banshee. Blushed.
I, meanwhile, cleared my throat awkwardly. "Uh, mine's... game mode. It lets me store stuff, kind of like an inventory menu. And I can control my body like it's an avatar. So, I can run faster, jump better, no muscle fatigue—stuff like that."
Abyss Gazer nodded slowly.
"That's fun. But limited," he said, as if evaluating a half-baked cookie. "No direct attack power. No team buffs. Not even area control. Just... physical optimization."
Ouch.
I didn't say anything. I didn't have to. He was right.
He turned slightly. "Still. Storage is rare. You'd make an excellent support role. Haul loot. Deliver gear. Hide weapons in combat. A walking inventory."
I forced a smile. "Yeah, I'm not really aiming to be a pack mule."
Diana crossed her arms. "If he's out, I'm out."
That stunned him for a moment. Then he smirked faintly. "Loyalty is rare, too."
He turned to leave, brushing back his coat like he was walking off a magazine shoot.
"If either of you change your mind," he said without looking back, "I only take ten. I still have space."
Then he vanished into the crowd, like a smug, anime side character who's definitely going to save your life later and say something like "You owe me nothing. Just remember who carried you."
Diana sat back down beside me, tossing a pebble at the floor like she was annoyed.
"He was kind of cute, though."
I groaned. "Not helping."
"You're more my type," she said casually. "I can tease you. He'd probably explain my flaws with a PowerPoint."
We both laughed.
Felix reappeared a few minutes later, pretending he was just casually strolling by.
"Done?"
"Yeah," I said. "He wanted to use me as a backpack. I respectfully declined."
Felix nodded in approval and, for once, actually said something:
"Smart move."
We were still just a weird, underpowered trio.
But we weren't tools. Not storage units, not weapons for hire. Just three stubborn souls in a broken game.
And honestly? I was starting to like it that way.