A world came back into focus, none too soon as a horrible, sticky sensation assaulted me all at once. The clothes I wore clung to me like an oozing parasite, desperate to remain as close as possible. Every moment made my skin crawl, but I put that aside. With my mind snapping back to consciousness, I could fathom the situation. And there was a lot to unpack. I mean, a lot to unpack. Covered in troll blood, check. Troll dead, check. I am lying on the sand but not dead, check. Xynthia is still alive, checkity check check.

  With my bearings established, I swiftly sat up, alerted by a rather condescending voice echoing across the arena. I couldn't quite catch what the voice was laying down. My head was still in the middle of swimming down a rather steep bit of rapids on a boogie board. But I could make out a few words here and there.

  "The Black Gale is the victor!" The pompous voice proclaimed.

  I wondered who this Black Gale was; his name sounded dumb. Alas, I had other things to concern myself with, such as resisting the urge to return to the sands for a much-needed nap. Shaking the weariness away, I pushed as much energy as I could into my legs and ascended.

  "Our champion now has the honour of carrying out the sentence!" He proclaimed.

  It was he, given that it was the wannabe emperor dude up on the balcony. Dressed like an aristocrat with way too much money and a penchant for red. I wondered if he was a vampire; given how pale he looked, that was likely. Or he could just be another undead. Must not judge upon the paleness of their skin but on the content of their character. However, I call vampire.

  "Sentence?" I said while flicking a piece of troll off my jacket.

  It became very clear why I was so sticky and uncomfortable. I disliked the awful sensation of sweating excessively in a suit on a warm day. Being covered in blood and viscera was way worse — sticky, smelly and horrible. I wondered if they had some sort of magic washing machines on this world. Or just that wash potion, the dude with the evil powers was obsessed with. Alas, the world is not a story, just a giant video game made by the gods.

  "The champions' final battle will be to the death! Go forth, champion, and slay the criminal!" Vampire boy yapped up a storm.

  He was giving us the finger, not the rude one, but the imperious index finger of command. Obey, peasant. This is an order from your betters. I didn't feel inclined to obey any words this guy spouted, but I was curious about what he meant. I turned to Xynthia with a tired look that said, help this poor innocent child.

  "He wants you to kill me," she said, absolutely deadpan.

  "Well, he can go screw himself!" I gave him a rude gesture — double middle fingers. "Actually, he probably can't screw himself since he is undead." I corrected.

  "And why is that?" she asked, looking perplexed.

  "Because he is a vampire, he is a dead man walking... literally."

  "I still am not following."

  "Well, being dead means his blood doesn't flow, so certain bodily functions don't work." I started animatedly explaining, gesturing down south.

  "Oh, you mean he is a limp dick. Probably why he is overcompensating." Her eyes widened.

  She made a valid point. The guy seemed like a pompous prick, overcompensating for his lack of facility with bedroom activities. But that was us judging again, and in the words of some dude. Be curious, not judgmental.

  "He might not be. There are like a million vampire types; who knows..." I sighed, recalling boring review meetings on the races. "Bloody gods and their myth-ripping tendencies."

  "What was that?"

  "Nevermind... so what's the plan? Because those dudes don't look happy, I am not stabbing you right now." I indicated the remaining audience members.

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  They were all rising from their seats, a mass of fur and leathery flesh, equipping themselves with pointy objects. Probably because the vampire wannabe didn't take well to my refusal. Such fragile egos that they turn to murder when people don't comply.

  "The champion denies my favour!" he announced. "Teach him the error of his ways!"

  With that last order, an avalanche of dog and gargoyle people leapt from their seats and made their way to the arena. Thankfully not in an orderly line, they pushed their way through the mass. I could even see a few biting and clawing each other. Quite eager to get down here and murder us all.

  "Got to admire their loyalty; when he said how high, they all jumped."

  "Who cares?! We've got to get out of here!" she made a valid point, loudly.

  "Yeah, but how? I don't see any exits."

  She pointed back at the massive gate from which she had come. Giant scary-looking metal bars shielded the freedom within, and naturally I looked at her, very confused. How exactly was that an escape? Maybe she thinks I can bend the bars like Superman. I looked down at my hands, caked in blood, and wondered if I could. Certainly, I had killed way too many people to be Superman. But I had super strength... sort of.

  Shifting a glance back to the oncoming wave of very stab-happy demi-humans. Busting through that gate seemed the best option. So I nodded vigorously and the two of us booked it to freedom. As we sprinted, I sent another message to Marius, telling him to bail out anyway he could. I can only hope he listened. Fearing more for Jeremy than my new undead buddy.

  It didn't take long for us to cross the sands to the gate. Thankfully, it was strange that nobody guarded the place. But you should never question the gift of the Gamers. Standing before the massive construct of iron and steel. I marvelled at how absurdly massive it was. Eyeing our escape just on the other side of the bars. All I could see was a dark, massive corridor, barely illuminated by candlelight.

  "Are you sure you can't ghost us through?" I questioned through a series of wheezes.

  "How many times can I say... Magic gates!"

  "Alright, I get it."

  With ghosting out as an option, the only way I could see was brute force. Summoning the power of the Force to crush this gate with overwhelming power! Yeah, I don't think I have enough juice to do that.

  "Unless..." I muttered before thoughts took me.

  "If you are going to do something, do it now!" Xynthia urged.

  "Give me a second." I replied, tongue lapping out of my mouth in thought.

  If I apply a few high-power strikes here and there. I could damage it enough to bend them apart. Make the opening wide enough for us to slip through. As the plan coalesced in my mind. The urgency of the situation went up a notch. Another glance to the right revealed two important factors. A horde of killers heading towards us and the unconscious form of that level zero Garathi.

  Putting those factors out of my head, I set about my task. Unleashing a flurry of force blasts at full power, concentrating the attacks at a single point. Every impact seemed to dent the metal repeatedly. The gate groaned like a wounded beast, shrieking and howling in pain. The metal folded in under the pressure of repeated strikes. One down, more to go.

  "Can you work faster!?" Xynthia called out to me, desperation obvious in her tone.

  "I'm working as fast as I can!" I called back, matching her own desperation.

  "They are coming!"

  The sound of rushing feet, the clanking of metal and the growls of monsters. They were getting close, and there was no chance we could escape in time. Death was ever encroaching, and so dropping this escape attempt to perform a last stand sounded way cooler.

  Readying my blade, I struck dumb at the sight before me. Sure, the oncoming horde was very noticeable and frightening. The figure of Marius running like the wind to reach me. Somehow, he descended from his balcony intact. No, what caught my attention was a tiny figure seated lazily between us and them. A tiny bundle of black fur sat on the sand, swishing its tail back and forth. If I were seeing this right, he was even grooming himself. Lapping his tongue across his paw, he acted like he didn't have a care in the world.

  "Is that a cat!?" Xynthia called out.

  "Jeremy!" was all I could say, so stunned.

  He seemed to hear me as my companion of years turned around and gave me a look I had never seen before. Cats are not that expressive, but something in his eyes told me everything I needed to know. Using my enhanced vision, I could read him like a book. And he accepted his destiny.

  Just as despair reached forward to grip my heart within its cruel grasp. Jeremy's mouth opened as if to hiss at the horde of vicious creatures. Just as the first sounds emerged from that feline maw of his. I felt it before I heard it. Pain lashed my brain like a whip. I fell to my knees, unsteady and unable to keep balance.

  Xynthia screamed her head off, a primal howl as if she were giving birth. And not just her, the horde dropped like rocks, stopped in their tracks just as they roared to the heavens in pain and misery. I remained less affected and could clearly hear the guttural voice, so familiar that it hurt.

  Jeremy was speaking, but nothing as trivial as mortal speech, nor the mewing of a feline in heat. But the dark tongue of an ancient entity beyond this world. A tongue I knew very well. He was speaking the language of the void. The realm of chaos that even their words wreaked destruction.

  "What the..."

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