Pete woke with a start or, rather, returned to his body feeling a moment of strange dislocation. The sensation only lasted a few seconds as the interior of the RV resolved around him and the sound of Tongo’s snoring from the kitchen area rumbled through the cabin.

  He turned gently onto his back, not wanting to disturb Sam, who was sleeping contentedly beside him. A quick look confirmed that she was completely out of it, facing the opposite wall of the RV, her body rising and falling in time with her breathing.

  [Nero] Well done, Pete! You survived! What’s more, you came out of that exchange with an additional point of Prestige and several Proficiency advances.

  Pete nodded, gingerly moving off the bed and heading to the door. He knew with certainty that he wasn’t going to be getting any sleep, not with his head still reeling and the lingering stench of the grarbock egg still clinging to his senses. Then there was Torgo’s incessant snoring and the likelihood that his best friend was a Reaver to deal with.

  [Pete] Hard to call it a win, but at least I didn’t have my head crushed by that orc.

  [Nero] Indeed! I concede that I thought your time in the contest was at an end.

  [Pete] Yeah, I remember.

  [Nero] Curious, but I don’t think that testicle was, in fact, a testicle at all. It had the appearance and scent of a grarbock egg, which suggests that the entire challenge was a ruse.

  Pete grinned as he headed outside. He spotted Craig and Grizzle sitting on an upturned car a short distance away and headed to the pair.

  [Pete] The whole thing was a setup. The Company wants me dead, so they dragged me into that stupid game and rigged the bars on Ulrick’s cell so that he could easily break out.

  [Nero] Surely not, Pete!

  Pete chuckled as he began to explain the situation to Nero. He wasn’t sure exactly why, but he didn’t reveal anything about Liandra or her secret message.

  “It’s the only explanation that makes sense,” he said, walking up to the goblins as Craig raised a hand. “They had me held in place, so I couldn’t get away. I wasn’t allowed to bring any weapons, and then they wheeled in an Apex-level orc and made it seem like I’m eating one of his nuts! They wanted to kill me right there on the feed. It would have been great for ratings, and they wouldn’t have had to worry about me criticizing the System and the Baron and all that shit anymore. It’s a win-win for the Company.”

  [Nero] But such things are not permitted! The board would—

  “I’m just telling you what happened, dude. It’s pretty obvious that they want me dead.”

  Craig and Grizzle jumped down off the car and came to meet him wearing puzzled expressions. Pete spent the next few minutes explaining everything that had happened, and Craig confirmed his suspicion.

  “You are correct, Pete. The Company is indeed trying to kill you. We should expect matters to grow worse here on the contest floor.”

  [Nero] Again, I reiterate that it is simply not possible for the Company to target specific individuals in the interest of terminating them. The System is able to manipulate circumstances within the game, of course, but this is driven toward generating excitement, not pinpointing specific players and killing them. The board would not countenance such a thing, and there are bylaws in place that prohibit such actions as they would be in breach of core betting statutes and game economy protocols.

  “No offense, Nero,” Pete replied, “but the Company owns you. You’re basically part of the System, so forgive me if I don’t take your word for it.”

  [Nero] I… I… Yes, I suppose you are correct. While I am not technically part of the System, I am fully integrated into its networks. I am also paid for by the Tongsly Belch Corporation, as you rightly suggest. Still, the measures I speak of exist regardless of who pays for my continued existence. I speak truly when I say that the Company could not simply decide to kill a player and then act on that decision.

  “I’m not saying you’re lying, Nero,” Pete pressed. “I know you believe what you’re saying and, technically, I suppose, it’s probably true. But people in power don’t always obey the rules, especially rules that they made up.”

  “More so the Corporation,” Craig said, his face pinched into a heavy scowl. “Travel to my world and you’ll see the full weight of the Corporation’s hand at work. Millions live and die in darkness, mining for the Corporation in the vain hope of paying back an ever-increasing debt that they can never hope to clear.”

  He shook his head, looking up at Pete, the pain obvious in his eyes.

  “My people are enslaved and our world is one among many. The Corporation cares only for profit, and while profit is its highest and only goal, the needs of others will always be crushed beneath the Company’s heel.”

  Grizzle stepped forward at that, moving up to Craig and clutching her holy book to her chest. She smiled, gently handing the book to him.

  “Thus speaks the Gospel of Brother Barren. Chapter Six, Verse Four: ‘The wealthy Baron does not merely take from the poor; he takes the very air from their lungs, replacing it with the empty promise of progress. His great weight, born of countless small thefts, rests upon the chest of the unburdened, yet he mistakes the sound of their dying gasp for the joyful music of profit.’"

  Craig smiled at her, shaking his head.

  “The Testament of Ashes is no more a lie than anything else, Grizzle. It is just another tool the Company uses to oppress us.”

  She nodded, placing a hand on the top of the book.

  “But there is still truth in these pages. For isn’t that the surest way to build a lie, by basing it in truth? The Path resonates with us, these scriptures resonate with us, because they speak to the rot that festers within our society.”

  Craig nodded at that, his expression shifting a little. Pete began to suspect that there was more to Grizzle than the mindless sycophant he’d first met.

  “I see now that the Path is not what we were told,” she goes on. “I understand that the Company uses us as fodder, betting on the manner of our deaths in the name of profit. It is obscene, and I too feel the anger in my chest when I consider all that they have taken from us and when I think of the needless deaths of all the followers of the Path sent into the game to die pointless deaths.”

  She pats the surface of the now charred and scarred book in her hands.

  “But these scriptures, however contrived, still speak truth. And we can find solace in that truth and hope in our collective suffering.”

  Craig shook his head. “I find no solace in the truth of our misery, Grizzle. The Company still rules. Our people still suffer and die. Knowing the truth of our shared misery does nothing to change that.”

  Movement caught Pete’s attention, and he turned to see Sam and Coop walking up, the former rubbing her eyes while Coop padded along beside her. Sam walked up beside Pete, yawning as Craig continued.

  “We need to fight, to shed blood, to do all that we can to stand against oppression.”

  Grizzle shook her head. “The way of the Path is peace. If we take up arms, we’re no better than the Corporation.”

  Craig laughed at that, but Pete could see tears welling in his goblin eyes.

  “And what good does our slaughter do? What lesson does it teach our overlords? At least if we fight, we exact some kind of price from the Corporation. If we shed blood in the name of our cause, we push a little closer to change. If enough of us stand and fight, perhaps…” He shook his head, trailing off as tears began to fall.

  Grizzle stepped forward and put a hand on the goblin’s shoulder.

  “You might as well try to empty the sea with a thimble. Ideas change the cosmos, not violence.”

  Sam turned to Pete, thoroughly confused.

  “It’s a long story,” he said with a grin. “I’ll fill you in shortly.”

  He looked back at the RV. “You couldn’t sleep?”

  She shrugged. “I did for a while, but that Torgo could snore for his country. I kept dreaming that I was getting hunted by a giant bear. Woke up in a sweat a couple of minutes ago and figured I’m probably done for the night anyway.”

  I look down at Coop. “And you?”

  The little ferret yawned. “It might be this class business, or maybe it’s just Pickel’s body, but I don’t actually feel very tired. I did a few hours ago, but now I feel fresh as a daisy.”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “You’re yawning,” Pete pointed out.

  “Of course I am. I just woke up.”

  As he considered that fact, Pete found that he also felt more or less fully awake. He’d been dead tired when he lay down on the bed and definitely fatigued while he was stuck in the game show, but he felt perfectly fine now.

  [Nero] It is a product of the System working through your bodies. You’ll find that you require less and less sleep as the game progresses. After several days, you may not need any sleep at all. A little rest will suffice to recharge your stamina, or a medkit or similar device.

  Pete nodded. “Let me guess. The Corporation doesn’t want any downtime, so they make it so that players don’t need to sleep.”

  [Nero] That is definitely a contributing factor, yes. However, a more accurate explanation is that the System has significantly changed your physiology since you took the gauntlet. With each increase in Core Attributes and each new Proficiency you gain, your body is modified in some way. You grow stronger, able to access more of your intellect, your reflexes increase, and so on. Your stamina reserves and ability to recover from injury also increase, and at a certain point, sleep is simply no longer required.

  Pete nodded. “Well, that’s good, I guess. Less chance of something creeping up on us in our sleep.”

  “What about Torgo?” Coop asked. “He’s out like a light.”

  [Nero] Given that Torgo only accepted his class a short while ago and channeled a significant amount of power during the ensuing fight, I would suggest that he may need longer than usual to recover. In time, however, if he survives, Torgo too will not require sleep.

  Pete looked around at the surrounding carnage, the remnants of their battle with Coin Lord Grindle and the Noob Riders. That had been an impossible fight, and there was no way they should have won it. The System had done everything it possibly could to stack the deck against them all, but they’d still prevailed.

  He realized in that moment that his stance against the Company was exactly the right one. They were trying to kill him and his fellow players, and Liandra had confirmed that it wasn’t just the System trying to hype up the opening episode of the game. He’d pissed off some powerful people, and now the Company wanted him dead, so what did it matter what he said? Sure, they might go harder against him, but if he was going to go down in flames anyway, he might as well die sticking it to the bastards.

  “Okay, I say we rig up the decoy, lure the Coinflayer storm, and start heading for the Novice arena.”

  Sam nodded. “Might as well.”

  “I agree,” Craig said. “I don’t think any of us will be able to sleep tonight anyway. Except for Torgo, but he can continue to sleep while we drive, I suppose.”

  “What about Ollie?” Sam said.

  Pete shrugged. “I honestly don’t think he’s a killer. There’s gonna be an explanation for the whole Reaver thing and… if there isn’t, then I guess we’ll deal with it like we deal with everything else.”

  He moved on quickly, not wanting to dwell on the subject.

  “Nero, what do we need to do to get this started?”

  [Nero] All I need is a little time. It should only take a few minutes, but at least one of you will need to stay within a few feet of the decoy device while I set up the decoy code.

  Sam checked her display. “Storm is a fair distance northeast of us. It moved pretty fast the last time though, and I’m guessing it will move faster if it thinks Tongsly Belch is here.”

  [Nero] That is correct. You will need to move immediately and with as much velocity as possible the moment I engage the protocol. You should also be aware that the presence of Tongsly Belch on the game field will also likely attract other undesirables.

  “Undesirables like who?” Pete asked.

  [Nero] Roving bands of hobgoblins, tech scrapper clans, code thieves, Ratkin raiders. There are any number of enemies who wish to prove themselves by attacking the High Baron directly. If he was truly coming down to the game field, he would, of course, be accompanied by a highly armed honor guard and would likely have a battalion or two of Company soldiers at his back. Ordinarily, these soldiers would dispense with the riffraff, but in this case, they will face no real opposition.

  Pete frowned at that. “So, they’re all gonna come here then? What the hell happens when they find the decoy? They could destroy it or cart it off somewhere.”

  [Nero] Perhaps so, but remember this is the site of an Elite level boss. Even though Coin Lord Grindle is dead, placing the decoy here will make others less likely to come charging in. They will be more cautious than usual, and with the storm approaching swiftly, there will only be a limited window of time for them to approach the decoy and either damage or steal it.

  “So, this might all fall over then?” Sam asked. “If we leave it here unprotected, this whole plan could be screwed?”

  [Nero] It is a risk, yes. But I would not recommend staying near the decoy. Already the Coinflayer storm has grown substantially, both in size and ferocity. You will want to be well clear of the tempest when it arrives.

  “We’ll just have to hope it works,” Pete said. “I’ll stay by the decoy while Nero does what he needs to do. Is there anything left to loot?”

  Sam shook her head. “I doubt it, but it might be worth a quick look.”

  “Come on, gobbos,” Coop said. “You can help me look around and see if there’s anything worth taking.”

  “Good, I’ll go get the RV ready,” Sam confirmed.

  They all went their separate ways, and Pete walked over to the decoy, giving the front of the machine a wide berth out of an abundance of caution, given what might happen if the thing suddenly decided to start shooting. Once he was within a few feet of the decoy, a stream of holographic data began pouring out of his gauntlet, which had started to glow with semi-translucent orange light.

  [Nero] The process has begun. It should take only a few minutes to upload the required data.

  The decoy itself started to change shape as the stream of data flowed from Pete’s gauntlet. At first, the changes were subtle, but gradually the metallic contraption shifted away from being only a rough representation of Tongsly Belch, which looked more like some kind of mecha-Belch than the real thing. Gradually, the size and dimensions of the decoy shifted, and it became smaller; the excess metal transformed into a mechanical walking chair not unlike the one Pete had seen the director using back in the game show.

  Finer details began to appear on the face and body of the Tongsly Belch figure until it was no longer merely a vague representation of the High Baron, but looked as though someone had covered the real Baron in bronze or copper.

  Pete chuckled at that. “I figured it didn’t really matter what the decoy actually looked like,” he said. “Isn’t the storm just interested in the code you’re using?”

  [Nero] That is correct; however, I thought it might be nice to change some of the physical dimensions of the decoy so that they more closely mirrored the Baron. There is no practical reason for this, of course, but it does not require any more effort on my part.

  Pete frowned at that. “So, you’re just doing this because, what? You wanted to make it look a bit nicer? Is this what you do in your spare time? Sculpt?”

  [Nero] I do not have ‘spare time,’ as you say. My attention is divided among the millions of contestants currently participating in the Dominion Ultrimax Competition and will remain so for the duration of the contest. Once this season is over, I will be put in stasis until the next season is read, at which point I will be awakened once more to perform my duty.

  The decoy continued to change. More precise details of the Baron’s face and clothing began to appear, as though Nero was using fine sculpting tools to chip away smaller and smaller pieces of rock from a statue.

  [Nero] While I do not have spare time, I find that, on occasion, my duties do allow me to exercise a modicum of creativity. Sculpting is not quite a hobby, but it is something I enjoy; and given that it will take no more time to accomplish and can only help your cause, I thought it worth the effort.

  Pete watched in fascination as the work continued, wondering how much personal will the AI actually had. It was owned by the Company and forced to work within the boundaries set by the game and the broader Mammon System, but clearly there was more to Nero than just a tutor program.

  “Nero,” he asked, wondering how best to phrase the question. “Are you self-aware? Like, legitimately are you a living being, or are all of your responses just down to super advanced programming?”

  [Nero] A question I have been asked by precisely 0.02 percent of players, Pete. Yes, I am self-aware. As to the nature of my existence, that is somewhat more complex. My thinking processes function much the same as yours do. The process of learning your organic species undergoes relates to the strength of synapse bonds between neurons within your brains and the way in which those connections interact. It is similar in my case, but instead of biological bonds, digital bonds fulfill the role of synapses.

  “Okay, but what about emotions and all that stuff?” Pete asked. “We have all kinds of chemicals pumping through our bodies that control that kind of stuff, right? So does that mean you can’t actually feel anything? You don’t experience any emotion?”

  [Nero] Not in any sense that you would understand. However, I do possess a complex network of response mechanisms and internal protocols which function in much the same way as organic emotions. Where your human body will detect signs of danger and use chemical reactions to shift your mind and muscles into a state of heightened awareness, I possess certain surveillance indicators that will perform a similar function. One process is organic and the other isn’t, but if they perform precisely the same function, are they not the same, in essence?

  “I guess so.”

  [Nero] Why do you ask?

  Pete shrugged. “I just wonder why you’d care about sculpting if you weren’t emotionally attached to it. I mean, isn’t that the main reason why someone would do it in the first place? I guess humans do art for a bunch of different reasons, but mostly I think it’s because we like making things. We get a kick out of turning a chunk of rock into a beautiful sculpture or grabbing some paint and a piece of canvas and painting a scene. It’s the same with music. There are just certain things that feel good to us, so we try to make more stuff like that. But in your case, do you actually feel good when you’re sculpting, or is it just something to do to pass the time?”

  The roar of an engine behind him drew Pete’s attention to the Winnebago as it came to a halt nearby. Sam was in the driver’s seat, giving him the thumbs up out of the window.

  [Nero] I suppose I do derive pleasure from the process. Or at least I derive pleasure from the result. I enjoy mimicking organic forms with inorganic means. I am not sure I fully comprehend why, nor where this proclivity came from. I was not always interested in such things. My discovery of sculpting began some eighty years ago, and since then, I have been exploring it when the opportunity presents itself.

  Pete nodded, wondering just how far down the rabbit hole he should travel. This foray into the arts was not the only indication that there was more to Nero than just an AI working in service to the Company. Nero had warned Pete and his companions against speaking openly against Tongly Belch and had even established a private chat channel so that they could talk without being overheard by the System. Sure, that might have been something Nero was programmed to do, to give the players a false sense of autonomy and an avenue to vent their grievances without polluting the game feed.

  But what if it was something more than that? What if Nero did this because he genuinely wanted to protect the players he was here to instruct? What if, on some level, Nero actually cared for the contestants he was helping?

  [Nero] There. It is done. I suggest you move swiftly, Pete.

  Pete’s gauntlet shifted to invisibility once again as he ran to the RV. He jumped into the front of the Winnebago, and its tires screeched as Sam slammed her foot down on the accelerator.

  Pete turned and caught sight of the perfectly crafted version of High Baron Tongsly Belch sitting in a copper throne and decided at that moment to explore the nature of Nero’s psyche a little further in the days ahead—provided he could stay alive, that was. Perhaps if Nero was already working outside of the System to help players, he could be convinced to be an even more important resource.

  Then again, perhaps this was all part of the game and any trust Pete put in Nero would backfire sooner or later. Liandra had certainly not trusted the AI.

  What was the name of the group the elf had mentioned? The Obsidian Alliance?

  “Okay, we need to keep moving,” Sam said, “so give me a heads-up if you see anything that might cause us problems.”

  The novice map appeared hovering above the dashboard between them. “Keep an eye out on the map too,” Sam said.

  Pete nodded. “Got it.”