After a meeting that stretched for several hours and a home-cooked dinner with his parents, Jack finally went to bed.

  He woke to the sound of his alarm blaring beside him. Still tangled in his blanket, he fumbled for his phone and nearly tumbled off the bed in the process.

  He felt groggy, heavy-limbed, and a little disoriented, like his body had just come up from the bottom of a lake. It was the kind of sleep that left behind a weight, not because he was tired, but because he’d actually rested for once. Compared to logging out of a VRX session, this felt slower, deeper.

  “Oof. I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus,” he muttered, stretching out with a groan. “Amari’s right. I do need to sleep for real once in a while.”

  Jack had wanted to implement their plan immediately after the meeting. Get moving while everything was still fresh. But Amari had insisted on a pause.

  "We’ve been running hot," he'd said near the end of the call. "We need clear heads. Let’s take a night off—real sleep. Jack, you especially. Make it a habit. Once a week, minimum. We'll regroup tomorrow."

  He’d also mentioned needing time to edit footage. With how deep they'd been into the Breach, Amari’s channel had taken a backseat. He seemed eager to catch up.

  So Jack had gone along with it—reluctantly. But now, after waking up from his first proper rest in what felt like forever, he had to admit: Amari had a point.

  Jack glanced at the time. Seven a.m.

  “Right! The train!”

  That jolted him into action. He scrambled to his dresser, grabbed clothes at random, and rushed through a shower that was more cold splash than comfort. Breakfast consisted of a dry slice of toast and a half-finished glass of juice—both inhaled more than consumed.

  He bolted out the door, still pulling on his jacket as his breath fogged the cold morning air.

  It’s been a while since I’ve had to run for the bus like this.

  But the rhythm came back quickly. Muscle memory took over, his feet hitting pavement with the kind of practiced urgency that came from years of school mornings and tight connections. Just like riding a bike.

  He made it to the stop with seconds to spare, hopping onto the early route that would take him across town to the train station.

  Outside the bus window, the city was beginning to stir. Delivery trucks rumbled by, café lights flickered on, and people wrapped in scarves and coats marched forward, coffees in hand, already deep into their routines.

  Jack watched the blur of the waking city, forehead resting lightly against the cold glass. He used to look at people like this with a kind of quiet pity—like they were stuck in NPC roles, grinding repetitive quests while he was off chasing something bigger. Something that would matter.

  But now, watching a construction crew in neon jackets unloading tools under the rising sun, he felt differently.

  There was something admirable about the consistency. The grind. The grit. If life handed out XP for real-world effort, these people would all be veterans.

  At the station, Jack dashed up the steps two at a time and made a beeline for the self-serve kiosk. The line was mercifully short. He tapped through the menu and paid for a one-way ticket to Providence, flinching slightly at the price tag. Travel wasn’t cheap these days.

  Ticket in hand, he followed the signs toward his platform. The train was already there, its doors starting to close.

  Jack broke into a run again, weaving between travelers, dodging a rolling suitcase, and slipping through the doors.

  “Still got it,” he muttered under his breath.

  His father would’ve frowned if he’d heard that. He always insisted that cutting things close was reckless, not a skill. But Jack liked to think he had a knack for timing—just in time was still on time.

  He made his way down the aisle, found his seat, and slid into it just as the train gave a soft lurch. The motion was subtle, but it was enough to pull the city away behind him.

  Gradually, the skyline receded into the distance, replaced by open fields and long stretches of tree-lined roads. For a while, he just sat there, letting the scenery drift past—gray buildings giving way to farmland and the occasional lake.

  In New Earth’s travel carriages, the system just knocked players out—no option to stay awake, no scenery to watch. Here, the steady clickety-clack of the tracks kept his thoughts rolling. It helped him clear his head.

  “My life has really changed,” he murmured.

  Just a few weeks ago, he hadn’t even known Marie. And now here he was—taking a two-hour train ride to meet her face-to-face.

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  “I just hope it isn’t weird.”

  He pulled out his phone and started scrolling, more out of habit than curiosity. His last few items had sold in the auction house—it was enough to keep his balance above water. He wasn’t broke, but he definitely wasn’t comfortable. The train ticket's price had hurt.

  He was just about to pull up the notes from last night’s meeting when his phone buzzed in his hand.

  Rob? Why is he calling?

  It was just about the time his cousin left home to go to work. He never called this early.

  Jack answered. “Hey, cousin! You okay?”

  “Jack. Finally. You… Uh—what’s that noise? Are you near a washing machine or something?”

  Jack glanced around at the gentle rumble of the carriage. “No. I’m on the train.”

  “You’re on a train? This early in the morning? Where are you going?”

  “Providence. I’m going to meet Marie. We’ve got some game stuff to take care of.”

  “Uh… right. Anyway. I’ve been trying to reach you. You weren’t online last night.”

  Jack leaned back in his seat, frowning. There was something off in Rob’s voice—something strained.

  “No, sorry. I actually… slept for real last night. What’s wrong?”

  A pause. “My cover’s blown.”

  Jack blinked. “What? What do you mean?”

  “The Slayer found me out.”

  “H-how?”

  “He knows you’re in Amari’s crew and discovered we’re cousins. Somehow.” Rob’s voice dropped to a whisper, low and bitter. “He ambushed me in the guild house, called me out for being a traitor, and killed me right in front of everyone. I respawned, tried to get away, and they hit me again. Four times. I logged out before they could camp me anymore, but I know as soon as I log back in... they’ll be there.”

  Jack’s mind snagged on one detail. “How could they know we’re cousins?” It wasn’t hard to find out he was part of Amari’s crew—he’d made that public. But tracing it all the way to Rob? That was a leap.

  “They probably used bots,” Rob said grimly. “Some script to scour the web. They must’ve dug up your old channel, tracked my comment history, and matched it to my in-game profile.”

  “What you’re saying almost sounds like spy-level stuff.”

  “Yeah, well,” Rob replied, “the Slayer must have hired a good tracker. Some of those nerds are really good at digging up info like this. They charge a pretty penny, of course.”

  Jack leaned back in his seat, processing. “Do you think they know more?”

  “I don’t know how deep their research went. But if they’re targeting me already, they’re starting to zero in on you guys, too. Embersgate is definitely not safe anymore. Amari showed it in his last video.”

  Jack’s stomach twisted. “Rob. I—I’m so sorry.”

  He meant it. Rob had poured hours into that account—built a name, a reputation, a place among people who trusted him. And now he was a walking target. All because of him.

  “Let me talk to Amari,” he said quickly. “Maybe we can help you somehow.”

  “What can you even do, Jack? It’s the Slayer. It’s IronIre. They’re on a whole different level.”

  The guilt clawed deeper. “I—I don’t know what to say.”

  “I’m sorry,” Rob said, sighing. “I know you want to help. It’s just… been a rough night. That’s all. But there's still hope. There’s something I can try.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll send a message to a GM. See if they can help me.”

  Jack sat up straighter. “Does that actually work? Can you get the Slayer’s account banned?”

  “I doubt it. Technically, I did betray the guild. I was feeding false info. If the aggression had come out of nowhere, maybe I’d have a case. But like this... I can only hope I find a sympathetic GM. Maybe I can get them to change my respawn location,” Rob said with a resigned breath.

  Jack rubbed his forehead. “What can I do, then? Should I talk to a GM, too? I can talk to my team. Maybe if we all send messages—”

  Before he could finish, a middle-aged man in the seat across the aisle cleared his throat loudly and shot Jack a disapproving glare over his reading tablet.

  Jack cupped a hand over the mic and mouthed a quick, “Sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about me, cousin,” Rob said, his tone strained but firm. “I didn’t call to cry for help. I just wanted to keep you updated on what’s going on. You guys have to be extra careful. Okay?”

  Jack swallowed. “Right.”

  “I’ve gotta run,” Rob added, his voice already fading. “We’ll talk later.”

  The call ended, and Jack was left staring at the screen, his reflection faint in the dark glass. For a second, he just sat there, phone still in hand, the hum of the train fading into the background.

  He lowered the phone and looked back out at the passing trees, the weight of guilt settling on his shoulders like a winter coat.

  Rob had always had his back. And now, Jack didn’t even know how to return the favor.

  His mind kept trying to piece together a plan, anything that might help Rob. Hiring mercs? Maybe Ryder, for example? Sending someone into IronIre? Pulling strings with Amari? Each idea fell apart before it could form. He didn’t have the resources. He didn’t have the reach.

  Alright. Think.

  Jack scrolled through his phone, flipping through the notes from the long meeting they’d had the day before. Routes. Supply lists. Timetables.

  Most of it felt useless now.

  Now that the Slayer knew they were still in Embersgate, he couldn’t just run around town carefree. If they’d been watching Amari’s videos, then they knew he was a potter. And a bushcrafter. The Pottery Association. The bushcraft XP store. Both were critical to his progress. But what if the enemy had eyes on those places?

  He dragged a hand through his hair, frustrated.

  They'd already spent hours figuring out the most efficient path—what to buy, when to buy it, how to optimize every second. Time was everything. Jack couldn’t afford to stay outside the Breach too long. Without him, his colleagues had no way to replenish stamina or health. Not for long.

  But trying to do everything while evading IronIre? That would slow him down. A lot.

  And now that he also wanted to help Rob... he’d be cutting dangerously close to the edge.

  He slumped back in his seat with a quiet sigh. For a second, he hated how vulnerable they were. Hated that Rob was the one paying the price.

  Then a thought sparked.

  It started as a flicker. A long shot. But the more he turned it over in his mind, the more it began to take shape.

  It was thin. Reckless. It would take serious preparation—and Rob would need to stay logged out for a couple of days. But maybe...

  Jack sat up, the weight of helplessness still there—but something new had settled in, too. A direction. A resolve.

  We’ll get through this, Rob. Just hang in there.