Staggered beats of wind shook the Centiride, blowing dust all over the cabin. As it turned out, the Centiride network extended to every point on the entirety of the second area. You didn’t even need to be a union member to use it.

  Of course, since these tunnels were never used, they had become insufferably dusty.

  “Could somebody please close the window?” I groaned, glancing at the other three in the cabin.

  Without Rose and Junior, the cabin was deadly quiet.

  Master Reggie shrugged. He leaned further into his booth with his heels resting on the adjacent cushions. “I don’t feel like getting up right now.”

  “AXxxeellll,” Axel hissed. He had a hand on Sern’s back, and offered soft whispers here and there. Sern shuddered violently, turning green.

  Master Reggie perked up and turned around. Then he started laughing.

  “What?” I snapped.

  “Leave the window open,” he said. “Sern’s carsick. Trainsick. Centiride-sick. Whatever.”

  Sern shook her head, reaching to close the window, before her legs gave out and she crumpled up on the floor.

  Axel brought her closer to the window, where she could stick her head into the cool air.

  “Motion sickness?” I asked. “Really?”

  If anything, the subtle rocking of the Centride was kinda soothing. Like a crib.

  Sern threw herself over the window and made awful retching noises.

  I could comfortably add puking to the list of things possible within Tetratera. But this had already got me wondering whether motion sickness was specific to npcs and monsters, or whether it was something that could happen to any player?

  Axel pulled Sern back into the cabin. He first wiped her mouth and hair, then gave her some bottled water.

  Master Reggie still hadn’t stopped laughing, though it was quieter now. “Imagine that. A third area monster beaten by the gentle rocking of a Centiride. You’re such a delicate little thing.”

  Sern growled something unintelligible, before crawling to the corner of the cabin.

  “Those two sure are close, aren’t they?” Master Reggie chuckled.

  “I guess,” I said. “Does it matter?”

  “It’s a little weird, that’s all,” he hissed. “That’s all.”

  The rest of the ride was quiet.

  When the Centiride finally burst up from the tunnels, we had entered a scorching plane of dry rock, covered in cracks and gouges without the slightest hint of life.

  “Everybody alright?” I asked, stepping from the train.

  Sern and Axel were in a heap on the ground, grumbling to each other. Master Reggie stood not too far off, hands on his hips and a defiant expression on his face.

  That wasn’t a good sign.

  “Come here boy.” He grinned. “It’s time to go hunting.”

  “And how exactly do we hunt a wrath?”

  “Easy!” Master Reggie laughed. He walked up to Sern and slapped her across the face.

  Instantly, Axel lunged at Master Reggie, clawing into his arms. Master Reggie flicked him back, hurtling the monster into the air.

  He glanced at me.

  “What’s going on?” I grumbled.

  Master Reggie raised an eyebrow. “You’re not angry?”

  “Troubled, yes,” I stated. “But it’s not like you actually hurt Sern or Axel, so no.”

  As per our agreement in the tunnels, Master Reggie was unable to harm others. Looking at Sern, there wasn’t so much as a mark on her face, despite the sharp sound I’d just heard. She wasn’t even mad, really, just a little confused.

  “That’s a second area technique, isn’t it?” I asked. “Some sort of illusion?”

  His smile widened. “Clever clever. This would have been easier if you were angry too, but oh well. We must only hope that your friend has enough bait for the both of us.”

  I checked the sky.

  “That won’t be a problem.”

  Axel plummeted down, cracking his elbow against Master Reggie’s face with a force that drove the two of them deep into the ground.

  Master Reggie frowned, tapping the back of his neck.

  “Ow.”

  Axel shrieked, rearing up for another attack. Sern clapped her hands, and he stopped, almost like magic.

  “Anyway,” Reggie continued, readjusting his spine. “A wrath comes from the same family as a Core. They’re basically cousins. A Core feeds on mana, and a wrath feeds on…”

  “...anger?” I guessed.

  “Bingo,” he said. “I’ve heard it comes in all sorts of flavors, but the best stems from a lover’s vengeance.” He smacked Axel on the back. “Nice work, buddy.”

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Axel shivered in disgust, though to his credit, he didn’t react further.

  “With any luck, the wrath’s on its way right now,” Master Reggie said. “Keep an eye out for anything really sketchy. Like a rolling mass of flesh and organs.”

  Sern turned green again.

  “You’re joking, right?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “They come in all shapes and sizes. Quick tip. If you ever see a wrath made of blades, run like your life depends on it. Because it does.” Master Reggie chuckled for no apparent reason, tipping his white hat over his face. “There’s a saying from your world. ‘You are what you eat.’ This game appears to take that quite literally.”

  “So if it feeds from people’s anger, it’ll look like people?”

  “Bingo.”

  There’s a monster that feeds off anger in a barren wasteland, without people or animals. So it must have gained all its anger from the adventurers it’d already killed.

  Unless there was another source of anger in a barren wasteland.

  Sern made a sharp squeaking sound, jumping up off the rock. Her hands and feet were burned and blistering.

  I whipped toward her. “Is that—”

  “Nope,” Master Reggie said. “That’s a normal rock. It tends to get pretty hot around here and your friend has no shoes.”

  Sern got…burned? She was fireproof.

  Axel picked Sern up and sat her down on a conveniently located bench. Thankfully, the burns weren’t too bad.

  “Isn’t that weird? I asked. “She should be resistant to heat.”

  Master Reggie stopped smiling. “Oooohhh. Oh. Oh dear. Then this wrath can probably negate some resistances.”

  “And why would it be able to do that?”

  “I dunno. Why can birds fly and pigs can’t?”

  “Birds need to fly,” I hissed. “Anything else about wraths that you haven’t already mentioned?”

  “How should I know?” He grumbled. “They’re pretty basic. Find a player. Ambush the player. Eat the player.”

  My eyes shot open.

  “Ambush?”

  “Oh yeah,” Master Reggie cackled. “Some of them are pretty clever too. A barn wrath would probably turn into a sickly cow, and then the moment some farmer tried—” he cut off, realizing that I’d started running, directly toward the bench.

  “RUN!” I screamed, waving my hands.

  Sern’s eyes flashed white.

  I’d been too slow.

  The ground exploded out from underneath her. The metal bench folded itself in half, clamping against her side. Abstract shapes tore off, forming the edges of chairs and stools and signs and little wagons that spun around on broken axles, groaning under their own pressure.

  {Bench Wrath}

  [Brass]

  [100000/100000 Hp]

  Axel moved first, latching on one of the beams and splitting it apart with his bare hands.

  The beams merely snapped back around Axel's body, drawing him closer into the writhing mess with a low groan of metal.

  I cracked Crapshoveler against the wooden bars, knocking off splitters. Those too looped back into other parts of the creation, forming barbs and bristles.

  “Physical damage isn’t going to do much.” Master Reggie shrugged. “Didn’t I tell you? They’re related to Cores.”

  “DO SOMETHING!” I screamed, backpedaling, frantically scanning the rustling wreckage for any sign of Sern or Axel.

  Master Reggie scratched the back of his head. “Sorry. Bound by oath. I can’t move or harm anything. Besides, even if I could, it wouldn’t be worth the effort.”

  He gave me a gentle pat on the shoulder. “If it helps, your friends are probably already dead.”

  I hadn’t gotten any sort of notification. Both of them were still alive. They had to be.

  “Where’s the weak point?” I hissed.

  Master Reggie frowned, gripping my shoulder a little tighter. “Doesn’t have one. But you tried—”

  “You’re joking.”

  He shook his head. “Unlike a Core, they can store rage in any part of their body. Did you hear that? Any. Part. You would have to destroy the material pieces of the body to kill it. Considering this is one made of wood and metal, that would take both fire and acid, neither of which you have, and neither of which we could afford.”

  His hand had gained weight, pressed against my shoulder with such force that the nerves were going numb. When he spoke, he locked his eyes onto mine, making his point perfectly clear.

  “Grind. The bench Wrath is happy now. It’s going to take some time digesting those two, during which you’ll be able to escape. We got unlucky, so you just go back, train a little, and kill this time.” His face lit up. “Who knows? Maybe those two friends of yours will respawn. They felt pretty important, so I don’t think the game would let them die so easily.”

  He was right on every single point.

  As long as I kept myself alive, I could certainly get Sern back. The two had history together, implying that Axel was at least as old as Sern, which virtually demanded that he’d be able to respawn.

  Of course he would.

  But then again, if I died, then I’d just respawn too.

  Despite that, I found myself hesitant. I didn’t want to fight the wrath—not with a guarantee that I’d lose. And it was certain, right?

  When I thought it through, the very idea was ridiculous. If I died, there was no guarantee I’d get back to the position I was already in, with a Core as my tutor and enough exp in my body to have some measure of power. Dying would also waste a day of travel, if not longer. If I died, I’d have to free the children all over again. I’d have to face Madelaid all over again.

  I’d have to kill Dena all over again.

  But if I died, then those two wouldn’t remember dying.

  Either I face death, or they do.

  So I wouldn’t do it.

  Obviously.

  Master Reggie’s frown deeped, until he bore a scowl. “Kid, don’t waste your life.”

  My hands had long since begun to shake.

  I had already made up my mind to go, but my body refused to respond. My chest contracted, forcing the air from my lungs. I couldn’t seem to clear my head.

  Move. Move. Do something. Do anything.

  Tears slid under my chin, trickling into my shirt.

  If I wasn’t going to go, fine. If I was, that’s fine too. But why wasn’t I moving?

  Deep down I was scared to die.

  After all this time. After all these deaths, I was still scared. Without a copious amount of shock or trauma, dying hurt. And it hurt a lot.

  Sure, if I died, I could accept it, but why lunge into death? So that some people I barely even know wouldn’t feel momentary pain? It’d been what, a month and a half since I met these people? Don’t I have a shred of common sense?

  The next few words slipped out from my mouth, all on their own.

  “They’re probably scared to die too.”

  So I started running.