Chapter 8 (Joshua’s POV)

  Two weeks. That’s how long I’d been back in my world—my normal world—since stepping through the door that spat me out onto a crowded street in torn clothes, half-limping, and reeking of decay. At first, I’d clung to the relief of it all: no roamers, no savage gangs, no haunting fractals of copper in the corners of my vision. Yet the memory of the other realm refused to fade, running like an undercurrent beneath every mundane day.

  I’d managed to restore some semblance of a routine in those weeks. Every morning, I’d wake in the old cottage that once felt so eerie, now smelling faintly of cleaning supplies and cheap air freshener. I’d shower, grateful the water pressure had stabilized after replacing a rusted pipe. Then I’d brew coffee—actual coffee, not the gritty, half-rotten brew of desperation—and head off to a local community center or library, scouring job boards, handing out resumes. Anything to fill the hours, to push down thoughts of Anna and that rotting city I’d left behind.

  But in the afternoons, my real focus began: Muay Thai classes at Iron Elbows Gym. After that first day, I’d thrown myself into training with a single-minded intensity that bordered on obsession. The initial awkward stumbles turned to shaky progress. My bruises faded, replaced by new bruises, sharper reflexes, and an increasing tolerance for pain. Marco, the head coach, took a guarded respect for me—something about the way I never missed a session, never half-assed a drill. Maybe he sensed the desperation behind my eyes, the silent vow that I’d never be that terrified wage slave again.

  I’d sink into the burn of each workout, ignoring the ache in my muscles. Jab, cross, hook, low kick—again and again until my arms screamed. I’d practice knees on the heavy bag until the sweat dripped in torrents, pooling at my feet, mind forcibly clear of everything but the next strike. It felt strangely liberating, punching away some of the guilt for leaving Anna behind. Or maybe I was just punishing myself.

  Money. A source of relief, and now of worry. The cosmic system that let me exit the apocalypse realm had left me with six thousand five hundred dollars after clearing my old debts. It felt like a godsend—yet in just two weeks, I’d burned through nearly half of it.

  A month unlimited pass plus gear (hand wraps, gloves, shin guards) cost a chunk.

  Then there were groceries, new clothes (since I couldn’t keep wearing gore-caked rags), plus some bills for the cottage.

  Before I knew it, I had about $3,500 left. Still a good amount, but hardly enough to survive indefinitely without finding stable income. And though I’d sent out a dozen resumes, no calls had come. Maybe the old me would have panicked. But a different thought gnawed at me now: going back to that other world.

  I kept asking myself the same question. Am I insane? But the more time passed, the more my conscience itched. I’d left Anna—tough, scornful, yet strangely determined—alone in a realm overrun by horrors. My chest tightened whenever I recalled her face, the blunt way she’d insisted I kill roamers, or the subdued concern she’d shown right before I vanished. She had no real chance at a better life there. If I ever wanted to repay her for saving me, if I ever wanted to prove I wasn’t just a coward who ran away… I had to go back.

  But if I did, I wouldn’t go empty-handed this time.

  So, for the past few days, I’d begun quietly purchasing gear—stuff I hoped would help me survive and maybe help Anna, if she was still alive. My training gave me a bit of confidence, but I refused to rely on fists and rebar alone.

  I wrote out the list on a notepad, crossing out items as I bought them:

  1. MREs (Meals Ready-to-Eat) – Enough for a couple of weeks, if rationed.

  2. A sturdy backpack – Large, with multiple compartments, padded straps.

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  3. Medieval-style war hammer – Because some part of me recognized the practicality of a brutal melee weapon. I’d ordered one online with a hooked beak on the backside for penetrating armor. Maybe it was overkill, but I wasn’t going to fight roamers empty-handed, or with a chunk of rebar.

  4. K-Bar knife – A classic, reliable blade. Perfect backup when swinging a hammer wasn’t feasible.

  For Anna – If I found her again:

  1. A leather jacket (protective, durable)

  2. A short sword (light, strong, good for close quarters)

  3. A Compund bow with arrows (she’d need range, and from what she implied, bullets were scarce in her world)

  4. Food (dried goods, MREs)

  5. Water purifier kits and bottled water (the city’s water was revolting at best)

  The total cost for these items… around $1,500. That stung my wallet, but no price felt too high if I was actually going back to that nightmare. If it gave me or Anna a better chance at survival, it was worth it.

  Of course, the Gate System or whatever cosmic toll demanded a 10% penalty on everything I brought in—$150 lost right off the top, plus a bit more for any intangible debts. And I’d also grabbed some bike gear (a padded jacket, reinforced gloves, a basic helmet) for $60. Another 10% cut was likely to vanish upon crossing, maybe $6. It all added up.

  In short, my $3,500 would shrink further once I lugged everything through. Ten percent might not kill me financially, but it was a reminder the Gate demanded its pound of flesh. That, plus the risk of never making it back, made my stomach churn.

  Later that evening. I sat at my small, cluttered desk in the cottage, the overhead light casting jagged shadows on my brand-new gear piled in the corner. The medieval hammer glinted ominously where I’d propped it by the door. The short sword and bow lay next to a newly acquired leather jacket, tags still on. The K-Bar felt surprisingly natural at my hip when I tested it earlier.

  I scribbled in my notepad:

  Current funds: $3,500

  Cost for gear: $1,500

  Gate penalty: ~$150

  Bike gear: $60 -> Gate penalty: ~$6

  Remaining after purchase & penalty: $1,784 (roughly)

  That still left me with under two grand in the bank. Enough to pay some bills if I came back. If I came back. My throat tightened at the thought. The chance of dying in that place loomed large. I’d been unbelievably lucky to escape once.

  But I couldn’t ignore the nightmares, the guilt, or the callous truth: If I did nothing, I’d never forgive myself. Anna’s scornful face haunted me whenever I let my mind wander—impossible to forget the day we parted, the swirl of fractals that whisked me away. She’d risked her life to save me, and I’d left her behind.

  Muay Thai gave me some measure of confidence—my reflexes were sharper, my guard better. And with the gear I’d assembled, I’d stand a better chance than before. But that world was savage, unyielding. The roamers alone were nightmarish, not to mention the brutal factions Anna spoke of.

  Still, the next time I stepped through that door, I’d do it on my terms, with supplies that might keep me and Anna alive—maybe even give her hope. The thought of handing her a short sword, a decent bow, and a jacket for real protection glimmered with possibility. Could she and I carve out a safe existence there? Or would we try to find a safer stronghold?

  I sighed, pushing aside the notepad. My heart pounded with a combination of dread and purpose. Two weeks of normal life, but normalcy felt fragile, hollow. I stared at the medieval hammer for a long moment, imagining the look on Anna’s face if I actually found her and offered that gear.

  I slipped out of my chair, crossing the cramped living room to test the weight of the hammer. Heavy, yes, but balanced. My arms still ached from the day’s Muay Thai session—elbows, knees, combos until my limbs shook. But I’d do more, endure more, if it meant I could stand at Anna’s side rather than fleeing.

  Outside, a siren wailed in the distance, just part of the city’s nightly soundtrack. No roamers, no empire—but the tension remained. I felt it in my bones: I’d be crossing back soon, probably tomorrow. I’d stock up on any last-minute items—maybe more water, or a sleeping bag. Then I’d find a door. Another battered side entrance, maybe the same corporate building. Insert the Key and pray the Gate let me through once more.

  Would Anna still be there—still alive, still alone? The fear of discovering her gone or worse gnawed at my gut. But if anyone in that World had the grit to survive, it was her.

  I set the hammer down gently. My gaze roved over the laid-out gear, mind humming with possibilities and pitfalls.

  Tomorrow, I’d see. Tomorrow, I’d decide if I truly had the courage to return, to brave that rotting city and face the Gate’s penalty once again.

  For now, I exhaled, letting my eyes flutter shut. The hum of the cottage’s overhead lamp flickered, my reflection in the window a reminder of how far I’d come—and how far I might still have to go.

  Yes, tomorrow. One final day of preparation, then I’d step into the unknown again, heart pounding with a mix of fear and hope. Because while this world offered me normalcy, it also left me haunted by regret.