As Tyler reviewed his stats, fragments of memories surfaced like debris after a shipwreck. His gaming rig—"my pride and joy," he thought with a pang of nostalgia. When he wasn't working his ass off or partying until his liver begged for mercy, Tyler lived for gaming. He was a first-person shooter fiend with reflexes that made other players rage-quit.

  In his earlier years, he'd sink endless hours into gameplay with a blunt smoldering between his fingers or a bowl waiting on his desk. Him and his boys dominated servers, talking endless shit over their mics. Those sessions had shaped him, building the cocky confidence that became his armor in the real world.

  "Sir, are you alright?" Wormpool's voice cut through Tyler's reminiscing, startling him back to this bizarre reality. The creature's voice had changed—clearer now, less bestial growl and more like a native English speaker.

  "Damn it, Batman," Tyler muttered, shaking his head. "What the fuck is this place? Some kind of game?"

  Before Wormpool could respond, another notification blazed across Tyler's consciousness:

  [Vacuus Language Acquired]

  "Wait," Tyler said, blinking rapidly as his brain processed this new information. "So am I speaking English right now or some other shit?"

  "You are currently speaking English. I can understand you, and now you can understand me in the language of this Realm." Wormpool's tone carried the weariness of someone who'd had this conversation too many times before.

  A bottle materialized in the creature's gnarled hand. The container—or perhaps the liquid inside—shifted colors hypnotically: purple to black to yellow to green, then back to purple. The substance appeared to be composed of tiny hexagons or crystals, simultaneously unnerving and mesmerizing.

  "This place is wicked, bro," Tyler whispered, unable to tear his eyes from the bottle.

  "This item will help you form a Core of your desire," Wormpool explained. "It will only allow you to form a Core that is aligned with the affinities you currently possess. I will leave you for this process. Vlad will arrive shortly—he is skilled at helping Newcomers with this procedure." The bat-creature's perpetual scowl never softened. "I will return later with your Ability Gem, and skill selections."

  With that, Wormpool departed with practiced ease, leaving Tyler alone with his thoughts.

  Tyler stood frozen, trying desperately to remember how he'd ended up in this nightmare. Was it real? Some elaborate dream? Or a fucked-up prank? Then it hit him like a stripper's ass bouncing too hard against his face—something he would normally welcome. He chuckled despite himself.

  "I now know I'm an idiot," he muttered.

  Another memory slammed into him—the elevator. His gaze dropped to the ring on his finger. "My precious," he thought with grim irony. The old man, had probably coughed up his final meal after they found Tyler's crushed corpse.

  His parents. His brother. Sandy—oh sweet Sandy. What a sexy thing. Goddamn, why couldn't he focus?

  Tyler closed his eyes and looked inward. His stats appeared like some twisted welcome screen. This shit was beyond crazy—he actually had stats. And energy. And soon, abilities. It was wild, a gamer's wet dream turned reality, but in nightmare form.

  So that old man must be Henry. Based on this fucked-up place, Tyler guessed the geezer had sold his soul or something similar. He'd had that creepy Grim Reaper vibe about him. And he'd offered Tyler thousands.

  "Should've told that old fart to keep his money," Tyler muttered. "Why the fuck did I put the ring on?"

  His mind raced with a constant stream of consciousness. Where was this Vlad character, and why was his name so normal? Tyler had met a Vlad once—dude was pretty chill.

  A gust of warmth washed over Tyler, carrying with it a presence of power. It wasn't physical wealth he sensed, but something deeper—an aura of influence that seemed to bend reality itself. A man walked in, finally halting Tyler's nervous musings.

  The man looked like the Count of Monte Cristo, or more accurately, the Count's evil cousin—all suave sophistication in a rich purple cape. He wore an impeccable suit beneath it, and at his hip hung an ornate sword. Three tiny green orbs circled his waist like satellites in orbit. His skin was unnaturally pale, as if white had an even whiter brother. Light gray eyes gleamed, a sharp jaw beneath slicked-back hair, and he stood at least 6'6", towering over Tyler while looking distinctly, impossibly human.

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  "I'm not gay, my man, but you got a girl? We can hit the club, you know. I can be a great wingman," Tyler blurted out, not knowing where these ridiculous thoughts came from but letting the words tumble out anyway. Even though Tyler was good at putting on this front he mind was turning with nerves.

  The man laughed—not just chuckled, but genuinely howled with amusement, his shoulders shaking as the sound echoed off the shadowy walls.

  "Damn, dude, it wasn't that funny," Tyler said, shifting uncomfortably.

  "Yes, yes it was," the stranger replied, his laughter subsiding. "But you're not Henry, are you?" The man looked at Tyler—or more accurately, looked into Tyler. Tyler felt like chopped liver, or a woman at the beach, or anywhere for that matter, being sized up by hungry eyes.

  Then he felt it—something digging into his skin, or maybe the back of his head, or perhaps even deeper. An invisible probe sifting through his thoughts, his memories. His soul?

  "Ah, I see. Not Henry, but very interesting. This year's league is going to be entertaining indeed." The man's smile widened, revealing teeth too perfect to be natural.

  Tyler looked at him, puzzled. "What the fuck was that? I feel violated. At least take me out to dinner first." He hated the cliché, but it just felt right in the moment.

  The man chuckled again, more softly this time. "Hello Tyler. My name is Vlad, and I will be assisting you today on your Core." His voice carried a barely perceptible accent that Tyler couldn't quite place. "I'm going to first ask you a few important questions. Growing up, what did you do? What did you enjoy?" He leaned forward slightly. "And don't worry—nothing you say to me will leave this room. This is a pact oath I cannot break."

  Tyler looked at Vlad with undisguised skepticism. "Bro, I don't care if you tell your daddy." He shrugged. "Okay, so what do I like? I like women, of course. Like I said, not gay. But 2024, nothing wrong with that, just not me, you know."

  A spark flashed in Tyler's mind like a lightbulb suddenly illuminating. "Now that you know I'm not Henry, what will be the repercussions? Does Henry need to be here? Was Henry the old man, and did he sell his soul?"

  "Those are some excellent questions, Tyler," Vlad replied, his perfect smile never wavering. "But we only have time for a few, as I am very busy and you are already late." He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "In fact, he did, Tyler. He sold his soul to Vacuus. But it's more than that. Henry was a very ambitious man with high intelligence. He would have made a great candidate for the League, but you, Tyler..." His eyes gleamed with predatory interest. "This will be an excellent twist. I feel something in you that I've only felt in one place. One place that is far from here, and is very powerful indeed."

  Vlad straightened his immaculate suit. "Now, back to my questions. What did you enjoy doing growing up?"

  "Well, besides, you know," Tyler made the coke-bottle gestured, "I was big into gaming. Do you understand the concept I'm referring to when I say gaming? I'm not talking puzzles or whatever the fuck you guys do here."

  "Yes, I've peeked into your memories. I think I have an understanding of your concept of games."

  Tyler's eyes narrowed with sudden insight. "So you would understand when I say this is a game-like world, would you not?" He felt a flicker of pride—he knew he could be smart when he wanted to be.

  "No, not exactly," Vlad countered. "This world is The Cosmore. What is life in this universe may differ from what is life in your universe, but that doesn't change the fact that it is real." His voice took on a distant quality. "I've been to places, Tyler—places that wouldn't be understood by normal consciousness, places that fold dimensions, that exist beyond time and space. Would you say those places are games? What is real and what is fantasy all depends on the observer."

  Tyler considered this, genuinely curious about the prospects. After a moment, he frowned. "Okay, that's awesome and all, but if you already peeked into my mind, what's the point of asking these questions?"

  "Well, Tyler," Vlad explained with practiced patience, "I need you to feel what you manifest, what you are connected to in your soul, to determine how to guide you to develop the proper core for you."

  "Okay, so yeah—games, music, all typical shit."

  "Would you say you enjoy work?" Vlad's gaze intensified.

  "You really looked deep, huh?" Tyler snorted. "Yeah, I enjoy work. I enjoy fixing things." Memories flooded Tyler's mind: rescuing the cute Indian chick who scowled and asked what took so long, her boyfriend giving him the apologetic 'sorry, bro' look; extracting kids after they purposely got themselves stuck by jumping up and down in elevator; figuring out drive issues on some ancient piece-of-shit controller.

  "Yeah, I enjoy the difficulty and the accomplishment feeling I get when I discover the problem."

  "That's very good, Tyler. I can see your pathways opening up." Vlad's orbiting green spheres pulsed brighter. "Would you say your lifestyle is pretty chaotic?"

  "Hell yeah. I like to think of it as organized chaos." Tyler grinned, finally in comfortable territory. "I love going to clubs, whether that's the titty bars, dance clubs, parties—waking up and finding my way in the concrete jungle of New York."

  "Would you say your life is kind of strange? Like you seem to get a lot of coincidences often? Tripping only to then notice you avoided getting hit by a mobile unit?"

  "I'm guessing you're referring to cars. Yeah, that happens often, like life is always testing me or twisting me, pulling this way then changing course."

  "Very good. That will be enough." Vlad's expression became more focused, clinical. "I need you to look inward now. Think about looking into something you can't see, something deep."

  "It's easier if you close your eyes," he added softly. "I will try to guide you. You might feel a prick again."

  Tyler tried to look inward, feeling silly at first, like what's this mobo jumbo, but then he felt it—or more accurately, he saw it. Threads of energy in layers, different colors weaving together in patterns that somehow made sense despite their alien nature.

  "Perfect. I'm right there with you, Tyler." Vlad's voice seemed to come from both outside and inside Tyler's head simultaneously. "Okay, now I can see your pathways. They are fully open. Open your eyes."