Hard, cold pavement pressed into my palms. The smell of automotive exhaust, steaming coffee, and a faint whiff of city smog drifted into my nostrils—familiar. Home, or at least my own realm’s version of a decaying urban sprawl. Shaking violently, I rose to a crouch, vision reeling from the abrupt change in gravity and air pressure.
For a few heartbeats, I couldn’t process anything besides the relief of not hearing the moans of the undead or the thunder of gunfire. The midday sun scoured my eyes, everything too bright after the gloom of that other reality. When my pupils adjusted, I saw I was on a grimy sidewalk in front of a modern corporate building’s glass fa?ade—its windows intact, glinting under the daylight. Across the street, a line of cars crawled past, drivers honking irritably. Pedestrians hurried by, not one of them stopping to gawk at the filthy, blood-spattered man who’d just materialized on the concrete.
My heart still pounded from adrenaline, but a wave of dizzy relief rolled through me. I’m back. The key had worked.
Then a voice—or something like one—spoke inside my mind. Cold, mechanical, utterly devoid of sympathy:
“Transfer complete.
10% item deduction applied.
Final Adjusted Total: $6500.
Debt removed: $650.
Thank you for using the Gate System.”
I flinched as though struck, confusion slicing through the haze of relief. “What… Gate System?” I mumbled aloud, trying to ignore a couple of office workers who gave me a weird look before veering wide. Item deduction? Debt removed?
My first instinct was to take stock of my pockets. My clothes were still smeared with gore, but they were, indeed, the same clothes from the apocalypse realm—frayed, stained, half torn. The small stash of pearls I’d managed to scrounge was still tucked away in an inner pocket, lumpy and faintly warm. And the wad of cash I’d found… I dug it out with shaking hands.
The bills felt crisp yet stained, the reek of rot almost masked by everyday city smells. I flipped through them in a state of mounting confusion. I could have sworn I had more. Carefully, I counted: one, two, five… tens… twenties… hundreds. The sum came to $6500.
But that made no sense. I remembered scraping together around $5000 from that last roamer alone—plus some battered bills I’d found earlier in the apocalypse. By my rough estimate, I should’ve had at least $7000, maybe more. Where had the missing chunk gone? And what about “Debt removed: $650”?
As I tried to puzzle this out, the voice in my head echoed back:
“10% item deduction applied.”
An epiphany hit me, Like a drunk elephant at a rave. The “cost” for crossing worlds. The system had warned me about a 10% penalty on any items moved between realms. I’d hardly noticed at the time, too busy surviving. Now, it was slamming me in the face. Ten percent of my money—gone. Ten percent of the clothes, or the pearls, or… whatever weird cosmic exchange rate determined the final value. The mechanical “Gate System” had converted that penalty into actual currency, hacking away at my stash. And it had apparently recognized my personal debt as part of the equation, chiseling off $650 more from some intangible ledger.
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My teeth clenched as the numbers whirled:
I had around $7200–$7300 total in scraps and lumps from that realm.
A 10% penalty might knock me down to about $6500.
Another chunk—$650—was listed as “Debt removed,” though it felt less like a favor than some bizarre cosmic balancing act.
It dawned on me that each piece of gear, each scrap of clothing, each pearl I carried had a separate 10% cost attached. The Gate apparently lumped it all together into a single total, leaving me with precisely $6500. That “debt removed” figure might reflect an offset from my prior real-world obligations. My bank account in this realm had sat in the negative. Now that negative was—poof—absorbed by the same weird, unstoppable system that let me slip between dimensions.
I rubbed my temples, head throbbing from more than just leftover stress. The logic was twisted but consistent: .
It was infuriating… but at the same time, it was like being gifted a second chance. $6500 was still a small fortune to me—enough to reset my life. Enough to walk away from the mind-numbing job I’d hated or pay for a fresh start. Enough that I didn’t have to slump under Brenda’s stapler or endure her humiliations. The Gate had effectively balanced my ledger.
I sank onto the nearest curb, ignoring the half-dried blood on my pants and the looks from passersby, my mind spinning. “It took my money. It took 10% of… everything,” I muttered. “My clothes, the pearls… that’s what it meant by ‘each item can be transferred, but a 10% cost applies.’” The memory of the disclaimers in that realm fluttered at the back of my mind, overshadowed by terror at the time.
Pearls. I fished them out carefully—a small handful of glowing spheres. To my shock, I counted them: one… two… eight? I’d been certain I had nine. The Gate must have consumed one. Or fractioned them in some bizarre formula that netted me minus one. The twisted cosmic math defied easy logic, but it fit the pattern. 10% was simply gone.
I swallowed a surge of frustration. At least I still had some left. Even if I had no idea what good they’d do me in a normal city, where roamers didn’t exist. Another puzzle for another day.
Shaking out the wad of bills, I stared at the battered, gore-stained currency, heart hammering with a complicated brew of relief and guilt. Over $6000, free from my crippling debts. A brand-new slate. And I’d left behind so much horror—and one person, in particular—back in that realm. Anna. My chest tightened with the memory of her stoic face as I disintegrated from her world. She’d asked no reward, only a chance for me to survive. And survive I had, albeit at a price that felt heavier now than any cosmic toll.
I closed my eyes, letting the city’s bustle wash over me. Car horns, footsteps, the smell of cheap hot dogs from a vendor’s cart up the street. A swirl of urban normalcy that felt half dream, half cold reality. I was back, and I had the Gate to thank. Or curse.
$6500. No more debt. Enough to live, to pivot, to build something new. Maybe enough to buy some peace of mind after everything I’d seen. But I couldn’t ignore the unsettling voice that told me the Gate had merely loaned me a chance. That it could yank me back across the veil anytime it wanted, slapping me with more cosmic fees or taxes.
Still, for now, I inhaled and exhaled. My body felt painfully alive, battered but unbroken. I was free—and better off than I’d ever been. Drained, half traumatized, but undeniably changed. Maybe I’d figure out how to truly repay Anna’s sacrifice someday… or maybe that door was closed forever.
I clutched the money, pearls still carefully pocketed, standing up on shaky legs. The city around me paid no heed to the bloodied, wide-eyed figure who had reappeared from a realm of nightmares. They just carried on. I took one step, then another, each breath a reminder that for now, at least, I could walk away from the apocalypse and start anew, unshackled by old debts or old fears.
The Gate’s voice still echoed in my head, a silent reminder that I was part of something larger now:
“Transfer complete. 10% item deduction applied. Debt removed.”