The Cerberus regional office housed thirty immersion capsules spread across three floors. It had taken Rook a two-hour drive to get here, fuel paid out of his pocket. But if this went the way he hoped, the raise would more than make up for it.

  The sliding doors parted with a soft hiss, letting in a wave of warm air that brushed against Rook’s face. He stepped into the lobby, where a receptionist tapped away at a touchscreen terminal.

  “Hello, ma’am.”

  She glanced up, polite but distracted. “Hello. How can I help you?”

  “I’m Rook. Leader of one of Cerberus’ farming teams. I need to report something important to Mr. Grove.”

  Her brow creased. “Did you try the in-game channels?”

  Rook offered a practiced smile. He knew the drill—report up the chain and risk someone else snatching the credit. “This is… sensitive information. I thought it best to come in person.”

  She paused, then resumed typing. “What did you say your name was?”

  “Rook is my in-game tag. Richard Rook, legally.”

  “I can’t make any promises. Mr. Grove only takes in person meeting by appointment and he’s in the middle of a raid right now.”

  “I’ll wait. As long as it takes.”

  With a sigh, she motioned toward a row of lobby chairs. Rook nodded and took a seat.

  He tapped his foot, anxiety simmering beneath the surface. This was a gamble, sure—but if it paid off, it might finally earn him the promotion he’d been chasing.

  Two players walked in, laughing, shoulders bumping as they chatted. Full members of Cerberus' main force. He felt a sharp stab of envy.

  That could be me. Maybe soon. He didn’t just want a raise—he wanted out of the grind. He was tired of farming Red Macaws.

  Hours slipped by. The lobby remained mostly quiet, just a trickle of movement through the doors. Rook had counted only four or five people passing through. Most guild members stayed in the capsules, hidden from view, spending the bulk of their time in-game.

  His stomach growled, but he stayed put.

  The sound of footsteps descending the stairs made him sit upright. Mr. Grove.

  He hadn’t changed much since Rook’s interview—a man in his late thirties with an athletic build and an air of quiet confidence. Grove was more than just the manager of this guild house; he was a member of Cerberus’ 2nd Raid Team. He was among the top ten warriors in the guild. He was also the supervisor of this guild house.

  In-game and out, he was the real deal.

  Grove walked over to the front desk, exchanged a few hushed words with the receptionist, then turned and approached. He took the chair opposite Rook and settled in.

  “Rook, is it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You’ve been pulling solid numbers lately. Good haul on the [Scarlet Marrow]. I finally got my turn and ate it myself.”

  Rook let out a small breath. “Glad to hear it, sir.”

  “Is that why you’re here? Chasing a promotion?”

  “It’s not about a promotion,” Rook added quickly, trying to sound indifferent.

  Grove leaned back, skeptical. “Good, because we’re not promoting anyone. Roster’s full.”

  Rook nodded. “I’m here to report something that might interest the guild. I came across a player with a hidden class. He is unaffiliated with any guild.”

  That got Grove’s attention. “Go on.”

  “His in-game tag is Dex. Real name: Deckard Haymond. Former world champion in Nova Cardia.”

  Grove raised an eyebrow.

  “We bumped into him during a Red Macaw hunt. He soloed the boss—took it down in one shot while it still had over half its HP.”

  “Seriously?” Grove sat up straighter. “You have a recording?”

  Rook hesitated. “Actually… no. We signed an NDA. He made us agree to it before the fight.”

  Grove’s expression darkened slightly. “Why’d you agree to that?”

  “He offered a deal. If we handed over the card drops from the Macaw, he guaranteed we’d get a [Scarlet Marrow]. Silence about him was part of the arrangement.”

  Grove leaned forward, folding his hands under his chin. “Ah. So that’s why you came here instead of reporting in-game.”

  He studied Rook, eyes narrowed. The silence dragged just long enough to make Rook’s nerves stir.

  “Alright,” Grove finally said. “I’m listening. What can you tell me about this hidden class?”

  “Not much—only that he can one-shot creatures and bosses. But it doesn’t seem automatic. There are… conditions.”

  Grove narrowed his eyes. “Such as?”

  “He has to perform a kind of ritual. With coconuts.”

  A pause.

  “Excuse me?” Grove blinked. “Coconuts?”

  “Yes. He sits in the middle of them—like a circle—then steps on each one. It charges a skill somehow.”

  Grove stared at him, stunned. Then his lips twitched. A moment later, he burst out laughing.

  “Coconuts? Seriously? Hahaha!”

  Rook’s face flushed. “Sir, I know how it sounds. But that’s exactly what we saw. My whole team can vouch for it. And you said it yourself—our yield’s been up this week. That’s because of his help.”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Still chuckling, Grove stood up. “Coconuts... I applaud your creativity. Really, I do. But I was already skeptical when you claimed to find a hidden class in a beginner zone. You realize class unlocks only happen beyond the starter zones, right?”

  Rook opened his mouth, but Grove didn’t give him the chance.

  “I’ve got several friends with hidden classes. None of them found theirs before level 10. Not that you would know, otherwise you wouldn’t have concocted this tale. The NDA detail was a good excuse not to have proof of your story. Nice touch. But this coconut thing—wow.”

  His laughter echoed through the quiet lobby. Then, as quickly as it had come, it vanished.

  Grove’s expression hardened. “Rook, I don’t appreciate when people try to make a fool out of me. Pull a stunt like this again, and you’re out. Understood?”

  Rook’s chest tightened. Why didn’t he believe him? He was telling the truth. But he forced a nod anyway. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. The door’s that way.”

  As he turned to leave, Grove muttered one last time under his breath, “Coconuts…”

  Rook stepped out of the guild house, his shoulders heavy. He kicked at a rock—and immediately regretted it when pain shot up his foot.

  Could this day get any worse?

  *

  Deckard stepped into Ronan’s shop. A handful of players rummaged through crates stuffed with junk—items Ronan passed off as premium loot.

  Deckard moved toward the desk where Ronan was sketching. The alien NPC, usually aloof and unreadable, didn’t even glance up at first. But the moment he noticed Deckard, his eyes widened. “You…”

  “Hi, Ronan!” Deckard greeted, happy to see the difference in treatment.

  The tall alien shot to his feet. “The shop is closed!” he screamed to the other customers.

  “Huh?” one of the players muttered. “What do you mean?”

  “OUT! OUT!” Ronan barked, shooing them toward the door. He slammed it shut behind them.

  Ronan never acknowledged him—never even looked in his direction if he could help it. Now he was clearing the shop just because he walked in?

  The nanites coating Ronan’s sleek black skin receded, revealing his true form. “You! You’ve completed the island survey!”

  Deckard grinned. “That I did. How’d you know?”

  Ronan extended his hand. Particles of dust swirled outward from Deckard's inventory, coalescing into the shape of his Dimensional Binder. The pages opened and fluttered in an instant under Ronan’s gaze.

  “The moment you entered, your nanites synced with my server.” Ronan’s voice trembled. “This is…” He suddenly punched himself in the face. “So emotional.”

  Punch. Punch. “I’m so proud.” Punch. Punch.

  Deckard took a step back, alarmed. Why was he punching himself?

  Is this how Zulmers express sadness? Joy?

  “All these years, I tried to complete the survey myself. I failed. But you—you succeeded. I was right to entrust it to you.”

  Ronan is thrilled at your achievement!

  +100 reputation with the Zulmers!

  You’ve earned a new title: [Friend of the Zulmers]!

  Friend of the Zulmers (Rare)

  Title description: You’ve befriended the universe’s premier ecologists—the Zulmerian race.

  Title effects:

  +1 deck capacity;

  You can see through Zulmerian disguises.

  Conditions to unlock [Friend of the Zulmers]:

  Reach 100 reputation with the Zulmers. {complete}

  “Whoa.”

  Deckard had checked in with Ronan after finishing mini-sets, hoping for bonus rewards, but nothing had happened. This time was different. Not only had he unlocked a new title, but it came with two powerful perks: the ability to see through Zulmerian stealth technology and an extra slot in his throwing deck.

  The rewards just kept stacking up.

  Ronan waved a hand, and the nanites dispersed. The binder dissolved into a cloud of shimmering particles and zipped back into Deckard’s inventory.

  “Yes. You are a gifted ecologist, human,” Ronan said, pacing with growing energy. “Your talents are wasted on this small island. We need to get you out there!”

  “Yes! I completely agree,” Deckard said, practically bouncing with excitement.

  “Here!” Ronan thrust something into his hand. A bracelet—plain, copper-looking, almost dull.

  The moment Deckard touched it, the thing sprang to life, latching onto his wrist with a metallic snap.

  “Ow! What—”

  You’ve received a new item: [Transcloak Band]!

  Transcloak Band (Rare)

  Description: Human teleportation systems are protected against alien interference. This bracelet cloaks Zulmerian tech signatures, allowing you to bypass restrictions.

  Effect: You can now access teleportation gates.

  Yes! Finally.

  “Thanks, Ronan!”

  Ronan shook his head. “No need to thank me. You’re doing your planet—and the Zulmers—a great service. Now go. Help us preserve what’s left. We need more Understanding of this ecosystem. We don’t know when They will strike... but it’ll be soon.”

  Then came a sound—wet, squeaky, like a fart through a trumpet. It tooted softly from Ronan’s antennae and echoed around the room.

  Deckard blinked. Based on the slump in Ronan’s shoulders and the sudden awkward silence, Deckard guessed it was a display of regret.

  “Urgh. Got too excited. Should have played it cooler,” Ronan muttered, looking at the empty shop, already shifting back into his human disguise. “Quick—I need to reopen the store.”

  The nanites reformed, reshaping Ronan into the pale, strange man players had grown accustomed to. He opened the door, and players surged back in.

  “What was that about?”

  One player beelined for Deckard. “Hey, what just happened in here?”

  Deckard shrugged, casual. “No idea. Maybe a bug?”

  The others eyed him, skeptical. Some drifted toward Ronan, hoping to trigger a rare quest. “Hey. Anything we can help you with? Any special mission?”

  “You either buy something or leave,” Ronan snapped.

  That shut them up fast.

  Deckard smirked.

  Maybe Ronan wasn’t rude. Maybe he just didn’t know how to handle Earth’s body language. Anyone who spent more than two minutes talking to him could tell something was... off.

  Well, no matter. Everything had gone perfectly. Deckard turned and left the shop. A couple of suspicious players trailed him, but he didn’t care.

  Deckard made his way to the teleportation gate. As he approached, a system prompt materialized in front of him.

  Welcome to the Teleportation Gate of Beginner Island.

  Choose one of the following locations to teleport to. Your first use is free!

  Yes. Finally.

  He’d worried for so long about how he would leave the island, but his instinct had been right. Completing the collection had given him a golden ticket out of here.

  The alternative—hiking through the tunnel—would’ve been torture. He probably would have died multiple times until he made it. Thank goodness, players of his class did have a way to teleport.

  A list of cities unfolded before him. The closest was Aquascape, the city linked directly to his island by a tunnel. But there were others, too: Atlantis, Nerida, Thalassa, Coralight... each one connected to its own beginner island within the Water Caves region.

  And beyond that? There were seven other more regions just like this. Seventy cities.

  The world of AstroTerra is humongous, Deckard thought.

  The question now was: which mid-tiered city should he go to?

  Once, he’d assumed it didn’t matter which city he chose. But that was before he learned about Island Affinity in Terralore. Now, things weren’t so simple.

  Do all these cities have dungeons or maps tied to tribes that synergize with the island affinity? Or are there some that are better than others?

  That wasn’t the only consideration. There was Ronan’s recommendation letter, too—a formal introduction to his friend who lived in Aquascape. If his gut was right, that contact was probably another Zulmer.

  He tapped his foot, eyes flicking back and forth across the list. What to do? What to do...?

  But then he caught himself and stopped.

  There was no need to rush. He’d been online for hours. Maybe it was time to step away for a bit.

  He opened the menu and hit Log Out. It was time to think things through and visit his mother.