Two things happened as Otto tore towards Joe. First, Merv’s messages blinked in his vision like a persistent migraine, marked urgent by the self-serving prick. The second was Brian stepping in front of him, cutting off Joe’s view of Otto’s murderous red eyes and frothing, rabid snarl.

  "Stay behind me," Brian yelled, throwing out an arm like a human barricade as the others instinctively huddled closer. His voice turned absurdly calm as he added, "Rose, may I borrow your staff?"

  Without missing a beat, Rose handed it over.

  Joe tightened his grip on his butterfly knives, eyes flicking to the hollows. Magic wouldn’t work on them, but physical attacks did. Being within reach of hollow would increase their risk of getting Touch of Madness. Everyone knew it.

  Otto lunged, and Brian met him head-on, sweeping the staff like a broom and knocking Otto flat. Brian wasn’t a skilled fighter, but he used his size and reach like a battering ram, deflecting Otto’s frenzied attacks. The deranged elf hit the ground again and again, writhing like a snake with rabies.

  The dark elf’s limbs twisted unnaturally as he scrambled to his feet, only to launch himself at Brian again, eyes blazing with mindless rage.

  Robyn let out a squeak as Otto broke through Brian’s defense for a split second, claws raking across his hand. He stumbled back, terror flashing in his wide eyes, until Joe pulled him in close.

  “Touch of Madness.” Robyn gasped, pointing shakily at Brian.

  “He’s immune.” Joe kept his voice steady. Relief flooded through him; at least that hadn’t changed. But there was no time to dwell on it. More hollows were closing in, their silent advance relentless.

  Urgent messages from Merv still blinked in Joe’s vision, demanding attention. With his eyes burning like they were filled with grit, he begrudgingly opened the alliance chat.

  Merv: Where are you? It’s chaos in here. Fights breaking out. I need backup.

  Joe rolled his eyes. Since when does Merv need help?

  Halcyon’s voice cut in. Since it suits him. Watch yourself.

  Joe: Not now, Merv. We’re near the entrance, but hollows are closing in.

  More messages flooded the chat, but since none were marked urgent, Joe dismissed them.

  Survival first.

  Brian’s jaw clenched as he fought. His gaze flicked between Otto and the advancing sea of hollows, desperation sharpening his movements. When Otto broke through his defense again, Brian shifted his weight and brought the staff crashing down like a hammer. Otto hit the ground, writhing, but it wasn’t over.

  Joe caught the flicker of hesitation in Brian’s eyes—regret, even—but the big guy didn’t falter. With a grimace, he stomped down on Otto’s head. Once. Twice. Again and again until Otto’s form dissolved into a shimmering haze of respawn particles.

  Joe swallowed hard. It was brutal to watch, but it had been a mercy. Otto wouldn’t make it to the safe room with Touch of Madness still active. Staying here until the debuff wore off meant a gruesome end, torn apart by the swarm closing in.

  Lucky stood at the green zone door, holding it open, his eyes darting frantically between the approaching hollows and Joe. “Come on, hurry! Get inside!”

  Joe’s stomach twisted. Lucky must’ve forgotten. They couldn’t enter a green zone common room. Orange zoners didn’t get a pass, even in life-or-death moments.

  Andras strolled up behind Lucky, calm as if he had all the time in the world. “Orange zoners can’t enter here,” he said with a cold smile. “Close the door.”

  Lucky hesitated, his whiskers trembling, but before he could respond, Andras grabbed his arm and yanked him back. The door whooshed shut, petals folding inward like a flower retreating from darkness.

  The hollows crept closer, silent and deadly, their glowing eyes locking onto the group. Joe activated Quick Wit, measuring the distance to the orange zone entrance. “Too far.”

  Brian’s voice was grim. “We try anyway.”

  Joe nodded, every muscle in his body screaming to run. They bolted for the entrance, Brian taking the rear to shield them, but the swarm was faster, closing in with terrifying speed. The air grew colder, and Joe felt the weight of inevitability press on his chest.

  They weren’t going to make it.

  A halo of light spilled out as the entrance peeled open, framing a single figure. It took Joe a split second to recognize Ryan. He stood like a gunslinger, scaled fingers barely fitting around mismatched triggers.

  Ryan squeezed off several shots. The rounds struck the leading hollows, not stopping them but slowing their relentless advance. Silent as death, the creatures shifted course, zeroing in on him.

  “What the hell’s he doing?” TJ growled. “They’ll block our entry!”

  He wasn’t wrong.

  While hollows couldn’t enter safe zones, they could bottleneck the entrance, making it impossible for Joe’s group to get through without catching Touch of Madness. Even Brian couldn’t physically hold them all off.

  Ryan didn’t seem fazed. He flashed a knowing grin and stepped to the side.

  In his place, a massive form loomed, ducking low to clear the doorway. It placed both hands on the frame and emerged, straightening to its full, awe-inspiring height.

  Brian’s jaw dropped. Joe’s did too.

  A tower defensive guardian stood there, a monstrous hybrid of kaiju flesh and glinting armor. Its limbs rippled with muscle, scales and plates fused into an unholy fortress of destruction. Ryan raised himself onto his toes and rested his scaly hand on the guardian’s shoulder.

  “The hollows are corrupted,” Ryan said, his voice calm and firm. “Charge them before they taint the tower.”

  Without hesitation, the guardian launched forward like a rocket, a battering ram of raw power. The front line of hollows crumpled on impact, sent sprawling like leaves in a storm. But the horde kept coming, swarming the guardian’s frame as it smashed through their ranks.

  Some hollows broke free, rushing toward Joe’s group.

  Joe clamped his mouth shut and reacted, scooping Robyn into a princess carry. “Move!” He bolted for the entrance. His urgency jolted the others into action, feet pounding against the churned ground.

  He reached the threshold last, icy air biting at his cheeks as an ashen hand swiped for him. Joe threw himself into a forward roll, cradling Robyn against his chest.

  They landed hard inside the safe zone. Joe’s breath came in short, ragged bursts as he stared back at the entrance. A hollow slammed into an invisible barrier just as the door whooshed shut, sealing them inside.

  Merv leaned against the wall, watching as TJ and Brian helped Joe and Robyn to their feet. He made no move to approach, his posture oozing indifference.

  Joe, recalling Merv's frantic messages, scanned the common room. No brawls. No chaos. Nothing that matched the so-called emergency.

  He flicked his hair out of his eyes and tugged at his hoodie, smoothing it out like he hadn’t just rolled into the room like a tumbleweed.

  TJ crouched in front of Robyn, grabbing the ratfolk’s loose laces and knotting them tight. “Last thing we need is you tripping over these and breaking your neck.”

  “Erm…thanks.” Robyn flexed his paws, each claw jolting out of sync like a broken ratchet. “Not exactly built for fine motor skills, y’know? Lace-tying’s a nightmare.”

  Rose leaned on her bloodied staff, her gaze drifting across the room. “Wouldn’t zippers on the sides make life easier for everyone?”

  The little ratfolk nodded like it was the best idea he ever heard.

  Ryan, standing nearby, followed Joe’s gaze to Merv.

  “I thought this place was in chaos after the titan died.” Joe gestured to the room.

  “It was.” Ryan shrugged. “But after one of the armchair anarchists threw a spiked chair through a viewing screen, the guardians showed up, and the spineless twat bolted for the elevator to the sixth floor.”

  Ryan adjusted his scaled hand, the ridges glinting in the light. “Took some effort, but I got control of the guardian. Once everyone saw he was under my command, I gave them some friendly advice: stop fighting or risk having their heads ripped off.”

  Joe glanced around the near-empty common room. “Guess they decided heading to the sixth floor sounded like a better option.”

  Ryan nodded. “Saw your message to Merv in the alliance chat when you finally got around to replying. Figured you might need an extra pair of hands to deal with the hollows.” He grinned, raising his scaly hand. The ridges and bumps seemed sharper, more pronounced than before. Joe thought he spotted scales creeping up Ryan’s neck, but his beard and hoodie collar hid most of it.

  “How are you holding up?” Joe nodded towards Ryan’s hand.

  Ryan’s grin faltered. “Stronger in some ways. Weaker in others.” His tone was flat, carefully neutral, like he wasn’t ready to talk about the kaiju infection taking hold of his body.

  Joe didn’t press him further. He understood what it was like to feel like part of your body wasn’t entirely yours anymore. Halcyon had made sure of that. Maybe he and Ryan were in the same sinking boat—different currents, same destination.

  Not wanting to dwell on that unsettling thought, Joe turned his focus to Merv.

  “Merv!” he called, motioning him over.

  Merv glanced over his shoulder, shifting like a shady dealer trying to avoid a sting. Then, as if he had all the time in the world, he ambled toward Joe.

  “You didn’t have to wait here for us.” Dawn crossed her arms, her sharp gaze locked on Merv.

  "Thought a fine-looking gal like you'd miss me." Merv’s sleazy grin was enough to make Joe cringe. "If you fancy a quick shag to work off tension, I'm game."

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Dawn’s scowl could have frozen molten lava. She feigned a swift kick to his groin, making Merv stumble back, hands instinctively flying to protect himself.

  "I’d rather sit in a bath of acid and hammer nails into my head," she snapped. "Now stop dodging the question. Why are you still hanging around here like a bad smell?"

  Merv straightened, trying to recover his dignity. "Wanted a pint from the drinks machine." He shrugged as though that explained everything. "Fierce thirst on me."

  Robyn frowned. "He's lying."

  Merv's expression darkened, and for a moment, it looked like he might throw a punch. But Dawn and TJ’s stares pinned him in place.

  His fists unclenched, though his sneer didn’t waver. “You’re just sore because I sent you away from the red zone for your own safety.”

  Joe didn’t need Robyn’s ability to know that was pure bull. “One more chance.” Joe stepped closer. “What were you doing in the red zone, and what’s got you so scared you’d rather sit here with a crowd ready to murder each rather than head to floor six?”

  Merv’s face twisted, curses muttered under his breath like each word physically hurt. Then, crossing his arms, he plastered on a thin, menacing smile. “What’s the truth worth to ya?”

  “Two hundred time credits,” a gruff, yet tinny voice rang out from behind him.

  Joe turned to see a shadowed figure enter from the corridor, his form unfamiliar.

  The ascender stepped into the light, causing the ring on his thick fingers to glint. Joe half expected to see him wearing a helmet based on his metallic rough voice. “Sorry to interrupt your little reunion but our boy Merv here’s been avoiding me. And like they say, there’s only two certainties in life. Death and taxes. Lucky for me, I’m in the business of both.”

  Merv visibly flinched, his bravado draining like air from a punctured balloon. “I just need a bit more—”

  "Time?" The stranger’s voice sharpened as he stepped closer, hands tucked casually in his green hoodie pockets. "Funny that, you needing time. It’s what I deal in, mate, and let me tell you, extensions aren’t part of the package. Bad precedent. Sends the wrong message." He leaned in just enough to make Merv squirm. His gaze circled the group. “Which one of these generous souls is your guarantor?”

  Joe shared a tense look with Dawn, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach.

  Merv turned full Judas, throwing his hands up like he was the victim. “Hey Joe, I had to pick someone. I was so close. If that damn battlebox went how I expected, we’d be the richest faction by a long shot.”

  Dawn stepped forward, her fingers flexing like she was ready to strangle him. “Have you been sniffing glue? You had no right to name Joe as guarantor on your time debt.”

  She jabbed a finger at the stranger in the green hoodie. “This lying bozo didn’t ask Joe to be guarantor, so it doesn’t count, right?”

  The stranger reached into his pocket, pulling out a small black leather notebook. He flipped it open with a casual flick of his wrist, the gesture oddly graceful for someone with hands that looked built for cracking skulls. “Oh, I agree. He’s a lying bozo with the credit score of a corpse. That’s why I made him sign a system-approved waiver. And guess what? He chose Joe as guarantor.”

  Dawn bristled, her shoulders stiffening. “But he had no right—”

  “He’s in your faction,” the stranger interrupted, holding the notebook up like a holy relic. “That gave him the right to pick any of you. That’s the way it works, sweetheart. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

  Anger burned hot in Joe’s chest. “Why risk everything for a few more time credits, Merv? You weren’t even close to being GORED.”

  Merv shrugged, like he was being asked why he didn’t return a library book. “Because I could. Do you know how many red zone battleboxes I’d have to win to earn a place in the green zone? I saw a shortcut, so I took it.”

  Joe’s fingers curled into fists. “We had plenty of time crystals after killing the titan! You could have earned a mint…”

  “Battlebox challenges are quicker,” Merv said, his tone smug. “And facing a titan without my brothers? Not gonna happen. You lot are used to fighting together. I’m not. Loyalty and trust don’t happen overnight. I was a faction leader. I don’t take orders from anyone.”

  TJ’s fist collided with Merv’s jaw before anyone could stop him. The sound of the hit echoed in the room as Merv staggered back into the stranger, who caught him like he was handling a sack of groceries.

  A system notification popped up:

  [Fight Tax Issued Against Ascender 47 for Striking Ascender 39 in the Common Room. Four time credits added to the Jackpot of Immortality.]

  The stranger adjusted Merv’s stance, brushing him off like he was dusting a vase. “Right, anyone else feel like throwing away their time credits, or are we ready to move on?”

  No one spoke.

  “Lovely. Back to business, then.” He tapped the notebook with one finger. “Joe, as guarantor, you owe—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. If we’re on a first-name basis, I want to know yours,” Joe cut in, folding his arms across his chest.

  The stranger smiled, Bond villain style, revealing a thick band of pale gums and teeth like jagged shards of ivory, gleaming with menace. “I never share my first name. You can call me Mr. Orange.”

  Joe rolled his shoulders back. “Fine, Mr. Orange. How much does Merv owe?”

  Mr. Orange paused for dramatic effect, flipping a page in his notebook like he was revealing the bill at a five-star restaurant. “One thousand and twenty-five credits.”

  Joe’s stomach sank. Even if the entire faction pooled their time crystals, it wouldn’t scratch the surface.

  He glared at Merv, who had the audacity to look mildly annoyed, like he’d been caught sneaking the last cookie. The urge to knock him out cold nearly overwhelmed Joe, but he couldn’t afford the fight tax. Kicking Merv out of the faction crossed his mind, but he didn’t need the guy running off to stir up more trouble as a rogue.

  It felt like Joe constantly had a monkey on his back—as if a snarky dragon riding shotgun in his soul wasn’t enough trouble already.

  He had to figure a way out. Mr. Orange seemed like a businessman, and businessmen liked deals. Maybe there was some middle ground to find. “I don’t have that amount in time crystals or in my soul bank. How about I pay in installments?”

  Mr. Orange chuckled, low and raspy, his shoulders shaking with amusement. “See, I like to think I’m a reasonable man. But Merv here”—he clapped Merv on the back hard enough to make him stumble—“bless him,...gambled I’d look the other way on a little, let’s call it creative accounting. I didn’t. He owes me, and, given the turn of events, he’s handed that debt to you like a careless lover passes on a venereal disease.”

  Dawn’s lip curled. “You’re just a gangster profiting off the desperation in the red zone.”

  “I’m not a gangster. In my past life, sure, maybe I had my fingers in a few pies.” Mr. Orange adjusted the cuffs of his green hoodie like he was at a boardroom meeting instead of shaking someone down. “But now? I’m a businessman. A businessman who knows exactly what people want and what they think they need. Sometimes they’re wrong. Sometimes they’re not. And here, in this delightful little slice of purgatory, the most valuable thing happens to be time. And Joe…” He snapped the notebook shut. “Your time is nearly up.”

  TJ shot a filthy glare at Merv. “Maybe you got wax in your ears Mr. Orange, but Joe told you. We don’t have enough time currency to cover Merv the Perv’s crazy debt. Paying in installments is the best we can do. So move your bony ass outta the way before the mana tide poisons us all.”

  Mr. Orange’s grin stretched wide, but his eyes narrowed. He wagged a finger at TJ, his voice dripping with mock disappointment. “I let the first insult slide, mate, but the second? Tsk, tsk.” He flicked an invisible speck of dust from his sleeve. “Time is everything. I deal in short-term loans, and I always collect when payment is due. And let me be clear. Payment is due within the hour. I can’t risk letting you leave here without honoring that debt.”

  “You don’t have a choice,” TJ snapped, his fists clenched.

  “My mistake…” Mr. Orange’s grin shifted, turning almost apologetic. He twisted a ring on his finger, the metal catching the dim light, and with a subtle flick of his wrist, something shimmered into existence. In his hand sat a miniature gilded birdcage, empty but glinting ominously. He popped the little latch with deliberate care, his grin now razor-sharp. “You’re wrong.”

  At first, nothing happened. Then came a sound. A faint tick-tick-tick, like an old clock trying to remember how time worked. Joe leaned forward, squinting.

  Something moved.

  It crawled out slowly, a little brass automaton about the size of a spider monkey, its body made up of polished metal plates and spinning gears. Its face was an unsettling mix of humanoid features and a cracked grin that never seemed to reach its lifeless, glassy eyes. In its hands were tiny brass cymbals, dull and scratched from what looked like a lot of use.

  Dawn shuddered. “That thing gives me the creeps.”

  A chill crept up Joe’s spine. It looked like a steampunk version of those creepy cymbal monkeys he’d seen in horror movies. The ones that started moving on their own. The automaton scurried up Mr. Orange’s arm with unnerving smoothness, its tiny legs clicking against the fabric of his green hoodie.

  Perched on Mr. Orange’s shoulder, the creature tilted its head sharply, scanning the room with jerky movements. Then its jaw unhinged with a metallic clink, revealing an impossibly dark void, as if it had swallowed a piece of the night sky.

  “Say hello to Sprocket.” Mr. Orange’s grin widened in a way that made Joe’s skin crawl. “My loyal little helper. Quite the talented conduit.”

  Joe’s mind raced. “Conduit for what?”

  “Oh, I’m glad you asked.” Mr. Orange tapped the top of Sprocket’s head, and a thin wisp of shadow began to flow from its open maw. The temperature in the room dropped like a door to an ice cave had cracked open.

  Behind Joe, Gaia stiffened. “He’s…manipulating ley lines. You can’t just—”

  “Manipulating?” Mr. Orange interrupted, feigning a hurt expression. “Sweetheart, no that’s such a crude word. I prefer to call it…alignment.”

  More shadows poured forth, pooling into the air like liquid smoke. The tendrils gathered and shifted, forming into shapes. No, not shapes—figures.

  They flickered and warped, sometimes humanoid, sometimes all wrong—jagged limbs, twisting edges, and empty voids where eyes should be. Their forms pulsed like static caught between dimensions, impossible to track or predict.

  “No need to collect time debt by brute force when I can summon Shades,” Mr. Orange said casually, as if naming a favorite dessert. “Temporal Shades, to be exact. Nasty little creatures that exist between moments in time. Difficult to perceive, impossible to catch, and absolutely insatiable when it comes to time.”

  Joe’s jaw tightened. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, it’s simple, really.” Mr. Orange reached up to stroke Sprocket like it was a pet. “When a Shade latches onto a host, it drains every second of time from their soul bank. Minutes, hours, years…it doesn’t matter. They take it all. And the best part?” He leaned forward, that smile still plastered on his face. “Once I send them, there’s no calling them off. They have a one-hundred-percent success rate.”

  A flicker of fear crept into Joe’s chest, but he kept his voice steady. “You’re really telling me you just let these things loose if someone can’t pay?”

  “I’m not a monster.” Mr. Orange waved a hand, feigning offense. “I only use them as a last resort. Most of my clients are smart enough to pay their debts on time. But for the unfortunate few who don’t? Well, Sprocket here ensures they’re reminded of the consequences.”

  The cymbal monkey clapped its brass hands together with a sharp clang.

  Joe flinched despite himself.

  “Relax,” Mr. Orange said with a chuckle. “I haven’t sent them after you. Yet.”

  Joe’s fists clenched as his mind spun through options.

  This guy wasn’t just dangerous, he was the kind of dangerous that came wrapped in rules, like the gangsters in movies who lived and died by their code. Breaking the rules was bad for business, and if Mr. Orange wanted to keep playing the slick loan shark, he’d have to follow that same logic.

  Joe just needed to find the cracks in the game and lean into them before the Shades came calling.

  “Hold up.” Joe held out a hand. “You’ve got a code, right? A reputation? Otherwise, you wouldn’t be running this whole operation.”

  Mr. Orange raised an eyebrow, the gears in his mind clearly turning as fast as Sprocket’s clockwork innards. “Go on.”

  “You don’t send the Shades after someone before their payment deadline. That’s bad for business. Word gets out, and suddenly no one’s taking your deals. No one trusts a loan shark who moves the goalposts.”

  A grin spread across Mr. Orange’s face. “Oh, I like this. You think you’ve figured me out.”

  Joe ignored the knot in his gut and pressed on. “You said the Shades are a last resort, right? So here’s the deal. I’ll challenge you to a battlebox match. One round, winner takes all. It’ll be over before the payment deadline, which means you get what’s owed either way. No rules broken. No trust lost.”

  The silence hung thick.

  Joe could feel the weight of Dawn’s gaze boring into his back, her unspoken ‘What are you doing?’ almost louder than the ticking of Sprocket’s gears.

  Mr. Orange chuckled, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring the moment. “Ah, you’re a clever one, aren’t you, sunshine? A bit na?ve, perhaps, but clever. I’ll give you that.”

  He stepped closer, the shadows around him pulling tighter, as if they were drawn to his every word. “But here’s the thing about clever people: they tend to think they’re smarter than they are. They overplay their hand.”

  Joe didn’t flinch, but his jaw tightened. “So, what? You’re scared to take the challenge?”

  Mr. Orange’s grin sharpened, his teeth glinting in the dim light. “Scared? Oh, no, no. You misunderstand me. I’m a businessman, not a brute. And I do love a good game.”

  Joe waited, his heart thudding in his chest as Mr. Orange turned the thought over in his mind.

  “Fine,” Mr. Orange said finally, a glint of amusement in his eye. “I’ll agree to your terms. If—and this is a big ‘if’—I get to set the conditions.”

  Joe’s stomach sank, but he kept his face neutral. “What do you have in mind?”

  Mr. Orange’s grin stretched wider as he tapped Sprocket’s brass head, the automaton clanging its cymbals together in a slow, mocking rhythm. He stepped in close, leaning just enough so only Joe could hear. “Oh, you’ll see soon enough. Let’s just say…I never play a game I can’t win.”

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