The zany, zig-zag elevator ride to the sixth floor felt like the longest one yet. It probably had something to do with the god-awful tinny music, which somehow got cheesier the higher they went in the tower. Joe swore the soundtrack was sentient and actively mocking them.

  Then there was Mr. Orange, who had decided Joe’s personal space was optional. The man loomed uncomfortably close, his breath a warm, minty threat against Joe’s cheek. Joe leaned away, though there wasn’t much room to work with.

  Across the elevator, TJ looked ready to punch through the walls. His face twisted in a mix of frustration and disgust, like he was trapped in a lift with a rogue fart. He muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “I’d rather take the stairs.”

  When the doors finally slid open, TJ bolted out like he was escaping prison, pausing only to gesture for Rose and Dawn to go first. They didn’t need telling twice and strode ahead, leading the way toward the orange zone common room.

  The first thing Joe noticed when they stepped in was the screens—everywhere. They dominated the space, bigger and more vibrant than the ones on the lower floors. One display showed a pristine mountain range, the kind you’d see on a Swiss Alps travel brochure, but something was off. The sky was unnaturally blue, and the oversized sun gave it a surreal, Teletubbies-but-make-it-weird vibe. Joe half-expected a giant baby face to pop out of the sky.

  Several groups of ascenders stood mesmerized by the scene, their gazes fixed on the screen like it held the secrets to life itself.

  “I need five minutes before we head to the battlebox,” Mr. Orange said, his voice casual but firm as he snapped his fingers at Merv. “You stay with me.”

  Merv paled, looking like a dog about to be neutered.

  “Fine with me,” Joe said, more than happy for a short reprieve from the loan shark’s looming presence. It gave him time to regroup with Ryan and the Blanche Brigade. He needed every edge before stepping into whatever nightmare challenge Mr. Orange had cooked up.

  Rose found a free seating area they could gather around while Brian organized refreshments.

  As Joe scanned the room, he spotted familiar faces moving through the crowd with unmistakable energy.

  The Bruiser Battalion had arrived. Their leader, KT, wasted no time. Her swagger was as sharp as ever, tinted yellow glasses catching the light as she zeroed in on Joe like a heat-seeking missile.

  KT removed her helmet, tucking it under one arm, and brought Joe in for a quick, firm hug with the other. “That last floor was all shades of messed-up mental, even for me, but you guys did it. You unlocked the sixth.” She shot a pointed glare at the armchair anarchists watching the large view screens before turning her bright smile back to Joe. “So glad you finally made it here. The number of ascenders needing saving from their own stupidity is getting bigger by the hour.”

  “Desperation will do that to people.” Joe’s gaze flicked to Merv, still cowering beside Mr. Orange. The so-called businessman was lounging in a grotesque chair stitched together from sinew and cartilage, his brass automaton Sprocket perched on his shoulder. The little contraption clanged its cymbals, an unsettling rhythm that seemed to mock Merv’s twitching nerves.

  KT released Joe and locked eyes with Merv, her lips curling in disgust. “What goes around comes around. Not so ballsy without his pervy pals, huh? Anyone know how much he owes Jaws?”

  “Jaws?” TJ raised an eyebrow.

  KT motioned to one of her faction members. “Yeah, Finch started calling Mr. Orange that. Says he gives off Bond villain energy or something. Honestly, it fits.”

  Joe tensed. “So, you’ve dealt with him before?”

  “Yeah.” KT’s tone darkened as she crossed her arms. “Back when we first started, before we formed our faction, some of my team got stuck in the red zone. They avoided him like the plague—saw firsthand what happens with his ‘short-term’ loans. And his repo monkey? Dangerous as shit. If he’s targeting orange zoners now…just steer clear. That prick Merv looks like he’s about to get his just desserts.”

  TJ grumbled, “Yeah, but Joe’s the one forced to eat it.”

  KT’s frown deepened. “What do you mean?”

  “Merv named Joe his guarantor,” TJ’s tone laced with frustration as he clenched his fist. “So, Joe’s stuck with the debt Merv can’t repay.”

  KT’s eyes darted back to Joe, her confusion evident. “Wait, how the hell did that happen?”

  Joe bit his lip, feeling the heat of the situation settling squarely on his shoulders. “He’s an inactive member of our faction. Since his own faction fell apart, the system lets him name any of us as guarantor. It’s all approved, system legit.”

  KT’s brow furrowed. “Why the hell did you let him join?”

  Joe glanced at Dawn, who looked like she was holding back a salty reply.

  “It’s a long story.”

  Brian carefully set the tray of drinks on the table, and everyone dove in like it was their last meal. With a quick transfer of the time crystals, Joe finally had time to check his notifications. He glanced at the screen and couldn’t help but grin at the much needed good news.

  [Level gained! You have reached Quantum Resonance Level 43, Gold Rank Ascender.]

  [New skill! Ghost Terminal - Level 1

  The unseen lines of code whisper beneath reality, and only those with the right instincts can hear them. Ghost Terminal grants the ability to tap into hidden system messages—glitches, admin logs, and fragmented echoes of suppressed data. While the information is often incomplete or cryptic, a clever mind can piece together crucial insights, uncovering vulnerabilities in enemies, hidden pathways, or even remnants of past users. *Use with caution. Some secrets don’t like being found.]

  He pumped a fist in the air, and waved away others’s raised brows as he skimmed his stats.

  [Ascender #: 70

  Ascender Status: Orange

  Health Points (HP): 430/430

  Mana Particles (MP): 483/439

  Stamina: 430/430

  Strength: 6

  Dexterity: 85

  Intelligence: 46

  Wisdom: 9

  Charisma: 46

  Constitution: 11

  Flex Points: 12]

  Joe winced at Halcyon’s laugh echoing in his mind. “Even with your temporary seaweed buff, you can barely lift a stack of firewood.”

  I know what I’m doing. Groaning, Joe failed at holding back his irritation with the blue flame. He quickly split his flex points between strength and wisdom.

  TJ’s eyes flicked to Grizzle, who unscrewed the lid of a small tin and shook a hefty amount of powder into his drink. The gritty swirl looked... suspicious.

  TJ tilted his head. “Is that some kinda magic mana powder? Or, like, crushed pixie wings?”

  Grizzle beamed, his usual cheerful energy cranked to eleven. “Salt!” he announced, like it was the greatest invention since fire.

  “In your drink?” TJ asked, looking both amused and horrified.

  “Of course!” Grizzle said, his chest puffing out proudly. “We dwarves try to stick to the four main food groups: Rock salt, table salt, salty snacks, and salty drinks.

  Dawn scowled. “Sounds like a recipe for a heart attack.”

  “It’s a taste of home.” Grizzle gave a cheerful shrug, his grin as bright as the mountain sun.

  Dawn leaned in, squinting. “Okay, but seriously, why are you smiling like that?”

  “Smiling’s my favorite,” Grizzle said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

  Rose raised her glass, trying to suppress a laugh. “I’ll drink to that.”

  Grizzle hoisted his mug high, a look of triumph on his face. “To the salt of the earth and the salt in my mug!”

  Joe took a drink, then paused.

  Across the room, Mr. Orange smiled to himself, jotting something in his ever-present notebook. With a lazy flick of his finger, he summoned Merv closer.

  “Why don’t you just summon a guardian to deal with him?” TJ shot a glance at Ryan. “Handle him and his shades like they did those hollows back on the fifth?”

  Ryan shook his head, his expression grim. “Doesn’t work like that. Guardians only attack threats to the tower itself. The hollows were tainted by the Time Hacker’s Touch of Madness, which the system sees as a direct threat. The Shades? Dangerous as hell, but they’re part of the system, and Mr. Orange isn’t breaking any rules by controlling them. Even if I could stop the Temporal Shades from going after Joe’s soul bank, I’d need a much bigger mana pool than I’ve got right now.”

  “We won’t need anyone to stop the Shades because Joe’s going to beat Mr. Orange in the battlebox,” KT declared with an air of finality. She caught Joe’s doubtful look and added, “Brian, Grizzle, put your heads together. See if you can whip up some stealth-boost potion strong enough to make him invisible to the Shades.”

  Brian tugged at his goatee, his eyes darting to Merv like the guy was an annoying fly he couldn’t swat. “I’ve been working with Poppy on system loopholes to stop the Shades from draining his soul bank dry. We haven’t found one yet, but Poppy’s not giving up.”

  Joe’s chest tightened. Grateful didn’t even begin to cover how he felt about their support, but the gnawing worry remained: by helping him, they were putting themselves in even more danger than they already were.

  Cruel laughter snapped Joe’s attention back to Mr. Orange. His heart stalled. The blood drained from his face as he watched Merv, the traitorous bastard, laughing alongside Mr. Orange like they’d been best mates for years.

  They noticed Joe watching.

  Both men stopped laughing at the exact same moment and turned their smiles on him. Joe’s heart kickstarted like a panicked caged animal, slamming against his ribs.

  In that moment, climbing the tower felt less like a quest for survival and more like a slow descent into hell, or worse, one of those nightmares where you’re stuck on an escalator going the wrong way. Joe remembered a dream like that from when he was a kid. He’d been lost in a mall, certain his granddad was waiting at the top of the only working escalator. The harder he tried to climb, the faster the stairs dragged him down. Then the mall disappeared into an empty nothingness, and the escalator turned into a slide. He’d wake up sweating, clutching his sheets like they were the only thing keeping him from falling.

  “That was just a dream, chump,” Halcyon said. No judgment, no sarcasm, just plain observation.

  “Yeah,” Joe muttered to himself, straightening his shoulders. His gaze locked on the scheming pair. If he had more time to pay the debt, he’d be out on the floor killing monsters and leveling up, not locked into this ridiculous game. But life wasn’t fair, and Joe had learned the hard way that it’s what you do in those moments that forces growth. This time wouldn’t be any different.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  A storm was brewing, and it was time to batten down the hatches. Joe turned to his friends. “Okay, we’ve got a lot on our plate. Sixth-floor shenanigans, my battlebox challenge, and whatever happens after. We can’t predict the battlebox outcome, but you guys can hit the floor, grind, and level up while I handle Mr. Orange.”

  They nodded, the weight of the task ahead pressing on all of them. But Joe forced a grin. “And hey, if I win, drinks are on me.”

  TJ turned to KT. “You’ve been out on the floor already? What are we up against?”

  KT nodded, adjusting her spiked gloves. “Quick scouting mission after we pulled the titan stats from the Hall of Titans. I’ll share them in the alliance chat. Same deal as previous floors. We’re dropped at random locations. Lucky us, we landed right in the middle of a hyper-territorial herd of screamagers at the base of the mountain. Our helmets gave us some protection, but they still made my ears bleed. We backed off, downed some healing potions, and decided to regroup before trying again.”

  Joe opened the alliance chat, scrolling to the newly posted sixth-floor titan stats. The numbers made his stomach sink. TJ let out a low whistle beside him.

  “Lunara. Level 50 titan boss, with 15,000 HP. Air affinity. No surprise there.” TJ frowned. “But immune to most ground-based attacks.”

  Joe’s brow furrowed. That meant melee strategies would be heavily restricted. “Sounds like your faction has the speed to keep up with Lunara, but Blanche Brigade might have the edge with more powerful ranged attacks.”

  KT grinned, her confidence shining through. “True, but Finch and Plakas have leveled up their Girlzilla and Troublegum attacks: fire and air affinity combined. That should bring Lunara down to earth with a bang.”

  Joe couldn’t help but appreciate KT’s optimism. “How about this: coordinate with Blanche Brigade after you’re both dropped. Nick can use his Beast Tamer skill to crowd control the herd, giving you better odds of reaching Lunara before anyone else does.”

  Ryan, who had been listening quietly, nodded in agreement. “That’s a solid plan. It helps that both factions get along…makes it easier to team up.” His voice softened. “We need every advantage, especially now that we’re one of the smallest factions since Luna…”

  The silence stretched for a moment, and Joe quickly redirected. “Nick, think you can handle it?”

  “I’ll try.” Nick’s glazed eyes blinked back to the conversation. “Can’t guarantee I’ll stop them screaming, though. If that’s hardwired into their behavior, they might still shriek until they’re in range of my beast tamer skill.”

  Grizzle reached into his pack and pulled out a roll of cotton wool. “Better prep for that.” He tore off pieces and handed them out.

  Rose wrinkled her nose, tucking hers into her pocket. “Anyone else hate the feel of this stuff? Makes my teeth hurt. I’d rather stick, I don’t know, dried moss or something less…fluffy in my ears.”

  Before Joe could respond, Mr. Orange cleared his throat, the sound sharp and deliberate. “Ready when you are.” He twisted his ring near the corridor that led to the battlebox arena. He didn’t move, though, waiting with an expectant look directed at Joe.

  “Guess he doesn’t trust you to show up on your own.” Dawn nudged Joe’s shoulder.

  Joe straightened, gesturing to the sixth-floor entrance. “Best of luck out there. Not that you’ll need it.” He didn’t wait to see them off, heading toward Mr. Orange, but Dawn fell into step beside him.

  “Don’t even think about arguing. I’m coming with you for moral support.” She kept in stride, with one hand on her blade.

  “Me too.” TJ cracked his knuckles as he fell in step on Joe’s other side. “Except my version of moral support involves punching anything that looks at you funny.”

  Rose smiled. A message appeared in the private alliance chat.

  Rose: I’ll focus on the loot clue and see if I can shed light on where we’ll find the next one on this floor. Also learning as much as I can about the lich’s phylactery from Brian’s summary notes.

  Brian offered a small, reassuring smile. “I’m still working on the legal loophole angle with Poppy…not that you’ll need it.”

  Joe hoped to hell he was right.

  ***

  Joe was almost afraid to leave Dawn and TJ outside the battlebox arena with Merv. If there was a betting pool on when World War III would break out between them, Joe would put his money on immediately.

  “Come on, hit me already,” Merv taunted, grinning as he spread his arms wide. “I like a bit of slap and tickle.”

  TJ took a single step forward and slapped Merv to the ground with a resounding crack. “All slap, no tickle.”

  Dawn shot TJ a warning look, though the tight set of her jaw made it clear she was tempted to slap Merv herself. Joe would have laughed if Mr. Orange hadn’t just finished explaining the terms of the challenge. The sobering details killed any humor in the moment.

  “Get up, Merv. No time to waste,” Mr. Orange called, ushering him toward the arena. His tone was as smooth as ever, but there was no missing the command behind it. “You’ll be joining me in the arena, since you owe me a debt. Joe, you may nominate one of your faction to join you, but understand this: neither they nor Merv will be allowed to participate.”

  Joe wasn’t surprised by the terms, and neither was anyone else when he chose Dawn to accompany him. TJ didn’t mind; he preferred patrolling outside anyway, keeping an eye on opportunistic ascenders who might try to steal time when they exited the arena.

  As Merv shuffled toward the arena, he threw TJ a filthy look. “How does it feel to be second best?”

  TJ shrugged. “Let me consult my Give-a-Shit-o-Meter.” He mimed checking an invisible gauge, then shook his head. “Nope. Still nothing.”

  Joe took his time walking to the center of the arena, each step dragging like it might be his last. The formless space around him bled into white, his boots skimming the ground so lightly it felt like walking on clouds. He resisted the urge to look down, half expecting, cartoon-style, that if he did, he’d plummet like Wile E. Coyote.

  Eyes locked straight ahead, Joe’s mind spun through his MadOrbz picks, analyzing what he knew about Mr. Orange’s race and class. The guy was a triple threat, like Rose. Changeling dwarf hybrid with wind and earth affinity, paired with a wind-heavy class. Wind was his power play.

  Strategizing seemed pointless, though, considering the “special terms” Mr. Orange had laid out for the challenge. Still, Joe had to sell it. He hated that he had to lean hard into the rogue playbook of trickery.

  It’d be easier to stomach if it felt more Robin Hood than shady back-alley thief. Joe latched onto the idea that someday, he’d have the power to level the playing field, to actually rob from the time-rich and give to the desperate. But for now? The rich stayed rich, and the rest of them clawed for scraps.

  A warm hand slid into his, grounding him. Dawn’s quiet squeeze made the formless arena feel a little more solid under his boots.

  “You’ve got this,” she said, her voice low but steady. “Don’t let that creepy bastard intimidate you.”

  Joe gave her hand a quick squeeze back, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. A rock lodged there, cutting deep. His survival wasn’t just about him anymore. It was for everyone he cared about.

  Ahead, Mr. Orange passed the center of the arena, his steps unhurried. He continued several paces beyond, as if unconcerned about Joe’s approach, then stopped and turned with mechanical precision. Merv, trailing behind like a distracted toddler, stopped only after a sharp snap of Mr. Orange’s fingers.

  Joe’s stomach twisted as the dwarf turned around. Merv’s lips moved faintly, his eyes distant, clearly lost in his system interface. Whatever Merv was up to, Joe could guess: side bets, insider knowledge. Hustling, like always.

  Chat notifications blinked into Joe's vision in a chaotic cascade.

  Ryan: Check your ears are blocked with enough cotton. All comms through this chat. Nick, you’re our guide. Take the lead.

  Nick: Watch your footing. Some of the rock face is as brittle as shale.

  KT: I’m built for speed, not climbing. The sooner we summit and locate the boss lair, the better.

  Gaia: By Pan’s hairy anus, don’t they ever tire of screaming?

  Grizzle: They’re so loud! Surprised they don’t make their own ears bleed.

  Joe: You need something to distract them.

  Nick: Still not in range of my beast tamer AoE.

  Brian: They’re up there on that mountain defying gravity for a reason. They’re feeding. We call them Salt Lickers where I’m from. Anyone got salt to throw their way?

  TJ: A bomb flung at them using a xistera would be much more effective.

  Nick: Not a good idea unless you want to trigger a rockslide to finish us off too.

  Grizzle: Anyone ever toss a dwarf? I’m extremely lightweight, and I’m an excellent salt sprinkler.

  Joe smiled despite himself. The idea of Grizzle as a flying, salt-flinging projectile was too absurd not to picture.

  Heat flickered inside Joe’s chest. “Sounds like they know what they’re doing,” Halcyon said. Then he laughed. And laughed. And laughed.

  Joe groaned. “Great, my inner dragon is a stand-up comedian now.” His stomach twisted into a knot as the system announcement of the betting terms for the battlebox blasted across the arena.

  [Battlebox Challenge. Sudden Death Objective: Only one MadOrbz can be chosen. Whichever opponent’s MadOrbz knocks out the other’s, wins.]

  [All antes accepted from each ascender. Four years have been placed in the Battlebox pool. Place your bets.]

  Joe shook his head, his teeth clenched as he hoped Mr. Orange would stick to the plan and match his bet without a raise.

  The white void around them darkened, fading to gray. Shadows stretched upward, forming jagged shapes that hardened into rocky peaks. The scene morphed into a monochrome mountain, its stark lines almost surreal. It reminded Joe of a classic monster movie set, like something straight out of Skull Island.

  Dawn gave him one last encouraging smile before stepping back, her presence a quiet reassurance as she retreated to the edge of the arena.

  Mr. Orange reached up to pat Sprocket, his brass automaton companion. The creature’s creepy, round eyes whirred into focus as five orbs appeared around Mr. Orange, bobbing like satellites in a clockwork orbit. One orb stood out: a floating orange with a brass eye for a leaf, its thick lashes blinking.

  Mr. Orange gave him a curt nod. A silent ‘your move.’

  Joe clenched his jaw. His own five orbs materialized as he made his picks: Frostbite Chill and Aqua Shot for water-based attacks, Grumble Guts for dual earth-and-water combinations, TJ’s borrowed auto-guided Clod Zinger, and his newest earth-aligned orb, still untested. The deck spun into its familiar bobbing rhythm around him.

  [MadOrbz are set.]

  Halcyon picked the worst possible time to make his feelings known.

  “Your guilt is unbearable.” Halcyon groaned. “I feel it like a sickness even though I don’t have a stomach to vomit from. Remarkable, really.”

  “Not helping,” Joe muttered under his breath, catching Dawn’s worried glance.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Halcyon added, clearly unfazed.

  [All bets are in. Battle begins in five seconds.]

  Joe forced himself to push the noise aside. Emotions weren’t something he could simply turn off, but he had to focus. Short term or long term, this fight would come with consequences he couldn’t escape.

  A system notification blinked in his vision:

  [Sudden Death Prize Pool: 24 Years. Begin!]

  Mr. Orange moved first, flicking his wrist with theatrical ease. The clockwork orange orb shot forward, its mechanical eye blinking in time with the eerie music that filled the arena. Joe’s brow furrowed as the melody registered: a warped, music-box rendition of If I Could Turn Back Time.

  A booming mechanical voice rang out over the melody. “Tick tock, tick tock, here comes the shock!”

  Joe’s hand hovered over Clod Zinger. His thoughts flirted with defiance, but hesitation clawed at him. Every move had a cost. Could he afford it?

  Merv shifted back a few steps, his lips still moving like he was closing bets down to the wire. Joe shoved that distraction aside and zeroed in on the orbs circling him. Their cartoonish, over-eager faces seemed to scream, “Pick me, Daddy! Me, me, me!”

  Mr. Orange’s orb spun in a tight, precise orbit, its label flashing Sprocket Jr., a clear sign the loan shark had modified its design. Probably worth asking Poppy about later, but for now, Joe had to focus.

  Ignoring the urge to go with his gut, Joe dragged his hand away from Clod Zinger and picked Frostbite Chill instead, launching it toward the incoming Sprocket Jr.

  Somewhere behind him, he could swear he heard Dawn mutter a WTF, and he couldn’t blame her. Why not use an earth affinity orb against wind? She’d be wondering if he’d lost his damn mind.

  Frostbite roared as it shot forward, its icy voice promising violence. “Let’s break the ice…with your face!”

  Sprocket Jr.’s single blinking eye froze mid-blink, its pupil dilating until it swallowed the whole eye in an inky black void. Frostbite’s halo formed, razor-sharp ice splinters spinning out like shrapnel as it collided with Sprocket Jr. The impact was brutal, the kind that would leave bruises if orbs had flesh.

  The mechanical orb spun in place, its void-like eye locking onto Frostbite like gravity had tethered the two together. Frostbite circled, teeth gnashing as it wound up for another strike. Joe moved into position to recall it, ready to reset before the 30-second timer ran out, but the orb ignored him, acting like it was on autopilot.

  No. Not autopilot. Reverse.

  A debuff icon appeared over Frostbite as its motion rewound, its once-fierce expression now a goofy, backward snarl. It zipped back to its starting point except Joe wasn’t there to catch it.

  Mr. Orange’s grin stretched wider, radiating smug satisfaction, not at the orb’s performance, but at Joe.

  “Crap.” Joe sprinted after his malfunctioning orb. He had one shot to recall it before it hit the boundary and expired. Stretching out his hand, he was almost there when Mr. Orange’s brass monkey leapt from his shoulder. For a split second, Joe thought it might attack, but instead, the automaton clapped its cymbals. The echo made Joe’s blood freeze.

  The terms. A brutal reminder.

  Joe lunged, fingertips grazing Frostbite, but he fumbled. The orb hit the boundary and shattered.

  The cymbal clashing stopped, and the dreadful silence made the rushing of blood in Joe’s ears all the louder.

  It was over. One and done. He’d lost.

  But that had been the plan all along.

  The monkey climbed back onto Mr. Orange’s shoulder, its brass jaws snapping shut as though disappointed it hadn’t needed to unleash the shades.

  The system notification declared Mr. Orange the winner. His grin stayed frozen as he stowed his orbs back in his decagon.

  Merv sidled up, clapping Joe on the shoulder with a grin that made Joe’s fists itch.

  “Commiserations, mate. Shocking defeat, that. Everyone thought you’d flatten an underdog like him.” His bushy brows wagged as he strolled off. “Imagine the time credits raked in by anyone clever enough to bet against you. Not that I’d know, of course.”

  Dawn stepped into view, her glare sharp enough to flay skin. Merv gave her a wide berth, scurrying out of the arena like the weasel he was.

  Joe swallowed hard. Dawn didn’t need to say a word, he could see it in her face. She knew. She knew he’d thrown the match.

  And somehow, her disappointment stung worse than losing.