BEEEEEEEP
BEEEEEEEP
BEEEEEEEP
Aeric cracked one eye open and swatted at the alarm clock. 9:30 AM. Great. "Of course I'm late," he muttered, flopping back against the pillows in a tangle of sheets. His dark hair stuck up in every direction, framing a sun-kissed, olive-toned face that made him look less like a zombie and more like someone who'd spent too many mornings running late on sunny days. His frame was unremarkable—lean enough to move quickly, but nothing to write home about—and his shoulders slumped with the kind of groggy defeat only a snooze button could induce.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, got up, and shuffled to his closet, quickly swapping his gray T-shirt for a fresh one. Black jeans followed, fitting snugly enough that he could move without restriction. He grabbed his boots off the dresser, shuffled down the oak stairs, and half-jumped the banister before landing awkwardly in the living room recliner to strap them on.
"Fuck, the foreman is gonna have my head today," he muttered as he scanned the room. Where did I put that stupid phone? What if he tried to call? He rifled through drawers and under furniture, finally snatching a red hoodie off the door—phone safely tucked in one of its pockets. "At least something's going my way so far," he thought, keys in hand.
[Friday, 9:45 AM...]
[25 Missed Calls...]
[12 Missed Calls From Foreman...]
[9 Missed Calls From Theresa...]
[3 Missed Calls From Marcello....]
[1 Missed Call From Hendrix...]
"Theresa is going to kill me for not answering her calls," Aeric thought as he locked the door. The hiss of brakes caught his attention. A rusted, beat-up bus had stopped in front of his neighbor's house, horn blaring. "What the hell ya waiten fer? Got damned grass to grow?! Stop yer piddle dicken and get the F*#$& on the bus! Yer lucky I stuck around waiten fer ya this long, Hoss!"
"Shit, Theresa can wait," Aeric called back, jogging toward the bus. His legs moved quickly enough, though his breath came faster than he liked, and he nearly stumbled climbing the steps before catching himself.
Onboard, the driver—Gary—came into view. Short and stocky, with a slightly plump frame that made him look grounded and immovable, he sat behind the wheel with graying hair and a peppered beard framing a round, weathered face. Sharp, watchful eyes flicked toward Aeric as he pulled a small black satchel from under his seat and tossed it to him. "KEEP leaving yer stuff, maybe I ain't gonna be so nice next time, Hoss!"
Aeric rubbed the back of his head. "Thanks, Gary. I'll try not to make a habit out of it." He slung the bag over one shoulder and made his way to the back, noticing the cloth mannequins scattered among the seats. Gary's worn overalls and driver's jacket gave him the look of a man who had spent decades behind the wheel, sleeves rolled up to reveal thick, calloused forearms. Even as he muttered under his breath, the slight warmth in his gaze suggested he wouldn't truly let anyone get stranded.
Sliding into the far row, Aeric pulled out his phone, debating a mass text.
To: Marcello, Hendrix, Theresa
Message: "Hey, sorry I missed your call. I overslept. What's up?"
[Message Sent...]
He tucked the phone into his jacket pocket and checked his bag—rope, headlamp, to-do list—all accounted for. Crap! A few elixirs and rental gear still needed. He closed his eyes, trying to meditate through the bus ride while Gary grumbled quietly under his breath, "Boy Sleeping Again... On My Damned Bus!.... Not no Damned no tell motel..."
[VvvvvvV]
[VvvvvvV]
Aeric glanced at his phone.
[*10:15 AM*]
[2 New Messages From Theresa]
[Message: "Where are you?? The Foreman is going to kill you!!"]
[Message: 👊😡🫸🤛🤬🫵]
"Should I be more afraid of her or the Foreman?" Aeric joked to himself, leaning back, shoulders slumped just enough to hint at long hours spent sitting rather than training. "At least I have Marcello there to protect me."
[VvvvvvV]
[VvvvvvV]
[1 New Message From Marcello...]
[Message: "Where are you dude? We can't wait forever. The foreman might dock your pay again if you don't get here soon!"]
[To: Marcello]
[Message: "Still on the bus bro. Should be off shortly. He won't dare; I'm the only pack mule willing to work for the dirt pay he's offering. Wait till I awaken, man, he won't know what hit him!"]
[Message Sent...]
Aeric stared at the screen a moment longer than intended. "Wait till I awaken..." He'd said that line a hundred times—out loud, in texts, in his head—and each repetition tasted a little more bitter. How much longer could he keep pretending it was a joke? He sighed, resting his head against the window as the scenery crawled by—half-cracked roads, broken buildings, and the occasional overgrown sign still whispering stories of a world that once made sense.
It's been four years.
Four years since everything went to shit.
The Calamity — that's what they call it now. When the first rift opened, nobody really knew what to make of it. We called them Dungeons, thought they were cool. Another weird headline.
But then people started disappearing inside.
Then monsters came out.
Day Break. That's what stuck.
The day the fairytale turned nightmare.
After the dust settled — what was left of society slapped some duct tape on the cracks and called it a system. People who lived through the first waves started Awakening. Nobody really knew why or how. Some got powers for being in the right place. Others had to suffer or nearly die.
Most? Never got anything at all.
I was one of them. Still am.
So the powers-that-be made factions.
The Hunters fight.
The Tower of Magi pokes at stuff nobody understands.
The Merchants Guild… well, they pay bottom rates and don't ask questions.
Only factions get to dive into dungeons now. Everyone else just cleans up the mess — hauling gear, running errands, babysitting egos.
That's me.
A transporter. Not Awakened. Not special.
Just disposable labor the Merchants Guild won't miss if I don't come back.
If it weren't for Theresa and Marcello, I probably wouldn't have made it this far.
But something feels different today.
Maybe this time, it's finally my turn.
[*Gary over Intercom*]
"Attention passengers! Listen up and listen good! Gary only gon say this one damn time! We are approaching our final destination, Devils Gulch! We ARE NOT responsible for lost or stolen belongings! Soooo PLEASE be sure to grab your S#$@ and get the F@#$ off my bus! Don't y'all forget to come on back now ya hear! Iffin ya can live to see another day!
Aeric grabs his things and starts walking up to the front of the bus. As the bus comes to a halt at a dilapidated office building, he turns to Gary and asks, "Doesn't that bit get old Gary? Why do you say that every day when I'm the only person from town to ride your bus, let alone the only living passenger?" Gary looks at him with a sullen yet grim look and opens his mouth to say something, as Aeric begins to hear a loud ear splitting ringing sound. Aeric grabs his head and the rail beside Gary's seat as he felt his head seize with pain. While wiping tears from his eyes, Gary looks at him as if he had twelve heads and says, " Iffin yer sick get yet ass off my bus! Ain't trynna catch whatever sick yews got Hoss!" As the ringing in his head faded, Aeric stumbled off the bus and spotted two familiar silhouettes waiting near the broken-down terminal…
The man looked to be in his mid-twenties, with shaggy brown hair brushing the tops of his shoulders and warm brown eyes that carried a teasing amusement. Broad-shouldered and solidly built, Marcello had the kind of frame that suggested endurance more than flashy strength—perfect for hauling gear or backing up his friends in a fight. His worn martial artist's gi and fur-pelt cloak were reinforced with practical metal pauldrons and shoulder guards, giving him the look of someone ready for a dungeon rather than a battlefield, halfway between street-smart fighter and dependable companion.
Standing beside him was Theresa. Late twenties, sharp-eyed, and confident without trying, she stood just a touch shorter than Aeric, close enough that the difference only became obvious when they were side by side. Her long purple hair framed her face like a warning sign—striking, impossible to ignore—contrasting against lush olive skin warmed by a subtle peach undertone. Vibrant hazel eyes flicked toward Aeric the moment he approached, alert and already judging him.
A crisp white button-up was partially hidden beneath a crossbody holster rig that clung to her like a second skin, housing twin scoped revolvers beneath each arm. A sawed-off shotgun was strapped to her thigh, and a spiked utility belt at her waist held spare ammo and tools. Cropped black pants and heavy combat boots built for punishment completed the look. Everything about her screamed readiness—the kind that didn't come from drills or training halls, but from surviving long enough to know better.
As the bus drove away, Aeric walked up to Marcello and Theresa.
"Sorry I was late again, guys. I stayed up late doing my daily workout, hoping I might get a physical awakening!"
Theresa didn't hesitate. She smacked him upside the arm.
"That's all you've got as an excuse after leaving a girl on read, ignoring her calls, and making her worry?" she snapped. "The audacity. I am so not saving you if monsters try to eat you on this raid."
"I can handle whatever gets thrown my way," Aeric retorted weakly.
Marcello laughed, watching the exchange. "Go easy on him, Theresa. We can't have our transporter getting seriously maimed before we even start the raid."
"I already said I could handle myself!" Aeric snapped—then his vision spun. His knees buckled, the world tilting sideways as Marcello grabbed his shoulder and hauled him back upright.
"You okay, man? You don't look great," Marcello said, worry breaking through his grin. "Why do you always push yourself this hard? I swear, you're going to kill yourself before you ever get the chance to awaken."
"I'll probably die from malnourishment before overexertion," Aeric replied flatly. "One failed subjugation is all it takes to go a week without food. Unless I awaken, that won't change. Until then, I do what I have to just to get by." He steadied himself and exhaled. "Now that I'm here, let's get this over with. I just need to grab a few things before we head into the dungeon."
A flash of color in his peripheral vision caught Aeric's attention: a dwarf in a green cloak, sitting cross-legged against a crate, a deep purple blanket spread in front of him with wares laid carefully atop it. The dwarf had a round, weathered face, bright amber eyes glinting with mischief, and a nose dusted with freckles. His short, stubby fingers were covered in tiny scars and nicks, evidence of decades spent handling weapons and tinkering with elixirs. Wisps of gray hair peeked out from under the hood of his cloak, and a neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard framed a wide, cheerful smile. His olive-fair skin was slightly leathery from years of outdoor work, giving him an earthy, lived-in look.
Despite his short, stocky frame, there was a spark of unpredictable energy about him—an easy grin, a quick gesture, a glint in his eyes that made him feel like he belonged in a place as strange as this bazaar. Everything about him—his patched gloves, scuffed boots, and the mismatched vials and trinkets laid before him—suggested he was as comfortable among the bizarre and dangerous as he was among the mundane.
As Aeric approached, the dwarf stood up with surprising nimbleness, holding an elixir in a gloved hand.
"You all right, friend? Looks like you need a pick-me-up. Here! Maybe this will help. On the house!" he said, his voice carrying a rough warmth that matched the twinkle in his eyes. "Recovery elixir, top-notch—should heal whatever ails ya."
Aeric hesitated, then took the bottle. "Under normal circumstances I wouldn't accept strange gifts from strangers, but who am I to look a gift dwarf in the mouth? Thanks, friend," he replied weakly.
The dwarf chuckled, his amber eyes crinkling at the corners. "Ah, don't mention it! Better it goes to someone who'll actually use it than let it sit and gather dust like this old bag of bones."
He grabs the elixir and pops the cork. Aeric notices it has a mellow fruity aroma, and puts the bottle to his lips. As the fluid touches his tongue he could taste roasted nuts and cinnamon. As it got to his stomach he could feel a warm tingly sensation spread throughout his body as his headache began to go away. "That was wonderful!" He grinned. "I've never had an elixir that didn't taste like total troll dung. Do you have more of these on hand? If so I'll take six!" As he came back to his senses Aeric got a closer look at some of the gear laying about. There was a small metal shield next to a sign that said 5 gold, a few knives marked at 10 gold, a smith's hammer for 50 gold, a bow for 45, and a couple swords marked at 85. What really caught his attention was a sword laying on the crate the dwarf had been sitting against. It had a deep crimson red hilt with chrome accents that made it look like it had shimmering roots wrapped around it. The blade was only three or four inches wide at the hilt and gradually got thinner towards the point. Aeric couldn't see the blade itself because it was stored in a royal blue sheath. "How much for that-, I don't believe I caught your name, what was it friend," Aeric asks the dwarf. "The names Dorrin, and in regards to those elixirs sadly I only have 3 more left in stock. Since they are in high demand I could let you have the lot of em for 200 gold," The dwarf says excitedly.
"That's not too bad a price given how well they went down. Not to mention how well they work! I'll take them. How about that sword on the crate over there Dorrin? Is it for sale too?" Aeric says to Dorrin. "Oh, that old thing? Bah! I ain't got a use for it any more. My hunting days are behind me anywhose, you can have it if you want," Dorrin replies. "Really?! You would just give it to me? What's the catch?" Aeric asks cautiously. "No catch. I'm just old and feeble now. I'd rather someone young with a long life left to live make better use of it. Better than letting it collect dust like this old bag of bones before you!" Dorrin says with a gleeful laugh. "Here's two hundred for the elixirs, five for the shield, and should probably take my leave now. It was nice meeting you Dorrin, but I have a subjugation to get to," Aeric tells Dorrin as he collects his purchase.
After putting the elixirs in his bag and the shield on his back, Dorrin hands Aeric the sword and he equips it to his waist. "Be careful in there kid, that dungeon has been off lately. People have been saying they've seen strange shadows moving around near the dungeon's entrance! Big hulking monstrosities they were, or at least that's what the ones who claim to have seen it say." Dorrin warns Aeric. "Thanks for the heads up friend. I'll be sure to stay on my guard! See you around!" Aeric says as he walks away down the alley.
Aeric walked up to Marcello and Theresa back at the entrance to the bazaar. "You guys just about ready to meet up with the advanced party?" Aeric asks them. "About that, they already went in ahead of us. The Foreman got impatient and said it wasn't his fault if you missed out on anything good," Marcello replies. "Shit! We've gotta go then!" Aeric exclaims, he broke into a run as he burst through the spinning glass door in a broke down building near by.