99%—[SYSTEM_ERROR]
His eyes rolled back, teeth grinding, fingers wrenching out of joint before snapping back.
A storm of red symbols cascaded through his mind.
The pain was unbearable; he wanted to give up, but…
And to think it had all started like any other Monday—with a delivery for Doc.
—————— ◆ ——————
Zak dropped the box of groceries onto the lab's only free table.
"They didn't have your aniseed candies, so I got black licorice; tastes just as bad. Pipes are a few inches longer, too; you'll have to cut them," he said, rummaging through the bag to get the receipt.
"That's thirty-five fifty, plus my five-vellon fee, and an extra two for the pipes."
From a pile of scrap metal, the head of a decrepit old man wearing aviator glasses peered out. "Aren't you going to give me a discount for bringing defective goods?"
"No chance," he answered with a cheeky smile. "But hey, you can always go with your other providers."
The man started crawling from the rubble. "You're more upbeat than usual. I don't like it."
"Just having a good day."
"So am I!" the elder exclaimed, dropping the money on the table.
Turning around, he extended both arms, presenting the mechanical amalgam that was supposed to be his magnum opus.
"Just take a look at this, Zacharias. Ain't it a beauty?"
"Zak," he corrected almost absent-mindedly.
He tilted his head. "You know, Doc, I don't usually pry on your nonsense, but what am I supposed to be looking at?"
A tangle of giant cables sprouted from the ground, pulsating with a red fury. They surrounded and culminated in a stretcher made of torn cushions, on top of which hung a sort of helmet.
The ensemble was completed by more than ten monitors and control panels that beeped continuously.
"Equality, made machine. The first prototype that will grant non-users access to the System."
Zak let out a dry chuckle, "Sure."
"Instead of chasing impossibles," he retorted, grabbing the money, "you could build a cleaning robot. I can't walk in here."
He had to tiptoe between copper wires and metallic scraps to even get to the door.
"Oh, but such a thing is no longer impossible, Zacharias. I'm only lacking a test subject."
His tone turned academic: "You see, the machine modifies the brainwaves…"
"I'm sure it's quite fascinating, Doc, but I've got a date today."
As he opened the door, white daylight engulfed the subterranean facility.
"See ya next Monday."
He would see him far earlier than that, but none of them knew it then. No…
Everything seemed to be going well. At least as well as it could go for him.
That is, until the date with Jenna…
—————— ◆ ——————
"I knew you'd understand. You're such a nice guy," she said, holding his hands. The ring he'd gifted her brushed mockingly.
"Ding!" the cafeteria bell chimed, announcing his arrival—tall, broad-shouldered, walking with the silent confidence of someone admired all his life.
He slid beside her with a quick kiss.
"Zak, right?" the guy asked with a practiced smile. "Jenna's told me about you," he added, extending his hand.
Zak didn't realize he'd taken it until the iron grip forced him upright.
Jenna giggled. "Virgil's joining the Central Guild. He's going to be their new star."
"We'll see. Competition's tough—every recent graduate's been invited by the Ministry. But with you cheering me on…"
"Why don't you come too, Zatch? The trials are a big show among non-adventurers."
"…Zak," he almost whispered.
Virgil chuckled. "Right, sorry man. Hard to keep track without the System—makes names so much clearer."
"I hope you don't forget mine," Jenna teased.
"Oh, honey. After what you did, how could I ever…"
Virgil leaned in for a kiss, but she playfully pushed him away.
"Not here, dummy. God, you're incorrigible."
Virgil straightened, still grinning, and turned back to Zak.
"Anyways, the offer still stands, Zatch. If you've got time, come cheer me on. The more fans, the merrier."
Then he casually patted his shoulder.
A silent dismissal.
Mechanically, Zak said his farewells.
Ding!
Once outside, he had to steady himself.
The murmur of cars went silent, only her voice echoed in his mind.
One year and four months—that's how long he'd been dating Jenna.
Witch didn't even give me back the ring.
But being dumped was not the worst part, no. That was telling his mother…
—————— ◆ ——————
He turned on the tap.
"We broke up," Zak said, forcing confidence. "With work, the house, taking care of you... Plus, Jenna's busy with modeling—"
From the living room came the rasping voice of his mother:
"Are you blaming me?" She let the question hang. "Just because I ask you to do a few things?"
"I'm not saying that, Mother," Zak shot back. "I'm saying we're busy. That's all."
"Well, that's a pity. She was such a dear. You should make amends with her. A girl like that won't look your way twice."
He bit his tongue.
"...Thank you…"
For a few minutes, silence reigned, aside from dishes clinking. That is, until a strong fragrance of perfume drifted into the kitchen.
That's how his sister smelled when she had to go to work.
"Don't listen to her, Zaky. I'm glad you broke up—total bitch. You deserve a girl as nice as you."
"Language, Zoe!"
She stuck out her tongue toward the living room, making him chuckle.
After grabbing a quick bite, she kissed him on the cheek and flashed a thick bundle of vellons, grinning.
Zak whistled. "You're gonna make me feel bad for contributing so little."
"I know, right," she said, smiling, as she put the money in their savings jar. "These new clients are huge tippers, a few more nights like this and we'll have enough."
He glanced at his uni-fund flask, "I don't know, Zoe. I've been thinking about it. There's a lot of work around here, that money would be better—"
A raised hand halted him. "Uh uh, I won't discuss that. You're worth every vellon."
"A head like yours can't stay in the slums forever," she said, patting him affectionately.
"Just leave it to your sis. Once you're a big shot, you can pay me back."
Zoe grinned widely. He thought that it was no surprise that she was so popular with the clients. She was attractive, sure, but it was more than that. There were a lot of pretty girls, but she had something that made everyone feel at ease. And when she smiled, it really made you feel special.
"And hey, when I come back I don't wanna see that frown anymore. Trust me on this, I've seen a lot of girls like Jenna at work. You're better without her."
Zak winced, the wound still recent.
"Yeah… And you, remember to call when your shift is over. Or if you need me to go pick you up."
"Sure," she gave him a quick peck, "love ya Zaky. Bye mom!"
Even now he could still smell the lingering perfume.
It was supposed to be a normal shift as always.
How he wished he'd stopped her from leaving…
—————— ◆ ——————
"Cheerz to me!"
He couldn't bring himself to stay at home that night.
Instead, he sat alone at the bar of a dingy karaoke joint—the only place in all of Metropolis he'd found where he could drink without feeling like an alcoholic.
"As of today, Orion of the Nabia Family—aka Humanity's Beast—has officially become the number one active adventurer with the highest dungeon exploration rate. Though he declined our request for an interview, his family representatives assure us that he has no intention of slowing down…"
Zak stared blankly at the tiny TV in the corner, knocking back another shot.
Like all kids, he'd dreamed of becoming an adventurer: exploring dungeons, slaying monsters, unearthing treasure…
Even when he learned the truth—that it was impossible for someone without the System—he still played adventurers with the block kids. At least until the day he broke his arm in a wooden sword fight.
His mother paraded him door to door, threatening to report the other parents.
After that, the kids stopped inviting him altogether. The only other child to play with him ended up being his sister.
"Anoder one," he demanded, raising the shot glass.
"That one was your last, young man," the bartender signaled, approaching him—polite yet firm. "This place is for groups. If you just want to get drunk, there are plenty of other bars."
A tapping finger pointed at his bill.
Zak blinked hard, and laid out a pulp of crumpled vellons, slowly smoothing them flat.
When he was only halfway through, the bartender snatched the bundle. "That's enough. Just leave." Begrudgingly, he stumbled off the stool.
But—before he was one step away from the door—two guys grabbed him from behind and shoved him into an alley.
When they forced him against the wall, Zak staggered nervously, swaying from side to side, facing the two men in bewilderment.
"Hey, relax, man," one slurred. "Saw you're short on cash, so we got a little proposition."
With a sly grin, the other added, "Dodge 'em all, and we'll give you ten grand."
Before Zak could even process the words, the man thrust out his hand:
"[Firebolt]"
Instinctively, he jumped. The blazing sphere whizzed past and burst against the wall in a small explosion.
One snorted at him. "I told ya man, non-users are far more entertaining than dungeon monsters."
Heart hammering, he ducked under the second blast.
Whistling, the other taunted, "Not bad. Keep it up, buddy, I've only got juice for two more. You dodge, you win. [Firebolt]!"
The third one grazed his left arm. The smell of cooked fabric—then skin—hit him before the pain did. He cried out and collapsed, clutching the scorched flesh.
"Tch. Two out of four, not bad," the caster shrugged.
A set of footsteps moved away. He sat trembling, blowing on the burn, desperate to cool the searing pain.
Hot tears welled.
For adventurers, non-users were only good when they clapped for them.
Even his sister had to lower herself—fawning over them—solely to earn in a year what they did in a month.
A long sigh.
But that was how the world worked, and there was nothing he or others like him could do to change that. They just had to deal with it.
"I better go home to take care of this," he muttered, grasping the wound.
"What a shitty day."
He started the long walk home. Beyond the blur of neon, clouds were gathering—heavy and low. Rain was coming.
He tried to hurry, but every step made the burn in his arm flare hotter.
And still, none of it compared to what awaited him…
When he saw one of his sister's coworkers, sitting in front of his house, mascara completely smudged…
—————— ◆ ——————
"Laura, what happened?"
He'd already feared the worst when he saw her there—but his stomach didn't twist until she raised her head.
Her face was swollen, eyes bruised purple like plums.
"Zak… I–I'm so sorry… I–I…Zoe is—"
"Laura. Breathe."
He crouched in front of her, trying to stay calm, but his trembling hands betrayed him.
"Now tell me—what happened?"
She sniffed. "W-We were working with these guys. One of them, h-he started groping me… Zoe…"
Her sobs were getting harder to fight. "Zoe told him to stop, b-but they hit me, threw me outside… and to Zoe…"
She choked on her own tears.
"Laura. What happened to Zoe?"
"Zak…"
"They beat her to death."
Silence.
Laura's crying.
Zak stood up. It had suddenly gone cold.
"Where is she?" he asked.
"W-We brought her inside. Zak… I'm so sorry."
She broke down crying, curling into herself. Zak wrapped his arms around her, rhythmically patting her back, gaze lost.
"It's not your fault, Laura. It's not your fault…"
Once inside, he followed the muffled sobs down the narrow hall to Zoe's room.
Her mother sat in a chair, leaning back, staring blankly into space, releasing a sob every few breaths.
On the other side stood Zoe's boss—an elderly woman with white hair pulled back in a bun.
Though she was from the same neighborhood, there was an elegance about her Zak had only ever seen in his sister.
His sister…
Just a lump on her bed, covered from head to toe with a white blanket.
"Zak…" the older woman said, her voice trembling with both surprise and pain.
He moved to the bed. "Can I see her?" he asked quietly, nodding toward the blanket.
"I don't think—"
"Please."
The woman hesitated, then gave a defeated nod.
Zak lifted the blanket.
He understood why they'd covered her.
There was nothing left of his sister to be seen.
Only her perfume lingered.
His heart hammered.
"Is there anything we can do to them?"
"I don't think so."
She swallowed hard, fighting back tears.
"It's not just that they're adventurers. I believe they're affiliated with House of Tenorio."
"Makes them untouchable," she added, voice low. "You could try filing a complaint, but I'm afraid it would amount to nothing."
The burn in his arm pulsed.
"I understand," Zak said, nodding slowly.
"Thank you for bringing her here."
"Zak, I—I can't begin to understand what you're feeling…"
The woman faltered when she met his eyes. There was nothing left in them—nothing but fire.
She shook her head, tone hardening. "Don't even think of it, kid. They're System users. There's nothing you can do. And we don't need another senseless death."
No answer.
She pressed on, hastily. "Zoe had high hopes for you. She wouldn't want you to—"
"I understand. Really," Zak cut her off.
He side-glanced at her, and the woman understood. There was nothing more that could be said, he'd already made a decision.
"If there's anything—"
"Would you mind taking care of the burial?" Zak asked. "There's a jar with money in the kitchen. You can use that to pay for it."
"Of course," she said softly. "It will be an honor."
He looked once more toward the bed.
"Mother… I'll come back tomorrow. For the funeral."
"There's someone I need to meet."
—————— ◆ ——————
It had started raining.
It fell in sheets, hammering the pavement like war drums matching Zak's knocks.
He didn't stop until he heard the sluggish shuffle of Doc inside.
When the old man finally opened the door, his expression shifted, from irritation to confusion.
"Zacharias? What on earth are you doing here?"
Zak met his gaze, soaked to the bone.
"My last delivery," he said quietly. "I've brought you a test subject."