"I hate this game," I muttered, gripping Lloyd's rusty shovel.
The Demogorgon hissed, its flower-face vibrating with the sound of a thousand angry hornets. It crouched low, muscles bunching under that slimy, pale skin.
'Okay, Vivan. Think. You have a shovel. It has teeth. You have knowledge of the future. It has claws the size of steak knives. Fair fight? Absolutely not.'
I braced myself.
"Hey! Over here!"
A voice cracked through the tension.
I froze. 'No. No, no, no. Tell me he didn't come back.'
I risked a glance over my shoulder. There, standing at the edge of the flashlight beam, was Will Byers. He hadn't run home. He was standing there, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, holding two rocks the size of baseballs.
"Leave him alone!" Will screamed, winding up his arm.
'Will, you brave, stupid idiot! Run!'
"Will, go!" I shouted, turning back to the monster.
"Take this!" Will yelled.
I saw the motion in my vision. Will threw the rock with all the might his skinny twelve-year-old arm could muster. He aimed for the Demogorgon.
He really did.
But Will Byers was a Wizard class, not a Ranger. His dexterity stat was... questionable.
The rock sailed through the air, missing the seven-foot-tall monster completely. Instead, it curved—almost magically—straight toward the left side of my head.
'Wait. Is that coming at—'
THOCK.
The sound was sickeningly solid. Like a croquet mallet hitting a melon.
Stars exploded in my vision. Not metaphorically. Literal cartoon stars. My knees turned to jelly. The shovel slipped from my fingers, clattering onto the asphalt.
'You have got to be kidding me,' was my last coherent thought. 'I survived Optimus Prime's landing gear, only to be one-shotted by Will Byers with a rock?'
As darkness swallowed me, the last thing I saw was the Demogorgon crouching to spring on my limp body.
Then, THWACK.
A second rock hit the monster square in the chest. It roared, annoyed, and turned its faceless head away from me. toward the brave, terrified boy standing by his bike.
The monster shrieked and bolted.
"Ahhh!" Will screamed, pedaling for his life into the fog.
And then, I knew nothing.
[ Mission Complete: Survive the Night. ][ Reward: 10 Points. ]
Chirp. Chirp.
My eyes peeled open.
Bright. Too bright.
"Ugh," I groaned, trying to sit up. A wave of nausea rolled over me, followed immediately by a sharp, throbbing pain on the left side of my forehead.
I touched it. It was swollen. A goose egg the size of a golf ball.
"Ow," I hissed.
I looked around. I was lying in the ditch on the side of Mirkwood road, a little bit far. The sun was high in the sky, filtering through the autumn leaves. The birds were singing. It was a beautiful morning.
Except for the fact that my friend was currently in the upside down.
"Will," I whispered.
The memory hit me like a truck (too soon?). Will came back. He tried to save me. He hit me by accident, then lured the monster away to save my unconscious butt.
He saved me. And because he saved me, the timeline corrected itself, I think. He was gone.
A hollow pit opened in my stomach. I sat there in the dirt, feeling utterly useless. I was a transmigrator. I had a system. I had a chat group with villains and more crazy villains. And I got knocked out by a rock while a twelve-year-old sacrificed himself.
'I'm pathetic.'
I clenched my fists, dirt grinding under my fingernails.
'No. Not pathetic. Just... underleveled. I can't let him stay there. I have to get him out. But how? I can't fight that thing. I can barely fight a headache.'
I needed power.
'System. Open Shop.'
A blue screen flickered into existence against the backdrop of the peaceful woods.
[ Dimensional Shop (Hawkins / General) ][ Current Points: 10 ]
I scrolled through the list, my heart sinking with every price tag.
Telekinesis (Level 1){Can be leveled up as you get mastery over it}: 200 Points (Controlmatter with your mind. Nosebleeds included.)
Portal Manipulation: 200 Points. (Open/Close small gates to the Upside Down.)
Astral Projection: 200 Points. (Walk the void.)
Illusion & Mental Manipulation: 150 Points. (Make them see what you want.)
Memory Reading: 100 Points. (See what they saw.)
Power Potion (Physical): 10 Points. (Doubles physical stats for 1 hour.)
Mental Potion (Psionic): 10 Points. (Doubles mental capacity/Psionic power for 1 hour.)
Telepathy: 80 Points. (Talk to minds. Range: 1km.)
Remote Viewing: 30 Points. (See distant locations.)
Guns / Weapons / Poisons: 10 Points each.
Food / Water: 1 Point each.
I stared at Telekinesis. 200 Points.
It was the gold standard. Eleven used it to close the gate. If I had that, plus the Mental Potion, I could actually fight. I could protect myself.
'But I have 10 points.'
I could buy a gun. A pistol for 10 points. But bullets wouldn't stop the Demogorgon. They barely annoyed it.
'I need to save. I need to grind points. I need Telekinesis.'
I closed the shop window with a heavy sigh.
"I'm sorry, Will," I muttered to the empty road. "I'm coming. Just... give me a minute to figure out how to not die immediately."
I stood up, brushing the dead leaves off my jeans. My bike was still lying on the side of the road where I dropped it. The chain was rusted, but it worked.
I picked it up. My head throbbed in rhythm with my heartbeat.
'Home. Oh god. My parents.'
I checked my watch. 10:30 AM.
I had been missing all night.
My stomach dropped lower than it had when the Demogorgon appeared. My parents in this life—the Frostwells—were rich, influential, and very, very protective.
I got on the bike and pedaled. Every bump in the road sent a jolt of pain through my forehead.
[ Location: Frostwell Residence ]
The house was big. A colonial-style mansion with a manicured lawn that screamed "old money." But today, the vibe was pure chaos.
I could see police cars in the driveway. Chief Hopper's cruiser was there.
'Oh boy.'
I rolled up the driveway, ditching the bike in the grass. I barely made it to the porch steps when the front door flew open.
"VIVAN!"
My mother, Eleanor Frostwell, looked like she had aged ten years in one night. Her perfect hair was a mess, her eyes red and puffy. She was clutching a cordless phone in one hand like a lifeline.
She didn't wait for an explanation. She sprinted down the steps in her heels and tackled me.
"Oh my god! Oh my god, you're alive!" She squeezed me so hard I thought my ribs would crack. "Where were you?! We called everyone! We thought—"
Then she pulled back, her hands framing my face. Her eyes went wide when she saw the purple-and-blue lump on my forehead.
"You're hurt! Arthur! Arthur, he's hurt!" she screamed back at the house.
My dad appeared in the doorway, looking pale and grim. Chief Hopper was right behind him, a cigarette dangling from his lips, looking exhausted.
"Vivan?" My dad rushed forward.
"I'm okay, Mom. I'm okay," I mumbled, though the world was spinning a little. "I just... I fell. I hit my head and passed out in the woods."
It wasn't technically a lie. I did get hit in the head. Just... by a rock thrown by a wizard.
"Passed out?!" My mom looked like she was going to faint. "We need a doctor! Get Dr. Brenner—no, get the hospital!"
"Mrs. Eleanor," Hopper's deep voice cut through the panic. "Let the kid breathe."
My mom was still holding the phone. She realized it was still connected. She lifted it to her ear, her hand trembling.
"Joyce? Joyce, are you there?" my mom sobbed into the receiver. "He's here. Vivan is here. He just walked up."
My blood froze. Joyce.
I could hear the tinny, frantic voice on the other end of the line, loud enough even from here.
"Is Will with him?! Eleanor, ask him! Is Will with him?!"
My mom looked at me, her eyes pleading. "Vivan... Joyce wants to know. Is Will with you?"
I looked at my mom. I looked at Hopper, who was staring at me with those sharp, analytical eyes. I looked at the bruise on my own reflection in the window.
I felt the weight of the rock hitting my head. I remembered Will's scream as he led the monster away.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. It tasted like ash.
"No," I whispered, my voice breaking. "We... we split up. At Mirkwood. He went home. I haven't seen him since."
The silence that followed was heavier than any monster.
On the phone, I heard Joyce Byers let out a sound that wasn't quite a scream and wasn't quite a sob. It was just the sound of a heart breaking.
"Mom," I said, swaying on my feet as the exhaustion and the concussion finally caught up to me. "I think I need to sit down."
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