When he returned to the apartment, his landlord was waiting for him at the door. James almost screamed, almost ran in the opposite direction before he could spot him. He rubbed his eyes—today had been a long, exhausting day. And on top of that, this wasn't a social visit, it couldn't be anything but a bad sign. And he didn't deserve more bad news, what he deserved was a fucking break. But there's no point in delaying the inevitable. Gathering all the courage he could, he climbed the stairs toward his apartment.

  "There you are."

  The asshole in question was David, a bald, fat, sweaty middle-aged man. But a bald man with money, mostly inherited, perhaps. But still, he had to bow his head before him, because he was the one with the money, the power, the control. And what did he have? An apartment with a pretty low quality-to-price ratio.

  "Good evening," James said. "Were you looking for me for something?"

  "Are you mocking me? The rent, of course, the rent."

  How he hated having to speak respectfully to this pretentious son of a bitch. James bit his lips.

  "There's a tournament on Saturday. With the prize money, I'll pay this month's. And next month's too. It's not much to wait for."

  The greasy piece of shit crossed his arms.

  "I've heard that story many times. But you're still behind. And I'm bored already. It's not so interesting after repeating it so many times."

  "It's not a story, it's the truth."

  "Yeah. And what happens if you lose? Or don't place in one of the positions that pays out? What happens then?"

  James felt as if he'd been slapped. Well, every conversation with the pretentious son of a bitch was an extended slap.

  "I'd manage."

  "Yeah, sure. Well, manage. Without an apartment."

  It was obvious he'd say that. That at least he'd threaten him with it. But still he felt as if his stomach filled with molten lead.

  "Just until Saturday. I promise that..."

  "I've heard enough, kid. You have until tomorrow afternoon to collect your things and manage."

  "Tomorrow?"

  He wasn't even going to give him proper notice.

  "Yes, tomorrow. Are you deaf?"

  James took a deep breath. He felt worse than the other times. Because he'd known from the beginning that everything had a limit. And he felt he'd finally reached it. His instincts were usually good. They hadn't taken him very far in life, because he'd been dealt a very bad hand, but they were good. And now that he wasn't a tenant preventing him from punching him with all his strength, something he'd dreamed about almost every night since occupying this apartment. Well, obviously, he thought, he'd report me and I'd go straight to jail. Because I can't afford a real lawyer. And because I'd be crazy. James sighed deeply.

  "I understand. Tomorrow you won't see me again."

  He headed toward the door, again hoping to at least have a bit of peace and quiet. When his hand closed around the doorknob...

  "Besides, you must think I'm a boomer who doesn't understand jack shit about video games. Much less tournaments. Well, it's true. To a certain extent it's true. But one thing I do know. That those little fantasy games you like so much have little appeal now that one can buy a plane ticket and pay for a taxi and go experience the fantasy for themselves."

  James grimaced. It had hit home. Right on target. But he couldn't even reply, because it was the door. He opened the door, but the bastard David wasn't satisfied with that. He had to finish him off.

  "That's why prize amounts have plummeted. Like the audience."

  James slammed the door. A useless and pathetic gesture of resistance.

  "Bastard. Fucking bastard," he muttered, stumbling to the living room, which was also the kitchen, of course.

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  At the end of the day, what did he have? At his age. Pushing 30. After so much effort. An apartment with a very low quality-to-price ratio. A computer. And little else. Well, now not even the fucking apartment. The money in his account, better not to look. Less and less each time. More always went out than came in.

  He bit his lower lip. Tonight he wouldn't be able to sleep. He had to think about how to manage.

  Everyone can buy a plane ticket and a taxi and experience the fantasy for themselves.

  The hateful son of a bitch's words repeated in his head. Maybe that was the key. He was on the edge of the abyss. He had nothing and no one. So, why not risk everything and become a dungeon explorer?

  Ashfall.

  A mysterious city somewhere in northern America. Until two years ago it hadn't even existed. One day all kinds of portals had opened in the middle of nowhere. The monsters had scared people at first. They'd talked about bombing the place, dropping nuclear bombs, whatever it took. But then the powers that place granted were discovered. The system, like an RPG game. But if that had been all there was to it, nothing would have changed. Of course, the dungeons didn't just hide treasures, but also riches. So, a city had grown around the portals. It was populated not only by those who made a living exploring those dungeons, but also just by normal people who wanted to live near that world of fantasy made real. In other words, everything was good business. Capitalism couldn't be underestimated.

  James arrived in Ashfall two days after being mercilessly kicked out of his shitty apartment. By the time the bus dropped him off at the city entrance, or rather small town, or rather large town, he'd spent his last 20 bucks. That's not counting the amount of money he'd left in the bank for emergencies, which was so miserable it wasn't even worth counting.

  He wasn't surprised people wanted to live here. He was practically a hermit, but that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate nature by sight. Everything was damn green. Everything was so damn green it was even blinding. The trees were enormous, they seemed to touch the sky. The temperature was warm, but not too much. Just enough to be pleasant. Come on, it seemed like a paradise in the mountains. Setting aside the number of people who will die exploring dungeons and killing monsters, he thought, of course. He couldn't know others' reasons, but he at least had a very good reason. He had no other choice. He couldn't back out. And if the road ahead was also pretty short, well, what could you do? At least he'd have tried. It would serve as cold comfort when he was bleeding out in some cold, dark corner. Down there.

  He attracted stares right away. Maybe because he looked like he hadn't eaten or drunk in days. Maybe because it was a big town, but small enough for everyone to know each other. Or maybe just because of his ugly face. How the fuck would he know? Head held high, he thought. Don't chicken out, be a man. If so many people could make a living at it, why not him? Why the hell not? Maybe James wasn't special at all, but he didn't see anyone special around either. Anyway, he licked his lips. First of all he had to prove it. And he would prove it.

  Registering as a dungeon explorer was easier and faster than he'd thought.

  "Don't you want to rent a room?" the receptionist asked him first. Alma. He'd already forgotten her name, but well, that's what the name tag was for.

  No, I don't have money for that, he thought, but he was too embarrassed to admit it. Although he suspected the woman knew, or at least had an idea. He suspected. It was hard to say when he had trouble looking her in the eyes. Not because she was significantly developed, but because he had that problem with everyone.

  "No," James finally answered. "I prefer to jump right in. The faster, the better."

  "Well, as you wish." She told him, pointing on the city map.

  To begin with, because he'd only registered as a candidate. To become an explorer, you had to pass a test. And thus gain the powers of the system. Humanity had given it a test. That name, of course, hadn't come with a label, but it resembled the popular trope in more modern fantasy novels enough. So in the end the nerds had scored a point in popular discourse.

  "Okay. Here I go. Thanks for the help."

  "It's my job, sir. Don't thank me. That's what I'm here for."

  Yeah, James thought. I already know that. It's just your job. Otherwise, you'd be looking down on me.

  Ordinary people had a way of feeling superior. And why? Because she was a bit pretty. Ha.

  It didn't take long to reach the indicated place. It wasn't very far, still within city limits. And besides, the walk did him good. Not to think better of it, because he couldn't think better of it. He had no choice but to do this. But it helped him breathe fresh air and organize his thoughts, calming down. Something is something.

  He followed the path until he reached the indicated place. He hadn't known you needed to do anything special to gain the system's powers, but he supposed it made sense. Otherwise, all inhabitants would have the same power. It was something special, a fantasy you could touch with your fingertips. But if everyone could do it, then it wasn't very fantastic. No.

  He reached the end of the path. Before him rose a stone wall and at the very top, a fountain. He had to drink from it. And open his heart to power, whatever that meant. That was the whole initiation challenge, so to speak. But he did no more physical exercise than walking. He walked a lot, yes, but nothing more. How was he supposed to get up there? By climbing? He was no damn climber.

  He clicked his tongue. How many people made a living from this? Exploring dungeons, finding treasures, keeping them or selling them. Many people. Too many people. It couldn't be that difficult. There was probably some kind of trick. Another way to get there, simpler, even if he didn't know it.

  And what am I going to do? Ask the locals? Humiliate myself? What if I'm wrong? What if there's nothing? I'd look like a fucking idiot and a weakling.

  No. No shortcuts. That wouldn't be starting his new life on the right foot.

  James took a step forward. He'd climb or kill himself in the fall. Only time would tell. But at least no one could say he hadn't tried.

  By the time he made it, his knees were bleeding, his hands were full of scrapes and the sun was hiding on the horizon. But he made it.

  Reminds me of one of my favorite games, he thought, crouching down to drink.