The Nexus Knight [Chps 13-15]

Hey peeps!

More fun times. Bitso is back in full force. And we're heading toward game 3!

o.o

—Chapter 13—

—The Interview—

Kellan thought he’d be transported back to his team’s room in the AVU Palace. Or at the very least, the registration room next to the Exchange, since that was where he had disappeared from.

But that wasn’t the case.

Kellan teleported onto a football field, one under the dome of a massive stadium. And not just any football field, but one that had been repurposed for late-night television. A desk, several couches, and a coffee table were in the middle of the gigantic stadium, clustered together on the green field, the dead center of the halfway line.

The stands…

Shadows lingered over the bleachers. Bright spotlights illuminated the field, creating a fishbowl effect where the audience was supposed to be obscured. Kellan’s magical sight allowed him to make out the forms of individuals in the stands, most of them clumped close together. They watched with opera binoculars, pointing and speaking, but were just too far away for Kellan to get specific details.

Who were they?

He wasn’t sure.

His eyes tried to give him information, but there were hundreds of people, and everything became jumbled. He rubbed at his temples, dispelling the words and numbers. He focused on the here and now. The cheering from the stands made it difficult.

What were those people celebrating for?

Kellan stood in front of a red couch.

The scarlet fabric was bright under the harsh lights of the stadium. He ran a shaky hand down his face, realizing he was still wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants, but he didn’t have his rifle.

Several gigantic televisions lowered from the dome ceiling above. They were stadium screens, larger than most movie theaters, and the black surface reflected the bizarre late-night television scenario all around Kellan.

Four other people were with him on the field.

Kellan recognized the man behind the talk show desk. It was the bizarre news anchor, Bitso. The man wore a crisp black suit, complete with a black vest, shirt, and tie. He wore white gloves, though—gloves stained with blood. The apparel matched his blindfold, which was also a beautiful shade of white, smeared with red.

This information… Kellan focused on the words.

Name:Bitso, Unwilling Servant to the Arbiter

Race:Human

Magics:Storm, Fate

Rank:A, A

Armor Rating: ---

Health:7/7

Stats:Concealed

Abilities:Concealed

Bitso sat at the desk, one elbow up, his chin propped in his hand. He had an amused expression, but the way he leaned on the desk made Kellan think the man was bored.

“Sit down,” Bitso said into a microphone mounted to the metal frame of his desk. His voice boomed out over the stadium, as though this were a grand performance. “The interviews are about to begin.”

Bitso motioned to the couch, his smile perfect, his teeth so ivory, they were almost reflective.

The moment was surreal. Kellan took a seat on the couch and then stared down at the emerald grass beneath his feet. The coffee table had four cups on it, but each was filled with a different liquid. One was coffee, one was tea, another looked like syrup, and the last was a strange shade of dark green that Kellan couldn’t identify.

Electric excitement pulsed through the crowd. Their cheers grew into applause, and some people chanted names, though Kellan had a difficult time understanding who they were all calling for. The rumble of their enthusiasm shook the whole damn stadium, and Kellan gripped the armrest with his left hand, trying to remain calm and collected.

There was also a giant pit next to the late-night show area.

A pit so wide, someone could easily drive multiple semitrucks into it at once. And the pit was so deep, it was impossible to see the bottom.

A constant stream of hot air gushed up out of the pit, the distant sounds of pistons wafting up into the cheers.

The stadium TVs played footage from inside the Catacomb Maze. The dark corridors, the coffins, even the Crypt Widows were on full display. But Kellan couldn’t watch, his attention still on his strange surroundings.

Besides Bitso, there were three others.

Robbie the Friendly.

The man adjusted his purple Taco King hat and took a seat on another couch. A stick of hane hung from his lips, and he exhaled smoke into the bright lights of the stadium.

The second person was a rennic. And not just any rennic—the one who had acquired a Summoning Chime during the challenge round. His fur was black, except for his snout and the tips of his clawed fingers. His ears stood erect, and he reminded Kellan of a wolf in more ways than one. His fangs were larger than most, and he lifted his lips in disgust more than once as he glanced around.

Kellan saw the rennic’s information, but he immediately dismissed the words, trying not to take his attention off his surroundings.

The rennic wore an outfit that Indiana Jones would die for. Leather jacket. Tan pants. A whip hanging from his belt.

He was a mage. Kellan saw that much. B-rank. Wyld, magma.

The last individual…

Kellan knew him well.

Bitso laughed into the microphone, his voice thundering across the stadium. “Oh, I was wondering when we were going to see both Alex Kellans in one place. Look at them! They could be twins. The perfect selfie moment.”

Kellan wasn’t pleased to see his alternate-dimension self.

The man was tall, imposing—just like Kellan—but his chin was covered in stubble, his face lined with scars, and his expression more haunted than any man’s should be. One eye was dark brown, and the other was mechanical. The pupil of the machine eye glowed gold, and when Alternate-Kellan glanced over, the light of the eye caused Kellan to flinch.

At least Alternate-Kellan had proper clothing. He wore tactical cargo pants, an armored vest, a thick black shirt, and armored gloves. He stood with a stiff readiness that betrayed military training.

Of course, Alternate-Kellan appeared a bit older. Apparently, the dimension he came from was one filled with magic, mayhem, and an alien invasion. Alternate-Kellan was over forty years old and had been a mage for a long time.

Kellan didn’t like being so far behind.

It felt like looking at his father, rather than a different version of him.

“Would you look at that, ladies and gentle things? We have Combat Kellan, and Just Got Home from the Gym Kellan. A rare edition.” Bitso laughed at his own joke. “What kind of sad sack participates in a challenge round while wearing his pajamas?”

Someone who had zero prep before the round, Kellan sardonically thought to himself.

To his irritation, Alternate-Kellan took a seat on the red couch next to Kellan. He sat slow and tense, as though prepared to leap into action at any moment.

Other Kellan said nothing.

Obviously. He was mute.

Indiana Jones Werewolf took a seat next to Robbie on the opposite couch.

The cheering grew more intense.

Kellan wasn’t sure what to do. The Nexus had all the predictability of a cat in a minefield.

Should he take a drink? Should he pretend this was a late-night talk show and just roll with Bitso’s insanity? Should he stay quiet and wait for the bizarre scenario to end? It wouldeventually end. That had been Kellan’s experience with such events.

“It’s a great time to be alive and in front of a television,” Bitso said with a chuckle. The crowds calmed a bit as he added, “This challenge round saw some fan favorites. And fourSummoning Chimes for this Nexus Games? The last game was won with a Chime, and there was only one. This is gonna be a crazy series of events, let me tell you.”

The TVs above them played scenes from what Kellan assumed was the previous Nexus Games. The red sky, the broken buildings—a woman stood among them, her black hair and honeyed skin the same as Xiang and Sen’s. She had a mechanical eye, just like Alternate-Kellan, the gold glow easy to recognize.

Then she lifted the spherical bell above her head.

Her clothing seemed post-apocalyptic in nature, like she had scavenged it off corpses after fighting her way through zombies. Her armor consisted of metal plates bolted together, and her pants were sized for someone with twice her bulk.

“The winner of the last Nexus Games, in the final game, decided to summon the legendary, and rather infamous, Ygg’Exos Vain.” Bitso chuckled as he pointed to the screens. “She ordered him to murder the last survivor of the opposing team. It was—” he made a chef’s kiss motion, “—hilariously violent.”

The screens played footage of the Summoning Chime breaking in Xiang’s mother’s hand.

Then a beam of light broke through the crimson of the sky. Someone descended from on high—an individual with white feather wings. Kellan would’ve said it was like a Hallmark-style angel, but it was difficult to tell. Whoever was filming the event was far away.

The angel descended to the wasteland, his feather wings shimmering with magic and power.

Then Ygg’Exos Vain seemingly lifted his hand and proceeded to unleash another beam of light, this one so powerful, it decimated the nearby skyscraper, blowing a hole through it as though it were a wet napkin.

The camera filming jostled with static, and then part of the building toppled over on top of it. The destruction had been thorough.

What kind of magical ability was that?

The crowd went wild. People in the stands cheered, a few threw food. It was wild, and Kellan felt their jubilation through the rumble across the ground.

The TV screen returned to its black state.

The cheering quieted again—at least enough so that everyone could hear Bitso.

“The Tyrant King Ygg’Exos Vain was the deciding factor in the last game.” Bitso tapped his finger on the microphone, dragging all attention back to him. “So, I have to ask—who will our four lucky individuals be summoning?” Although Bitso was blindfolded, he turned to Alternate-Kellan. “You were the first to retrieve your Chime.”

The TV flickered back to life and played footage of the Catacomb Maze. It was dark, but everything was clearly visible, as though through night vision goggles. Other Kellan slipped through the maze with little problem, rushing forward with a single-minded purpose. He never touched the coffins, he just used the shadows as pools of water he dove into and out of.

He didn’t even have anyone else from his team.

Team 42 couldn’t be bothered to risk more than one person. Kellan knew their tactics. They weren’t subtle or forgiving.

Alternate-Kellan was the first to make it to the burial chamber. He shoved the dead bodies out of the way—clearly not bothered by corpses—and strode into the gigantic room. His gold eye glowed bright as he approached a statue and then proceeded to stare at the puzzle.

“Well?” Bitso asked, snapping his fingers. “Who do you intend to summon?”

Alternate-Kellan tapped at his throat. He wore a turtleneck, the cloth covering his skin. Then he shook his head, his eyes narrowed in a glare.

“Ah. That’s right. You’re broken.” Bitso leaned forward on his desk. “I guess whoever you’ll summon will be a surprise.” With a manic laugh—that only lasted a few seconds—Bitso turned his attention to Robbie. “If it isn’t everyone’s favorite fast-food worker. Robert Jameson. Welcome to the show.”

Robbie scooted to the edge of the couch. Unlike in the maze, where he had seemed cool and confident, Robbie rubbed his sweaty palms on the tops of his legs. “I, uh…”

His voice boomed across the stadium, even though he didn’t have a mic in front of him.

The screens above showed Robbie’s arrival at the burial chamber. He wandered around, glancing at everything like he was in a museum. Once he had found a screen on the statue, he snapped his fingers and went to work.

His key floated out of his shadow…

The key familiar pointed to something on the screen.

The sentient key didn’t solve the puzzle… Did they? Kellan watched the TV with baffled curiosity. The fucking key was intelligent enough to solve a complex poem riddle and then tell Robbie the Friend Biscuit how to complete it?

“I’m just a player for Team 79, man,” Robbie managed to mutter. “They said, uh, I’d get to go home if I helped them win the Nexus Games, ya know? So, I, uh, got the Summoning Chime for them.”

“Only the person who first touched the Chime can use it,” Bitso said matter-of-factly, his smile still fixed in place. With a sweet tone, he continued, “You’ll have to think of a name at some point. And hopefully a good one.”

“Well, uh, Ygg’Exos seems good.” Robbie pointed to the screens above. “A real bombastic personality, am I right?”

He chuckled.

Bitso didn’t. The news anchor kept the same wide smile, but didn’t say a word, or react to the joke.

It was off-putting.

After a prolonged moment of strained silence, Bitso finally replied, “Oh, yes. Summoning him again is a viable option, if you want to be completely unoriginal.” Bitso shrugged. “I mean, Ygg’Exos is a master of killing. A perfect pick if you need someone dead in a jiffy.”

“R-Right on.”

“But just out of curiosity, if you hadto summon someone from your dimension, who would you pick?”

Robbie fiddled with his Taco Kinghat. Then he frowned. “Uh, I dunno. Chuck Norris?”

“Oh? I’ve never heard of that mage. Let me guess—you come from one of the chump dimensions, don’t you? No mages whatsoever?”

“Well, yeah. That’s right. No magic like you all have.”

“It’s no wonder you’re so unimpressive.” Bitso motioned to the screens again. “Is that why you commanded your familiar to die?”

The screens played images of Kenzo opening the coffins. The familiar was doing that until the maze collapsed around him.

Robbie didn’t answer. He stared at the TVs, his brow furrowed. The crowds didn’t seem to like the reveal. They booed and threw objects onto the field. It was only after the footage stopped that they quieted down.

Bitso snickered as he turned his smile to the rennic. “And you. What’s your name? Wast Finn?”

The wannabe Indiana Jones sat a little closer to the edge of the couch. His ears twitched as he seemed to harden himself to the situation. The crowds cheered for him, enough to actually drown out the interview.

Wast shook his head, his long canine nose scrunching a bit as he spoke. “Team 5 is going to win the Nexus Games, and now that I have the Summoning Chime, nothing will stop us.” Just like with Robbie, his voice carried.

And that statement got the crowds going.

Another quake of excitement rocked the whole stadium. Everyone loved a showboat, and claiming that Team 5 would win was the showiest of them all.

Bitso lifted his hands. It took the people in the stands a while to quiet themselves, but once the cheering had dulled, he spoke into the microphone. “Aren’t you worried about Taco Champ over here summoning Ygg’Exos?”

“Nosferatu has thought of all possible situations and has a plan,” Wast stated with a growl. “No fifteen-minute fighter—not even a tyrant king—will hinder us.”

Nosferatu? Kellan paid a little more attention now. He needed to take Alvo and Juan to Nosferatu. Well, if they were still alive. Kellan wasn’t sure about that.

Bitso slid a finger across his desk. “Hm. So you don’t know who you’ll be summoning?”

“Not yet. That’s for Nosferatu to decide.”

“How dull.” Bitso finally turned his “gaze” to Kellan. The bloodied blindfold seemed extra crimson, as though the man had been bleeding the entire interview, and the cloth was almost completely soaked. “Ah. If it isn’t my second favorite player. Alex Kellan. It’s so good to have you with us tonight.”

The crowds got quieter.

Anxiety tainted Kellan’s thoughts for a fraction of a moment. It seemed as though everyone wanted to hear what he had to say. He gripped the armrest of the couch, his heart pounding.

Perhaps it would just be best if he played along.

“It’s great to be back,” Kellan said, forcing a smile, his words booming over the stadium. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you and the pit.” He sarcastically waved at the hole in the ground. His words echoed over the stands.

Bitso sat up straighter, his expression never changing, but his mannerisms became more energetic. “Oh, someoneis in a good mood.”

He slid down the desk, getting closer to Kellan. He drew so close that Kellan could see all his white teeth in the back—all of which were supposed to be molars—were sharpened and canine-like.

“I like it when you’re in a good mood,” Bitso whispered.

When Bitso leaned away from the microphone, his words remained quiet. No one in the crowds heard.

Kellan already regretted playing along. When he glanced over to his alternate-dimension self, the man glared in Kellan’s direction, his one gold mechanical eye fixed on everything unfolding.

“Bitso.” Kellan turned back to face the news anchor. After a deep breath, he said, “Team 42 is planning to kill the Arbiter once they win the Nexus Games. They’re going to use the magical power they gather from Zenith to invade other dimensions, and kill all the primordial dragons.”

The statement hadn’t been made for Bitso’s sake. Kellan had already told the man, after all. No—Kellan was saying it so that everyone knew. He didn’t want to keep it hidden or pretend he hadn’t heard. In his mind, Team 42 had to be stopped.

The crowds didn’t like the information. Again, there was more booing, but not as much as before. A general confusion seemed to spread through the audience.

Bitso waved his hands and once again spoke into the mic. “Calm down. The Arbiter is already aware. There’s no need to get dramatic.” He turned to Alternate-Kellan—a member of Team 42. “Do you have anything to say about that?” With a laugh, Bitso continued, “Oh, wait. Broken. I had almost forgotten.”

Other Kellan ran a hand over the stubble on his chin.

Before Kellan could insist that this was a problem that others should be concerned with, Bitso slammed his hands on the metal desk. The sound echoed across the stadium like a gunshot over the speakers.

“No.” Bitso then ran a hand through his dark red hair. “If I’m going to be forced to do these interviews, I don’t want to rehash old news.” He pointed at the screen. “We need to review the tapes.”

The screens flickered to life.

Bitso tried to stand, but when he got up from his chair, some sort of chain—a manacle attached to his ankle—kept him in place. He struggled with the restraints, growing visibly irritated, muttering dark curses under his breath.

The more Bitso fought, the more bloodied his ankle, hands, and eyes became. The blindfold became so soaked, a small rivulet of blood ran down his face.

While the TVs played footage, Kellan asked, “Are you okay?” His words were drowned out by the excitement from the crowds.

But Bitso had heard.

The deranged news anchor “glanced up,” and then touched his blindfold, his hand shaky when he pulled it away and “stared” at the blood.

Was he actually blind? Could he see through the crimson rag over his eyes? Kellan really wasn’t sure.

“Don’t worry, this moment of clarity will soon pass.” Bitso gestured to the screens above. “Just watch the damn footage, and maybe we’ll be treated with visions of the lucky few who get to die.”

His odd statements always bothered Kellan.

When he turned his attention to the massive TVs, he expected to see footage of him and his team completing the puzzle, but that wasn’t the case. Instead, the footage playing was of the corpse wall before players could make it into the burial chamber. He held his breath while it was on screen, watching as Mavis and Sen went over the bodies, and he had to go afterward.

Laughter from the crowds drifted across the stadium.

“Do you want to explain to everyone in the Nexus Games why you putzed around the bodies?” Bitso asked as he adjusted his blindfold.

“No,” Kellan stated. He turned away from the screen, unable to watch any further.

“Oh, really? That’s not how this show works. I ask questions, and you answer them.”

“You asked if I wanted to explain. I don’t. It was a simple answer.”

Bitso grabbed the microphone on his desk and pressed it closer to his mouth, his smile never waning. “Very well, smartass. Tell the audience your greatest strength and weakness.”

There was no way Kellan was going to do that. The other teams were watching—he knew—and this wasn’t the time. But he knew he should answer with something.

“My greatest strength is whooping ass,” he said, deadpan. “And my weakness is enjoying it.”

The crowds in the stadium broke into applause. The cheering and the clapping became a music of their own. Kellan didn’t mind the attention—it was much better than the kind he usually received.

While the audience continued cheering, Bitso once again moved the microphone to the side. He leaned on the edge of the desk closest to Kellan, his smile gone, all mirth missing.

More blood streamed down his face, like crimson tears.

“Listen,” Bitso said, his tone so serious it was almost unsettling. “A part of you will always be trapped in your past trauma. It’s true for everyone. A piece of you is stuck in the worst moment you’ve ever had. Don’t let that be the piece that controls your actions.”

The words of advice hit Kellan hard. He hadn’t thought of it like that. He knew the trauma was hindering him, but the analogy of being trapped resonated with him. Why would Bitso go out of his way to give him that advice? Was this another moment of clarity? A brief few seconds in which Bitso wasn’t completely ruled by insanity?

Was Bitso trying to help him?

Kellan wasn’t sure. He didn’t even know how to ask.

But then Bitso’s manic side returned in full force. He grabbed the microphone and pulled it close to his bloodied mouth. Then he laughed, splashing pink spittle on the equipment.

“Who will you be summoning, Alex Kellan?”

“I don’t know yet,” he managed to say.

“Really?” With a snort and a chuckle, Bitso shrugged. “I guess the fast-food worker is the only one who has a plan. Everyone else is a patsy or just confused. Sorry, ladies and gentle folk. Nothing extra exciting for you today.”

Hot air streamed up from the massive pit. Steam went with it, gushing into the stadium in a frightening amount. Kellan tensed as the hot air washed over everyone on the couches.

“That concludes our interviews,” Bitso announced. “But don’t worry, we’ll continue bringing you footage of the games. Especially given what’s happening in the next one.”

—Chapter 14—

—Nosferatu—

As the crowds continued to cheer, Bitso waved his hand at the four sitting on the couches. Kellan wasn’t sure if he should get up—or even where he’d go to get off the field and back into the palace.

“You four were some of the worst guests I’ve ever had,” Bitso said with a sigh. “Mute? Stuttering? Where am I supposed to go with that? And where are all the women? You all need to make more progressive choices and put more ladies into those death mazes, understand?”

His voice wasn’t projected to the crowds. The show was over.

“There weren’t even that many deaths.” Bitso rubbed at his temples. “The one highlight in my pathetic existence is watching you all die. And you all couldn’t even provide me much of that…”

The ground shook.

Not from the audience or from intense cheering—but from the movement of something large beneath their feet. Kellan stood from the couch, his heart hammering. He already knew what it was.

The Arbiter.

The massive pit spewed steam into the stadium.

Robbie, Wast, and Alternate-Kellan all got up from the couch. Wast flashed his canine fangs, his black fur standing on end. Robbie kept rubbing his sweaty palms over his shirt and pants, as though he just couldn’t keep them dry.

Only Alternate-Kellan stood his ground. He watched the pit with an intense gaze.

“The Arbiter wants to wish you luck,” Bitso said as the hot air washed over the field. “Consider yourselves honored by his presence.”

The whole stadium shook with the movement of the Arbiter. Kellan almost lost his footing. He held onto the side of the couch, ready for his second encounter with the primordial dragon.

A mechanical claw reached out of the pit and grabbed onto the edge of the field. The tips of the claws were blades that sank into the ground, cutting deep into the dirt and creating grooves.

The Arbiter pulled himself into the stadium, his massive body almost too large to fit under the dome. His machine body, laced with flesh from within and out, hissed and groaned as he moved. Gears, cogs, and pistons worked overtime throughout his massive form, steam gushing out of the Arbiter’s body at several locations.

When the Arbiter opened his mouth, rows of serrated fangs glittered under the spotlights. His throat glowed neon green, as though radioactive. The dragon roared, his voice a mix of screeching metal and fearsome force.

Kellan took a step back as he stared at the beast.

Name:Lord of the Nexus, The Arbiter, Keeper of the Gates to Zenith

Race:Primordial Dragon

Magics:Mind, Metal, Entropy, Travel, Meta, Fate

Rank:Concealed

Armor Rating: Concealed

Health:Concealed

Stats:Concealed

Abilities:Concealed

The Arbiter lowered his gargantuan head, bringing his fangs close to the late-night setup. With each breath, the dragon threatened to topple the coffee table. The four mugs spilled onto the grass.

The dragon had no eyes. His mechanical head had scaled flesh covering some of the metal components, but otherwise, there were no eyeballs, not even eye sockets or cameras in the place eyes should be.

The Arbiter’s breath knocked Robbie’s hane from his mouth.

“Oh, man!” he shouted. Robbie covered his face with his arms, but his legs just trembled as he attempted to stay upright. “I’m n-not cut out for this!”

Kellan shuddered as another round of heat washed over him. The smell of copper and iron irritated his nose. When the Arbiter shifted his weight between his deadly claws, the whole stadium quaked again.

The Arbiter wasn’t even all the way out of his pit. Half his body remained underground, while the top half was above ground, like someone hanging on to the side of a swimming pool.

“The Arbiter congratulates you,” Bitso said, his voice half swept away by the winds. “And now he’ll send you to any location you want. Keep in mind you need to stay close for the third game—wouldn’t want to miss that, would you?”

“I wanna go home, man.”

“Sorry. This dimension only.”

Robbie exhaled and then inhaled. “My room.”

The stadium… Kellan felt a suffocating presence, as though the air pressure doubled. Then the Arbiter exhaled, and thick steam rushed over everyone. The mist smelled of smoke and industry, and Kellan had to shield his eyes. This was magical. He somehow knew, in his gut, the Arbiter had done something. A second later, when the mist had cleared, Kellan glanced over to see that Robbie had vanished, spirited away by the breath of fog.

“I can walk,” Wast growled. “Our team is here in the AVU Palace.”

Bitso shook his head. “Either name a place or the Arbiter will pick for you.”

“I… want to see Nosferatu.”

The intense pressure pulsed through the stadium again. The Arbiter inhaled, and then exhaled another massive cloud of hot mist and smoke. Wast disappeared within the steam, just as Robbie had. Kellan rubbed his arms as he thought over the Arbiter’s magic. The dragon had travelmagic, the one used for teleporting. How powerful was he? Xiang had needed to touch someone to teleport them, but the Arbiter wasn’t constrained by the same limitations.

Before Kellan could voice his destination, Other-Kellan grabbed his shoulder and jerked him close. Kellan wasn’t sure what the man wanted. He tensed, his jaw clenched. Alternate-Kellan grabbed the chain around Kellan’s neck—the one holding the dog tags.

They were technically Other-Kellan’s tags, but…

Kellan jerked out of his grip, keeping the dog tags around his neck. “They’re mine. Jace gave them to me. Back off.”

But his other self couldn’t voice a response. Instead, Alternate-Kellan just stared, his eyes searching Kellan’s. The mechanical eye glowed a darker gold than before.

Kellan had no idea what the other man was trying to say.

“Stop playing with yourself,” Bitso called out with a laugh. “The Arbiter’s time is precious, after all.”

“I…”

He had several things to do, including speaking with Xiang. But what had happened to Alvo and Juan? Kellan’s thoughts went to Nosferatu, the strange man of Team 5.

Before he could voice a location, Bitso leaned further forward. “You take forever to do anything.” He tapped his fingers on the bloody desk. “I wish I could die of boredom. You’d be the perfect poison.” Then with a cackle he added, “I wish I could die at all!”

The madman laughed and slammed his hand down over and over again, as though it were the joke of a lifetime. Kellan didn’t find it amusing. Bitso had asked Kellan to kill him in exchange for sixty arcana. Kellan would just have to find him outside of an Oasis to grant his wish…

But that was for a different time.

When Kellan turned to face the Arbiter, he said, “I want to see Alvo and Juan.”

He wasn’t sure if the dragon would take him anywhere, but he hoped the conjoined twins were okay. The Arbiter turned to face him, the dragon’s deadly teeth mere feet from Kellan. There was a prolonged moment where the primordial dragon did nothing. Kellan had an urge to reach out and touch the dragon’s metal teeth—the sharp bits of serrated steel, no doubt used to shred bodies—but Kellan held back.

He didn’t know how the Arbiter would take being touched.

Then the massive dragon exhaled smoke and steam, blanking Kellan in a hazy white mist.

Then Kellan felt the pull of the teleportation. He closed his eyes, and he was jerked through space in an instant. Then he stumbled forward and opened his eyes to find he was standing in the middle of a room in the AVU Palace.

It was a quiet location. Classical music played from the walls. Rows and rows of bookshelves filled the room. Kellan counted ten of them, each at least eight feet tall and stuffed with massive tomes.

The whole room smelled of mold and paper. Kellan glanced around, caught off guard by the seemingly normal library. It couldn’t just be normal, could it?

“Hello?” Kellan called out.

Something thumped around between the bookshelves.

After a deep breath, Kellan carefully made his way around the shelf next to him. The overhead lights flickered once, but otherwise remained bright enough to keep the shadows at bay.

Kellan glanced between the shelves and spotted Alvo and Juan. The deformed twins, merged together and sharing most of a body, stumbled around the library, both heads glancing around.

When they spotted Kellan, they stopped and stared.

“Are you okay?” Kellan asked. He walked over, his head spinning. “You… You were teleported here after the challenge round?”

“Where are we?” Alvo asked. He reached for the books, his hands shaking.

“The AVU Palace.”

Both heads gasped. Then Alvo and Juan fell to the ground, unable to stay on their feet. Both of them muttered quiet words, their eyes wide. The whites of their eyes were red with broken blood vessels.

“What’s wrong?” Kellan walked over and helped the twisted twins back to their feet. “This is an Oasis. It means no one can kill you here.”

“Nexus residents shouldn’t be here,” Alvo whispered. One eye didn’t quite stare in the same direction as the other. “We… we don’t want to get too close to our progenitor.”

“Your progenitor?” Kellan repeated. “Is that what you call the Arbiter?”

“Sometimes, yes. He is our first father. The one who created all of us.”

Kellan tried to stop himself from imagining the Arbiter mounting anything. He had seen videos of horses killing people after some bizarre fetish went horribly wrong. The thought of the Arbiter impregnating a skyscraper was too much. What the hell had the dragon done to have so many children?

“How are you all human?” Kellan fumbled with the words. “Well, human-shaped. How are you all human shaped?”

Alvo and Juan glanced down at their mutated, twisted form, both faces scrunched in mild disbelief. Then they returned their gazes to Kellan.

But they understood the question. Alvo replied, “The Arbiter controls the Nexus. It’s his will made reality. He took scales from his primordial flesh and shaped them into people to dwell in his realm.”

“The Nexus is the dimension that converges with all others,” Juan whispered, his bloodshot eyes widening further. “Other primordial dragons made their children untainted by outside influences, but the Arbiter has twisted flesh, as warped as his dimension.”

“Or so they say. Such myths are just that—legends told to children.”

“The Arbiter claims us as his own,” Juan muttered, his expression shifting back to something neutral. “So it must be true.”

Alvo nodded once.

“Why are you afraid of him, then?” Kellan asked. “Most children don’t fear their parents.”

“What if he sees us?” Alvo asked as they motioned to their body with their three thin arms. “What if the Arbiter is disgusted with how twisted his children have become? He allows the players of the Nexus Games to kill us for arcana. He must hate us. He must despise the shape of us.”

Kellan disliked the turn of the conversation. He wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t familiar with this cold world, and he didn’t know what to think of the Arbiter’s bizarre actions.

“That’s why Nosferatu has to win,” Juan said, smiles creeping across both their wax-like faces. The muscles didn’t quite work. Their smiles reminded Kellan of a stroke victim.

“What will happen when Nosferatu wins?” Kellan asked.

“The winners of the Nexus Games are granted access to the perfect dimension, Zenith, where there’s infinite arcana, and mages have the most powerful of magics.”

Alvo nodded three times. “Yes. Yes! Nosferatu will use his magic to fix us. To make us beautiful again. Then the Arbiter will care—he’ll protect us from the outsiders again.”

Kellan said nothing.

The more he heard about Zenith the Land of Gold-Brick Roads and Infinite Magic, the more he wondered if it could actually do the things that everyone claimed it could. But he also couldn’t bring himself to voice the skepticism with the twins. Not when they desperately wanted it to be reality.

“Listen,” Kellan said. “That’s a lot to unpack. How about I just take you to Nosferatu, like I promised? I need to get back to my team.”

Perhaps Xiang will be in the mood to discuss Zenith further. Kellan exhaled. It would be fantastic to get some sort of proof or explanation of how this all works.

“Please take us there,” Alvo said. “But don’t take us anywhere near the Arbiter.”

“Do you know where Nosferatu is?”

The twins glanced at one another, their hands awkwardly craning to the side. Then Alvo said, “Wast was supposed to find the Chime, and then find us in the Catacomb Maze, but he never did. Just bring us to Wast. He will know where Nosferatu is.”

“Yeah, well, Wast was teleportedto the man, so we’re shit out of luck.” Kellan glanced around the library as he cracked his knuckles. But then he remembered Wast’s interactions with the Arbiter. “Wast said his team was staying here at the AVU Palace… So, come with me. We’ll find Nosferatu.”

Alvo and Juan nodded their heads, their eyes shaky and blinking less than normal. With quick steps, Kellan guided them around the bookshelves. Then he found a door out and stepped into a gigantic hallway. The gothic architecture clashed with the simple design of the library. Gargoyle statues perched on top of stone pillars. Tapestries hung on the walls, each depicting dragons attacking each other.

Kellan jogged by the odd decorations and continued through the AVU Palace. The large structure was practically a megamall in terms of size and varying interiors. When Kellan ran by a window, he spotted the dome of the Arbiter’s stadium across the palace’s courtyard.

“This way,” Kellan said, opting to turn down a hall that went in the opposite direction of the stadium.

The beat of intense music rang throughout the palace.

Kellan stopped in the middle of the hall, Alvo and Juan behind him.

Dread twisted in his chest. The palace was once again full of the Nexus Games players. The last time Kellan had associated with any of the Nexus residents, another player had killed them to make a point. Kellan knew that if he wandered the palace with Alvo and Juan, they would become the target of a malicious attack.

“We should go the long way,” Kellan muttered, backing away from the sounds of partying.

The misshapen twins stumbled around him.

Kellan turned around, went down a different hall, and headed in the direction of the stadium. He wanted to get away from the other people as fast as possible. Alvo and Juan kept pace, but they lumbered and breathed with heavy huffs, creating more noise than Kellan wanted.

“Oh, look, it’s Xiang’s boy toy,” a sweet and sinister voice said from the shadows.

—Chapter 15—

—Team 5—

A striking woman stepped out of the darkness in the corner of the hallway.

If this wasn’t the Nexus, Kellan would’ve assumed she was a mugger.

A dozen piercings marked her face with metal, from her lower lip, to her eyebrow, to her nose. She had a Mohawk—not too large, but spiked—and the dark rings around her eyes were either makeup or a complete lack of sleep, Kellan wasn’t sure which.

She had an athletic build and wore a skintight outfit that looked like a futuristic sci-fi bodysuit. Besides her heeled boots, Kellan was pretty sure she wasn’t wearing anything else. Her suit was black, except for one sleeve, which was a bright neon pink. Kellan likened the coloration to a poisonous frog.

He knew this woman.

The number on the back of her left hand told him everything.

Team 42.

Name:Ysa Voight the Wraith

Race:Human

Magics:Entropy, Eclipse

Rank:Concealed

Armor Rating: Concealed

Health:Concealed

Stats:Concealed

Abilities:Concealed

Ysa sauntered over, her gaze flicking from Kellan to Alvo and Juan. She smirked, her teeth visible.

“Wow, you’ve let yourself go,” Ysa said as she motioned to Kellan’s sweatpants and T-shirt. “I’ve met Ziploc bags with more sexual energy.”

She circled around like a shark, getting closer as she did, even grazing her fingertips over Kellan’s shoulder as she went behind him. He tensed but didn’t lash out. He couldn’t—the magic around the AVU prevented hostile actions.

“Good to see you again, Ysa,” Kellan said, terse. “But I have to get somewhere.”

Alvo and Juan shuddered as Ysa drew near. Both heads tried to crane around at the same time, their three arms folded tight against their giant chest. When she smiled, Alvo and Juan cringed away, frowning.

“You’re still associating with these inbred freaks?” Ysa asked.

When Kellan went to walk forward, she stepped in the way.

“Are you insane, or do you just want to start a fight?” Ysa met Kellan’s gaze, her eyes intense, almost crazed. “You think the Arbiter is going to help you? Is that why you went crying to him? That piece of shit trash dragon isn’t going to get involved. He never gets involved in the games.”

Alvo and Juan stepped closer to Kellan, their expressions one of disgust and shock. Kellan could practically feelYsa’s rage. She shook, but kept her smirk, like the Oasis was preventing her from acting.

Her shadow moved around the floor—like Peter Pan’s fucked up cousin. It made clawing motions at the darkness around Kellan’s feet.

“I really need to get going,” Kellan said, never betraying his own frustration.

From what he could remember, Ysa had magics that eroded people’s defenses. And her shadows acted on their own to attack and hold people in place. She had been deadly during the second game, and angering her wasn’t worth it.

She needed to die, but Kellan couldn’t do anything about that yet.

When Kellan tried to step around her again, Ysa posted her arm on the nearby wall, blocking his path. They stood inches apart, and if they weren’t in an Oasis, Kellan would’ve been tempted to punch her square in the face.

“Xiang’s illusions aren’t going to save you in the next game,” Ysa said sweetly. “Now that Brenner knows how powerful they are, he already has a way to deal with them.”

Why would Ysa tell him that? It was good information—but Xiang already feared that outcome. She had known the moment she used her illusions in the second game that it would give away her capabilities.

“What do you want from me?” Kellan asked, defiant. “We can’t fight in this hallway, so unless you have something to say, this is all a waste of time.”

Ysa lifted a pierced eyebrow. After a prolonged moment of strained silence, she removed her posted arm. “What do I want? To win this goddamn game. Brenner said he offered you a chance to join us, but you refused, probably because you’re Xiang’s bitch, but maybe for some other stupid reason.”

Kellan was done with the conversation. Ysa wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, and he really did have better things to do.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a delight?” he sarcastically asked.

Ysa offered Alvo and Juan a sneer. “What’s your deal? You… You’re some hobo-loving vagabond. I thought it was funny at first, but now it just makes me sick.”

“Is that a quote from your mother? I think I recall hearing her say that once.”

Ysa’s lip twitched—a tic that betrayed her itching need for violence. “The moment Quasimodo steps outside this palace, he’s dead. Along with everyone else you ever associate with.” She pressed a single finger into his chest. “Our Kellan is a trained killer. And I’m going to help him rip you apart.”

Kellan brushed her hand aside. “Anyone ever tell you that your voice is shrill? You’re speaking at frequencies only dogs should hear.”

With her teeth gritted, Ysa stepped away. Then she ripped out the piercing on her lip, tearing her flesh in one quick action. She did it so fast, and so aggressively, that blood splattered forward. Kellan flinched as some of it hit his shirt.

A dozen red spots now marked his clothing.

“Oopsie-doopsie,” Ysa said. Then with a manic giggle, she turned and headed for a darkened part of the hall. “Sorry about that! Guess I’ll see you later, then, Alex. Stay out of trouble until then.”

Kellan glanced down at his clothes. They were already dirty from his time in the challenge round. With a sigh, he just motioned to the path ahead of him. “Let’s go.”

Alvo and Juan stared, their whole body shaking. “Outsiders revile us.”

“I think she reviles everyone.”

“Thank you for speaking to her.” Alvo and Juan stepped closer. Then he patted down his body, his deformed hands small and shaky. With a sigh, Alvo said, “Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah, I’m happy to be alive, too. But we should get going.” Kellan grabbed their shoulder and pushed them forward. “You’re not going to die until you leave the palace. So, just stay here for a bit. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“The Oasis doesn’t apply to the Arbiter. If he wanted to kill us, he could.”

“I’ve got good news. He’s living in a pit in the middle of a football stadium. I think you’ll be fine. C’mon.”

Together, they continued down the hallway. And although Kellan had been blasé about the encounter with Ysa, inside he regretted the fact that he had run into her. Ysa—and all of Team 42—was a lunatic. She would kill Alvo and Juan, simply to spite Kellan.

Kellan didn’t want that on his conscience.

As Kellan went, he opened doors, checking all the bizarre rooms in the palace.

One was a pinball arcade. One was an indoor swimming pool.

The only theme for the AVU Palace seemed to be recreation and luxury. Every place, area, and section of the palace was designed for games, relaxation, gambling or drinking. It had the most places for debauchery, and with the music picking up, and the lights of the hall dimming, Kellan wouldn’t be surprised if he ran across more scandalous activities.

His suite wasn’t in this kind of hall, however. It was upstairs.

Kellan motioned Alvo and Juan to follow him up to the next floor. The partying in the palace grew loud enough for him to hear even as he ascended the steps. The dying light outside made Kellan nervous. He didn’t fear the night—quite the opposite—but time was a precious commodity, and here he was just wandering around.

He opened three more doors, growing more impatient with each empty room.

Alvo and Juan followed close, lumbering as quickly as their stumpy legs would allow.

Then Kellan spotted someone leaving a room—a rennic dressed like Indiana Jones.

Wast.

“There,” Kellan said. “We found Team 5.”

He jogged forward, and Wast turned in his direction. The giant werewolf man laid his ears back against his skull and flashed his fangs. But the moment he spotted Alvo and Juan, his whole demeanor changed. His ears perked back up, and his fluffy black tail actually wagged a bit.

“You made it?” Wast asked, not even glancing in Kellan’s direction. “Do you have the information for Nosferatu?”

Alvo and Juan both nodded. They headed for the door, no more words for anyone. Once they had entered, and the door snapped shut, Kellan turned on his heel, ready to leave.

“Wait,” Wast growled.

Kellan stopped and glanced over his shoulder. No one else was around.

“You should see him, too,” Wast said. “He’ll want to thank you.”

“It’s fine. I can just pretend I heard the thanks.”

Wast’s ears flattened again. “What’s with you? Some random human lurkin’ about, makin’ friends with the Nexus residents, only to turn down their leader?”

“You know about me?”

“I’ve seen footage of you in the games. Everyone is talkin’ about the Alex Kellan impersonator. The one makin’ all the strange decisions. Even Nosferatu finds your actions questionable.”

Questionable?

Kellan wanted to sigh—to let out his building frustration on something—but he swallowed his anger yet again and turned to face the rennic. With a sardonic gesture of his hand, he motioned to the door. “After you, then. Lead the way to this legendaryNosferatu.”

Wast snorted. He grabbed the door to the suite and opened it. “Get in.”

What grace and ceremony, Kellan thought as he stepped into the room.

Then the door shut. Wast hadn’t entered—he had simply left.

Kellan stood still for a moment. He glanced around, taking in his surroundings. While Team 101’s suite was expansive, spacious, and contained multiple sub-rooms, this suite felt small, but in a posh way. Large curtains hung from the ceiling, draped across most of the walls, hanging for decoration.

An incense burner sat in the corner of the main room. The smoke wafted through the air, clinging to the wall drapes, filling the cozy space with the smell of lilac.

There were no windows. No balcony. No mana spring.

Even the lights were dimmed, creating an underground effect that unnerved Kellan.

He spotted several doors, and he suspected they must lead to sub-rooms, but he wasn’t sure. Each door was shut tight, and one even had metal grating across it. As Kellan crept inside, he had to avoid the cushions on the floor, as well as a short coffee table.

A large TV was in the central area, but it, too, had drapes on either side, like the curtains could be closed over the screen. Was it a theater TV? Why would anyone design a room in this fashion?

Alvo and Juan stood near the back of the room, beside the TV. Another man was there—one wearing a three-piece suit.

Name:Nosferatu the Iron-Willed

Race:Human

Magics:Metal

Rank:M

Armor Rating: 20 + 10 Shielding [Metallic]

Health:30/30 [Cyborg-Enhanced]

Stats:

Strength—7 [Cyborg-Enhanced]

Dexterity—5 [Cyborg-Enhanced]

Fortitude—10 [Cyborg-Enhanced, Tough]

Charisma—5

Manipulation—3

Intelligence—10 [Analytical]

Perception—9 [Cyborg-Enhanced]

Wisdom—15 [Mystic Sense]

Willpower—15 [Determined]

Abilities:

Personal—[Resolute]—The mage is not easily deterred from his path. The mage’s willpower counts as double for the purposes of resisting enemy magics. Additionally, the mage cannot be dominated or enslaved.

Nosferatu.

The number 5 was on the back of his left hand, clear as day for all to see.

And since he was one of the Nexus residents, Nosferatu had a wide variety of deformities. Boils, lumps, and lesions marked every visible portion of his skin, including his face. Some wept fluids, but whenever it became too much, Nosferatu grabbed a handkerchief from his suit pocket and dabbed away the gunk.

If it weren’t for his leprosy-style appearance, Nosferatu wouldn’t have been horrible to look at. He stood straight, he seemed fit, and the charcoal gray suit was pressed beautifully. In all ways, Nosferatu stood like a tall, dark, and handsome man.

Well, his thinning hair reminded Kellan of a cactus. Nosferatu was basically bald, except for the white wisps over his misshapen scalp.

“Ah, Alex Kellan,” the man said, slowly turning to face him.

The collar of his suit had seven metal pins snapped onto the fabric. They were gold, and glittered, even in the dim lighting.

Those symbolized his highest rank of magic. Gold stood for metal, the magic of civilization and technology, and seven meant the man had achieved M-rank. If Kellan didn’t have his magical sight, the metal pins would’ve given him some clue as to the other man’s strength.

Nosferatu placed a hand on Alvo and Juan’s shoulder. “Thank you for the information. Please take a seat and rest here. It isn’t safe for you to leave.”

The two conjoined twins nodded their heads and then lumbered over to the pillow seating. They carefully sat near the coffee table, both heads turned so they could watch everything unfold.

“Thank you for helping Alvo and Juan out of the Catacomb Maze,” Nosferatu said.

His voice was rich, thick, and lyrical. He could make reading the back of a cereal box sound poetic.

Kellan nodded once. “Don’t mention it.”

“I’m pleased you came to see me.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

Nosferatu stared at him with discerning eyes. “I wanted to ask you why you’re here. Why you want to win the Nexus Games.” He moved slowly to the TV and then placed a lumpy hand on the side of the screen.

“I was forced into the Nexus Games. Technically, if my team wins, they’ll let me return home.”

“Hm.” Nosferatu frowned. Even his lips were marked with disease lines. “A pity. Well, then, you can go. There’s nothing more for us to discuss.”

“Wait, that’s it?” Kellan scoffed. “Your teammate made it seem like you wanted to speak with me about something important.”

Nosferatu turned and waved his other hand. “If you have no passion for what’s going on, there’s little to speak about. An employee clocking in for a paycheck isn’t the same as someone building a business. If you have no reason to win, I doubt you ever will.” Nosferatu motioned to the door. “You may leave, Alex Kellan.”

“I have a reason to win,” Kellan stated, getting defensive. “Didn’t you see me on that bizarre late-night talk show? Team 42 is planning on killing the Arbiter so that they can invade Zenith, get superpowered through ultimate magic, and then take over every otherdimension, which includes my home. So, yeah, I have a reason to win—it’s to stop Team 42 from carrying out their twisted plot.”

Kellan hadn’t realized how worked up he had gotten until he forced himself to take a breath. It irritated him that no one seemed to care or listen. He wasn’t spouting off words just to hear his own voice. Why wouldn’t anyone get behind his cause?

When Nosferatu faced him this time, it was with a smirk. “Ah! There it is. Your passion.” He took a single step away from the TV, his gait stiff. “I’ve seen it from you a few times whenever you’ve been filmed by the Arbiter.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“You have a passion to save and protect people. The rezrah girl, Nexus residents, even members of other teams… Time and time again, the Arbiter has filmed your desperate struggle to save those around you.”

“Well… Innocent people.”

“And my people. You’re selfless, even in a world as dark as this. That’s rare.”

Kellan crossed his arms. The wet blood disturbed him. He rubbed at his shirt and then opted to keep his arms at his side. “What does it matter?”

Nosferatu’s gaze drifted down to Kellan’s shirt. He stared for a long moment. “The blood on your clothing is fresh.”

Kellan touched the crimson drops. “Yeah, I ran into Ysa in the hall, and she threw a little tantrum. This is her blood, not mine.”

“Then you should remove the shirt at once.”

With a chuckle, Kellan tugged at his clothing. When Nosferatu didn’t join in the laughing, Kellan stopped. “Are you serious?”

“Ysa Voight is an entropy mage. They have powers over death—some powers include the ability to use their blood in devious ways. I’m not saying she’s spying on us, but I wouldn’t put it past her. Remove your shirt. Then burn it, I say.”

Kellan tugged the garment off, dwelling on the information. Entropy magic involved death and blood—but he didn’t know many of the specifics of the magic. This was good information, even if it was coming to him a week too late.

He wasn’t sure if what Nosferatu said was correct, but he got a feeling he could trust the misshapen man. “All right.”

Alvo and Juan stood, walked over, and took the shirt from Kellan. Then they walked over to a door and entered a bathroom. Perhaps they could flush the shirt away?

Once the door shut again, Nosferatu touched the tips of his fingers together. “There. Now we are alone.” He forced a smile, but the lesions on his cheeks made it difficult. “What I was trying to say is that I judge people by their commitment.”

“What?” Kellan asked.

“Only those with deep convictions are worth allying with,” Nosferatu said matter-of-factly. “I want to propose our teams help each other win the Nexus Games. Obviously, not every game will work out that way, but if we can aid each other, we should aid each other.”

Kellan lifted an eyebrow.

This was the first time another team had tried to form an official alliance.

Alvo and Juan returned from the bathroom, no shirt in hand. Then they walked to Kellan’s side, both sets of eyes on him. Kellan said nothing as he mulled over the situation.

“Why aren’t you speaking to Xiang about this?” Kellan asked. “She’s our team leader.”

Nosferatu stifled a laugh. “She’s disgusted by Nexus residents, like myself. Our inbred visages aren’t worthy of being in her presence.” He waved away the comment as he returned to the side of the TV. “But that doesn’t matter. Xiang isn’t special in this regard. No onetrusts or cares for Nexus residents. You are a rare exception. I assume whatever dimension you come from, there’s more emphasis on empathy.”

Kellan wouldn’t have said that. But it didn’t matter. “Well, okay. I’d like to form an alliance.”

Nosferatu’s eyes lit up, and he smiled genuinely. “Brilliant.”

“You’re going to help Nosferatu?” Alvo asked.

Kellan nodded. “Seems that way.”

“Then… I want to give you something for helping me and my brother.”

The way Alvo said everything made Kellan think he was about to die. Kellan turned, his arms crossed. He wanted to tell the twins he didn’t need anything, but then Alvo held out one of his three hands.

It was empty.

But then… a crystal emerged from his palm, lifting out of the flesh as though pulled upward by an invisible string.

The sparkling crystal that emerged was no larger than a thumb. It wasn’t red, like most arcana—it was gold. It glittered with inner power, bright and vibrant.

“Take it,” Alvo said, pushing his hand forward. “I want… to help you succeed in the games…”

Kellan, taken aback, hesitated for a moment. “I thought arcana was the essence of someone’s soul? I can’t just… I can’t just take this.”

Nosferatu laced his fingers together. “You came from a world with no magic?”

“That’s right.”

“Then fear not. Arcana is, indeed, fragments of someone’s soul, but Alvo and Juan can continue, even if they give you a piece of themselves.”

With that statement, Kellan breathed easier. He reached out, took the gold arcana, and marveled at the warmth that spread through his arm, and then to his chest and body. Gold arcana… it just felt different.

[Alex Kellan] absorbed 1 gold arcana.

“Wait,” Kellan muttered. He turned to Nosferatu. “You know about gold arcana? Half the people I speak to deny it exists.”

“Oh, yes. All Nexus residents know of gold arcana. It’s freely given, whereas red arcana is taken by force.” Nosferatu straightened his vest and then recited, “Gold arcana cleans the soul, red arcana takes its toll. We learn about it at a young age, you see.”

“Why?” Kellan asked. He turned to Alvo and Juan, and then back to Nosferatu. “Why do you all know what’s going on, but no one else does? And how did you give me the gold arcana so easily?”

Kellan hoped these people would just give him answers. He hated not knowing. Clarity would help him so much.

“The Arbiter told us all about the differences between red and gold arcana.” Nosferatu stared at Kellan for a long time. “You don’t know much about magic?”

“No.”

“Then let me explain something simple. When light passes through a prism, it emerges as colors on the other side. Think of a mage as the prism, and light as raw magic straight from the Sea of Chaos. But… people aren’t perfect prisms. When the light filters through their body, only certain colors shine through.”

Nosferatu’s rich voice made it easy to listen. Kellan absorbed every word.

“Those colors are specific magics,” Nosferatu said. “Your colors are…” He touched Kellan’s bare shoulder. A moment later, he jerked his hand away, his brow furrowed. Despite that, Nosferatu continued, “Your colors are silver, tan, gold, and… dark blue. They represent eclipse, body, metal, and meta.”

Kellan tensed. He probably shouldn’t have revealed his ascendancy magic—meta was rare, after all—but it couldn’t be helped now.

“Okay,” he said. “Go on.”

“Every time you absorb red arcana, it’s like you’re smudging the outside of the prism. The light won’t shine as clearly, and your magics will be muddled and weaker. But—” Nosferatu held up a finger, “—every time you absorb gold arcana, it’s like taking a cloth to your prism and wiping it clean. A beautiful thing. It makes your magic stronger. Breaks curses. Weakens the hold of outside magics on your mind.”

“So my prism is cleaner thanks to Alvo and Juan?”

“In a way, yes.”

Kellan wanted to thank the twins, but it was getting redundant. He had saved them from the maze, and they were just thanking him for going out of his way.

“And why does the Arbiter tell you all this?” Kellan asked.

“He is our progenitor. He instructed us on all things magic. There is no greater teacher than a primordial dragon. He was born from the raw magics of the Sea of Chaos—he and his brothers and sisters were the first beings in all the many universes.”

“That doesn’t explain why.”

Nosferatu paused. When pus wept from an active lesion on his hand, he wiped it away with his handkerchief. “The Arbiter taught us long ago, when he wanted us to control the Nexus. He no longer teaches us. Unfortunately, the Arbiter seems to care very little about us now. I assume it’s because the inbreeding has led to our degeneration, but I don’t know that for certain.”

Kellan took a deep breath, the smoke from the incense burner too thick for his liking.

“What should we do about helping each other in the next game?” Kellan asked.

“We’ll have to wait to see what type of game it is. Once we know, I’ll send you a message, and we can coordinate.”

“Thank you.” Kellan tightened his hands into fists and then relaxed. “I really appreciate you answering my questions, by the way. Very few people do that.”

Nosferatu bowed at the waist, deep enough that Kellan was momentarily surprised. When Nosferatu stood straight, he said, “Thank you for agreeing to help us. Whenever you have need of knowledge, you may speak to me at any time.”