text: At precisely 6:00 a.m. a disagreeable ringing thrummed through Dhane's head. He jerked upright, slamming his head into the bunk bed above, the one that hung, concave throughout the night, wood creaking in its struggle to support the man above.
  
  Apparently, it only needed a rude head-butting to exclaim, "Fuck it!" and give up entirely. The top bed cracked and groaned then the world came crashing down.
  
  Luckily, ten minutes later when they were able to fish his body out of the wreckage, they didn't charge him for damages. It nearly happened, given the intense debate between last night's barkeep—the one who baked rocks—and what appeared to be the innkeeper, a sizable man with a booming voice.
  
  Now below in a much less busy dining room, the girl made him an egg omelet as an apology for his near-death experience. Dhane wanted to decline, he really did, given that out of all the destruction in room 313.5, the only thing that made it out unscathed was his dinner roll. But alas, he had no money and an empty stomach.
  
  "I'm Penny, by the way," she said, sprinkling something over the pan. "I hope you don't give us a negative review. Them old bunk beds are typically quite sturdy. I think we need a rule for those over four hundred pounds."
  
  Given that Dhane experienced those four hundred pounds first hand, he nodded his agreement while anxiously waiting for the next thing to try and kill him.
  
  Penny grabbed a plate, shifted the omelet to it, and then presented the fine breakfast to Dhane like he was one of those happy paying customers. It actually looked like an omelet, though so did the roll. . . . He might have considered it a bit too long since now Penny looked at him questioningly.
  
  Instead of saying anything, he used his fork, noted how the tines didn't break or melt when he cut into the eggs, and took a bite. "This is actually really good," he said, still chewing.
  
  "Actually?" she asked, cocking her head, her blonde hair spilling over her shoulder.
  
  "I just didn't..."
  
  "Didn't. . .?" she pressed.
  
  Dhane swallowed, then tried a different tact. "If you don't mind me asking, have you had one of your . . . dinner rolls?"
  
  "No," she said, voice a little sad. "I just paid 50 silver to the master baker for his course. It's not like I can afford to eat my own bread, but I sure want to! It smells delightful! One day, I'm going to open my own bakery, maybe in Terralacoos, the next zone. Bake bread all day and dip into the pools in the evening, floating in the still waters, watching the stars as they sparkle to life. Hmm . . . What? Wait, why do you ask?"
  
  "I ask because your omelet is amazing and your roll, not so much."
  
  "Well, I've never had any complaints."
  
  "Not one?"
  
  "No. Everyone loves my bread. In fact, it's a big talking point whenever someone comes over. 'Got any more of that bread?' and 'Penny, how on Earth did you make this?' "
  
  A bunch of guys trying to talk to a pretty girl, and she was clueless. "Alright, what are your rolls called?"
  
  "They're Petra Rolls." She summoned her phone, opened the Baking app, and tapped her one and only bread recipe.
  
  Dhane laughed.
  
  "What! What's up with all of these questions anyway?"
  
  "Alright, first," he said, holding up a finger, "petra is Latin for rock. And second, how many bread recipes come with a damage indicator? This bread can do 1-3 damage?"
  
  "Pfft, so you know Latin?"
  
  "Yeah, I do. I have a degree in English. Latin and Greek make up most of our vocabulary. For instance, 'petrified' means to be turned into stone. And 'petrichor' is the smell that comes after a rainfall. It's water on stone and dirt and plants."
  
  "Oh, I love that smell. I could sit out in a rainstorm for hours."
  
  "So you make rock rolls, is what I am trying to say. Here," Dhane said and opened his Inventory app. He summoned the roll and grabbed the outline of it from the air. It materialized, gaining a sizable weight as it did. He handed it to Penny. "You can have mine. I tried to eat that part there . . . I might have chipped a tooth."
  
  Penny tried to bite the roll and her teeth scraped the crust, not even leaving a scratch mark. She scrunched her forehead then hit the roll against the counter, leaving a dent. She grimaced, sucking air through teeth, then looked around the room before pulling her sleeve down and buffing the spot.
  
  "I think," Dhane said, "you need to get some more recipes. And if I need cannonballs, I'll know who can make them."
  
  "Oh, ha-ha. These have been really popular," she said, shaking her head. "Just doesn't make any sense."
  
  "Maybe there's a Petra Roll throwing contest...."
  
  "Alright, they suck, I get it. I was about to get another recipe anyway."
  
  "That," Dhane said, "is something I'd be happy to try."
  
  Penny smiled the nicest of smiles, then took his plate.
  
  Dhane left the inn and headed toward the east gate. The morning was bustling with activity. Everyone had something to do, a product to sell, an enemy to slay, a delivery to be made.
  
  A woman dressed in leather armor with a bow and short sword, did something with her hands and the air in front of her distorted, like how heat or fumes gave the air a fluid texture. Out of that distortion, pinpricks of light merged and formed into a large wolf. She mounted and the two of them sprinted down the street.
  
  Merchants were in their booths, calling out to passersby. Most weren't trying to sell anything, which was peculiar. While some had potions and scrolls to sell to the adventures, others were making requests: ore, lumber, herbs, fish, meat, hide.
  
  That last one caught Dhane's attention. He still had a leather scrap. It probably wasn't worth much, being scrap and all, but anything at this point would improve his financial state.
  
  The merchant was a short man standing on a chair. He had a round, friendly face, cleanly shaved to reveal his rosy complexion, and strands of black hair combed over a balding pate. The man just finished calling out to a group of adventurers to get his list of hides and their going rates when he noticed Dhane.
  
  "Hello hello!" the man said, then opened his inventory and summoned a sheet of paper. "Here you go, the going rates for hides of all kinds. Find any out there, bring it back, and make some coin." He smiled then called out to another group, waving his short arms.
  
  "Thanks," Dhane said. Having a list would be quite handy, actually. And farming animal hides could be a good way to make some decent money. He scanned over the list.
  
  ─ Alegeth Scale — 4 silver
  
  ─ Katsen — 2 silver, 30 copper
  
  ─ Metsuni — 1 silver, 40 copper
  
  ─ Giant Wolf — 90 copper
  
  ─ Durum Boar — 60 copper
  
  ─ Wolf — 40 copper
  
  ─ Sumilian — 35 copper
  
  ─ Fox — 25 copper
  
  ─ Rabbit — 11 copper
  
  Each of the arcane, fantasy monsters he read over summoned a trickle of understanding, an image of sorts. These were only monsters or animals in this zone. Other zones had their own, but requesting hide from far away lands probably wasn't too helpful to adventurers in this town.
  
  "There's nothing here for leather scrap," Dhane said. He deposited the list in his Inventory.
  
  "Scrap, you say?" the man asked. "Well, scrap is scrap. It has its uses in repair work, though it's not something we need a lot of. How much you have?"
  
  "Just the one. Killed a Durum Boar yesterday and it dropped."
  
  "That's some rat-sucking luck, I'd say. I mean, a Durum Boar? You must have mangled its hide trying to kill it. Next time, kill it by striking the back of its head. That boney face-shield it has only extends so far, and that way you won't ruin the hide."
  
  "Huh, I didn't realize that how you killed something would affect the loot drops."
  
  "Ah, you're a new transcendent, then. This is pretty common knowledge. When did you transcend to our lovely bit of paradise?"
  
  "Yesterday."
  
  "Yesterday! And you killed a Durum Boar? Well, I'll say, that's mighty impressive. My first day was spent in the luxurious Royals palace, eating some of the best food I've ever had while servants gave me a pedicure. Seems odd you'd be out hunting."
  
  The merchant did that stare thing that everyone seemed to do and for the first time, in an Oh duh! moment, Dhane realized why: they were trying to see his affinity.
  
  He channeled the Light affinity, and now that he had done it, a lingering sense told him that he could take it further. He mentally summoned the Lion as his divinity and projected that.
  
  "I see," the man said, "I wasn't of the warriors' cast, too short! They must do things differently. I never much cared to fight monsters and swing a sword. More of an EVE guy, myself. Love the number crunching and strategizing.
  
  "Well, that's all besides the point. Since you're new, I'm happy to buy your scrap leather. But be mindful that most merchants aren't in need of it. In fact, most scrap items of any type are often sold to the System. I'll give you 20 copper, this time."
  
  "I really appreciate that," Dhane said and they made the trade.
  
  "Just doing my part. Though do remember, if you have any hide, I'm your guy!" He held out his hand to shake and Dhane accepted it. "I'm Tertari, and you?"
  
  "Dhane."
  
  "Been a pleasure, my friend. Good luck out there!" And with that, he turned to more passersby and called out for them to grab his list before venturing into the wilds.
  
  Dhane moved on toward the east gate, but then passed Nick, the meat merchant, who had four people waiting in line. Nick looked up, then quickly told his customers he'd be right back.
  
  The man ran over, laughing like he'd just won the World Cup, and wrapped arms around Dhane in a bear hug, lifting him off the ground, spinning twice, losing his balance, and careening into a group.
  
  "Sorry! My bad!" Nick yelled to the people, and scraped Dhane off the ground, slapping the dirt from his clothes. "You are a wizard! A wizard of marketing. I read your review and might have shed a tear or two. In fact, it was so moving, the System removed—removed!—Goleski's obvious attempt to ruin my business. He's lost his merchant's license for a week and now I'm being flooded with customers. What a turn of events!"
  
  And that was the power of the pen. Journalism always had a way of reaching out to people and getting them to care when they otherwise didn't. Dhane smiled and noticed the annoyed glances the customers were sending his way, they probably had better things to do than wait for the merchant.
  
  "That's great," he said. "Now don't screw it up, you have customers."
  
  "Yes! Of course! I just had to thank you, like wow, you really made a difference. And"—he summoned his phone, then glanced at the screen—"I'm glad I caught you because it's almost seven. The arena opens to newcomers for training and you can't be late. They literally pay you to train. I figured you hadn't been told since you didn't get the royal welcome."
  
  Nick put two fingers in his mouth and whistled, then thrust his arm up. "Runner! Priority!" This summoned a girl like magic, she practically appeared from thin air. "I need you to take this fine gent to the arena."
  
  "Ugh! I deliver packages, man, not people," the girl said twirling a curly lock of brunette hair. She turned to find her next job when Nick caught her shoulder.
  
  "He is the package. Get him to the arena before seven." Nick summoned a silver piece and flicked it to her.
  
  This seemed to change her tune completely, especially when she checked the time and cursed. Apparently, a silver piece for a run was decent money. Dhane didn't have a chance to thank Nick before the girl snatched his hand and sprinted down the street.
  
  "This way!" she yelled, then cut through a tight alleyway, ran down two residential roads, turned a few more corners, pushed through people who yelled, and then threw him, like in the literal sense, what a pitcher would do with a baseball.
  
  Dhane arched through the air, head first, the world a blur, then he came to an abrupt stop on his chest, beside a pair of very large boots. The man who currently wore those boots was closing a massive, wooden door.
  
  "New transcendent?" the man bellowed in a deep baritone voice.
  
  Dhane pushed himself to his feet, the sharp pain that accompanied the act of grinding one's chin on stone, already fading. "Yes, new transcendent," came his reply with more confidence than he felt.
  
  "In you go," the man said and Dhane needed no other encouragement.
  
  He hurried through the door and immediately stumbled down three steps before catching a handrail. The sudden shift from daylight to a single candle may have been enough to send him sprawling, head over feet down the stairs, like the girl in the inn, though his perfect vision in the dark helped him plant his feet where his feet needed planting.
  
  The stairs descended to a platform, rounded, and descended farther. After the third set of stairs was a stretch of hallway, voices echoing along the stone. Dhane stepped into a round room with shimmering murals painted in metallic red, depicting twelve divinities. Were there so many?
  
  All the new transcendents who had entered the world with him, stood about, talking in little groups. There were others, too, people who likely had a low level despite being in the game—or heaven—for a while.
  
  The room immediately silenced and they all turned to him with an expectant look, as if he were there to give instruction. Then the giant of a man, standing directly behind him, cleared his throat.
  
  Dhane quickly stepped to the side and the man passed. He walked to the middle where the floor rose a few steps, not that he needed the extra height.
  
  "I am Gorlan, Master of Arena," he said and paused. The man had a two-handed axe strapped to his back, wore leather armor that left his muscled arms bare, except for the solid lines of black and red ink across his biceps of light brown skin. His face was square and serious, lips pursed, black eyes appraising each and every one in the room, as if peering into their souls.
  
  Dhane quickly triggered his Light affinity and focused on the Lion divinity. Gorlan's eyes past over him, and Dhane exhaled, but then the Master of Arena shot a glare back at him.
  
  "You!"
  
  "Me?" Dhane and someone else said at the same time.
  
  "No Shadow can trick me. I am untrickable! I see your affinity, monster!" He drew that two-handed battleaxe in one hand. It illuminated in waves of light, like tendrils of white and gold smoke.
  
  Oh, shit brownies! The Mother of Shadows specifically told him to keep his affinity secret, and here he was being judged by the Master of Arena. Although, perhaps it was a ruse, to get him to react and confirm Gorlan's suspicions.
  
  Either way, death wasn't the end. . . . Right? Should he die from a giant axe through his skull, the Mother of Shadows would give him life again. With that thought, he stood his ground, muscles stiff with anticipation, and a need to bolt out of the room and up all those damn stairs.
  
  Gorlan stepped forward and two little cries echoed into the chamber as a robed figure sprinted for the hallway, teetering as it went. It made it three more steps before its top-half fell backward, taking with it the robe and revealing a Cobalin: green skin, big ears, and wide, frightful eyes.
  
  Gorlan shot forward in a flash of light, traveling the distance in a fraction of a second. The axe drove cleanly through the Cobalin's midsection, lumping the poor thing in half. The other Cobalin, just now escaping the robe on the ground, ran back into the room where everyone scattered from it.
  
  "Out of the way! Out of the way!" he screamed and Dhane could fully understand him despite the words Adda ta wes forming in his head, like an echo. But he didn't know this Cobalin, hadn't given it a translation ball.
  
  The tiny green monster jerked his head in all directions, trying to find another exit. When one didn't make itself known, he unsheathed his sword with a shaking hand—a sword that wasn't too different than the sword-dagger Dhane had—and turned.
  
  Before he could even face the giant of a man, an axe flew through the air, spinning like a blade in a blender. It had to weigh more than the Cobalin himself. It struck with a meaty thud and pinned the poor thing to the ground, kicking and screaming.
  
  Gorlan was there a second later. He took hold of the axe's handle and the metal pulsed with that streaming light of luminescent smoke, sending red damage numbers into the air and filling the chamber with the smell of burnt flesh.
  
  The Cobalin bled light that oozed out to cover its skin and clothes and wounds. The light dispersed in flickering pinpricks, and the Cobalin was gone.
  
  Gorlan tapped a few invisible things in the air, stepped back on the raised platform at the center of the room, and strapped his axe back into place. His serious face was replaced by a half-grin.
  
  "This is sacred place," Gorlan said, "not for Cobalin trash! Before your training concludes, you get to slay your own Cobalin. We keep them in cages and release them for laughs between arena matches."
  
  The immediate show of violence, of death, had an unsettling effect on the room. People counted stone tiles along the floor, some took a step back, though blondie, the guy who had stood behind Dhane in the line just yesterday—had it only been a day?—wore an energetic, if not outright excited, grin.
  
  Gorlan grunted in distaste. "Stop your moral qualms. They are mindless animals that exist for the game. Slay them when you see them and take their treasures. That is why they exist. Were we not to hunt them, they would multiply and overrun us."
  
  Dhane ground his teeth, thinking about Dedu Tedu, a town full of Cobalins living life like any human, hiding there because of the evil adventurers. Mahai had said that entities of Light and Shadow, were no different from each other, that all were souls from other planes, wanting to exist.
  
  Gorlan drew a symbol in the air, invisible until he pushed a glowing light into it. The symbol burst and stone scraped against stone. Beneath the twelve murals of the Light divinities were now doorways into undulating darkness, familiar pools of black.
  
  "Before your training begins," he said, "you must converse with your divinity and unlock your first skills. When you are ready, enter the realm of your divinity."
  
  Of course, there was no doorway with a painted spider above it, one for the Mother of Shadows. Everyone except for Dhane started moving.
  
  Oh, shit brownies. . ..