Simon broke into a laugh right after I finished reading, a sound sharply in contrast with the distant wail of the gnomes and my labored breathing. His laugh had a hysterical edge to it, true, but it was full of relief as well. Relief that I shared too, now that the nightmare was over.

“We did it!” Simon said, dropping his bloody sword to the ground. “Damn that was scary, but we did it!”

“I can’t believe it happened,” Pell mumbled. “I can’t believe we killed those … things.”

“We did a fine job,” Simon said, clapping Pell on the shoulder.

“Guys, we got our first Abilities!” Imaya said, her face still a bit pale but her eyes already glued to the screen of her collar. “Just look at this!”

She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she reopened them they shone with a bright green light that flickered and danced as if her irises were on fire.

“Woah,” she breathed. “It’s kinda like earning your own superpowers.”

Needless to say, everyone opened their collar’s interface right after—even Tamara, though first she complained a bit about doing this too close to the gnomes.

I touched the Abilities panel on my screen, then down to observe the interface in detail. The window was divided into two vertical sections called Abilities and Disabilities. The latter was thankfully empty, but the Abilities box had a small counter stating that my Legend was indeed 1, and that I needed two more Feats for my next Legend. Five buttons were lining up under this message; the first one was titled Spatial Symbiosis, while the other four were grayed out. A sixth, larger button took up the remaining space beneath them, Domain written faintly over it. I tapped the Spatial Symbiosis button, which prompted a pop-up window to appear in the middle of my screen.

Spatial Symbiosis, level 1

Description: You may teleport your bonded weapons back to your hand. You may teleport yourself to your bonded weapons. Cooldown decreases by level.

Cost: ???

Cooldown: 20 seconds

This Ability comes with a unique weapon. Would you like to receive it now?

[Yes / No]

My eyebrows rose in surprise; this Spatial Symbiosis thingy looked really useful. I didn’t care much about the uniqueness of my weapon, but it would be great to have something to defend myself with in case we met more gnomes. Bonus points if I never lost my weapon because I could teleport it back to my hand … however that worked. With the mind-reading piece of technology around my neck, I wasn’t even surprised anymore. I gave the prompt on my screen another once-over, then selected Yes—and my entire body went rigid.

“What’s happening?!” Pell said, followed by alarmed shouts from basically everyone else. Apparently none of us were able to move from the neck below. I could feel my body though, it just wasn’t responding. I twisted my neck to look around, and—ugh. I found Tamara glaring at me. She had seen me touch the screen before we all became frozen, hadn’t she? I knew I was going to get blamed for it, even though I was also a victim. How did this even make sense, anyway? I just wanted to receive my unique weapon!

“Why aren’t you panicking?” Tamara asked on a rather calm tone, her voice almost drowned out by the shouts of the others.

“Pot calling the kettle black,” I told her. She opened her mouth to retort, but stopped herself abruptly. It took me a moment to figure out why; someone began clapping. Considering how none of us could move our hands, it was a really strange sound to hear.

I turned my head, and from the corner of my eyes I saw a figure standing behind me. Clad in pristine white clothing that looked like a cross between a lab coat and a suit, she approached us at a leisurely pace. It was only the feminine curves and the way she walked that hinted at her gender, since her entire head was hidden behind a mask—a plain white mask that had a third eyehole where her nose should have been. Ink-black orbs with red pupils watched us from behind the eyeholes, glinting with malice. The alien woman ceased her slow clap when she reached us, weaving her way in-between our standing bodies, giving each of us a good look. It was only then that I realized why everyone else was so silent; we couldn’t open our mouths anymore.

“Congratulations, everyone,” the woman finally spoke. She had a smooth and measured voice that held a faint echo, which – judging by Teva’ryn’s and Devi’lynn’s reaction – repeated the same sentence on the Sylven tongue. “Color me impressed, but all of you survived. A promising group of Players, I have to say.”

She reached out with a white-gloved hand and patted Devi’lynn’s cheek, making her flinch. The white clad woman chuckled softly at the murderous look in Teva’ryn’s eyes before she moved on, trailing a finger across Pell’s chest. She took a sharp turn and stopped in front of Tamara, who had her eyes closed.

“Clever ones, too,” she said, touching Tamara’s shirt and smoothing out the wrinkles. “Clever, but not too wise. What would you do, Subject Tamara, if you could get rid of your paralysis by a simple meditation technique? Would you try to subdue me?”

Tamara’s eyes snapped open and she moved as if to head-butt the alien woman, only for her head to freeze as well.

“Perhaps not so clever, after all,” our captor said, sighing dramatically behind her mask. She was about to move on to Imaya when another figure in white appeared, popping out of thin air.

“It is time, Inspector,” the man said in a rich baritone, holding out a small black object. “The prototype is ready.”

“Thank you, Assistant,” the woman – apparently an Inspector – took the item and turned to me. “Now, Subject Randel, I believe a new weapon is your due. Before we get into that though, I have a tradition to uphold. I’m going to allow you to ask a question. A single question only, one that I’ll answer honestly and completely. You’re free to speak now.”

I opened my mouth hesitantly, licking my dry lips. My first thought was—why me? Why on earth did I have to be the one to ask that question? I had a feeling the others would be angry with me if I asked the Inspector this, though. Or if I asked whether I was still dreaming. Damn, I wanted to ask that question so badly! But no, I had to ask something that made a difference. Something that no one had asked before; something I wouldn’t be able to learn from any other source. A question that revealed who our captor was.

“Do you truly enjoy your job?”

There was a beat of silence as my question hung in the air—and then the Inspector burst out laughing. I ignored the glares I received from the others, keeping my attention on the alien woman as her laughter subsided into a chuckle.

“Oh, that’s new,” the Inspector said. “How refreshing. You see, Subject Randel, new Players usually ask whether they can go home … to which I tend to answer that technically they could, but it’s not likely to ever happen. Asking whether I enjoy my job, though? Why, Subject Randel, thank you for asking! Your question is flawed in spite of your best intents, but I appreciate the gesture. You see, being an Inspector is not my job, but my vocation. None of my kind has been required to do any jobs in the last five or six thousand of your Earth-years. There’s simply no need to, when we can live our lives as comfortably as we wish. Technological singularity has that side-effect on society, unfortunately.”

She held a pause then, leaning closer. Her three red irises bore into me, measured me, dissected me as if they could see into my very being. Considering the mind-reading collar around my neck, perhaps they indeed could. The woman had to be aware that this was exactly the kind of information I wanted to know—and she was playing along deliberately.

The Assistant in the back coughed politely. “Inspector, the—”

“I know, I know,” the Inspector said with a dejected sigh. “Subject Randel, to answer the spirit of your question … yes, I do enjoy very much what I’m doing. Ageless beings like us need the stimulation, need the challenge to keep our minds sharp—and I find my vocation fulfilling. Now, then!”

She raised the black object in her hand, and I could finally see what it was; a small, curved, obsidian dagger with a round orange gemstone set into the base of its blade. The light within the gemstone pulsed rhythmically—but I couldn’t observe it further, because much to my rising sense of dread, the Inspector pressed the tip of the blade against my chest. I tried to speak, but found my tongue once again subdued. Twisting my head, I looked down at the weapon as tiny, vein-like orange lines spread over the surface of the blade, reaching toward me. I could feel my heart beat frantically within my chest, and the only reason I didn’t tremble in fear was that my body didn't let me. The Inspector pushed the blade a bit harder, cutting through the fabric of my shirt and pricking my skin, drawing blood.

“Be still now, Subject Randel, because I have to be really precise here,” the Inspector said, humor I did not share clear in her voice. Lacking better alternatives, I closed my eyes—but neither the cut on my chest, nor the Inspector’s voice was easy to ignore. “You have to understand that you’re the first to receive such a weapon. As such, I can’t guarantee that the bonding process will be perfect. Stay strong, Subject Randel. This might hurt you a little.”

Then without further delay, she plunged the entire blade into my chest. I wasn’t prepared for the explosion of pain that followed and I screamed within my mind as my body spasmed. I toppled backward and hit the ground hard, the pain in my chest unbearable, liquid fire pouring into my heart and coursing through my veins. I could feel the agony take me over little by little, spreading from my impaled chest, reaching for my limbs, my spine, my neck—

When it reached my head it was finally too much, and I passed out into blissful oblivion.