Hope approached the coin and picked it up.

  A closer look showed it was different from the ones he’d seen back in his world. This one was shinier, bigger. There was a number engraved in the center—‘5’. Besides that, it was plain. The backside was blank, no markings at all.

  Was this the currency here?

  But then… how the hell had that massive worm just vanished like that and left this behind?

  He turned and stared at Eve, who was—as usual—calmly observing.

  “Hey, Eve… any idea what the hell just happened? System stuff?”

  She shook her head. “No. Only very rare creatures disappear like that when killed, and those are usually made of pure Magika.”

  She paused, eyes narrowing.

  “In this case… someone did it. They used Spacetime Magika to pull the body away—and dropped a coin in its place.”

  “Space… space what?”

  “It’s another type of Magika,” Eve said calmly.

  “O-kay,” Hope muttered, scratching the side of his head. He vaguely remembered something about there being ten… or maybe twelve types. “So, I suppose this is one of those crazy complex ones, or can I like… give it a shot?”

  “Well… you can always try,” she said with a slight smile. “But it’s very rare for a Tier 1 existence to grasp Spacetime Magika.”

  “Well, lucky for me, I’m a Magika genius, ain’t I?” Hope grinned.

  Eve let out a soft chuckle. “With Air, yes. But that’s not how it works. Still… feel free to try. Though maybe we should start with something a little easier. Like Kinetic, for instance.”

  “Ki… kinetic?” Hope squinted. “What the hell does that even mean?”

  “It’s a Force-type Magika, same class as Spacetime, but it deals with the motion of objects. For example—” she extended her hand.

  The coin in Hope’s palm floated upward, then zipped cleanly back to her hand.

  Hope blinked. His jaw almost hit the sand. “What the—?! I didn’t feel any Air Magika movement at all!”

  “Kinetic force,” Eve said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

  “Well yeah, I heard you before,” Hope said, eyes still wide. “But damn, can I try? What do I even focus on? That’s cool as fuck.”

  Eve tilted her head, thinking. “Alright. So… with Kinetic, you’re not shaping air or calling wind. You’re not manipulating an element. You’re interacting with force itself—potential and motion. You have to feel the mass of the object. Its weight, its inertia, its stored energy from past movement—then push it forward in a direction using your will.”

  Hope stared at her.

  Eve kept going, voice casual, like she was reciting a textbook. “Imagine it like this: instead of guiding something through a medium, like Air, you’re directly adjusting the vector of force. You concentrate on the object’s center of mass, picture where you want it to go, then apply focused will to shift the potential energy into kinetic output.”

  Hope’s face slowly twisted into a blank stare.

  “No idea what you just said. Give it to me in Crawler language.”

  Eve smiled politely as she gave him back the coin. “Just try to will it to move.”

  “Right,” Hope muttered. “Thought you were gonna say something useful.”

  He crouched, set the coin back down on the sand, and stared at it like it owed him money.

  Alright, move you shiny little shit…

  He squinted, clenched his jaw, tried to push something out with his brain. Nothing.

  He focused harder. Imagined it rolling. Floating. Blasting off. Anything.

  Still nothing.

  “Any day now,” he whispered, like it might take the hint.

  The coin didn’t budge.

  He exhaled sharply and rubbed the side of his head. “Yeah, fuck this.”

  Eve tilted her head. “You’re not doing anything wrong, you just can’t feel the thread yet.”

  “What thread?”

  “The underlying force within the object’s mass.”

  Hope stared again. “Eve, I grew up eating sand out of broken crates. You gotta stop explaining shit like I was a Citizen or somethin’.”

  She laughed softly. “Then keep using Air. You’re actually very good at that.”

  “Damn right I am,” he said, as he willed the Air Magika to raise the coin. After a bit of fumbling and adjustment, it floated toward him, and he caught it clean.

  “So what can I do with this little thingy?” Hope said, turning it over in his fingers. “It says five?”

  “Not sure. I don’t recognize that coin,” Eve replied. “But since they dropped it here, it should be useful later on.”

  “They, huh? The sick bastards in the sky above?”

  “Exactly.”

  Hope smiled at that—how Eve seemed to be at odds with them too. That kinda won her points in his book. But still… why? Why was she even here if she didn’t like it? Strange. But as usual, he didn’t press. He didn’t like meddling in other people’s business.

  He tossed the coin into his bag with the rocks and walked toward the lake. The water tasted damn good, and the scrub after felt like heaven—finally washing off that stinking layer of dried blood, sweat, and sand.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  When he got out, he didn’t bother drying off. Not like he had anything for that anyway. He just geared up and got ready to keep moving.

  Shame the big worm vanished. He was more than a little hungry.

  Oh well. If there was one thing this hellhole didn’t lack… it was monsters to eat.

  He started running until—

  “Congratulations to all champions!”

  The familiar voice came down like a thunderclap.

  Hope froze.

  “Power has been obtained, but more power awaits!”

  His teeth clenched tight. Power your fuckin’ ass.

  “Of all fifty of you,” the voice continued, “only one shall move forward. Only one shall claim the ultimate right… to live.”

  Hope’s heart skipped. Only… one?

  “Let the desert be your arena. Let the stars bear witness. Bleed. Kill. Survive.”

  A pause.

  “Let the second round… begin!”

  Just as the voice faded, Hope felt it—something off.

  He looked up—and his eyes widened.

  Right above him, starting a few meters overhead, a red beam shot straight into the sky. It didn’t blind or flare, but it was impossible to miss. A marker… a target.

  He turned, scanning the horizon.

  More beams.

  Some so far they looked like pinpricks. Others closer. But what caught his eye next made his gut twist.

  Huge, floating in the sky like a scoreboard.

  50 / 50

  His grip tightened around the spear.

  A show. A sick fucking game.

  He remembered those rat fights back at camp—filthy bastards tossing half-starved rodents into a box, jabbing at 'em with sticks till they tore each other to shreds, then placing bets on which twitching sack of bones would crawl out last.

  Now it was him and all the other poor bastards out there.

  They… were the rats.

  He shook his head. That memory—he’d buried it just a little while ago, shoved it down deep where it couldn’t bite. But this place? This fucked-up world had a way of ripping things back out, raw and bloody.

  Didn’t matter.

  He’d made his choice already.

  He glanced at Eve just to be sure, and—yeah, no red beam above her. That was a relief, honestly.

  Hope scanned the beams again, eyes sharp, breath steady. One of them was farther from the rest.

  He turned toward it—and ran.

  And as he went, he noticed, as expected, the red beam above followed him. He ignored it and kept going. On the way, he finished off a couple of Sandmaws—one strike each—but avoided using any Magika at all. He knew he would need it.

  The red beam he was following was growing clearer at a faster rate now… closer. Seemed like the Crawler had the same intentions as him.

  Hope held the spear a bit farther back, keeping his pace steady. His eyes tracked the other red beams—some were shifting closer together and… huh?

  49 / 50

  One already dead? That was fast.

  In any case, the others were far enough. None of them should get anywhere near this fight.

  And like that… he finally saw him.

  ID: 244481

  Level 31

  No fur. No horns. No gills. A typical human like him. Scrawny face, tired but sharp eyes. Dried blood, sweat, torn clothes.

  But what caught Hope’s eye most was the sword in his hands—long, smooth, silverish metal. Then the armor on his arms—black bracers, looked like the same material as his boots.

  So those were his prizes, huh?

  No sign of another weapon. No bag for rocks either, unless he had it tucked somewhere out of sight.

  As Hope studied him, the Crawler started moving—rushing through the sand straight at him.

  Hope stayed still for a moment longer, keen eyes scanning the desert.

  His hand reached back toward his bag to grab a rock—but then he reconsidered. He grabbed the coin instead.

  As the Crawler came closer, Hope stayed still. He started circling to the side, then arced back around, keeping his distance.

  But the Crawler didn’t flinch—just sped up, coming straight for him.

  Hope’s eyes narrowed for a moment as he finally noticed it. Then he rushed forward too.

  A Sandmaw suddenly burst between them, lunging from below the dune—but the Crawler dodged with ease. In that moment, Hope channeled Air Magika, kicking up a sudden cloud of sand between them.

  He didn’t stop.

  The coin flew through the air, pushed by a gust. The Crawler reacted fast, his sword flashing up and deflecting the metal with a clean parry.

  But it had been enough.

  Hope’s spear came slicing through the sand screen right then, fast and low. He gripped near the base for reach, feet grounded, and thrust with all the force his legs and Magika could give.

  The Crawler saw it—too late.

  The tip punched into his gut, dead-center. Not too deep, but enough to pierce the stomach.

  Hope leapt back the moment it landed, sweeping more sand between them.

  Then he waited.

  He listened—to the staggered breath, the gurgle, the drip of blood.

  A gasp.

  A knee buckled.

  Then came the sound of a body hitting sand.

  The Sandmaw rose from the side—Hope turned and drove his spear through its eye without hesitation. It twitched once, then dropped dead at his feet.

  Silence returned.

  Hope stepped forward, eyes scanning the fading dust as the shape of the fallen Crawler came into view.

  But as he got close, the body suddenly vanished—just like the big worm from before. No sound. No light. Just… gone.

  In its place lay the sword, the bracers, and another coin.

  Hope frowned, not sure how to feel about it.

  He crouched after a moment and picked up the bracers.

  Dark Hide Bracers

  Rank 1 Gear (Grade: F, Type: Arm)

  Requirements: Close-Quarter Combat (Level 3), Physis 1200

  Effect: +60 Physis, +1 Close-Quarter Combat

  He slipped them on and felt the familiar kick—strength pulsing through his body. He didn’t dwell on it, just grabbed the coin off the sand.

  But as soon as he did, the one he’d thrown earlier zipped toward it. The two coins collided—and merged.

  Hope blinked. The new coin looked exactly the same. But the number in the center had changed. ‘15’.

  In any case, his guess had been right. He had to stay active. If he waited until the end, avoiding combat… the power gap would kill him.

  As much as he hated it, as much as it twisted his gut… he had to hunt the others.

  He had to kill.

  His eyes lifted briefly to the sky. Cold. Focused.

  If he ever got out of here… he’d remember.

  He glanced at the number glowing above—47/50.

  He stared at the sword for a moment, but he had no proper way to carry it. The spear holder wouldn’t fit it, and he didn’t have the handling skill for it either.

  So he just left it there.

  Then he locked onto the nearest red beam—and sprinted toward it.