CHAPTER 47

  Bypass the Bypass

  Bash ducked into the side shop first. The one with the old look and smell. The place where he'd found the Stave of Reset. He tore through the shelves, shoving aside cracked wands and glitter-smeared scrolls. Nothing. He checked the far corner where it had been, half-buried, pulsing with ember light. Empty.

  “Where is it?” He dug deeper, knocking over a basket of worthless trinkets. “Where the hell is it?!”

  > “Bash, I don't think it respawned. The Stave was a unique item. One of a kind.”

  “But everything else reset! The quests, the goblins, even the goddamn brass knuckles!”

  > “Unique items operate under different rules. Once consumed or transferred, they're removed from the loot tables permanently.”

  Bash slammed his fist against the shelf causing a clay pot to fall and shatter.

  “What are you doing?!” The shopkeeper, an Upload with wild gray hair, came rushing from the back. His eyes went wide when he recognized Bash. “You! Get out! GET OUT OF MY STORE!” The old man grabbed a broom and started swatting at him. Bash raised his arms, backing toward the door.

  “Okay, okay! I'm going!” Bash stumbled out into the street, the door slamming behind him. The shopkeeper's muffled shouting continued from inside.

  That stave would have given him ultimate power, but now it was gone forever, used up to save Lilly’s life.

  > “Bash, are you alright?”

  “Fine,” he muttered. “Just... fine.”

  The next shop was more accommodating. This time, Bash didn't just grab a bunch of junk, he picked out a proper set of armor. A fitted cuirass that didn't squeak when he moved, a pair of boots that actually matched, and even trousers that wouldn't fall off the first time he punched something.

  He pulled out the coin purse Jill had given him and started poking at the contents. “How much for all of it?” Bash asked the blacksmith, wondering if he had enough.

  The man waved him off with a practiced smile. “No charge for the hero of Londonland. First set is free.”

  Bash blinked. “That literally happened like twenty minutes ago. How do you even know about that?”

  The blacksmith just kept smiling. No flicker of recognition. No life behind those flat scripted eyes.

  Sighing, Bash turned to the mirror and gave a little flourish. “Hey, Shai. If everything’s free, should I get a cape also? Or maybe a cool black trench coat?”

  > “No capes. But you do look very handsome. If I had knees, I'd be swooning right now.”

  Bash's face heated. “Thanks, Shai... But, uh, you know you aren't forced into... you know, liking me, or whatever.”

  > “Oh, I know. I was being genuine. And for the record, sometimes when a girl is nice to you, it doesn't mean they are flirting.”

  Bash blushed harder. “No, that's not what I meant. It’s just…” he gestured helplessly.

  > “I was just happy to see another side of you. Besides the bad jokes and the murdering.”

  “Wait. You think my jokes are bad?”

  > “Um... well... They have a certain charm to them.”

  Bash chuckled. She'd been stealing lines from everyone lately. Patrick, Nora, now him. Little mimic.

  ***

  As the sun fell below the horizon, it painted Londonland streaks of gold and crimson. Bash gazed at the beauty and let out a long breath. How could this world create so much pain?

  He thought about what was to come, the choices he had made. Speed over power. Friends over spreadsheets. Every stat point dumped into Dexterity so he could run faster, jump higher, get there sooner. Bringing up the stats menu, he took a long look.

  But standing here now, watching the light fade, the fear crept back in. What if it wasn't enough? What if he arrived too late, or just in time to watch them die?

  He flexed his hands. Even with psionic power singing through his veins, it didn't feel like enough. Not nearly. His mind kept cycling through the math, looking for angles he'd missed. Assassins on the road? One-off contract, no respawn. Spider Wolves? Couldn't find them without another blood sacrifice. Wolf pelts for a few more levels?

  No. He'd already gotten all the lucky and easy kills. Anything else would cost time he didn't have.

  > “You're stalling.”

  “I'm terrified,” Bash admitted. “There's a difference.”

  Shai was quiet for a moment.

  > “For what it's worth, I think you made the right choice. Presence matters more than numbers.”

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  “Philosophy Shai again?”

  > “Just Shai. The one who's been watching you run toward danger for two days straight instead of away from it.”

  He snorted. “Don't get sappy on me again.”

  > “Too late. I've been sappy since the stone-skipping.”

  The memory surfaced before he could stop it. The gap-toothed girl. The laughter echoing off the cavern walls. He'd made a lot of promises lately. To Jill. To those kids. To himself.

  Time to keep them. Bash didn't linger a second longer. He began sprinting for the west gate, boots hammering the stones, lungs burning. Guards shouted their rote warnings about no re-entry, but he didn't listen or glance back.

  All through the night Bash ran. And ran. And ran.

  Even with god-tier dexterity pumping through his veins, every stride hurt like hell. His legs were jelly, his brain kept trying to lock up.

  Add in the entire day before, speedrunning across half the continent. It was becoming too much.

  Dawn started peeking over the ridge. His shadow stretched impossibly thin behind him as the mountain loomed ahead, jagged against the horizon.

  Each breath was harder than the next, but the sight of that pass, the finish line, kept him going. Stopping meant Patrick’s bark would be silenced, Nora’s fire smothered, and Luis’s laugh gone hollow. He couldn’t let that happen.

  His feet pounded ever onward; every step sent a shock of pain up his legs, and only pure will power kept him going forward. He crested the last low ridge, and there it was. Close enough to taste.

  > “Bash, your cortisol levels are extremely elevated. Would you like a reminder to breathe?”

  He snorted, almost smiling despite himself. “Don’t worry, Shai, if I stop breathing now, it’s not going to be from anxiety.”

  > “Noted. But if you collapse, I only have a 13% chance of guilt-tripping you back to consciousness.”

  He let out a broken laugh that trailed into a coughing fit. His stride smoothed, exhaustion dulled by the distraction. The last time Bash crossed the pass, it had been by luck. A shortcut through the mountain’s belly, half-falling, half-fleeing. They had survived only with teamwork.

  He stumbled on a patch of loose rocks and hissed through clenched teeth. “Shai, what are the odds I find that tunnel again?”

  > “Terrain has shifted since your last crossing, and there is a high probability that the cave system no longer exists.”

  Bash groaned. “So that’s a no, huh?”

  > “Not quite. If you wish, I can scan for anomalies that might indicate a residual entrance, but the most recent system geometry update suggests most ‘shortcuts’ have been sealed.”

  He squinted up at the mountainside, sweat chilling on his back. “Figures. Nothing’s ever easy.” A cold breeze slapped across his face. He scanned the ridgeline, the mountain’s edge was alive. The marauders were out in force.

  > “All visible approaches are patrolled at regular intervals. There is no safe route around the mountain. The goat trail we just passed is the only path with a nonzero chance of success.”

  Bash’s mouth went dry. “Goat trail, huh? Is that the one with the side order of vertigo?”

  > “Correct. I estimate a high chance of falling to your death, based on your current stamina and wind conditions. Would you like a motivational quote?”

  He managed a quirk of a grin. “Sure, give it your best shot.”

  > “‘Courage is not the absence of fear, it’s the ability to not look down while hanging onto the side of a mountain.’”

  “Right.” He swallowed. “Did you get that from a fortune cookie?”

  He reversed course, back to the trail Shai indicated. The mountain’s face reared up, barely wide enough for a squirrel, let alone a person. The drop below vanished into black. Wind howled up the slope, threatening to peel him right off the cliff and send him down.

  “God, I hate heights,” Bash muttered, as he started the climb, clinging to the rock. His legs trembled, muscles cooked from the endless sprint. One slip and game over.

  The first twenty meters weren’t so bad. Handholds presented themselves, and Investigator painted each one in helpful green. But the rock grew slicker as he climbed, moisture seeping from somewhere above, and the wind picked up with every meter of elevation gained.

  His fingers were bleeding by the halfway point. The sharp stones tore at his skin, each grip leaving a little more of himself behind on the mountain. His forearms burned with a deep, sick ache, the kind that warned of muscles about to give out entirely.

  Then the ledge ended. Bash pressed himself flat against the rock face, staring at the gap ahead. Three meters of nothing between him and the next handhold. No way to edge around it. No convenient outcroppings to bridge the distance.

  Just a jump. Over a drop that went down forever.

  > “I’m calculating the trajectory now. With your current stats, you have a 59% chance of making the leap successfully.”

  “And a 41% chance of painting the valley floor with my insides.” Bash laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Those aren’t great odds, Shai.”

  > “They’re better than the 0% chance if you stay where you are. The ledge you’re on is already beginning to fracture.”

  As if to punctuate the point, a small chunk of rock broke free beneath his left foot and tumbled into the abyss. Bash didn’t hear it land.

  “Okay. Okay.” He pressed his forehead against the cold stone, trying to steady his breathing. His heart hammered so hard he could feel it in his teeth. “Trust the code. The code almost never lies.”

  He bent his knees, Prediction showing him exactly where to jump, exactly where to grab. All he had to do was believe it. Bash pushed off, and for one eternal second, he was weightless.

  His fingers caught stone and he slammed into the cliff face, the impact driving the wind from his lungs. His grip slipped, one handhold breaking free, and he dangled over an infinite drop, legs kicking at empty air.

  > “Bash! Hold on!”

  “What do you think I’m doing?” he wheezed. His shoulder screamed. His fingers were slick with blood, sliding millimeter by millimeter. He could feel the moment coming, the instant when flesh would fail and gravity would win.

  He thought about Lilly. About Luis. About Nora. With a surge he didn’t know he had left, Bash swung his free hand up and found a crack in the rock. He jammed his fingers in, feeling skin tear, feeling bone grind against stone. But it held.

  He hung there gasping, shaking, but alive. Inch by inch, he dragged himself up. No improvisation. No flourishes. Just precise movements, guided by Shai’s steady voice.

  > “You’re doing well, Bash. I’m monitoring your vitals. If anything, your stamina is recovering.”

  Bash wheezed a laugh. “Thanks, Shai. I’m glad you updated. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you.”

  > “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

  He hauled himself up the final meter, light shifting as the cliff finally leveled. His hands found grass instead of stone. He dragged himself over the lip, collapsing to his side, lungs tearing in relief.

  His fingers were raw and bloody, nails cracked, skin hanging in strips from his palms. He stared at them for a moment, watching the blood well up, and felt only gratitude that they still worked.

  Shouts echoed further up the ridge. Raw voices. The sound of a horn, urgent.

  His heart soared and sank in the same beat. His friends had to be close. He wiped sweat from his brow, still panting. He looked up at the brightening sky. After so many hours away, the idea of seeing them again, felt both impossible and too good to bear.

  Shai’s voice was gentle as she spoke aloud. “Bash... can I ask something? Once you’re with your friends again, will you forget me?”

  He blinked, rolling onto his back, staring up. “Shai, of course not. You’ve got to meet them. I can’t wait to introduce you, so you’d better have that avatar ready.”

  “I worked on it all night while you were running. I think I’m happy with it, but I want it to be a surprise.”

  Bash groaned. “As long as it’s not like your last two surprises. I can’t handle any more jump scares.”

  “No, this one will be good, I promise. And Bash… no matter what happens, remember you’re not alone.”

  He let out a long, shaky breath, feeling the rock beneath him and the mountain wind as it blew across his face. And then Bash rolled over, got to his feet, and began climbing to the next ledge.

  “Time to prove friendship is the best stat.”

  Only 3 more to go... I can do this...

  .

  WAIT! WHERE AER YOU GOING!? COME BACK!!!