Whoever said that communication was the key to success was lying. Anytime Zayn opened his mouth, he made things worse.

  “Do you guys not have a job or something? Go touch each other like before!” He shouted to the group behind him. Angry roars bolted through the air, disputing that claim. Shards flew and sliced the air with a whistling shrill. Rotten vines hissed and belted the sand behind.

  While running, he was hit with newfound regrets about his life choices.

  For one, sand was a terrain. The absolute worst. Particularly when the moon bled and the air reeked of burnt chicken. It was as though he was inside of an hot oven—waiting for his turn to be grilled.

  And Two, the stoneheads and crackheads—who’d been having a generational feud just moments ago—had somehow forged a sudden sense of camaraderie. That would’ve been heartwarming if he wasn’t the common enemy.

  Trash-talking the local gangs was never the brightest idea, he supposed.

  [Windstrider]

  But judging from the angry crowd, it was not too long before he would be caught and porcupined. Afterward, the undead would relish his flesh, while the stoneheads would take his femur as a war trophy, showing it off to the future guests as a warning.

  Over the years, they might even form an unexpected treaty over this event, becoming comrades in arms.

  The [Stone Ape] [Undead Knight]

  In the distance, Treant and Golem grappled each other in a paid wrestling match. Zayn bolted at breakneck speed, Raka’s chain wrapped around his right hand. Ready to show them the way.

  When it came to street fighting, the best punch was always the first punch—the receiver never saw it coming. On earth, that’d get you jailed for assault, murder if unlucky. But there was no police in Eledra, he hoped.

  Bursting through the golem’s head, he left it twitching on the ground.

  

  Energy came and went, burning the injuries. By now, the entire terrain was nearly as plain as a carpet. Most of the peaks and trees had vanished—either crushed by the flying boulders or melded by the earthquake.

  He wished one of them would squash the group behind. But nothing ever went as per his wishes in this accursed world. A boulder flew right towards him.

  He cursed and dove down. The stone screamed past him, making his skin crawl. Soon, he was up and running again. He had run more in one day than last decades, he was sure of it.

  Only after a few seconds did he stop, turning around.

  The roars behind him had turned to whimpers. A few Stone Golems and Undead Treants were left standing, mourning their fallen comrades. Zayn smirked and unchained Raka’s chains from his shoulder, preparing to send them to hell as well.

  “Life is full of surprises. One moment, you are the hunter. Next moment, you end up being hunted.” He said it with just a hint of a smile. Raka’s chain dragged on the sand below, leaving a trail of the chaos he was about to unveil.

  The stone that crushed them slowly rose on its newly formed titanic legs, towering behind the three. Sizzles rang out like the sound of a frying pan. Its eyes flashed in anger.

  

  

  Without further ado, he turned around and ran once more.

  Craning his neck, he found the turtle mid-leap, almost blotting the sky above him. He sprung forward with all his strength, diving to the ground just as it slammed right behind him. The sand dented, shifting and shallowing the shock, but Zayn was still flung away.

  Thankfully, he was on his back, transferring the aftershock with awkward rolls. Even with his head spinning, he ran once more. Sand might be a worse conductor than land, but it barely pulled any punches.

  He kept running zigzaggedly, dodging the turtle, and occasionally bursting a golem head or two. But for each one he killed, two would spawn in front of him, like the heads of a hydra.

  Eventually, he ran into a corner, walking into what seemed to be a major battlefield. Sensing the commotion, stone Golems and Treants stopped to stare at him as a group, their eyes glowing under the red moon.

  He cursed under his breath. There was nowhere to run.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  He huffed on his knees. How was he supposed to beat these things and the stone ape? What a freaking joke!

  “Seems like I’ll just have to play above my weight class.” Zayn smiled and turned around to the stone turtle. His heart settled as he took slow, deep breaths. Wrapping Raka’s chain around his hand tighter, he propped himself in a battle pose.

  The rest were happy with that conclusion, going back to punching each other in the face.

  Zayn’s jaw set firm, his eyes darting. Just a single gap. That’s all he needed. But there was nowhere to run—not a respite in this land of madness.

  He remembered the saying, ‘No matter how long you raced from your problems, you’ll never win.’ He didn’t know if racing away from huge monsters counted, though. He sure as hell wouldn’t win even if he faced them.

  But here he was. Staring the turtle right in its eyes. Surprisingly, it didn’t hate that, grunting in acknowledgment. Zayn pursed his lips. “This is the worst way to die.”

  A sudden noise coughed out of nowhere, taking everyone's attention. Even the turtle was no longer looking at him. Zayn quickly made a run for it, his earlier bravado all a feint.

  Contrary to what others believed whenever they heard of his hobbies, he didn’t have a death wish. Instead, he had the strongest will to live among everyone he knew. Just that his meaning of living was different from everyone else’s.

  “Hop on.” A middle-aged voice declared out of nowhere, striking a faint cord of nostalgia deep inside. He twisted midair, staring at the source with a halted breath.

  

  He almost lost his balance, falling on the sand.

  Raka stood in front of him—in one piece. Its sea blue exterior glittered like gems under the red moon. Scratches and dents that had once littered its body were as distant as the forgotten memories—nowhere to be seen.

  “Unless you fancy getting stoned to death, you ought to get on fast.”

  Zayn got on without a word. The Treants and Golems finally reacted to the anomaly, roaring and whipping from all sides. But like a veteran racer, Raka dodged every shard and whip being thrown at them.

  Zayn didn't even notice the thunderous cracks and whistles in the air, his eyes entrapped by the blue fuel tank. The same old feeling. Was he dreaming?

  When it broke from the fall, he felt like he’d broken a part of himself. And then the ground swallowed it; he lost that part of himself—forever. But here it was, as beautiful as the day he’d bought it. And it was alive and talking.

  “Why can you talk?” He asked, half puzzled and half amused.

  “I don’t know either. But who am I supposed to ask?” Raka said, voice deep and heavy as it swerved again.

  He felt his mind churn at the implications. Did the ground breathe life into everything it ate? It hadn’t devoured him as he snored for hours, so it was safe to assume it only took the inanimate. Perhaps the dead as well.

  He shivered at the thought.

  This also meant somewhere out there, there was probably a race of transforming machines—with the capacity to turn into anything—even humanoids. Was Raka going to become that?

  He laughed at the mental image of a grumbling middle-aged robot man.

  “You ought to give up on that idea.” Raka harrumphed, avoiding a stone in the front with a sweeping motion.

  “Wait, can you hear my thoughts?” Zayn asked, puzzled. Even though he treated the bike like family, that thought still made him uncomfortable. Moreover, he’d be worried about Raka if that was the case.

  “Let’s just say…I’ve been exposed to your browser history.”

  “What are you talking about?! I never searched for that kind of stuff. You make it sound weird. Also, what??”

  The round speedometer transformed into a rectangular digital screen. Zayn was startled. He recognized the shape of his phone.

  

  

  

  

  

  

  Redness flashed on Zayn’s cheeks. Thankfully, the skies were already bleeding red. He stared away. “Drunk searches! Those are drunk searches!”

  Did the phone and motorcycle merge because they were strapped together during the fall? Whatever. There were a lot of other, things to worry about.

  The phone screen changed once again, spreading open a grey map. The topology of the desert showed up, full of blue paths and red dots surrounding it. A smirk rose on his face.

  “Time for some payback,” Zayn whispered, shooting towards one of the roads with fewer red dots.

  Using Raka’s velocity, he could certainly pull some mighty punches. They’d drop down before they saw what hit them. Rolling Raka’s chains around his fist, he prepared.

  “Isn’t that my chain? Give it back!” Raka growled, twisting his head in anger.

  “Don’t be stingy, Oldie! You’re doing just fine without it.” He said, smirking.

  “I was born a few hours ago!”

  “Naw. Do you even hear yourself speak? You are double my age.”

  

  

  The two had been fighting, stones and vines flying in the air. Bending Raka, Zayn sent a mighty uppercut under the golem’s face. The golem shattered with a crack, leaving the treant scratching its head.

  Steel tore his muscles and almost bit on his bones. Adrenaline pushed back, reeling the pain back into its cage. Zayn grinned, moving towards another golem.

  

  His body kept its cycle of being torn and rebuilt over and over. Soon, he lost count of how many times he’d pulled a muscle, only for it to be pushed back the next moment and healed by the energy.

  

  Eventually, every joint of his body creaked in pain and threatened to break down. He sped to a quieter edge of the desert, where the battles were less frequent.

  Zayn stopped his bike to look at the chaotic scene. The ape and the undead seemed to have finished their fight, but the battle was still heating up. Torn roots and stones created new monsters every other second, tearing at each other without mercy.

  Cranking his neck, he stared at the humongous red moon that took up one-fourth of the sky. What happened to the other stars? Did it eat them up?

  Maybe he had been devoured by the ground while sleeping, and this was the world inside of the dungeon. No. That hypothesis sounded ridiculous even to himself.

  Thus, he went with his earlier theory; the dungeon had two distinct, separate phases.

  Day and night.

  During the day, the trees were stationary, no different than real trees. They even bore fruit that could be eaten. He paused. Now that he knew these trees were actually undead, he wasn’t too sure how to feel about eating them.

  He shrugged and ignored the thought.

  The Stone Golems ran the woods during the day. But at night, the trees turned undead, rising from the land. But why? Why were they fighting?

  The large dome stood imposingly in the middle, unharmed by the whole fight. It left a trail of dark shadows on the sand, squirming like a living, breathing thing.

  He was no genius, but even he could tell; all the answers should be there.

  But he couldn’t venture into it unprepared. He wasn’t the type to throw his life away in vain without a chance of success. First, he was going to have to choose his class.