At midday the entire Antechamber trembled. Not the subtle, ominous quake that warns of a looming boss fight - but something different. Stone started to slide into place with eerie smoothness, forming a massive archway - intricate patterns carved into the surface. Bob strode near and tapped it.

  [System] Event Pavilion - Temporary Expansion: Market Day

  Beyond the threshold sprawled a vast grassland - bursting with light, color and movement. In contrast to the antechamber it was a mirage in the void. In the center of an artificial sky a large clock had started to count down from 08:00 Hours.

  Bob marveled at the food stalls and carnival games; a ride similar to a ferris wheel turned lazily against a clear blue sky. The air hummed with vibrancy and the scent of sizzling meat caressed his nostrils - a siren call forcing the stomach to growl. He tried to enter the new section and bumped into an invisible wall. It wobbled, distorting space beyond for a brief moment.

  It was then that he noticed the lockers neatly arranged near the archway; one for each ticket-holder. Inside - Three compartments. One held a dark-grey robe, another, a smooth porcelain mask. The top compartment had a white button with a label: ‘Press for quick-change.’

  “I really have to gear down and go full ‘mystery cult participant’ to get in?” He asked.

  [Echuu] Bingo! Don the robe, wear the mask.. or just press the button and ‘Boom!’ You’re event-ready! System fashion protocol, page one: blend in, stand out, confuse the enemy.

  Right. ‘Tap.’

  .. Equipped items stored.

  .. Equipped item: Robe, Dark Grey.

  .. Equipped item: Pavilion Mask, Event. When worn, it obscures the face. Does not inhibit your senses. Allows for food to phase through.

  Bob raised a hidden eyebrow, fingers running down the porcelain mask. “This thing really lets me eat through it?”

  [Echuu] Confirmed! Food-phase enchantment, courtesy of sleepless snack-fueled design sessions. You can chew a churro without worrying about grace.

  Bob smirked and yanked at the robes fabric. Airy. “This feels like a cult-ordered laundry day.”

  [Echuu] You say that like it’s a bad thing. These babies are stylish. Again, the grey hides sauce stains - you’re being set up for a real mukbang-sesh’ here.

  Bob sighed. “Alright. Cloaked. Masked. Any last advice before I enter the buffet-battleground?”

  [Echuu] Please accept food from strangers! And check descriptions ‘containing mystery meat’: I’ll let you guess if that’s good or bad. Hint: Do you see any four legged fur-friends around?

  “Dark, bro.”

  * * * 07:45 Hours remaining * * *

  Bob’s entire mismatched crew had entered with him. Mikoko, Lynn, Iron Jaw and Yui also wore the required attire. Still, he knew who was who; the system sticking a fat name-tag above their heads. Everyone else; anonymous robed figures. Internally he debated if that was luck. Maybe he wasn’t ready to face the acquaintances made in the arenas.

  He took advantage of the offerings: Every single one of the thirty-plus food stalls had unique dishes. Some granting minor buffs. Standouts were: spicy-spidey-skewers for fire resistance (Looked like roast chicken, tasted even better, saw the label last: yucky-yum?) and butter-nut-pastry-roll for stamina regen. Every swallow filled his buff bar with 1-fight bonuses;

  .. HP +5; SP; +10; MP +2; SPReg +5; HPReg +5; Fire resistance: 75%; PhysDef: 5.

  The final bites had him huffing and puffing before eventually force-planting his ass in grass. You did good. Now sit back and digest.

  A sudden high-pitched trill split the air. A cluster of color bounced and rolled into the pavilion. More slimes. They came in all sizes, heading straight for Bob’s resting-spot - he felt movement in his inventory.

  Bib spilled into the world with a soft ‘plorp.’ and intercepted the wiggling masses. The collector-slime wobbled at the bigger slimes then immediately fussed over a dozen of coin-size - an overworked single parent, squirting out tiny scraps of metal-candy.

  Bob crossed his arms, watching the chaotic, joyful mess. “Did I just adopt an entire slime daycare?”

  [Echuu] Bib is so damn popular. I bet they haven’t even noticed me.. uhh.. us.

  Bob sighed and shoved Echuu forth. “Dude, go play.”

  Echuu’s stubby tendril straightened as if a quip was coming. Nothing? It slacked and the slime-guide bounced merrily to the fold.

  * * * 04:32 Hours remaining * * *

  Bob was on his own, searching without aim, when he noticed Debt Keeper. It stood near the entrance; a good distance from the festivities. A short, robbed figure entered the pavilion surrounded by an air of quiet reservation.

  Iron Jaw approached. Without a word, the hulking merchant gestured silently and they both went to Debt Keeper. Iron Jaw produced a stool from a burly sack and the figure sat. No questions. No hesitation. Iron Jaw fetched food and drink. A simple plate, nothing extravagant. He placed it before the figure and patted its head with a slow, careful hand.

  The figure ate in small bites, posture composed, mask flicking - again and again - toward Debt Keeper; There was definitely a silent yearning or question left unspoken.

  Bob took notice, then didn’t.

  * * * 03:54 Hours remaining * * *

  The crowd ebbed and flowed, but some arrivals stood out more than others.

  Bob had just spotted Lynn as she froze mid-step facing a pair moving through the event grounds. One tall and stern, one short and excited.

  “She who lives with heroes!” The short one shouted; a boy's voice. He ran up to Lynn and clung to her arm before she could react.

  Lynn ruffled the boy’s hood. “That was then. Seems like ages ago.. I just joined a new player. Restarting from scratch.” Lynn’s mask faced the taller figure. “Mother.”

  Bob had approached, still draped in the event’s mandate. The boy stared right at him, his wide eyes curiously knowing. The way he tilted his head, almost like he could see past the mask.

  Lynn’s mother gave Bob a measuring glance, then turned to her daughter. “Are you doing well?”

  Lynn swallowed hard “I am. Bob is going at it hard; but he’s letting me adjust. He is a good man. Even stronger player.”

  Her mother’s mask bobbed, voice genuine. “Your father will be pleased to know.” After a moment, she asked; “Bob, would you consider leveling up Lynn’s shop? She has siblings that could use some honest work.”

  Bob was surprised. “Does it work like that?” His mind trailed, wondering why no one had joined Mikoko’s stall after all the upgrades.

  Lynn’s mother nodded. “A stall’s tier determines more than just the quality of goods and services. It expands worker-capacity; but you need reputation or connections to attract new faces. That’s how I met Lynn’s father, years ago. We worked the same stall, built it up for a successful player.”

  Bob crossed his arms. Investing in stalls could do more than unlock features - it could bring families closer together. Interesting.

  Before Bob could reply, chaos approached, catching his attention. A horde of boisterous robed lunatics stormed a nearby Mikoko, their arms full of cogs, wires and absurd toys. They dropped everything on the ground and lifted her into the air laughing heartily.

  The tallest one boomed in a loud, unapologetic voice: “Our baby sis’ is a legend! Now, where is that mighty tier six creation?!”

  Mikoko gestured towards Bob and the group turned toward him expectantly. “Well, let’s see it! The great living artifact that shook the Antechamber!” The booming voice continued.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Bob sighed, reached behind his back, and pulled out.. nothing.

  The moment stretched, the crafters, and many others stared. The shortest of Mikoko's family blurbing: “Is it.. invisible?”

  Bob could feel Mikoko’s hidden eyes begging for a rescue and he whispered: ”Rebar. Come on, don’t do us like that." ‘Equip.’

  [Echuu] Bob, I hate to break it to you, but Rebar isn’t here. Crowbars love lockers. He was the first thing to store itself when you smashed the auto-change.

  Fuck.. Bob groaned. He hated how much that made sense. Then he turned on a heel and entered the masses - This was pure flight.

  * * * 02:20 Hours remaining * * *

  Bob should have expected the mini-game corner in the middle of this dungeon-sourced carnival; a gaudy cluster of pop-up stalls offering everything from ring tosses to guess-the-loot-box.

  One particular setup caught his eye: a stand where people tested their physical power against a reinforced training dummy.

  [System] Test Your Unarmed Might for 5 seconds. Beat the high score and win big!

  Simple enough. Let’s flex some metal. Bob rolled his shoulders, stepping up to the challenge. Cue-time.

  The person in front of him wore an aura of smug confidence and unleashed a rapid flurry of fists and kicks. The dummy shook violently, numbers flashing above it.

  .. 2! 1! 2! 1! 4(Crit)! 1!.. “Score: 11, Iron Tier. Reward: Minor Strength Potion. Try again in an hour!” The training-dummy yelped and spat out the potion with a ‘cha-ching.’

  “Easy pickings!” A gruff, manly voice sneered as he collected his loot to the applause of a few bystanders.

  Alright, let’s give it a shot. Bob cracked his metal-knuckles, reared back, and slammed his new fist into the chest of the dummy. ‘Pop’. A spring went off inside the dummy and sent the head flying. It landed a few feet away.

  “Malfunction detected.. Await.. Repair.. Score: 0.. Re.. ward.. Partici.. Ribbon..” The head spat out a red accessory.

  Bystanders chuckled. Someone whispered, "Dude broke it by being weak. LOL!"

  Bob’s face burned under his mask. Fucking minigames. Still, he had time to kill: Ring toss? Missed every shot in awkward arcs - metal fingers struggling to let go of his ammo. Guess-the-loot-box? Picked one with an old boot. He was becoming an attraction of his own - people gathering to witness his next fail at lucking out. Yeah, moving on.

  * * * 00:36 Hours remaining * * *

  The air crackled with an energy that wasn’t quite excitement, wasn’t quite fear. It was something in between.

  On the surface, the event was all laughter and movement, players and NPC’s gathered in an MMO-adjacent happening. Time passed unhindered and occasional bursts of fireworks sent shimmering embers across the now dark sky.

  Bob watched the way robed figures instinctively avoided looking up. As if ignoring the time-limit would make it less real. The numbers in the sky; It wasn’t just a countdown. It was a reminder. The system was letting everyone have this moment. It had created a sacred space; given people a much needed playground. But Bob knew that it was all an illusion of normalcy. And when the clock hit zero the grind would restart; Why does time move SO SLOW!?

  Up until now, the festival had been a raucous, defiant thing; laughter, story-telling, food-orgies and drunken revelry. The chaotic, desperate energy of people clinging to a fleeting moment of joy. But now that the final half-hour hovered like a death knell, the air had turned thick, hushed, reverent - farewells had begun.

  People gathered in small clusters, holding onto each other with a quiet intensity. Some whispered last words, some merely pressed masked foreheads together, unwilling to break the silence. Others sobbed loudly, clutching onto fabric, knowing the system was once again a whim away from pulling something apart.

  Bob had moved away from the masses gathering near the archway. Soft torchlight and floating orbs cast the Antechamber in a glow fit for a temple - a simple ritual had begun.

  It was a slow, wordless procession; loved ones traced farewell messages across the smooth surface of each other's masks. Ink followed the fingers touch - Names. Words. Simple thank yous. The occasional winking face or heartfelt doodle. Each time someone stepped through the archway, the sky pulsed, igniting with their gathered markings.

  Bob watched. He should probably feel something more than vague discomfort. This was.. beautiful, in a way. A shared moment, a rare acknowledgment of humanity in a place filled with monstrosities.

  Then, the sky flared with anatomical precision, its message drawn with the unmistakable boldness of a true artist. A perfectly sculpted dick and balls.

  Bob let out a sharp breath. “Of course.” Some things never changed.

  * * * 00:18 Hours remaining * * *

  The festival was winding down, but the weight of unspoken words clung to the air like the last embers of a dying fire. Bob had never been good at this part - the in-between moments where things slowed, where people started saying actual things of importance instead of just bantering.

  Mikoko found him and pressed a small, cloth-wrapped bundle into his hands with practiced nonchalance.

  “It’s just a standard maintenance kit,” she said, voice a little too breezy, as if over-explaining an ordinary transaction. “Y’know, for your arm, sir. Basic upkeep. It will loosen up the joints and keep it from falling apart mid-swing.”

  Bob arched a brow, unwrapping the gift enough to see neatly arranged tools, specialty oils, and a few odd little trinkets nestled inside. Not standard at all.

  Mikoko rubbed the back of her head. “My brothers put it together. They, uh.. thought it might help.” She shifted from foot to foot. “And maybe I made sure they got the specs right. But, whatever. Just a blacksmith's courtesy.”

  Bob closed the bundle carefully, giving her a pad on the mask’s forehead. “I’m sorry I ditched you earlier. You are a good friend. You deserve better.”

  Her grin faltered slightly, something softer flashing in her eyes before she snorted and shoved at his arm. “Don’t get sappy on me, sir. We have a lot of work ahead of us! I need you sharp and focused on bringing in the needed materials!” She did a cutesy anime pose. “Later sir!” A quick turn and off she went.

  Iron Jaw didn’t bother with words. He just stepped up, grunted, and gave Bob a firm nod followed by a solid spinerattling clap on the shoulder; That was Iron Jaw for ‘I acknowledge you, don’t die like an idiot.’

  Bob returned the nod. It was Bob'sk for ‘Yeah. Not planning to.’ He strolled around a bit, giving his crew any chance to say their goodbyes properly.

  * * * 00:09 Hours remaining * * *

  A stone bench sat nestled beneath an overhanging vine-laced wood, where faint blue blossoms glowed softly, their scent drifting lazily through the air. It was a quiet place, tucked away from the thinning crowds. He sipped from his cup and sat down, letting weary eyes close in rest. Then someone sat beside him.

  Lynn. She cradled a cup. “It smells.. different here. I like it.” she murmured, tilting her head. “I could easily stay right here all night.”

  Bob was caught off guard by the remark. He did not know how to respond. He recalled the way Lynn had tended his fever. - she brought a warmth that had nestled itself in the cracks of his defenses before he even realized it was happening.

  Silence stretched and Lynn broke it.

  “You always pick Tier 5.” Her voice was quiet, but there was weight behind it. “I’ve seen what those fights do to people.”

  Bob sighed. “It’s not that bad.”

  She turned slightly, facing him with open curiosity. “Oh really.. Why do you push so hard?”

  The question settled between them. Bob could feel her watching, waiting for something real. He rolled his shoulders, the metal of his arm shifting with the motion. “I need the challenge.”

  That much was true, but Lynn didn’t look convinced.

  He tapped his fingers against the cup in his hands. “And.. I owe it to someone.”

  That part was trickier. He didn’t elaborate, didn’t mention the phantom voice that had nudged him forward in the void. Saying it aloud would make it real. And he wasn’t ready for that.

  His words resonated. “I would do anything for my family.“ She said, and placed her hands on his mechanical one.

  Bob’s first instinct was to withdraw. Letting someone too close was a liability. Attachments made targets - plural. But Lynn didn’t pull away. For some reason, neither did he. It was almost absurd. If this were the start of a sappy romance scene, the moment should have been soft warmth and lingering touches. Instead, her fingers rested against cold, unfeeling metal, tracing lines that had no nerves to register it.

  A storm of contradictions raged inside Bob.

  He was in over his head in cursed debt, marked by the system in ways he barely understood. Every time he stepped into a T5 fight, he was gambling with his existence - pushing himself to razor’s edge. Even a single misstep could end everything. He had no business bringing someone else into that shitshow.

  He should crack a joke, shrug it off, retreat into the safe, familiar space of distance. That was his way.

  Lynn let out a breath laced with something between resignation and acceptance. “I know I can’t stop you from fighting,” she said, voice softer than before. “I know tier five is where you go, and I know it’s never going to be safe.”

  Bob remained still. Listening.

  She hesitated before she spoke again. “I just.. I want you to know you don’t have to fight alone.”

  Bob’s throat tightened.

  Lynn faced him fully. “And you don’t have to fight so often.” She let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “I’ve heard the others talk about you, you know. You’re not just some wandering challenger to them. You have a place here. A home, if you want it.”

  Bob tried to summon something sarcastic, something dismissive. But all he could do was nod.

  The festival noise had faded into the background, the world dimmed just enough to feel different. The game was loading something new that made Bob’s instincts flare in recognition; This was a transition. A moment between chapters - he was switching a disc in an old console knowing the stakes were about to climb.

  Or maybe, for once, it wasn’t a system at all. Maybe this was.. life.

  Bob didn’t know which possibility unnerved him more.

  Lynn leaned in, her head resting against his metal shoulder. The arm was janky as hell, patchworked with scrap. But she didn’t complain. And, for once, he didn’t ruin the moment with words. He just let it happen.

  Her whisper was barely a breath. “We don’t have to leave, you know.”

  He turned slightly, feeling the weight of her words, but before he could speak, her fingers brushed against the side of his mask, turning his head gently. She traced something across it. Bob didn’t move. Didn’t stop her.

  The sky clocked '00:00.'

  The grassland of the event pavilion flickered, lights dimming, structures dissolving like sand slipping through unseen crevices - The world melted away.

  ‘Respawn.’

  Bob stood on the familiar spawnpoint of his Antechamber. Lynn was at her stall. Their robes and masks were gone and eyes met across the gloom.

  He hadn’t seen what she had drawn or written.. and somehow that bothered him.

  [Echuu] Probably another huge dick.

  Bob chuckled and looked at the slime wobbling beside him. “Thanks mate. I needed that reel-in more than you know.”