Chương 35: Round-Ring

I woke up, finally feeling refreshed. The muscle ache hadn't magically disappeared, but it had definitely lessened. My stomach growled. The instant noodles in my pantry were calling out to me, and as their loyal devotee, I had no choice but to answer. I dragged my feet to the tiny kitchenette and set a pot of water on the stove to boil. Because I was extra hungry—and apparently possessed zero self-control—I decided to make two packs, with this only four were left. I needed to buy more.

I patted my pockets, there wasn't any, because I was still in my underwear. That didn't matter, my phone did. I hadn't taken it out of my bag. I looked down the short hallway. My backpack was lying in a heap right beside the main door. I walked over, unzipped the main compartment, and fished out my phone. It was an ancient model, so it took a minute for it to revive itself. By the time I walked back to the stove, bubbles were popping from the water.

I picked it up using a cloth and pored the water into the cup noodles. Tearing open the sachets of seasoning powder, I dumped them in, gave it a quick stir, and covered it back. My phone finally vibrated to life. The screen flickered on. The first thing I did was open my banking app, pressing my thumb against the screen for the biometric login. I clicked on 'Check Balance.' The number staring back at me hadn't magically increased.

After my irresponsible purchase of the Ghost Laugh, the money I had left to my name will buy me only a dozen packs of instant noodles. And here I was, eating two of them for lunch, yeah I had slept the whole night and morning and it was a quarter past two now. What the hell was I doing? But then I paused. This was a moment that justified a little celebration, right? I had just closed a Rift. That was something that had never been done before, or at least, never been allowed to be done before.

And by now, the whole world had to know. I eagerly opened the news app, fully expecting the front page to be plastered in massive, bold headlines: RIFT VANISHES! or MYSTERY WALKER CLOSES LIFE'S LAST HOPE! I wanted to see the chaos, the experts trying to figure it out, and the Guilds scrambling for answers. There was nothing. Not a single word.

The trending articles were the exact same garbage as usual: a newly discovered copper-rank Rift, a petty squabble over territory between two major Guilds, and the scandalous romance of two Gold-rank celebrity Walkers. Frowning, I tapped the search bar and typed in Life's Last Hope. The latest post was from three years ago. I searched 'Rift closed'. Zero relevant results. I stared at the screen, my stomach dropping. I had not expected this at all.

I had emailed the tip to a dozen top journalists less than ten minutes after getting out. Those people were practically glued to their screens, desperate for any scrap of breaking news. There was absolutely no way they all missed it. I immediately switched over to Rifttube, searching for the specific content creators I had emailed. Nothing. No new videos, no community posts. They were faster. Whoever was in charge of the cover-up, they were terrifyingly fast. They had somehow managed to suppress it.

How did they manage it? If the journalists had received my tip and gone to the site to investigate, only to be turned away by the military, they would have immediately published an article about that. A sudden military blockade of a low-level Rift is a story in itself. But there was total silence. Should I go and check myself? No, that was way too risky. If they were suppressing the media this hard, there were definitely high-ranking walkers patrolling the area.

I wasn't nearly confident or fast enough to run from them if things went south. But I had to know what was going on. Think, Clark… Hanz. Hanz and his goons were there. If I could find Hanz, I could figure out what was happening. I slurped down the first bowl of noodles, but the anxiety knotting in my stomach completely killed my appetite for the second. What a waste. I left it on the counter and went to get dressed. I threw on a white, oversized t-shirt and my olive-green cargo pants.

My fanny pack had been lost to the Rift, and I didn't want to use the makeshift one I'd stitched together from torn fabric. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. I hated socks, so I skipped them. I slid my foot into my usual boots, only to see my big toe poking out it. Cursing under my breath, I tossed them aside and marched over to my wardrobe to dig out another pair. I found my old, beat-up running shoes shoved in the back corner. Beggars couldn't be choosers.

I blew the thick layer of dust off them, slipped them on, locked my apartment door, and headed out toward the Round-Ring-Wright Guild's base.

"Thanks, dude."

"No problem, mate… and, um, take care of yourself." The man whose face I couldn't see through the helmet, accelerated his bike and rode away. To save my rapidly declining bank balance, I had fully intended to walk the entire way here. But a kind biker passing by had seen me trudging along the pavement and offered me a lift. I was extremely skeptical at first, but with the sun shining bright and miles left to travel, I swallowed my pride and took the offer.

I wouldn't usually suggest hitchhiking in Neupolis, but I totally lucked out. The man didn't take me into a dark alley to rob me—not that he would have gotten much anyway. We made some easy small talk over the roar of the engine. It turned out he was a retired Walker, a Copper-rank just like me. But with his advancing age and a growing family to feed, he had to leave the life behind. It was a grim reality for bottom-tier Walkers. Copper-ranks didn't make enough to survive.

You wouldn't want to go to Rifts solo—I was called mad for doing it—you couldn't afford a reliable party, and you definitely didn't want to sign a predatory slave contract with one of the mega-Guilds. The only other alternative was joining a shady, bottom-feeding Guild like Round-Ring-Wright, where the main source of income was extorting weaker people and acting as glorified thugs. The biker didn't want any part of that life.

When he heard I was heading to Round-Ring-Wright, his expression tightened, and he warned me against joining them. I quickly assured him I was just visiting to settle some brief business. He was hesitant, clearly not believing me, but he didn't pry any further. I also made sure to hold my tongue about the Rift closing. If he had known the truth, it would have been the only thing he talked about for the rest of the ride, and I couldn't risk him spreading the word to the wrong people. He dropped me off a block away.

I walked the remaining distance, staring up at the gloomy, depressing exterior of the Guild's base. It was a squat, three-story concrete building with peeling paint and half a dozen broken glass panes on the upper floors. It looked like an abandoned warehouse waiting to be demolished. I grabbed the front door handle and pulled. The metal handle snapped right off in my hand. I froze, looking around. Nobody saw.

Moving very carefully, I slotted the broken metal piece perfectly back into its groove, resting it exactly as it had been, and gently nudged the door open with my shoulder. The wooden floorboards inside groaned in protest. Don't break. Don't break. Don't break, I chanted in my head, stepping forward with extreme caution. I used to come here every single day when I was a member.

It wasn't great back then, but it was bearable—until Theo took over and completely tainted the place, turning it into a haven for bullies and cowards. The sound of squeaking plastic wheels broke the silence. The dim corridor I was walking down opened up into a larger office space. An office chair rolled into view, blocking the hallway. Sitting in it was a large, pompous, completely bald man.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded in a gruff, booming voice. I didn't recognize him. He must have joined up after I left.

"Hello," I said, keeping my tone perfectly neutral.

"I was looking for Hanz. Is he here?"

"Hanz? …No, he ain't here." He lazily leaned his head back, shouting deeper into the office space.

"Hey! You know where Hanz is?"

"Haven't seen him since yesterday," a thin, reedy, rat-like voice answered from the shadows.

"Last time I saw him, he said he was going to Life's Last Hope. Took Humpty-Dumpty with him. Haven't seen either of 'em since."

"Shouldn't he be back by now? It's been a whole damn day," the bald man grunted.

"Theo is gonna beat his ass when he shows up." He let out a wheezing laugh. As I feared. Hanz wasn't back. That meant, they—woever they were—hadn't let a single person leave. What were they doing to them? Obviously, interrogating them. Trying to figure out who closed the Rift. I really hoped they wouldn't resort to physical violence. Well, honestly, they could beat the absolute crap out of Hanz for all I cared, but I felt terrible for the rest of them.

"Ah, okay then," I took a step back toward the door.

"I just wanted to have a quick talk with him. If he isn't here, that's alright. I'll catch him later."

"Tell me your name. I'll let him know you came snooping around." The bald man said.

"Clark," I answered automatically.

"Okay. Clark. Got it," The bald man nodded slowly. I turned around walking back to the door.

"Wait a minute," the rat-like voice piped up again, footsteps echoing as the man stepped out of the shadows. He was short, with a long, pointed nose, heavily freckled cheeks, and beady eyes. He looked like a giant mouse.

"Didn't Hanz say he was going to that Rift specifically to hunt down a son of a bitch named Clark?" Ah, fuck. The rat-faced guy pointed a bony finger right at me.

"Is that him?" The bald man stood up, crashing his chair into a desk with a loud bam.

"Is the Clark that Hanz was complaining about you?" the bald man asked, a cruel, predatory grin spreading across his face as he cracked his knuckles.

"Nope. Definitely a different Clark. Very common name," I said without missing a beat. They didn't believe me.

"Come on in here," The bald man said, taking a heavy step forward.

"We can have a nice little chat over some beer."

"No thanks, I don't drink!" I bolted towards the door.

"Get back here, you little shit!" The front door opened on its. A big muscular man stood at the doorway. He saw me, then the baldy and rat chasing me, and grinned.

"Clark my friend," He said. It was Theo. Just my damn luck.