Everyone was thinking in silence. I too was deep in thought, taking in everything the strange creature had just told us. My calm mind remained intact, but thoughts of danger—and a strange thrill of adventure—were pounding away at that composure I was trying so hard to uphold.

While the rest of us sat in a stupor, Malcolm moved over to the window and peered out into the thick fog.

Whoosh.

"Eh?"

Whoosh.

"What... the hell was that?" he muttered. Pressing his face to the glass, cupping his hands just right, Malcolm scanned what he could. It was mostly a futile effort, but every so often, he caught something. Shadows moved in the fog. Not fast, not erratic—but deep enough that their faint blurs suggested swiftness.

"Guys..." Malcolm whispered.

Over at the table, Jack was rhythmically tapping his fingers while Solomon and I quietly discussed our next move.

"There might be something else to the fog... It could be enchanted. Magic like that exists. So do powers," Solomon said. "But I feel like we're trying to analyze it through a lens that's too narrow. This fog... it's not like anything we know. If what the imp said is true, it shouldn’t directly harm us beyond what we’ve already experienced. It moves, rolls... not always equally dense. I think we should take the sewers."

I shook my head. "As much as I like that idea—and yeah, it could be safer—we’ll learn more above ground. If we just sneak past danger, we won’t be ready when we have no choice but to fight. There’s a reason it isn’t that easy. We stick to the plan and investigate. We just do it smarter."

Solomon nodded. "You're right. If we never learn how to take a punch, we’ll never stand tall. Still... just this once, we try the easier way? Just until we find a sanctuary."

"Guysss..."

"You heard what the imp said. Magical items, artifacts... all of it is out there. The safe zones might have what we need, sure. But I bet what we find in danger is worth a hundred times more."

Solomon raised an eyebrow at me. "You know, we played Dungeons & Dragons in the arena too. You don’t have to act so proud."

"Oh, pfsh. Still, we need a consensus. I’m just saying what I think. I know that game. I just never had reliable people to meet at the café every week, okay? You were busy being stuck underground."

"GUYS," Malcolm snapped, waving his hands.

"Well, I guess—"

"Guys, goddammit! LISTEN! I’ve been trying to get your attention! Come on, it’s not even loud in here!"

I flinched, flicking the smoke from my mouth with a sharp exhale, then turned to face him.

Malcolm, finally holding everyone’s attention, pointed to the window. "Yeesh."

We all moved over, stacking heads to get a good view. In the fog, shadows were dancing.

"They've multiplied... since you all started talking," Malcolm murmured, stepping back like the window was radiating heat.

"What are they?" Ana asked, trying to see out using the same hand-cupping trick.

Solomon and I exchanged a glance and nodded. "We need to go out and find out."

After I said it, the group shuffled with hesitation. But I saw it vanish. Each of them had lived a life that taught them: this feeling could kill you if you weren’t confident. Even Alexandra, whose past remained a mystery. Women had it hard in the lower city. You had to be brave just to walk home.

I was proud of her. I was proud of them all.

Jack opened the door, sword in hand. The fog surged forward like a cat pawing to get in. We didn’t all tie ropes together this time. Only Ana, Alexandra, and Malcolm were tethered. Solomon, Jack, and I needed to fight freely, with Malcolm using his eyes to spot us if needed.

The shadows had vanished. In their place: shambling undead.

"Wait... some of these people were the ones reported missing," I whispered. Torn clothes, but still recognizable—they were from the northern districts.

"If you don’t survive the tutorial," Solomon said under his breath, "you become one of them. Or something turns you."

I nodded grimly.

We moved slowly along the walls, avoiding the undead with cautious steps. It wasn’t hard. But every piece of debris became a death trap if stepped on too loud. We were getting the hang of it—until a loud bang erupted nearby.

A man sprinted into view, the fog thinning just enough to reveal him. He was running our way.

"Fuck..."

Run? Hide? Either option risked alerting the undead nearby. And he was bringing them straight to us.

Bwing.

A string snapped. The man jerked mid-stride, then collapsed on the cobblestone just five meters from us. The horde behind him didn’t slow. The sound of tearing flesh echoed, and most of us looked away.

Jack looked to Malcolm, who quietly stashed away his hidden crossbow. He patted Malcolm on the shoulder.

"It was the right thing to do."

We all nodded in grim silence.

Solomon and I motioned the group forward, deeper into an alley. I led. I knew the city best. Especially the north, west, and south-middle. I could walk these streets blind and still find the right way.

Soon, we passed some shops carved into the scrapers' walls when something caught my eye.

"Hmm?"

A portal. Like the wall of the shop had been neatly sliced away. At the back: a glowing, swirling vortex.

Several figures huddled near it. One was unconscious.

Solomon looked to Ana. She nodded.

"We might as well find out. If they’re hostile, we kill them. But if they know something, we ask."

I agreed. Drawing my pistol, I stepped forward.

A man noticed us, shoved the woman behind him, and raised a broken board like a weapon. "Stay back. I might die... but I can take one of you with me."

I shook my head. "We just entered the fog. Just learned it’s all part of some goddamned game. We have questions. We can heal your people—if you answer them afterward."

His eyes scanned me. Shaking slightly, he lowered the board.

"Please... she’s my wife. Save her, and our friend. Did you see our other friend on your way here? When the undead smelled our blood after the portal... he ran off to draw them away. Please... is he okay?"

He knew. No one runs through the fog like that unless they know what they’re sacrificing.

"Yeah. We saw him. We tried, but we couldn’t save him. So we made sure he didn’t suffer. He was a good man," Malcolm said softly.

The man nodded, grief flickering across his face. But his eyes hardened. Survival was still in him.

Ana knelt to treat the wounded. Her healing wasn’t infinite. She could regrow limbs if rested, but then she’d be spent. These wounds were superficial by her standards.

Jack, Malcolm, and Alexandra kept watch. Solomon and I sat near the man, lighting smokes.

"What’s the portal? And the closest sanctuary—how do they work? Can things get into them, or can we make our own?" Solomon asked.

The man coughed, calmer now. "Sanctuaries are safe. But not huge. A block. A mile radius max. There are ten of them, not counting hidden ones. Travel between them? Through the fog. But the space’s weird. Takes a month to go ten miles."

He exhaled, glancing over at his wife as she rested peacefully. "But if you know the paths, you can cut time. Take two lefts and a right, end up miles away. Some watches let you map it. Or you buy maps. The closest sanctuary? Go down this street, right into the alley, through the building, right again, then a left."

"And the portal?"

"They’re everywhere. Sewers, towers, shops. Thousands. Sometimes the gods make them for tests. And sometimes... you find them in the wild. Dangerous ones. Event ones."

Solomon looked at me. One of many.

"So what’s this one?" Solomon asked.

"Walk to it. Words will float. It tells you the reward, never the trial. Could be paradise. Could be hell. And time inside doesn’t match outside."

Solomon approached. Text appeared:

Silent Step Boon: Completing this portal will grant you the 'Silent Step' boon. All sounds from your body are masked—running, skidding, etc. Sounds made away from your body are unaffected. Difficulty: 1.

"1?" I asked.

"There are 12 ranks. 1 to 12. The skill is rated 1. Low power. But don’t be fooled. That boon in the hands of the right class could be deadly."

I chuckled. "You an assassin?"

"Yeah."

"Really?" Solomon squinted.

"Don't let my face fool you. My class is Assassin Mage. Conjure silent weapons. Not a ninja. Just... efficient."

"Who’s the god here?" I asked.

"Enigma. One of the Ten Prime. God of Magic. He can manipulate any element, concept, or spell. You’re lucky. The only other close in power is Spectre—god of powers. This city's sanctuary? Not many mages. But they’re coming out now. Like me."

Jack and Malcolm perked up.

"Are these boons powers? Or magic?" Jack asked.

"Both. Or neither. Depends. Some work off magic. Some don’t. Some just... exist. No switch. No source."

It hit me. Isaiah Crowell’s book. Maybe... that was a high-tier boon. A fusion. How had he got his hands on it, or got out of the fog?

Malcolm asked, "What was in that portal?"

The man sighed. "Two-month limit. We thought it meant real time. It didn’t. We had to survive two months inside. No clue what we faced until it was too late. A mansion in endless woods. Seemed peaceful by day. But at night... the trees withered. Fog crept in. Something stalked us. A creature. Not a monster. A predator. It hunted us one by one. We had to keep a generator running—it hated light. But we weren’t good with tech."

"Do some portals require specific skills to complete?" I asked.

"Yeah. Some lock powers. Some magic. Some both. Some just want you to suffer. Wars. Curses. Lost ruins. The fog is bad... but those? Worse. Except for one thing."

He looked behind his shoulder.

"The ghost in the fog. No one can kill it. If it sees you, you’re cursed. You have a month. Get to a sanctuary, or die. Don’t look at it. Don’t stop moving. If you do... it smells your fear."

Everyone was dead silent.

"Fuck," Jack whispered.