Ike sprinted after the fireball. Sparks rained down, spitting off it into the night. Here and there, a larger spark hissed and smoked in a thatched roof.

Overhead, the man who’d thrown the first fireball threw his hand out again. A flash of light came from his sleeve. Dozens of small metallic orbs flew across the sky, chasing the original fireball. A man in purple slammed into the man who’d thrown the orbs. The orb-thrower drew out a sword, and the two of them fought across the sky.

The fireballs lit the night sky. People peeked out their huts up at the sky. Other slum-dwellers jumped up, just like Ike. All of them chased after the fireball, close on Ike’s heels.

The fireball hurtled toward the ruins where a mudslide last spring had wiped out the slum population. Between Ike and the ruins, a tight nest of huts blocked his path. Walls butted up against one another, the houses all but built into one another. If he ran around, he’d lose precious minutes. Someone else would take his orb.

He hesitated, but only a breath. In the next, he clambered up onto the top bar of a split rail fence. Balancing there, he leaped to the first hut. His feet slipped. He dropped to his hands and feet to stabilize himself, then jumped up and sprinted off.

The houses huddled so close, Ike only needed a little hop to leap from one pitched hut to the next. Up, then down, up, then down, grateful for any short stretch of flat roof, he chased after the fireball. Bits of thatch flew up behind him, his footsteps hollow.

The majority of the other chasers fell back, forced to wind through the huts or run around. One or two followed Ike up onto the roofs. Their footsteps pounded after him, too close for comfort.

A man waited for him in the yard of the final hut, a broken bottle in one hand and murder clear on his drug-addled face. Ike swallowed. I can’t slide down this roof. Casting his eyes around, he caught sight of the fence on the far side of the huts, the boundary to his uncle’s slumlot. Ike took a quick breath, then leaped, flying for the fence, his feet tight together. If I miss, don’t land on it, don’t land between my legs, don’t—

The fence flew up at him. He kicked down onto it as he passed and threw himself forward, turning his runaway forward momentum into a flip. Hurtling toward the ground, he barely caught himself with his hands, sliding a few paces on the dirt road on hands and knees. Ike jumped up and ran on, ignoring the stinging in his skinned knees. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder at the bottle-wielding man.

The man stared after him, wide-eyed, blinking as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just seen.

Phew. Ike glanced up again, checking on the lead fireball.

The brilliant orb careened toward the ground ahead of Ike. It struck with a thmp, kicking up dried mud. All around him, other orbs thunked into the ground with little spurts of dust and mud. Impacts pockmarked the ground. Ducking, Ike threw a hand over his head and sprinted through. He skidded to a halt over the first orb’s landing spot.

A crater dug into the ground, leading into a tunnel through the mud. Ike leaned down and peered into that tunnel. A small ball of metal quickly dulled from red to black. He hovered a hand over it. Heat blasted against his palm, but only for a moment.

Tentatively, he reached into the hole and tapped the ball, yanking his hand away. No pain. He tapped it again, then dragged it out of the earth.

Dirt fell away from the orb. Ike blew the last of the red earth off, revealing a shiny, dark metal. Arcane characters crawled over the orbs’ surface, meaningless to Ike. The lines flowed like water. They arced across the orb, somewhere between language and the organic crawl of vines.

Magic.

Ike lifted the orb and knocked. Hollow. He raised his brows. There was something inside the orb. Something precious enough to fight over. Precious enough to sell, so he could escape his uncle? Or better yet, something precious enough to allow him to escape outright. Ike’s heart leapt, but he suppressed the thought in the next instant. No good ever came of dreaming too big. As long as he could sell the thing for a skill orb, he could achieve his dreams.

Ike idly ran a finger around the outside edge of the orb, following the shape of the lines. If only…

The orb cracked open. Startled, Ike instantly slammed it shut, but before he could, he caught a glimpse of what sat inside.

A smaller orb, about as big around as a coin, glimmering with rainbow light.

A skill orb.

Waves of energy blasted across the sky, jolting Ike out of his reverie. He looked up. A huge pink rose bloomed overhead, instantly battered back by a blast of jet black ink. The rose wilted away beneath the ink, tipping over onto one side. The ink dripped off the rose and plunged toward the city. Before it struck home, a gold dome activated, deflecting the ink away from the city and toward a distant part of the slums.

So much power. A sideswipe, a stray splatter, and he’d be dead.

Looking back at the orb, he hesitated. All it took was one little touch to achieve his dreams. A fingertip. A single mental command, but that power, that terrible power—

FWOMPH.

A man dressed in purple landed in the center of the mudslide, sending a wave of dirt up from the force of the strike. Ike held his breath, recognizing him—the man who’d fought the orb-thrower overhead. The man glared around, his lip lifting in disgust.

One of the slumdwellers next to him plunged her hand into her orb, grasping the skill orb inside. Her head snapped back. Energy swirled around her.

The purple-clad man appeared behind her. His robes and cape whirled around him as he made a brutal gesture. The girl screamed in horror and stared down. Down to her solar plexus, where the man’s hand pierced through her body.

Stillness. Not a single person on the mudslide moved. All eyes locked on the man and the screaming girl, even as they hugged the metallic orbs to their chests.

Throwing the girl aside, the man turned. He curled his bloodied hand to point, sweeping it across all of them. “If you dare absorb those orbs, the same fate awaits you.”

The stillness burst into motion. Everyone fled, running in a thousand different directions. Clicking his tongue, the man blurred into motion again, appearing behind another man. Another scream rang out. Another body thumped to the ground.

Ike sprinted toward the forest across the mud, slamming the metal ball shut as he ran. With every step, he heard the sweep of robes and the soft sound of the man’s footsteps behind him. With every breath, he felt a hand piercing his solar plexus. The forest’s edge rushed toward him, slowly, too slowly. Screams resounded in the night air.

Shadow. Bark. The forest swallowed Ike up. Leaves crunched underfoot. Canopies obscured the sky. He kept running, even as branches lashed his body, even as thorny vines bit his legs, running and running until he was sure he was safe, far enough away that the man wouldn’t find him.

There, deep in the forest, he swallowed, glancing down at the orb, then up at the sky. I can’t awaken now. That man will kill me. I need to hide this until he leaves—ideally, until all those people forget this ever happened. But where?

His mind flitted to the hole under the floorboards on the first floor of the villa, but he instantly dismissed it. His uncle knew about it. It was dead to him. Where else?

One place came to mind. The dark hole under the skins, the crawlspace full of hair and gods only knew what else. No one ever went in there, not even him. His uncle rarely visited the plant, let alone Ike’s hut.

It wouldn’t work long term. Too much risk a different worker would drop something and stick their head in the crawlspace to find it, or that the rain would wash it out. But for a night, for a day, there was no better place.

Another massive blow cracked the night sky. Bright gold light washed over him, baring him to the world. Ike jolted, startled back into motion. I’m not safe yet. Keep moving.

To throw the awakened, he took a sharp turn and climbed up, to the top of the hill. The forest butted up against the slums atop the hill. Like the canopy, tight-knit slum roofs provided a small measure of protection.

He moved fast, dodging the few other people out at this time of night. Occasionally, someone sprinted in the opposite direction, toward where the orbs had landed. Ike let them go. They’d provide distraction. Slow the man in purple.

Across the top of the hill and down, toward the monster processing plant. Leaping down to the tallest warehouse’s roof, then from there to a lower roof, he stairstepped his way into the hide hut. There, he laid down on his stomach and gently rolled the orb into the crawlspace, tilting his head to check. Faintly, he saw the stretched skins overhead. The orb laid just to the left of the loose board, easily within his reach. He breathed out.

My uncle won’t find it. No one knows I have it. It’s safe.

Lying there, he stared at the orb. Should I open it now? Take that skill orb and awaken. Bet that man in purple won’t find me. Ike stared at the orb, holding his breath, thinking, thinking, thinking.

Thunder snapped across the sky. Purple lightning as thick around as Ike’s waist snapped through the night, smashing into a shield of splattered ink.

Ike jolted. He jumped up and retreated away from the hut, afraid to even be seen too close. Nope. You know what? Let’s play it safe. Not risk it. It was better to give off no signals, for certain, than to move too fast and risk sending up a smoke signal that alerted all those terrifying awakened to his exact location. If they found the orb tonight, so be it. At least he survived to awaken another day.

Decided, Ike gazed back in the direction of the crater. For now, best to stick with what he knew: laying low and keeping his head down. The fireball had been too obvious, too bright. Someone would surely come looking for it, and how better to survive than avoid their eyes altogether?

Tossing the hide hut a last glance, Ike jogged over to the high fence around the plant and slipped through a loose board. All the way back to the villa, he kept his head down, trying to evade the notice of the few late-night walkers. Most of them staggered along, drunk, or leaned in, giggling in high-pitched voices, far too involved in each other to pay him any mind. Quiet as a mouse, afraid of incurring his uncle’s wrath as much as raising anyone’s attention, he walked quietly along the edge of the villa, then vanished into the window nearest his bedroom. The pile of rags and straw that made his mattress had never looked so welcoming. He dropped into the pile, curled up and quickly fell asleep, driven to exhaustion by the events of the day.

--

The next morning.

“Open up!” a voice shouted, too close to Ike’s ears for comfort.

He startled to his feet and looked around, disoriented. His whole body ached, his face throbbing, his nose hot and tight to the touch. Putting the pain to the back of his mind, he searched the room. What… Huh…?

“The fuck? People are trying to sleep around here! You better have a damn good reason to wake me this early!” his uncle bellowed. The door flew open with enough force to shake the entire villa.

Ike waited, all but holding his breath, but the expected tirade never came. Instead, an awkward cough came from his uncle. In a humble, earnest tone of voice Ike had never heard before, his uncle asked, “How can I help you, sirs?”

Ike’s eyes widened. His uncle never called anyone sir, let alone asked them how he could help. His uncle possessed a Rank 2 license, after all. Only a handful of people in the slums managed to reach Rank 1, let alone Rank 2. By some people’s account, though Ike was loath to agree, his uncle was the strongest in the slums.

And now he spoke with respect to a pair of voices Ike had never heard before. Leaning against the wall, he peered out of his window, tilting his head just enough to get an angle on the main entrance.

The villa pressed in and out at random, built at no one’s pleasure and his uncle’s convenience. Thus, by the grand coincidence of a careless carpenter, Ike’s room jutted out to create a sort of corridor to the side of the main entrance, mirrored on the other side. His uncle hadn’t complained, perhaps appreciating the intimidation factor of forcing all visitors to tiptoe between two leaning, towering roofs in order to speak to him. It meant Ike could peek at every visitor on their way in, and was a principal feature to Ike choosing this as his room.

And this time, he saw something he never thought he’d see in his life.

Two officers in the uniform of the city’s Elite Guard stood at the villa’s main entrance, instantly recognizable in their double-breasted blue uniforms. Shiny brass buttons marched down the uniform jacket. Below, the bloused cream pants cinched tight at the knees, red stripes to match the red striping on the jacket lining down the side of the pants. Red cuffs vanished into shiny black boots, and they wore blue flat caps on their heads. Ike’s eyes widened, and he faded back from the window. Why would the Elite Guard lower itself to come here, to the slums, where even the ordinary Guard refused to patrol out of disinterest? The answer came to him instantly, clear as day. They’re here for the orb.

“A thief stole several skill orbs from a mage family last night, some of them incredibly precious. In the battle to recover them, the thief threw his loot into the slums. The orbs landed somewhere in this vicinity last night. Do you know anything of this? Any sudden awakenings? Any news of small metal orbs, about this large?” One of the men his hands apart just so.

Jaco snorted. He shook his head. “No idea. Never heard of such a thing.”

There was a pause. A cough. “We’re getting readings from your monster-processing plant that might indicate one of the more powerful stolen orbs is within. Do you mind if we investigate?”

“Huh? You accusing me of—” His uncle caught himself and quickly put on the polite tone again. “Sirs, of course. I’m a law-abiding citizen, but you know how it is. Gotta drive down business costs, and it comes at the price of hiring just anyone. Please. Go ahead.”

“If we find the thief, we are authorized to take lethal action,” one of the guards informed his uncle.

Ike jolted, startled. Lethal…?

“Of course! Sirs, I wouldn’t have it any other way. A rat, in my establishment? Absolutely not. No, no. You’d be doing me a favor.”

The door shut, and the men walked away, heels clopping down the cobblestones. Ike waited a few moments for the sound to fade, then leaped out the window. The retreating backs of the Elite Guard headed toward the main road. Ike paused, taking a short breath. Five minutes. They’d reach the plant in five minutes. He could get there first.

Sprinting down a narrow path through the slum huts, he passed Sean by on his way to the plant. Sean shouted something after him, but he ignored it, focused on the orb, his whole self focused on that orb.

If they found it, that was the end. It sat under his workspace. The other workers hated him. They’d be quick to lay the blame on him. Even if he escaped with his life, he’d be locked up forever. I need to move it. Now.

He reached the fence and squeezed in the loose board. Slowing to a jog to avoid suspicion, he hurried to the hut and casually walked inside. Dragging his stool back to the start, he fetched his blade and set it atop the stool. From there, he dropped to his knees and stuck his head in the hole.

Nothing. Rotting, muddy fur and nothing.

A sharp knock came from the door. “Open up!”

Shit. His heart jumped. He searched left and right, then turned around and crouched the other direction.

The metal orb sat right in front of him, dimly gleaming in the low light.

Ike grabbed it up, tucking it into his shirt. He glanced around, nervous, then moved to the door to peer out. From the door of the hut, the courtyard of the monster processing plant spread before him, from the entry gate to the meat storage warehouse.

The Elite Guards marched through the compound. Liz walked up to them, putting her arms out. “Hey! Who gave you the right to come in here?”

A flash of motion. Too quickly for Ike’s eyes to follow, something moved. Liz staggered back, then fell to the ground. Her body convulsed and her eyes rolled up in her head, and then she went still, totally, utterly still.

Ike stared. His breath came short, and his hands clenched at the orb under his shirt. Fear chilled his bones, chased a moment later by burning rage. His knuckles whitened on the orb. Liz…Liz is…

The left guard looked at his hand, then at Liz. He curled his hand into a fist a few times, frowning at it. “I forget how delicate the unawakened are.”

The right guard stepped forward, tapping his sword. “No quick motions, now, no backtalk, or you can join her on the ground.”

Ike’s heart raced, his whole body shaking. Making it her fault, for being ‘delicate.’ Turning their backs to her. Forgetting her. Liz. Liz. The only one who looked out for him. The only one who tried to help—her, that Liz—

The blow replayed in his mind. The crack. The way her head snapped back. He desperately wanted to rush out, put a hand over her mouth and check for breath, but to do so was suicide. So instead, he lurked there in the dark, hidden by the shadows of the hut, knuckles tight on the orb, legs braced to leap forth, every atom of him wishing those guards death. His eyes bored into them, memorizing their faces. The left one’s dark hair and delicate features, poorly disguised by the night’s stubble, the right one’s blond buzz, peach fuzz chin, and dark, heartless eyes.

The other workers staggered back. One turned to run, only for a knife to pierce into his back, bearing him to the ground. “Don’t flee,” the guard on the left commanded, lightning flickering around his fingers.

The right guard slashed the blood off his sword, then sheathed it. “Do not resist. We are here under the authority of the city. Please come forward if you have any information on the theft that occurred last night. If you recovered the item, step forward. You might receive an award.”

Receive an award? Liz laid behind them, still, oh so still. The other worker laid face-down on the ground, motionless. Ike shook his head, slowly backing away from the door into deeper shadow. Those guards only handed out death.

The right guard made a face, then reached into his jacket. He pulled out a pair of angled rods and held them loosely in his hands. The rods shifted, pointing toward the hide hut.

The other guard looked around at the other workers. “Who works there?”

There was a pause. Sean stumbled through the gate, still carrying a bottle. He looked at the guards, then where they pointed. “You looking for Ike? Boss’ nephew?”

He glanced downward, and he caught sight of Liz, so still on the ground. Sean gasped and stumbled back, startled, clenching the bottle so hard it cracked.

“Thank you,” the left guard said. He handed Sean a silver coin and followed his fellow guard toward the hut.

Sean stared from the coin in his hand to Liz and back, alcohol-addled struggling to process what had happened.

The other workers glanced around at one another, then backed away, all heading to their working areas and leaving the guards to the hut.

Backing away from the door, Ike took quick short breaths. They’re going to kill me. Yanking the orb out from under his shirt, he looked at it. Hand it over, or open it?

With one last glance at the approaching guards, Ike ran to the back of the hut, then hunkered down. Three lines of hides marched between him and the door, hiding him from the door and the guards in the courtyard. He examined the small orb closely.

“City Guard. Come out now with your hands in the air!”

Ike glanced up, then back at the orb. Just big enough to fit in one hand, but large enough it fit uncomfortably, the orb sat solidly before him. He turned it over in his hands feverishly, searching for an entrance point. What did I do? Last night, when it cracked open. What did I do?

The lines around its center drew his eyes. He jumped in place, remembering. That’s right. The lines!

With no clear beginning and no end, the lines circled the orb, infinitely flowing. He lifted his free hand and traced the lines, drawing a path roughly around the center point of the orb.

The lines glowed. Light traveled from a point facing Ike to swirl around the whole orb, and with a crack, the orb popped open. Two hemispheres of metal fell away, revealing the smaller orb within.

Ike stilled. His eyes widened. He’d only caught a glimpse before, but now—now he truly saw it.

Mirror-smooth surface, perfectly round. Rainbow light radiated a few inches off its surface, swirling around it like an aurora. Immense power thrummed forth, striking his heart like the beat of an enormous bass drum, and he sucked a breath reflexively.

A perfect skill orb. Highest grade.

What skill? What— Looking at the orb, Ike knew it didn’t matter. No matter what skill the orb contained, it was a skill orb. Access to the System. A chance to overturn his dingy life and claim the one he’d longed for.

A little voice in the back of his head replied, Stolen. It’s stolen! That’s the end of your life, right there! Hand it over!

In his mind’s eye, Liz’s head snapped back again. That crack, sharp as lightning. His lip twitched, and the voice went silent. No. Not to them.

A slash. The sound of tearing hide and a thump as a frame fell over. “This is your last chance to surrender before we start cutting this place down.”  

Without another moment’s hesitation, he snatched the skill orb out of the shell, mentally commanding it into his body with the command he’d heard his uncle shout a bare few times. Absorb!

Light burst out from between the cracks in his fingers. Heat sunk into his palm, swirling up his arm and into his chest. It swirled there, then rushed through his entire body, coursing through his torso, his head, every limb and extremity. His stomach lurched, and he pitched forward, almost falling out of the stump as he vomited, more than he’d thought was in his stomach pouring out onto the forest floor. Sweat dripped from every pore, dragging black filth with it. He wiped his face with his shirt, and black like coal smudged the entire bottom half of the garment. His vision blurred, and he shook as if with fever, clutching onto the stump for dear life.

What’s happening? Am I dying?

It occurred to him, then, that he’d heard of such things. Incompatibility with the System. Poor match with initial skill. Corrupted skill orb. The bodies, found twisted, hideously deformed, so misshapen even their family members couldn’t recognize them, lying in pools of their own shit and vomit.

Terror struck Ike to the core, but a second later, he pushed it away. Better than dying like a dog at the hands of the guards.

As suddenly as it had come on, the pain faded. Ike froze in place for a few moments, taken aback by the abruptness of it all, then slowly uncurled. It felt as if hours had passed, but based on the sun and the men at the front of the hut, only a few seconds had ticked by. He looked around, then down at his hands. Spots of filth flecked his arms, his legs, every piece of bare skin. When he wiped them clean, the skin beneath gleamed, healthier than it had been in ages. He flexed his arm, and the motion came smoothly, comfortably, none of the day’s aches in his shoulders or forearms. He touched his face and found no swelling. His nose didn’t ache, even when he tweaked it.

Is this… did I…

[Welcome to the System]