The sun was just beginning to creep over the horizon, its light bleeding into the pale gray of morning. The convenience store windows rattled faintly with each passing car, but inside the world was quiet. Gideon slouched behind the counter, his unruly brown hair hanging in his eyes, a book open in front of him. He was thin, more bone than muscle, and the fluorescent lights gave his pale skin a hollow cast. He rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his palm, stifling a yawn. Graveyard shifts had a way of blurring into eternity.

  The bell above the door jingled.

  “H-h-hey Gideon. H-how’s it g-going tonight?”. Gideon looked up to see Max filling the doorway like he owned the place. Six foot four, broad shoulders, thick arms straining against his jacket. His warehouse job had built him into a wall of muscle, softened only by late-night meals and too much soda. Dirty blond hair cropped short, stubble framing a strong jaw, and a good-looking face in a quiet sort of way. Yet he shifted under Gideon’s gaze, closing his eyes for a moment before forcing himself to start again. “You’re off at eight, r-right?” Gideon smirked faintly. “Yeah. Can’t wait to find my bed. Tonight has dragged on forever.” Max chuckled and dropped a bottle of orange juice onto the counter. “Yeah, you, uh… you l-look l-like hell.” “Compliment accepted,” Gideon said dryly, scanning the bottle and sliding it back. “Coming from you, that’s rich. You look like you just went three rounds with a forklift.” Max tapped his phone against the card machine. It beeped. “M-maybe I did.” His grin was brief, but it lit his face. “Somebody’s g-gotta move the heavy stuff. Not like you could l-lift more than a mouse.” He cracked the bottle and took a sip. “Keyboard warrior,” Gideon shot back, grinning. “Deadly online, useless in real life.” He flexed his thin arms, showing off his lack of muscle. “One day,” Max said, his stutter softening, “you’re gonna throw out your back just from typing too fast.”

  They both laughed. It was quiet, comfortable. Their banter had become second nature after years of late-night games and long tabletop campaigns. Gideon with his quick wit and restless mind, Max with his steady strength and awkward humor. Complete opposites on the outside, yet somehow they fit. “Ten more minutes,” Gideon said, glancing at the clock. “Then we hit the diner.” “G-good,” Max replied, twisting open his juice. “I’m st-starving.”

  ---

  Outside, four kids ambled down the sidewalk, backpacks bouncing, voices carrying on the cool air. Gideon glanced at them but barely noticed. Just schoolchildren on their way to the bus stop.

  The screeching caught his attention.

  Tires shrieked against pavement. A car tore around the corner, swerving wildly, too fast, far too fast. Headlights cut across the lot, blinding for a split second. “Shit,” Max muttered, voice flat and humorless. The car barreled into the parking lot, bumper clipping the curb, sparks showering from beneath. The kids froze, trapped between pumps and sidewalk, rabbits in headlights. Gideon didn’t think. He vaulted the counter and raced into the lot, his skinny legs carrying him faster than he knew possible. Max thundered after him, heavy boots striking the ground in long, powerful strides. “Move!” Gideon yelled, his voice cracking. The children didn’t. Their eyes were wide with panic, their bodies rigid. The car slammed into the pump just as Gideon reached the nearest boy and shoved him toward the curb. Max swept another child into his arms, spinning her out of the way with brute force. She stumbled and fell beside the boy Gideon had pushed.

  The third kid tripped.

  Metal groaned. The pump ruptured. Gasoline sprayed in a glittering arc, the stench thick in the air. Sparks hissed from the crumpled hood. The driver slumped behind the wheel, unconscious. Max hoisted the fourth child over his shoulder. Gideon lunged for the one who had fallen, grabbed his backpack and leg, and hurled him toward the others with strength born of desperation. The boy landed awkwardly, scrambled to his feet, and ran. “Go! It’s going to blow!” Max roared, his stutter gone.

  Flames licked across the gasoline, racing toward the pump. Gideon saw the last child still clutched in Max’s arms. He sprinted to him, colliding hard enough to make Max drop the boy. Together they curled over him, shielding his small body with their own.

  The fire reached the pump.

  Light. Heat. Sound. Everything at once. The pump erupted, fire roaring outward in a consuming wave. Gideon’s breath seared in his lungs. For a heartbeat he saw Max through the blaze: eyes locked on him, jaw clenched, determination etched into every line of his face.

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  Then, fire swallowed everything.

  ---

  When Gideon opened his eyes, the world was gone.

  No fire. No smoke. No children’s screams. No Max.

  Only white. Endless, blinding white.

  He staggered upright, though there was no floor beneath his feet. His hands groped for something solid, but found nothing. No walls. No ceiling. No sound. Just silence so heavy it pressed against his skull.

  A chime broke it.

  A figure appeared, roughly three feet tall, its body of light shaped vaguely like a person. It lifted its hands, and a glowing rectangle shimmered into existence before Gideon’s eyes, hovering like the HUD of a game.

  

  

  The words pulsed, then shifted.

  

  A single prompt blinked:

  Gideon’s chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths. His pulse hammered in his ears. He turned in circles, but the screen followed his gaze, always fixed in place. The figure stood still, faceless and unmoving, as if watching him without eyes. His voice cracked when he spoke. “What is this? Where am I? Am I… dead?” The figure tilted its head. The answer arrived inside his mind. It was cold, emotionless, and measured, without any inflection. Nearly mechanical. Gideon’s mouth went dry. “Elsewhere? What does that even mean?” He crouched until he was eye level with the figure, words tumbling out fast. “Who are you? Why me? What is this supposed to be?”. The figure did not move.

  The word stuck in his thoughts. Marked. Worthy. His chest tightened. “That makes no sense. I wasn’t anything special. I didn’t do anything. Not really.” His mind clawed back to the last thing he remembered. The fire. Max’s face. The kids. His breath caught. “The children. Did they… survive?” The reply came at once. Relief surged through him, sharp and almost painful. The kids had lived. His throat tightened and he had to shut his eyes, but another question forced its way out. He spoke quietly, almost in a whisper “what about Max? Is he… is he here too?” The figure’s faceless head tilted again.

  The answer was no answer at all. Gideon’s stomach churned. Did that mean Max was gone forever, or that he was somewhere else in this void? Maybe even on his way to the same world? He could not tell. When he opened his eyes again, the figure had not moved. The screen pulsed steadily, patient and waiting, the

  

  Options scrolled seemingly without end. Human. Elf. Dwarf. Halfling. Orc. Dragonkin. Many others he recognized from games, and plenty he did not. He scrolled all the way down and found a final line:

  

  Gideon glanced at the Adjudicator. “What happens if I just pick Human or Elf? How’s this Randomize option different?”

  The Adjudicator remained motionless, but Gideon heard the voice in his head once again. Gideon thought about that. That meant 7 Skill Points if he chose to randomize. “And what’s a Unique Perk?” The voice returned He stared blankly at the Adjusdicator. Yep, he probably could have guessed that. He supposed it was probably better to get confirmation and not make assumptions.

  He turned his attention back to the screen and studied the glowing text again. The safe choice was obvious: Human, Elf, something he knew. But the bonuses tugged at him. Five points. A Unique Perk. It was tempting, especially if this really worked like the games he knew so well. Gideon scanned the list of choices again, and counted them off one by one. Over thirty races. Ten he understood well enough to judge as safe bets. Roughly thirty percent odds of landing on something that could actually keep him alive. He swallowed. He had always played it safe. Always hid. Always chosen the cautious path. “New life, new me,” he whispered. “Let’s do it. After all, whats the worst that could happen?” With those excellently chosen words, he mentally selected

  The world went white, then black. When Gideon opened his eyes again, everything had changed.