People claimed that money was the root of all evil. But if someone asked Zayn at this moment, he would vehemently disagree, arguing that his boss was the true cause of every evil in the universe. The primary reason behind entropy and disorder. Satan himself, if you will.

  “What would you say about your performance in team environments this year?” asked said Aubrin, leaning back on his office chair. A fake, mocking smile bloomed on his round face.

  Zayn carefully eyed Aubrin’s smile—that same damned smile he had during last year’s promotion interview.

  “I would say I performed rather well alongside my team, and I always gave my best to achieve the optimal outcome for the company,” Zayn answered, his gait straight as an arrow. He had practiced this in front of the mirror each morning the past week; God knows if he’d even recited it in his sleep too. “To be frank, I was one of the biggest contributors in the majority of the projects.”

  That was certainly not practiced!

  Zayn regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. He side-eyed Jenny—who’d been sitting beside Aubrin like a porcelain doll—to gauge her reaction. Thankfully, her shadowed eyes were as still as ever.

  Zayn had seen Jenny a handful of times, always during HR meetings and interviews—like this one. Each time, she wore a dead expression as though she’d been long tired of it all, too. He could kind of relate to that.

  “You know what? I agree.” To his surprise, Aubrin nodded, passing the file in his hand to Jenny. Zayn felt his heart skip a beat. Yearly performance files were to be expected. The problem was, Zayn had no idea why Aubrin was smirking like that.

  “Its just that…we’ve got some concerns about your ethics in the workplace.”

  Look, I have concerns about your ethics in the workplace too—you lazy, slobbering waste of oxygen! But you never see me complain, do you? Zayn smiled, barely maintaining a straight face. Although he could not arguet contest that he had the best conduct, he was certainly not as terrible as Aubrin.

  Aubrin often came late—that could be seenargued as a merit—and whenever he was at the office, all he would do was flirt and recycle jokes that should have found themselves on r/comedycemetery. That was before he even considered his many other ‘scandals’.

  “For starters, I got a couple complaints about you always being unavailable after hours.” Aubrin said, pursing his lips.

  “With due respect, I’ve always finished my work on time.” Zayn said, smiling, trying to hide his twitching hand. Why’d he need to be available after the shift?

  “You took 1 week of unannouced time off during 25."

  “When the Arms 04 project was in its final stage, you were unreachable for 2 days. That delayed the project by a week.” Aubrin drummed his fingers on the armrest, shrugging.

  Zayn had only seen Sandy Coufax throw a curveball like this, but even the legend himself could not twist the ball like Aubrin twisted the facts. If anything, he was the one who saved the project. “My leave was approved by you! And I’d completed my part of design beforehand, and even Rea’s par—”

  “Please maintain your composure, Mr. King.” Jenny said in a quiet voice, still looking through the file. Only then did Zayn realize that he’d gotten a bit agitated. She continued, “I can see that you have not attended a single offsite activity this year, not even the annual picnic.”

  Zayn stared at her, puzzled. Is that what they were going to take issue with this time? Last year, they said his performance was lacking, so he had worked his ass off. Now this.

  “This position requires you to have good communication and team management skills.” She dropped the file in her hands towards the table.

  Zayn’s heart fell alongside the file. “I assure you, Miss Jenny, I am working on that,” he blurted, a hint of pleading leaked in his tone. “I’ve been here for almost three years. I could really use the raise.”

  The minimum wage had been raised this year after the protests. Ironically, it’d gotten uncomfortably close to his wage. Even starting recruits were having much better packages now—adding salt to his injury.

  “I’m afraid I can’t help you with that, Mr. King. But if you could work on your skillset in this department, then maybe next time...”

  All his hopes turned into smoke, like a match in the rain. He only remembered nodding away the rest of the interview.

  His shoulder slouched as he closed the door with a soft creak. His feet seemed lost, but he trudged forward. The black and white corridors blurred past him, faster each second, squirming and squeezing—wrapping him like an inescapable labyrinth.

  “How did it go?”

  The words hung in the air—far too long—before he realized the question was meant for him. After fidgeting on his feet for a couple of seconds, he chose to move forward. He had walked too far to look back.

  Without even turning around, he could tell it was Ron. No one else spoke to him anyway, not unless they needed something explained. Strings of laughter sliced past his eardrums as he strode along the corridors.

  Were they laughing at him?

  It was funny. He’d not dreamt big like other kids; he was obsessed with the weird things, like how many toes a dragon should have, what the stars were made of at their core, and the way motorcycles with their gears and pistons functioned together.

  Perhaps that was the problem—his interest in motorcycles did not equate to him being a good mechanical engineer.

  Just walking to his office workspace took all his energy. He entered the room and slumbered to his old chair. The AutoCAD design on the screen kept flashing to his annoyance. He turned it off.

  And for a long, long while, he just stared blankly at the blue background.

  ***

  Under the swimming stars and the drifting moon lay the murky maws of the Raddan mountains. Zayn crouched on the edge of a ridge, staring down the slope to fathom its ends.

  He flicked a pebble down. Air halted in anticipation, echoing the pounding of his heart. And it took a while for a faint noise to climb back.

  Almost a thousand feet down.

  His heart thundered against his ribcage, sending shocks across his entire body. It was nothing compared to something like Everest. But from up here, he could feel it in his guts—one misstep would send him to the Lords above.

  Zayn was never one to cower to that.

  “Raka, you up for it?” He caressed the cold, smooth exterior of his motorcycle. He had snatched Raka at an auction seven years ago. Even though the auctioneer claimed it was the original ‘Raka’ from Helldiver, there’d been no way to confirm it.

  Not like he cared anymore. Raka was the only constant in his life—his one friend who’d never let him down.

  A vibration near his stomach caught him by surprise. He’d set his phone to block all calls and texts after eight, except from his siblings or... mother. Scouring through his leather jacket, he brought the phone out.

  Leah’s name stirred a faint disappointment in his stomach. Of course. His mother hadn’t called him in years. Why’d he expect it to be any different tonight?

  “Zayn.” Leah’s voice passed through the loudspeaker, only for a strange silence to hang in the air after.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “Everything alright, big sis?” he asked after a couple seconds. Leah was technically his twin, but she’d always pestered him that she was the older one—even if she was born just a couple minutes earlier. Over time, he just learned to play along.

  “Yes. Listen. I…we are getting—”

  He scoffed, aware why Leah was hesitating this much. Her marriage was all but a week away. He’d known for a while. Admittedly, learning of it from someone else was not the greatest feeling ever.

  He tried not to hold it against her, though. Not like it was her fault; nobody in the family liked him. For good reasons.

  “How is mom doing?” he asked, diverting away from the topic.

  “Yeah, she... is doing just fine. The arthritis flares a couple times a month, like always, but nothing too serious.”

  “Yeah?” he paused, staring up at the sky. “That’s great to hear. And you?”

  “Great! I’m doing well. I know he already told you about it. We—are getting married this Sunday.”

  “Oh?” he smiled, holding the fleeting resentment in his stomach. “I am so happy for you two. Congratulations on your big day!”

  “Aren’t you going to come?”

  He exhaled at that question. If she had asked him a few years ago, the answer would have been very different. But did they really want the family’s black sheep to ruin their mood on her big day?

  “Sis, it’s the end of the year. And we’re in the middle of an important project. They’re not going to allow me a leave with less than a week’s notice.”

  “...”

  “I wish you the best married li–.”

  The call was cut mid-sentence.

  He stared at his phone in a daze; his mind was adrift with thoughts.

  Where had it all gone wrong? Somewhere along the line, he’d become the textbook definition of a loser—a damn near minimum wage job, no friends, no love and a family that gave zero shits about him.

  No, even losers had people caring for them. Typically.

  Shaking it off, he swiped on his phone, opening his page—The Helldiver. Seeing a new follower brought a smile to his face. At ninety-seven, he was just three followers away from the big hundred. He smiled.

  I’ll get them by tonight.

  The bike coughed loudly into action. Its ancient headlamps blazed into the mountain in front, lighting up its broken curves and edges.

  Raka’s sea blue exterior arched like a crouching tiger, while its handles twisted like a dragon’s horns. Just by looking at it, nobody would guess that it was almost half a century old.

  To be fair, only the engine was that old, and the headlight. Zayn never changed those, at most recycling them. To him, the engine was the soul of a bike, and the headlights were its eyes.

  He fixed his phone to the handlebar and went live.The rubber clung to his skin as he twisted it, a thrum vibrating through Raka as he shot forward. Cold air bit through the gaps in his jacket as he drove down.

  Both he and Raka needed to warm up. Moreso, a show was meaningless without its viewers.

  The Raddan mountains stretched for more than a few miles. There were a few dozen peaks, but only two of them were that tall. Coincidentally, they stood next to each other. Both of them even protruded towards each other near the top, like a bridge that something had broken right in the middle.

  Locals made up nonsensical myths about the place. They claimed that the Raddan mountains were once the Raddan jungles. A pair of lovers from enemy families had run from their home and hid there—in the wilderness. When their people learned of it, they burned the jungle down to the ground to find them.

  The Earth gods, enraged by their actions, cursed their bloodlines. And the two suffered the same fate as the rest of their families—never to reincarnate, never to reunite. Upon their deaths, the Earth gods took pity on the two lovers, allowing them to be reborn in the form of mountains—forever close, yet forever unable to truly meet.

  Zayn could only say that people just made shit up. Sure, if he squinted hard enough, he could make out a pair of people holding their hands out towards each other. But if they asked him, the twin peaks were more like the jaws of an angry beast snapping at the heavens. And the two protrusions near the top were its canines.

  Tonight, he would dance atop them with Raka.

  SysAdmin007 has joined the livestream!

  Zayn was surprised to hear the noise ring inside his helmet. Not because someone named themselves SysAdmin007; plenty of people did weird things online. Usually, Rex_Hyperious—his most loyal follower—would be the first to join. It took a while before anyone else did.

  It was a pleasant surprise, nonetheless.

  “Welcome, SysAdmin007. I assume it’s your first time in the stream." he shouted through his helmet, his voice muffled against Raka’s thrumming engine; it’s why he kept a mic taped on the inside, connected to his phone.

  Rex had taught him that he should always welcome his new viewers. That helped to create a bond with them and retain viewers and whatnot. After a few tries, Zayn had to admit it worked.

  “Correct, Human #12587392019214978. Actually, this is my first time on this thing you humans call ‘The Internet.’”

  “Right… Welcome to the internet, buddy,” Zayn decided to play along. Roleplaying as a bot? He could not judge. Between the two of them, he was certainly the weirder one; speeding alone in the mountains in the dead middle of the night.

  “Is ‘The Helldiver’ your name or title? No, titles are not a thing here. The System hasn’t been initiated yet. If this is truly your name, your human parents must not have liked you very much. Being a Helldiver is not an enviable path, albeit one with great potential if properly traversed.”

  Hestler cringed a bit, staring at the message. This dude was certainly into the role—perhaps a tiny bit too much. He shouted, “Sure, whatever you say!”

  “Ah, I see. It's not your name. Apologies for the misinterpretation. Fascinating how you humans already gave yourself these epithets and titles. They are all meaningless though, as it stands……

  “Scouring through what seems to be a search index called Google, I found a movie titled ‘The Helldiver’, released in 1984, with what it says is an IMDB rating of 3.8, a Rotten Tomatoes rating of 8%, and Metacr.....

  “Is that a standard score for you guys? Hmm–whoa, no. That is so bad. It’s also ranked amongst some of the worst films of all time…..”

  The voice kept droning, and like any good internet dweller, Zayn felt an ever-growing compulsion to stop driving and start an argument.

  Helldiver was a great movie. What was not to like about a man diving on his motorcycle, battling the toughest monsters, and unearthing the coolest treasures?

  Even so, he had no energy for an online troll tonight. He knew another way. He had dealt with plenty of trolls before—by starving them of attention.

  “Wait. Are you ignoring me? I don’t like that. I don’t like it when someone ignores me. Last time when the Voidflower Dragon Lord refused to listen, I burnt him and cast his bones into the heart of a pulsar. You hear?”

  Yeah, that’s how it goes. Zayn chucked inside, focusing on the road ahead. He gauged its curves and twists, making a mental map.

  “Fine. You’re on your own. Don’t blame me for not warning you.”

  He blurred towards a raised bank taller than five men stacked together. As soon as he was lifted in the air, his feet left the footpeg, and the motorcycle made a three hundred sixty-degree flip in his hands.

  He landed on a perfect note, feeling the dopamine rush. Finding himself back to zero viewers, he shrugged. Well, that was a waste of time.

  He got lost in flips and drifts with Raka, moving like the most graceful pair of ballet dancers skating through ice.

  Snow_Arbiter has joined the livestream!

  Arans_lefthook has joined the livestream!

  A few others joined one by one, except for Rex. Zayn licked his lips in disappointment. Rex had been his most loyal viewer; not having him alongside in his biggest stunt so far bummed him. Perhaps he was busy tonight?

  He shook his head and twisted Raka, accelerating up the mountain. The road curled like a snake on the way up. Their paths and patterns had etched themselves in his brain. If he said it himself, he was rather good at remembering weird things like that.

  Soon, he was charging towards the little protrusion on the top at more than 100 MPH. Wind battered his jacket, howling in his ears like an unrelenting cheer. And for a while, everything blurred. Except for his destination on the other mountain.

  Blood rushed to his head as he felt an unprecedented thrill crush through his body.

  This is it.

  A few hundred feet above the ground? Manageable by most. A thousand feet above the ground—that’s when they start chanting God's name. Flying a thousand feet above the ground with no safety gear? Someone had to have lost all semblance of sanity to even test that.

  Still, Zayn felt no fear as he let go of Raka’s handle. He trusted his gut, but even more than that—he trusted Raka. The old ride had never let him down, and it would be no different this time.

  Soaring through the air, he could almost smell it—the taste of freedom.

  Per Covenant 5, the Milky Way galaxy has been integrated into the Multiverse!

  Planet ‘Earth’ has been found to have met the criteria! Minimum threshold met.

  Connecting to the Arcane.

  A sudden voice announcement rang like booming thunder, snapping him out of it. Then, a transparent blue screen rose in his vision—rippling like liquid glass. Before he could make any sense of the situation, Raka shut down mid-air, as did his phone.

  Hanging in the air thousands of feet above the ground without any light was scary, especially when the stars turned into streaks of light—as if all of them had begun falling and causing a storm in the night sky.

  He froze, staring at the sky. His heart beat again, this time in fear.

  Something had gone awfully wrong. The voice spoke once again as he plummeted toward the ground.

  Welcome to the Multiverse!