Palou sat in his office, leaning into his multiple monitors, the blue lights radiating through his glasses and into his orange eyes. Wedged between a cabinet and a wall, his shoulders hung close apart. He didn’t mind the lack of space, not now with how his planet had developed.

  He peered over the screens that were flashing between scenes like an analog film. The fresh blood were slowly settling themselves into his world. Each monitor showcasing the happenings within each zone. A small pod shaped droid hovered above him, the dim light reflecting off its metallic body.

  The droid watched over the screens alongside him, designed to support him as an Arbiter. But also to monitor him.

  Palou sighed. There had been little to write home about when he had been selected to take charge of a beta world.

  He was told to keep his influence to a minimum; he wasn’t here to make a story. The purpose of these beta worlds was to reap the weak. Only the strong deserved a place on the Exofront. With a new season drawing near, these beta worlds only served to be a filler to keep the masses entertained.

  Although he had a lack of experience, Palou still grumbled when he was assigned the job. When Arius Steiger, the head Arbiter, handed him his debrief, he masked his annoyance with a happy to please smile. After all, the beta worlds were mostly set in stone. Founders would survive, while a lucky few followed behind them.

  Palou scoffed at the thought of more Founders entering The Exofront; he disliked the elitism among them. The seven planets that originally took part in the Exofront had now trained their warriors from their youth. Ensuring they were prepared for anything. Such a development was to be expected, but to Palou, who grew up in the remote deserts of Anora, it was the worst.

  Entertainment came from not knowing who would win.

  To his surprise, however, he had monitored an unfathomable development that would have left even the most senior Arbiters stunned.

  He took notice of a being that hailed from Earth, a planet not too dissimilar to his own. Everything about her was fairly normal. Until he had seen her status screen up close.

  A regressor.

  Palou didn’t understand what it meant, so he went to investigate. One of the most imperative roles an Arbiter had to complete was to report any Omniplex developments.

  “Let’s see what you’re hiding,” he mumbled, cracking his fingers and clicking away on his keyboard like a typhoon. Analyzing her status, he found she held a Stigmata, called Phoenix Rebirth.

  Palou had raised an eyebrow. Before being employed as an Arbiter, he had to memorize the entire directory of Stigmata. They were one of the most important tools for an Exofronteer and a great narrative hook for an Arbiter.

  Skills and powers with limitless potential. Once Palou knew his eyes weren’t deceiving him, he realized this woman possessed a new stigmata, one that no one had ever held. With no data, he had no way of knowing what it did.

  But he could guess. Listed as a regressor with a mythic stigmata, that’s use was locked. He could draw a simple conclusion that made Palou’s eyes widen with excitement. Number 61 was from the future.

  Such a finding would net him an exorbitant bonus, one that could allow him to retire and never work again. But to Palou, who didn’t seek monetary gain, this was exactly what he wanted. Something fresh, exciting, bound with potential.

  However, his droid didn’t seem to share his opinions. It hovered over the screen detailing the Regressor’s status page and began scanning. Shaped like an eyeball, its blue lens shone, combing through the contents on the monitor.

  “New Stigmata detected, generating report for upper management.”

  “No, no, no.” Palou pulled at his skin.

  “Report generation complete, preparing to send.”

  Palou’s eyes widened, his face scrunched in fury. “You’re not taking this from me!” he whispered. He grabbed the droid with both hands, its size no bigger than a tennis ball. Before banging it against his desk. Over and over again.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  The blue light that shone from the droid’s front slowly faded to black. Its slight motor sounds disappeared. A huge dent formed where its broken lens once was. Palou wasn’t done; he smashed the droid against the wall.

  “You dare try to steal what’s mine?” His voice was low, gnashing his teeth. Once the droid was rendered to nothing more than a flat piece of metal, did he slowly breathe again. He took sharp intakes of breath, his anger and adrenaline plummeting.

  He peered at the broken droid in his hand, a broken mess of metal and glass. Blood trickled down his fingertips and palm as he clenched his grip on the droid. Rolling his eyes, he threw the broken droid over shoulder, like it was garbage.

  Without tending to his hand, he returned to his monitors. Noticing his keyboard had broken from banging the droid against it, he shrugged. He wasn’t going to do anything anyway, he simply watched. The regressor went looking for her friend, perhaps someone she was close to in the future.

  Palou smiled at their interactions. His new star was in a frenzy, not even considering how she appeared to others. Her friend, number 58, seemed to go along with it, but her skepticism was almost comical.

  The most interesting development was when she met participant 65. A man who seemed more focused on drinking booze than his surroundings.

  The rage his new star felt was palpable across the screen. He instantly knew that in the future, he had become someone that betrayed her. He noted it down internally.

  Yet everything seemed to become even more interesting. A network of lies. The Regressor never revealed her origins, weaving truth with fiction, to ensure she created trust between the two she had met.

  The man bought it. Sold by the lies she had told him, not realizing the thorns that had spread around him. Palou smiled, knowing the man’s death was imminent. The regressor weaved her knowledge of the future and perhaps their past relationship to seem legitimate.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  The regressor was not the only one that had potential. Her friend. She seemed to not buy it at all. In fact, he could see her distrust in the pair of them. Both the man and the regressor were lying to her. The man even lied to her face, but she simply ignored it.

  She was going to play both sides.

  A wise decision.

  This trio was more interesting than anything the Exofront offered. And they were his playthings.

  Palou turned his attention back to the other monitors, but his eyes never left the trio. He had left the deserts of Anora for this exact purpose. In this small, stifling room, he was omnipresent. Everyone was at his mercy; he could choose to punish them, or appear benevolent.

  As an Arbiter, he was a god.

  ***

  Ciro bit into the mushroom given to him. He winced at the earthy taste. He looked over at Alya, who wore a similar expression.

  She held a mushroom over her face, dangling it with a grimace. “How does it taste?” she asked.

  “It has a weird aftertaste,” Ciro confirmed, gulping the rest of the mushroom whole.

  Alya sighed before closing her eyes and dropping the mushroom into her mouth. She only took a couple of bites before swallowing. She smiled at Carina, who watched her earnestly.

  “Thank you.”

  Carina offered the last mushroom she had gathered, the last of four, to Alya. “Here, take the last one. I know it’s not much, but we need to keep your strength up.”

  “I’ll take it.” Ciro said.

  Alya sighed before taking the mushroom out of Carina’s hands, throwing it towards Ciro.

  Ciro caught it before throwing it into his mouth. He spread his legs, his boot-clad feet reaching the pair of women. He couldn’t help his lips smack, amid the dryness of the first bite of food he had eaten in apparently a hundred years.

  He felt Carina’s gaze on him. His eyes darted elsewhere; it seemed she still hated him, not that he did anything to change her mind. Just as he swallowed, a message appeared from his system.

  Dehydration Reaching Critical Levels

  Damn those mushrooms, Ciro thought. Not only was the climate fairly hot here, but his run in with the Xypher had left him exerting his body up to its maximum potential. He had never considered the amount of water one would lose through sweat.

  Just as he was about to bring it up, Alya spoke. “We need water. Where can we get something like that?” Her eyes met Carina’s expectantly.

  Ciro had a feeling she wouldn’t have an answer, she’d answer in riddles, or simply deflect, but to his surprise Carina stood up.

  “Let’s get going then.” She wore a smile, her eyes were focused on Ciro, for whatever reason, causing him to shiver. Carina offered a hand to Alya, who reluctantly took it, helping her get up from the ground.

  Alya brushed off the dirt from her gray suit. “You know where we can find some, then?”

  “No, but we’ll find it.” Carina said, heading over to the ladder to climb down. She clambered down until her head slightly poked out. “Well, are you coming then?”

  Alya and Ciro exchanged glances. Ciro sat down comfortably, shrugged. “I don’t know about going out.”

  “You’ll be left alone.”

  At those words, Ciro swept the dark corners of the tunnel. The dark shadows that blanketed over everything and the echoes of the slightest water droplet. He grumbled before getting back up. “You guys are gonna need me.”

  “If you say so.” Alya rolled her eyes.

  Considering he had to venture out now, there was a possibility of gaining something. He had yet to level up, but besides that, he wanted something he could use to fight back. Arius, the man who sent them here, indirectly said that this blue screen would help them survive. If he wanted to survive, he needed to get stronger.

  Together, they slowly climbed down, meeting Carina at the bottom. She indicated for them to follow behind, heading out of the tunnel once more. Ciro’s gaze trailed the pole that Carina clutched as she tapped it against the ground in a syncopated rhythm. I need a weapon, Ciro thought. The creation of this rocky alliance could fall apart at any minute. He couldn’t afford to be crushed underneath it.

  They slowly made their way back to where Ciro had originally been. Both he and Alya couldn’t help but quiver under the most subtle sounds. “What are the chances there are aliens here?” Alya whispered to them.

  “There’s a chance we’ll find a Xyphon or one of those dog aliens.” Carina replied.

  The word ‘dog’ sent shivers down Ciro’s spine at the thought of wrestling such a monstrous thing again—he was lucky to be alive after his first two encounters with an alien. Next time, he may not have the same fortune. He stifled a chuckle. Luck? It was his highest stat. But who knew how much it was worth?

  “What are you smiling for?” Alya peeked her head towards Ciro. She scrunched her face in a look of concern, a weak smile playing at the ends of her lips.

  “Nothing, I was just—” Just as he was about to explain himself, they arrived at a familiar spot. Amid the rubble and broken buildings, a small structure sat with its metal frame rusted by the passage of time, its edges jagged, its presence somehow more hollow, than when he left it. A firework of excitement shot through Ciro. With heavy steps, he headed towards the door, the door he had left open.

  “Hey, where are you going?” shouted Alya.

  Ciro didn’t listen. Retracing his steps, he entered the building, pushing through the assortment of unique items wafting with suspicious scents. The rows of bottles glimmered in front of him; the liquid within swayed under his footsteps, as if trying to seduce him. He bear-hugged an entire row of bottles, squeezing them with the affection of a mother’s love.

  Carina and Alya stumbled behind him, their eyebrows raised as they watched him. “What the hell are you doing?” Alya shouted.

  Her voice echoed within the small building. Ciro jumped out of fright, the bottles falling out of his arms. “Shush, you could attract who knows what to us!” he whispered. Picking up one bottle, he opened it and quickly downed its contents.

  Alya watched on in horror, while Carina simply stood unphased, holding her pole with both hands. Alya crouched down, staring at the bottle’s contents.

  A swirl of green and orange, clearly a suspicious beverage, yet Ciro didn’t care. He had drunk it before and was fine. A little more wouldn’t hurt. Alya watched on as Ciro downed the liquid in seconds. Letting out a loud belch.

  Alya backed away, using Carina as a physical barrier. She winced. “You’re disgusting.”

  Wiping the corner of his lips, Ciro’s body swayed like a rocking boat. “Come now, I was just thirsty,” he said, slurring his words.

  Carina gripped her pole, aiming it at Ciro. “Don’t you see Alya, we should kill him now, he’s not just a drunk but a liability.”

  “Hey now what do you mean by that you–” Ciro staggered towards the two women, picking up another bottle. “I keep getting the sense you don’t like me. But I still haven’t figured out why.”

  “Why? Because you’re nothing but a murderer!”

  “A murderer?” Ciro itched at his stubble. Her words ignited a piercing headache. He dropped the bottle, the glass shattering between their feet. “How could you accuse someone of being a murderer? I’m a good person,” he hissed, through gritted teeth.

  The two women watched on in confusion. Alya tried to move towards him, but Carina put her arm out and stopped her. They both exchanged confused glances.

  Dark impulses. The feeling that Ciro’s body wasn’t his own. He felt himself losing control, like a mere puppet losing its string. He felt something between his eyebrows, abruptly ending the unknown battle in his mind.

  His eyes focused on the area. A red dot trembled in place. It moved towards his chest. Through the glass of the building, Cirl peered further into the distance. Any impulse or memory of what he went through disappeared like smoke.

  Only a dreaded realization remained.

  “Get down!” he shouted.

  From the distance, a figure sat with a weapon in tow. A laser pointed straight at Ciro.

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