(Frauw – Occupation: Lit) (Amos)

  Seven Weeks Later

  Almost three months in, and still no update to the game; it’s starting to feel like the outside world has forgotten them. No matter how much normalcy the players try to bring to this artificial world, it falls short of the real one they remember. Some nights feel comforting, while others, those where the air feels stifling, bring a strange, uneasy weight.

  RoT has declared war on the Trapline Army, and Lit pushed the Fools Clan southward near the Sword of Tintinaru, even occupying parts of Franz Harbor. While the Fools aren’t panicked, Trapline is another story. RoT has surrounded them, and their entire navy has been decimated. To top it off, a famine has broken out worldwide. Animals aren’t respawning, and the cultivation spell no longer works, leaving them without a way to grow food. The situation feels hopeless.

  Amos finds an odd comfort in the people around him. He’s not religious, and Xander’s frequent expressions of faith can sometimes be grating, but lately, Amos has found solace in Xander’s favorite verse from Psalms: “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.”

  They’re all doing push-ups, with Hypno singing “Flowers” by Moby in the background. Somehow, the music’s beat syncs perfectly with each push-up. It’s easy enough for them, at least until they realize they’ll be doing it until someone drops.

  After what feels like forever, Amos’s arms feel like lead, and the stabbing pain is impossible to ignore. Finally, he falls onto his stomach. “Welp, there goes dinner for tonight.”

  “Ha, Amos is out,” Christ laughs, glancing over at Hypno. “Looks like it’s just you and me now.”

  “Hey, go with the song’s rhythm, not your own!” Xander calls out, smirking.

  Rolling over, Amos slumps against Zero, who wipes his dirty hands on Amos’s gray shirt. “Aw, cheer up, Amos. You beat Brian this time and broke Ship’s record! I know you can do it.”

  “Zero, could you not use me as a towel?” Amos says, giving him a tired look.

  Zero chuckles. “Come on, man, you’re already sweaty and covered in dirt.”

  Amos lets out a tired laugh. “Bruh…” He stretches, feeling the tension ease slightly, though he notices Xander yawning just as he does.

  Zero leans closer and whispers, “Watch Xander. He’s been scratching his ass this whole time. Think he’s got swamp ass or something.”

  Amos chuckles. “Explains why he finished first… Bet he sneaks a sniff when we’re not looking.”

  They both crack up, nudging each other until they’re practically rolling over. Calming down, Zero leans in again. “Hey, after practice, let’s skip dinner and go to the Citrus Lake Inn. Just you and me.”

  “Sure,” Amos says, then pauses. “Wait, isn’t there a food shortage?”

  “That’s not what I mean. I want to grab a few beers with you.”

  Amos’s cheeks go red. “Zero, I’m seventeen; I can’t drink.”

  Zero shrugs, standing up and offering Amos a hand. “I don’t think they care about age. Besides, you turn eighteen in a week.”

  Brushing off the dirt Zero left on him, Amos glances over at Vodka, passed out nearby. “Yeah, but maybe it’s not a habit I want to start.”

  Zero waves him off. “You’ll be fine.”

  Amos can’t help but smile as he mutters, “I’ll have a few…”

  “WINNER!” Smokey shouts, slamming his palm on the ground.

  Christ collapses onto his stomach, chest heaving. Between gasps, he manages, “Weak… So weak…”

  Hypno, still standing, raises his hand in victory while Carp, Smokey’s younger brother, cheers him on. “WINNER! WINNER!”

  “Shut it, you jerk,” Christ grumbles, rolling his eyes. “You’re on some kind of potion. There’s no way…”

  Hypno just grins. “Nope, all British strength and genes,” he says, flexing his arms proudly.

  Vodka laughs, stretching his arms. “You’re Norwegian, Hypno.”

  Zero heads over to help Christ to his feet, smirking. “Christ, where’s that famous smile?”

  “Up your ass, that’s where,” Christ mutters, but a grin sneaks through as Zero laughs.

  Watching his friends, Amos feels a warm, almost peaceful sensation rising in his chest. He realizes that moments like these—grimy, competitive, and full of laughter—might become his best memories.

  (Durmax/Citrus Lake Inn – Occupation: RoT) (Amos)

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Later that night, Zero and Amos sit at the bar. In the corner, a drunk man taps away on a piano while a girl in a red dress leans over it, nervously finding her voice before singing beautifully to the music. Three drunks link arms, swaying together in the middle of the room as if they’re the only ones there. Across the bar, five friends share a bottle, whistling and cheering for the impromptu performance. Despite everything happening outside, for a moment, they’ve created a perfect little world here.

  “Another drink?” the bartender asks.

  Zero slaps down some coins. “You’re goddamn right.”

  Amos looks around, slightly awestruck. “For all their faults, RoT has some real musicians.”

  Zero laughs. “What’d you expect? All their high ranks have to learn an instrument. Hey, speaking of which, those students of yours…”

  He says their names, but Amos doesn’t need to hear them; he knows exactly who Zero’s talking about. “Yeah? What about them?”

  “I met a couple of them once. They’re in your school, right?”

  “Yeah, same grade too,” Amos replies.

  “Ever talk to them?” Zero asks, downing another sip.

  “I used to, but after the whole Dulman situation, it’s like they barely see me. I’ll get one-word responses or a nod, maybe. The only one I really talk to these days is Merak. Everyone else is just… busy, I guess,” Amos says. He doesn’t mention the strange, empty feeling that sometimes creeps in when he thinks about his students. He figures it’s just from being in this world for so long.

  “They’re important in RoT, too, huh? So they must play instruments?” Zero asks.

  Amos nods. “Funny, right?”

  “How so?”

  Amos rests his cheek in his hand, swirling his drink. “I’m not popular, but everyone wants me to teach them how to play. They use me, find something better, make a name for themselves, then forget I exist. It happened with so many—Maria, Icedrake, Kevin…” Amos lists a few more names, then sighs. “If I hadn’t met you guys, I’d probably just be a nobody.”

  “Maybe,” Zero says, downing the rest of his drink. “But tell me, if you never met us… where would you be right now?”

  Amos pauses, looking down at his glass. “Probably spending time with my parents… maybe these last few months before my mom…” He trails off, silently cursing the lie of “drinking to forget.”

  Zero lifts his glass, clinking it with Amos’s. “Maybe being here is best, then. I can kind of relate.”

  Amos tilts his head. “How so?”

  Zero’s expression softens. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “What was the last thing your mother said to you?”

  Amos’s eyes widen slightly at the question. “She told me she loved me. And that…” he chuckles, almost embarrassed. “She told me to live for her.” It’s a phrase he’s been turning over in his mind for months.

  Zero smiles, poking Amos in the chest with a finger. “You love her, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “She’s the most important woman to you?”

  Amos’s gaze drops. “Yeah, she is.”

  “Sorry to ask,” Zero says.

  “It’s okay.” Amos forces a small smile. “I need to get over it someday. She was a good person, you know? She could feel any sad energy around her and somehow transform it. Not being happy on her behalf just… feels like a waste.”

  Zero’s eyes gleam with understanding as he fiddles with his glass. “My mom passed away when I was seven.”

  Amos sits back, surprised. “I’m sorry.”

  Zero sighs. “It’s fine. She was a lot like your mom in some ways, I think.”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

  “Ever feel alone, like no one gets it?” Zero asks, his voice low.

  Amos nods, feeling the weight of everything he’d said earlier about loneliness and being forgotten. “Yeah.”

  Zero glances up at him. “I’m not trying to make this about me. Just… you’re the first person I’ve told this to. It’s a relief, honestly.”

  Amos feels a warm, steadying comfort settle in his chest. “Thank you. But now I have to ask you something.”

  “Huh?”

  “What was the last thing your mother said to you?” Amos asks gently.

  Zero nods, a faint smile crossing his face. “She said, ‘People are both evil and good; the world’s fifty-fifty. One day, you’ll know the difference.’”

  Amos blinks. “That’s it?”

  “Yeah, that was it.” Zero finishes his drink and sets the glass down with a sigh. “She was the religious type. Always trying to pull me into that… but with how people act, I guess I get what she meant now.”

  Amos sips his drink, feeling a heavy truth in the words. “Bartender, I’ll have another.”

  “I’m coming, I’m coming,” the bartender grumbles as he drops a rag on the table. “I really need to get myself an NPC…”

  After a few more drinks, Zero and Amos find themselves at a table with a RoT squad that just wandered in. Three beers and five shots later, Amos’s cheeks are numb, and he’s reminding everyone he can barely feel his face. He dances, letting loose with his newfound friends-turned-enemies-turned-friends again, reveling in the moment until he’s forced outside to empty his stomach in the trash.

  On his knees, he coughs up the last of whatever’s in his system. Between heaves, he glances to his side, feeling a reassuring hand on his back. “Zero…”

  “I’m here,” Zero says, steadying him.

  Amos gives a lazy grin, barely able to get the words out. “Yer… y’know… my best friend…”

  “I know,” Zero says with a quiet laugh, patting Amos’s back as the night wears on.

  (Frauw – Occupation: Lit) (Amos)

  Amos and Zero return to the manor. Arms around one another isn’t tricky until Zero remembers he drank his fair share and has trouble not tripping over himself. If there were someone who wanted to kill them right now, this would be their chance.

  Christ and Ship are waiting for them to return. Their disappointed faces are hard to forget.

  Ship crosses his arms while a cold cigarette butt hangs from his mouth. “Where were you guys? You had us all worried.”

  Christ adds, “Yeah, it’s an asshole move to do this to us.”

  “Sorry, I should have told you… Amos and I went to the bar in the Citrus Lake Inn,” says Zero.

  “Dude, we would have come with you,” Christ fumes.

  Zero looks behind him and whispers, “It would be nice to have moments like that where we don’t hear the word ‘asshole’ every minute.”

  Christ’s face turns red. “Asshole, what… You asshole? Fuck.”

  Zero laughs. “Aw, come on, bud.” He puts his hand on Christ’s shoulder. “Christ, where’s the smile?”