Nothing.

No sight. No sound. No touch. No weight. No up, no down, no forward, no back.

She existed. That was all. A point of awareness suspended in a formless void, untethered. Her thoughts moved slowly, each one dissolving before the next could form. She tried to remember how she'd gotten here, but memory was a concept that felt foreign.

She was drifting. The realization came gradually. She wasn't stationary in this non-space. She was moving, carried along by something vast and inevitable.

A current. The word surfaced from somewhere deep in her dissolving consciousness. Yes. A current. She was in a river, except there was no water, no banks, no bed. Just the inexorable pull, drawing her along.

The next understanding that filtered through the haze of her disintegrating self was that she wasn't alone. There were others here. Countless others. She couldn't see them since there was nothing to see, but she perceived them nonetheless, though she didn't know how. They were mere presences. Whispers of consciousness like her own, formless and fading, all being pulled in the same direction.

Some distant, drowning fragment of what had been Jade MacDougall tried to summon panic, tried to scream, tried to fight. But there was nothing to fight with. She possessed no body to thrash, no voice to cry out. She could only drift, awareness ebbing like a tide going out for the last time.

The current pulled her deeper. Faster. In the liminal distance, something was changing. The uniform nothing-ness of the void began to acquire texture, a sense of directionality. The pull intensified. Not stronger, exactly, but more focused, deliberate. All the scattered whispers of consciousness around her converged toward a single point.

Then they opened. Five great eyes, vast and terrible beyond comprehension. They hung in the void like impossible stars, each one larger than worlds, each one containing depths that her fragmenting mind couldn't process.

They were looking at her. At all of them. And she could feel the burning hunger of them, a bottomless pit that could never be filled even if they consumed all the matter in the universe.

The current surged. Every whisper of consciousness was being drawn toward those eyes, toward the oblivion they promised. The complete dissolution of everything she'd ever been, every memory, every thought, every moment of her existence, all of it consumed and unmade by those five terrible eyes.

Jade felt herself accelerating. The eyes grew larger. She could feel their regard now, absolute and utterly indifferent. She was plankton in an ocean, insignificant and temporary, about to be filtered through the vast mechanisms of something that didn't even acknowledge her existence as real. The pull became a vortex, a maelstrom, the grinding weight of cosmic machinery drawing her toward annihilation.

Parts of her existence began to slough off her like mud. That… The metaphor somehow felt too clean, too kind, but it was the first idea that penetrated the strange dissociation of her consciousness. Something was being torn away, leaving her lesser and lesser with every passing instant, yet she didn't feel like it was something she could ever miss.

Closer. Closer. The eyes filled everything. There was nothing else. No void, no river, no other souls. Just the eyes and the eldritch gravity and the knowledge that in another moment she would cease to—

Something hooked her.

The sensation was violently, fundamentally wrong. It was a violation of the natural order of this place. Something foreign had reached into the river, reached through the current, through the pull of the eyes, and sunk into her very essence like a barbed hook in soft flesh.

And then it yanked.

The world inverted. The pull of the eyes became a receding memory. She was being dragged backward, against the current, away from oblivion. Every other soul continued their journey toward those five terrible eyes, but she alone was being pulled in the opposite direction, reeled in like a fish on a line.

The sensation was nauseating beyond description. It was motion sickness without a body, vertigo without up or down. Reality bent and twisted around her, the void becoming a smear of impossible shapes as she was yanked through the river at speeds that made acceleration meaningless.

The eyes faded. The current released her. The other souls vanished into the distance.

Sensation crashed into her all at once. Physicality. Mass. The crushing, suffocating reality of having a body again, of being confined to a singular point in space rather than diffused across existence. It felt like being stuffed into a suit of armour three sizes too small, every inch of her screaming in protest at the sheer wrongness of being contained, being limited, being real.

And it was cold. So cold. The body waiting for her felt like it had been carved from ice and filled with wet cement, heavy and rigid and utterly, completely lifeless.

Jade's eyes flew open.

The first thing she registered was the phantom agony in her throat. Memories crashed back into her brain, and it insisted on replaying the sensation of the blade sliding through flesh, the sudden severing of something vital, the wet gasp as air escaped through the wrong opening, the dread when she levelled up only for the wound to remain. Her hand flew to her neck, fingers scrabbling for the wound that should be there, finding only intact skin.

The second thing was the smell. Dust, the metallic tang of iron mixed with the acrid bite of something charred and burning.

The third thing was John's face.

Black hair artistically tussled at the top to hang over one eye and cropped short at the sides with patterns swooping around his head. Smooth skin without a hint of stubble, a chiselled jawline, eyebrows that looked like they'd been meticulously plucked. Lips that looked full even when pressed into a line.

She was pretty sure he hadn't been this handsome when she first met him, and that, briefly, made her wonder. The kind of guy who would view having to act like a 'badass' as torture didn't strike her as a vain type; whatever alterations he'd made to himself, he'd felt he had to.

What would he say if I told him I'd always had a thing for the emo bad boy look? Probably a bad idea. It'd just make him uncomfortable. She resolved to keep it to herself.

He was inches from her, close enough that she could see her own pale reflection in the dark lenses of his sunglasses. They were new. Circular. His jaw was set, his expression carved from stone. It looked carefully constructed, somehow, but also eerily natural. A mask worn so tight it had fused into the face beneath.

"Welcome back," he said, and his voice matched his face, carefully emotionless.

Jade sucked in a breath and it burned. Her lungs felt like they'd been filled with broken glass. Her body wasn't right. It was hers, she knew that intellectually, but it felt borrowed. Foreign. Like she'd been poured back into a vessel that had been sitting empty too long and had gathered dust and decayed.

She tried to sit up. Failed. Her arms wouldn't obey. Her core had no strength. She was lying on something hard. The floor, she realized, of what had once been the dance studio of the community centre. The mirrors on the far wall were cracked, reflecting her sprawled form in a dozen fractured angles.

Was this the same place they'd sat around and played board games in, earlier? Hard to believe that wasn't even a day ago. It felt like another lifetime.

In a way, she supposed, still rubbing at her neck, it really was another lifetime. Another life.

I died.

"Easy." That was Lily's voice, softer than John's but still strained. Jade turned her head—a movement that required immense effort—and saw the American woman crouched nearby, holding a water bottle. "You haven't been dead for long, but… Well, your body might need to remember how to work."

Dead.

The word settled into her consciousness with surprising gentleness. Aye. She had been, hadn't she? She remembered the fight, the ninja in black, the blade that had moved faster than she could react. She remembered falling. Remembered the warm spreading sensation that should have been alarming but had felt almost peaceful. Remembered thinking, with bizarre clarity, that at least she wouldn't have to use Caustic Hand ever again.

Except here she was. Alive, apparently, through some mechanism of this godawful system she didn't understand and wasn't entirely certain she wanted to.

"How?" The word came out as a croak, her throat sandpapery despite the absence of any wound.

"John brought you back." Lily's mouth twitched, not quite a smile.

"I utilised a revival mechanic present in the System, based on the Souls we gain when we destroy portal worlds. It's available to everyone, as far as I can tell," John said, his tone flat. "You are currently non-combat effective. I have a plan to rectify this."

Jade stared at him. She wanted to ask what had happened to him, wanted to put an arm around his shoulder and tell him whatever it was would be okay, but she couldn't muster the strength to do either.

Strength, she thought, coming to a realisation as her eyes strayed down to her armoured body. She reached for her System. The gesture was automatic, instinctive. She'd been checking it compulsively for days now, ever since that first kill, monitoring the growing list of abilities like a cancer patient tracking tumour growth.

And there was… nothing.

No stats. No spells. No skills. No System.

The list of horrors was gone. Erased. Flesh Sear, Nerve Fire, Agony Cascade, Echo of Torment, and all the other fucking awful names were nowhere to be seen.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

She'd died, and the System had released its grip on her soul, and now she was just... just Jade. Just a person. Weak and powerless and free.

The relief that hit her then was unlike anything she'd ever felt. It was explosive, a wave of lightness that spread through her chest and threatened to crack her ribs with its intensity. She'd been carrying a weight she hadn't fully comprehended, a constant anxiety thrumming beneath every thought, the knowledge that she was one crisis away from having to inflict agony, to torture, to become the monster the System was crafting her into. And now it was gone.

The tumour had been excised. The chains had shattered. The constant screaming in the back of her mind, the voice that whispered you're a torturer, you're a killer, you're going to hurt someone again and you're going to have to watch them suffer and the System will reward you for it finally, mercifully, fell silent.

A laugh bubbled up from her chest. It turned into a cough halfway through, her body still remembering it had died, but she couldn't help it. She was free. She was weak, she was useless, she was a liability, but she was free, and Christ, she'd take that trade every single time.

"Jade?" Lily's hand was on her shoulder, concern creasing her features. "You alright?"

"Aye." Jade's voice was steadier now, though still rough. "I'm... I'm grand, actually. Brilliant. Fucking fantastic."

Lily and John exchanged a glance. Doug stepped into view from somewhere behind her, his weathered face drawn with exhaustion, grime streaked across his cheek. Chester hovered at the edge of her vision, his considerable bulk hunched with worry.

"You're not going to go into shock, are you, kid?," Doug muttered.

"No." Jade shook her head, managed to lever herself up onto one elbow. The movement made the world spin, but she pushed through it. Fuck, this armour was so much heavier now. "No, I'm not. I'm just..." She gestured vaguely at the empty air where her System interface hovered, invisible to them. "It's gone. All of it. The whole bloody nightmare. I'm clean."

Understanding dawned on Lily's face. "Your System reset."

"Better than reset. Wiped." Another laugh, this one less hysterical. "No more Pain points. No more torturer spells. I'm just... a wee lass from Inverness who can't fight for shite. And I've never been happier."

"You have nothing," John said, and there was still no inflection in his voice, no judgment or sympathy. Just that flat, clinical assessment. He was frowning in thought. "No combat capability. No defensive options. You are, by every tactical metric, a liability at this moment." And then, just for a moment, there was a crack in the facade, a moment of vulnerability, like a child facing judgement who was about to come up with an explanation that would stave off the scolding. "Again: I have a plan. You won't be vulnerable for long."

Jade snorted. "Aye. I'm sure you do."

The ended up helping her out of her heavy armour, replacing her soiled clothes with a generic men's white tee and a pair of joggers John had looted at some point, then moved her out into the car park. The community centre wasn't safe, apparently. It looked to her like it was ready to collapse, but they didn't know whether any of the ninja's traps would still be operational.

Left unsaid was why they would it would possibly be unoperational. No one was saying it, but Jade knew just from the look in John's eyes: the ninja wasn't going to be bothering them again. Not directly, anyway.

They hunkered down in a large wooden shed at the edge of the community centre's field. This new space was musty, moth-eaten carpets piled in the corner and a single grimy window that let in the perpetual crimson light of the burning sky.

Someone had wrapped her in a blanket on the way there. Lily, probably. It smelled faintly of mildew, but the weight of it was comforting. Grounding. A reminder that she had a body again, that she existed in physical space, that she was real.

The others were scattered around the room. Doug sat against the far wall, his eyes closed but his breathing too irregular for sleep. Chester was by the door, fidgeting with the straps on his makeshift armour. Lily stood by the window, her crossbow propped against the wall beside her, staring out at the ruined landscape of Watford.

John was apart from them all, standing in the corner with his arms crossed, and his face pointed toward the floor. He hadn't moved in minutes. Hadn't spoken. Just stood there like a statue, perfectly still except for the occasional twitch of his jaw.

Jade watched him. She couldn't help it. She'd spent the last few minutes trying not to think about her own situation—about what it meant to be alive but useless, to be a burden on people who needed every advantage just to survive—and watching John was easier than confronting her own problems.

She recognised what she was seeing. Of course she did. She'd worn the same look herself not long ago. The hollow eyes. The forced emptiness. The shoulders so tense they looked like they might snap. He was trying to pass it off as composure, as the cool detachment of someone in control, but she knew better.

The thought made her chest ache. She'd been cleansed. Death had washed away the System's taint, released her from the prison of Pain points and torture spells. But looking at John, she felt maybe the taint hadn't disappeared. It had just transferred. She'd been freed, and he'd stepped willingly into her cell and locked the door behind him.

"I have nothing," she said again, breaking the silence. Her voice was hoarse, but stronger than before. "My System... it's all gone."

"Aye, you said." Doug cracked one eye open, regarding her with a mix of sympathy and assessment. "And how're you feeling about that?"

"Relieved." The truth of it rang in her tone. "Terrified, mind you. Completely fucking terrified. But relieved."

"Makes sense." Doug shifted, wincing as his back cracked. "You had a shite System. Worse than most. Can't blame you for being glad to be rid of it."

Jade pulled the blanket tighter. "I'm a burden now."

"Aye."

The blunt confirmation made her flinch, but Doug's expression was kind. Tired, but kind. "Won't lie to you, lass. In a fight, you'll be about as useful as tits on a bull. But that doesn't mean you're worthless." He paused. "Just means we'll have to be smarter about how we move forward."

"We debated it," Lily said suddenly, still looking out the window. Her voice was quiet. "While you were dead. Whether to bring you back."

There was a beat of silence. Jade waited.

Lily turned from the window, meeting Jade's gaze. "I thought we should wait. Think it through. Make sure we had a plan for how to handle a non-combatant in a combat zone." She glanced at Doug. "Doug thought we should ask ourselves if you even wanted to come back."

"Can't exactly ask a corpse for consent," Doug grumbled.

"John made an executive decision." Lily's mouth twisted. "Spent a chunk of his resources to bring you back without waiting for input from any of us. Just... did it."

Jade looked at John. He still hadn't moved, hadn't acknowledged the conversation happening around him. But she saw the minute tightening of his jaw, the way his fingers dug slightly deeper into his biceps where his arms were crossed.

"Thank you," she said, directing the words at him.

No response. Not even a nod.

"John." Lily's voice held an edge. "She's talking to you."

"I am aware." His voice had returned to that flat monotone. "Acknowledgment is unnecessary. The action was tactically optimal, regardless of individual sentiment."

Tactically optimal to saddle yourself with a liability you have to protect, eh? Jade thought.

"Right. Yeah," Lily muttered, a sad look in her eyes as they lingered on him.

Jade tried to sit up properly, failed again, settled for propping herself more upright against the wall. "Listen. All of you." She waited until she had their attention. Even John's head turned fractionally in her direction, though she couldn't see his eyes behind the sunglasses. "I know I'm useless now. I ken that. But I'd still rather be here, alive and useless, than whatever cosmic shite was waiting for me at the end of that river. So... aye. Thank you. For bringing me back. Even if it was a tactical fucking nightmare."

A ghost of a smile crossed Lily's face. "River?"

"Long story. Don't ask me to explain it, because I cannae." Jade exhaled slowly. "What I can tell you is that I prefer being here, breathing and terrified, to the alternative. So s'pose I'm stuck with you lot. For better or worse."

"Mostly worse, probably," Doug said, but his tone was warmer now.

Chester cleared his throat. "We'll figure it out. We always do. Sort of."

"Your optimism is inspiring, lad," Doug said dryly.

The room fell quiet again, but it was a different quality of quiet now. Less tense. More resigned. They'd acknowledged the problem and decided, implicitly if not explicitly, that they'd deal with it anyway.

After a few moments, Doug cleared his throat. "Right then. We need to talk about what comes next." He looked at each of them in turn, his expression serious. "We can't stay here. Not after that ambush. Not with Jade..." He gestured vaguely at her. "In her current state."

"We should leave Watford." Lily said it firmly, no room for argument in her tone. "This place is a deathtrap. It was always a deathtrap, but now?" She shook her head. "We've got one person who can't fight. We're all exhausted. We've been pushing too hard for too long. We need to regroup. Get somewhere safer. Figure out our next move when we're not in immediate danger."

"Agreed," Chester said immediately. "I vote we get the hell out of here. Like, now. Immediately. As fast as possible."

Jade wanted to protest, wanted to insist she could take care of herself, but the words died in her throat. They were right. She was useless in a fight now. A liability that would get someone else killed if they tried to protect her.

"So we leave," Lily said. "We head back to wherever Alissa and Sam ended up, we regroup with them, and we figure out a long-term plan that doesn't involve suicide missions into death game arenas."

"No."

The word cut through the discussion like a blade. John hadn't moved from his position in the corner, but his voice carried absolute certainty. There was no volume or aggression to it, just a sense of indomitability.

"No?" Lily repeated, eyeing him warily.

"No." John's head came up, and even though Jade couldn't see his eyes, she could feel the weight of his stare. "I'm not leaving. I'm not abandoning the mission. I'm not walking away from clearing these portals."

"John—" Doug started.

"I refuse." Each word was clipped. "I refuse to abandon this place. I refuse to let them win. The death game, the monsters, the System, all of it. I'm not walking away."

"We're not talking about abandoning anything permanently," Lily said, frustration creeping into her voice. "We're talking about a tactical withdrawal. We leave, we heal up, we come back when we're stronger."

"No." The same flat refusal.

"For fuck's sake, John." Doug's patience was fraying. "Use your head. We've got a teammate who can't fight. We're all running on fumes. One of us died today. Died. You can't just—"

"I brought her back." John's voice didn't rise, but it hardened. "I can bring any of you back if necessary, as long as I have access to your corpse. Death is no longer a permanent consequence. Therefore, the tactical calculus has changed."

The room went silent. The casual way he'd said it made Jade's skin crawl.

"Listen to yourself," Lily said quietly. "Do you hear what you're saying?"

John didn't answer.

"It's for the best, John." Doug's voice was firm now, the authority of age and experience backing it. "Things have just gone tits up, and we're liable to make more mistakes in the state we're in. We'll go find Alissa and Sam, regroup, and reassess from there."

For a long moment, John said nothing. Then, slowly, deliberately, he nodded once. A curt motion that did not at all give the impression of agreement.

"Fine." The word was clipped. "We'll go to Alissa and Sam. We'll regroup."

Lily visibly relaxed. "Good. Thank you. We can—"

"But I'm not abandoning Watford." John's voice cut through her relief. "This is a delay. Not a retreat. We're coming back, and we're finishing what we started. I'm not walking away from this shitty death game. I'm not letting bulli— the bastards win."

The others exchanged glances.

"We'll discuss it when we get to Alissa," Doug said carefully. "When we're all rested and have had time to think clearly."

John nodded again, that same curt motion. "Fine." He turned and stalked toward the door. As he reached the threshold, he paused. "I'll scout ahead," he said, his voice returning to that flat monotone. "Prepare the route. Ensure it's safe for transport of a non-combatant."

Then he was gone, the door creaking shut behind him.

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