《Mackiaveli》 1.1 Oblivion The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the hum of flickering lights. Sarah Daniger stumbled back, eyes locked on the Sword of Shadows¡ªblack, jagged, and alive. It pulsed like a heartbeat, like it had been waiting for this moment. Robert Grieger grinned, the dim lab light casting shadows across his sharp features. His dark suit was torn at the sleeve, but the blood smeared across his hands wasn¡¯t his. Sarah clutched the data drive in her palm¡ªa last, desperate link to the man she loved. Then Grieger moved. Fast. Too fast. The sword came down in an arc of death. Sarah¡¯s breath hitched, but before she could react¡ªA blur of motion crashed into her, knocking her out of harm¡¯s way. Sarah hit the ground hard, her head smacking against the cold floor. The world spun. She blinked away the pain, her vision clearing just in time to see¡ª Steve McCall standing in front of her. His trench coat billowed from the impact, his hazel eyes locked onto hers¡ªbut they weren¡¯t filled with fear. They were filled with determination. ¡°Mack!¡± she gasped. Then, the blade plunged through him. Sarah¡¯s world fractured. But something was wrong. There was no blood. No dying gasp. Steve¡¯s body glitched¡ªhis skin pixelating, breaking apart into thousands of tiny fragments of light. ¡°Yep, that¡¯s me. You¡¯re probably wondering how I ended up in this situation.¡± Mackiaveli says, then the scene gradually slows down to a pause with Grieger¡¯s sword entering Mackiaveli as it stabs him through his chest. Steve McCall stood frozen, Grieger¡¯s sword buried deep in his chest. The blade pulsed¡ªcold, unnatural, alive. His breath caught, but there was no pain. No blood. Just a strange, static hum, as if his body were¡­ breaking apart. Sarah¡¯s horrified scream echoed through the burning wreckage of the lab, her face twisted in agony as she reached for him. But she couldn¡¯t. Because his fingers¡ªhis entire body¡ªwas glitching, dissolving into pixels, drifting away like embers in the wind. ¡°Well, to get here, we¡¯ve gotta rewind a little bit.¡± Then the scene quickly rewinds until the world fades to black. ONE YEAR EARLIER The night air settled heavy over the remote ranch, a sprawling estate in the middle of nowhere. The compound had been built for secrecy, its underground lab reinforced with state-of-the-art security, but that didn¡¯t matter now. ¡°It all started a year ago after the Auracron Prime competition. I landed the job I wanted for years and was married to the girl of my dreams. But of course there was trouble in paradise.¡± Inside, in a dimly lit control room, Sarah and Steve were arguing. ¡°Just admit it, Mack!¡± Sarah¡¯s hands balled into fists, her golden-brown eyes flashing with fury. ¡°I saw the messages! Who the hell is ¡®Maya¡¯?!¡± Steve exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. ¡°Sarah, it¡¯s not what you think!¡± Her glare didn¡¯t soften. ¡°Right. Because secret messages and late-night ¡®work meetings¡¯ always mean nothing!¡± Steve threw his hands up. ¡°Jesus, Sarah, listen to me! It¡¯s not about that! I got a message from Leonard. You remember Leonard, right? My brother-in-law? He was at our wedding. He sent me something urgent¡ªhe and Leo are on the run. And my sister¡ªJennifer¡ªis missing.¡± Sarah¡¯s expression flickered. ¡°Wait. What?¡± Steve nodded, his voice dropping lower. ¡°It¡¯s the Commission. They got her two weeks ago. We¡¯ve been trying to find her.¡± The words hung heavy between them. Sarah¡¯s anger melted into something far worse¡ªfear. The Commission. The same shadow organization that controlled the deep layers of Another Life VR, the ones who decided who got to play God. If they had Jennifer Casari¡­ Sarah took a breath. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me?¡± ¡°Because I didn¡¯t want you involved.¡± ¡°Too late for that.¡± Then¡ªA loud BEEP! The screen next to them flashed red¡ªan intrusion alert. Steve and Sarah whipped around, staring at the display. A dozen black SUVs were rolling up the dirt road, their headlights slicing through the darkness. Sarah¡¯s face drained of color. ¡°Oh my god. I forgot.¡± Steve narrowed his eyes. ¡°Forgot what?¡± She swallowed hard. ¡°I¡­ I called the office. To quit.¡± Steve¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°You did what?¡± Before she could answer¡ªBOOM! The reinforced doors exploded inward, sending metal shrapnel flying across the lab. The force knocked Sarah off her feet, slamming her against the console. Smoke filled the air, alarms blaring, red emergency lights casting everything in a hellish glow. Steve shielded his eyes as figures in tactical gear stormed inside. And then¡ªGrieger walked in. Dressed in black tactical gear, Robert Grieger moved like a predator, his piercing gaze sweeping the room with casual arrogance. Beside him, Dirk Welsby III¡ªgrinning like a man ready to watch a public execution. Grieger smirked. ¡°Lieutenant. It¡¯s time for your revenge.¡± Dirk cracked his knuckles. ¡°Been waiting for this, boss. These two ruined my career. Let¡¯s kill them, now.¡± A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Grieger pulled out his sword from it¡¯s sheath. A dark unnatural resonant tone HUMMED! through the air. The vibrations caused everyone except Grieger to wince. Welsby even took an extra step back from Grieger due to the sheen amount of power emanating from the Sword. ¡°The Sword of Shadow and Pain is calling out to you Sarah, or is it you Steve McCall? Maybe it wants both of you? His eyes flashed crimson red. Sarah¡¯s hands clenched into fists and she turned to look away from the strange man with a sword to yell at Welsby. ¡°You ruined your own damn career, you misogynistic prick!¡± Dirk¡¯s grin twisted. ¡°Still got that smart mouth, huh? That¡¯s okay. You won¡¯t have it much longer.¡± Steve stepped forward, standing between Sarah and Grieger¡¯s squad. Grieger sighed dramatically, slowly twirling the Sword of Shadows with his wrist to prepare to stabbing motion. The room dimmed, as if the air itself recoiled from the weapon¡¯s presence. ¡°Enough games,¡± Grieger said. ¡°This little lady will be no more. Just like Jennifer Casari.¡± Sarah froze. Her pulse pounded in her ears. She barely heard Steve¡¯s snarl of rage before he lunged in front of her¡ª And the sword plunged into his chest. His fingers twitched as he tried to reach for her, but his hand phased through the air, flickering in and out like a corrupted data file. Grieger staggered back, his grip tightening on the sword, staring in disbelief. ¡°What the hell? RUN!!!¡± he muttered. Steve¡¯s eyes met Sarah¡¯s one last time. A faint, broken smile. Then¡ªHe was gone. His body dissolved into the air, leaving only empty space where he had stood. Sarah choked on a sob. ¡°No. No, no, no.¡± This wasn¡¯t¡ªthis couldn¡¯t be real. She scrambled forward, hands grasping at nothing. Steve McCall was gone. Not dead. Deleted. A hollow scream ripped from her throat. But instinct took over. She ran. Robert Grieger stood still, his gaze locked on the Sword of Shadows. The blade hummed, its once dull steel now glowing with a sinister energy. ¡°I see you¡¯ve found what you came to eat,¡± he murmured. The sword shuddered, almost as if responding. Grieger rolled his shoulders, the tension melting away as a satisfied smirk crept across his face. His men shifted behind him, uneasy. One of them¡ªhelmeted, combat gear still fresh from the skirmish¡ªswallowed hard. ¡°What about the girl?¡± Grieger barely spared him a glance. ¡°Seems she wasn¡¯t the real target,¡± he said simply. ¡°The Sword wanted him.¡± Lieutenant Welsby hesitated. ¡°But she knows¡ªand you promised we would kill¡­¡± ¡°Silence. Stop whining Lieutenant. We¡¯ll find her. She won''t be able to hide for long.¡± A sinister look appeared on both of their faces. ¡°We got what we came for. Let¡¯s move.¡± ¡°Yes, Sir!¡± Welsby replied with a salute. That was all. No discussion. No second thoughts. Just absolute certainty. The squad fell in line, leaving behind the empty air where Steve McCall had once stood. Sarah¡¯s hands shook as she shoved the key into the ignition. The engine roared. She slammed her foot onto the gas. The tires screeched, and the car lurched forward, speeding away from the facility. Tears blurred her vision, her breath coming in short, ragged sobs. This wasn¡¯t real. It couldn¡¯t be real. Steve was gone. And there was nothing left of him. Nothingness. No sound. No sight. Just void. Then¡ªA sound. At first, it was distant. A whisper, an echo that barely touched his senses. Then it grew. A howl, shrill and hollow, like wind screaming through shattered glass. Then another. Then dozens. The void shifted, shadows twisting like living things, and suddenly¡ªHe wasn¡¯t alone. Shapes rose from the darkness, thin and jagged, their forms barely visible, ghostly white against the abyss. Wraiths. Not just shadows. Hungry things. They moved like broken code, their figures stuttering, bending in ways that shouldn¡¯t be possible. Their hollow faces turned toward him, but there were no eyes¡ªonly black voids where faces should be. Then they screamed. A high-pitched, unnatural shriek that tore through his bones, rattling his skull. His instincts kicked in before his mind did. His hands twitched, and suddenly¡ªWeight. At his sides, he could feel them. Two short swords, hilts warm against his palms. They hadn¡¯t been there before. They had appeared, summoned into existence like part of the system itself. No time to question it. The first wraith lunged, clawed fingers stretching toward his throat¡ªHe moved. The golden glow around him intensified, outlining his form like a beacon in the dark. The swords came free, and his body responded on instinct, muscle memory guiding him as he slashed through the creature¡¯s chest. The wraith let out a horrific, glitched scream as its form shattered into static, evaporating into the nothingness. Another came Then another. He turned, slicing through them, his blades leaving trails of golden energy as they cut. The wraiths kept coming, their numbers endless, surrounding him in the shifting blackness. He moved faster. Duck. Slash. Pivot. Strike. His breath came sharp and ragged, but his body refused to slow. The more he fought, the brighter he glowed, until¡ª Darkness swallowed everything. The wraiths were gone. The void returned to silence. Only his glow remained, pulsing softly against the abyss. And then¡ªA single line of code blinked into existence. SYSTEMBOOTING¡­SYSTEM BOOTING¡­SYSTEMBOOTING¡­ LOADING ENTITY:USERID?"MACKIAVELI" LOADING ENTITY: USER ID - "MACKIAVELI" LOADING ENTITY:USERID?"MACKIAVELI" A burst of golden light erupted in the darkness. Then¡ªGravity. Steve fell. Hard. His body slammed onto solid ground, knocking the air from his lungs. His eyes snapped open. Above him, the sky stretched endlessly¡ªa deep twilight of purples and electric blues, the clouds pixelated, glitching at the edges. A strange wind ruffled his trench coat, though there was no source for it. His fingers dug into the dirt¡ªexcept it wasn¡¯t dirt. It was something¡­ else. A texture. A simulation. Then¡ªA translucent HUD interface blinked into view in the corner of his vision. LOADING COMPLETE LOADING COMPLETE LOADING COMPLETE WELCOME TO ANOTHER LIFE VR His vision glitches like a computer error, and then¡ª WELCOME TO AFTERLIFE. . . ANOTHER LIFE VR WELCOME TO ANOTHER LIFE VR Steve froze. His breath hitched. His heart pounded. No. No, no¡ª He shot to his feet, his body moving too smoothly¡ªlike his reflexes had been perfectly tuned. His hands flew to his face, his chest¡ªhe was whole. But something was wrong. Steve took a shaky breath, then spoke the command out loud. Log out. Nothing. His stomach twisted. Log out! He yelled in his mind. ERROR:USER CAN NOT EXIT SESSION ERROR: USER CAN NOT EXIT SESSION ERROR:USER CANNOT EXIT SESSION RESTRICTION CODE:00X?MAKO?PRIME RESTRICTION CODE: 00X-MAKO-PRIME RESTRICTION CODE:00X?MAKO?PRIME¡­ Steve¡¯s vision blurred. His thoughts fractured, spiraling into panic. No. No, this isn''t right. I should be dead. I felt it. I saw myself¡ªSarah saw¡ª But I''m here. I feel... I feel... real? He swallowed hard. Switch to Zeus Nothing. His hands shook. Switch to Zeus! He shouted in his mind again. Nothing. No override. No admin panel. No escape. The realization hit him like a sledgehammer. Steve McCall was gone. Only Mackiaveli remained. And this? This was his After Life. 1.2 Respawn The world flickered into existence. For a moment, there was nothing but darkness¡ªa void so vast it felt like he was being stretched into oblivion. Then, like a slow-rendering game asset, the textures of reality loaded in around him. His lungs filled with air¡ªreal air. His skin tingled, his body solid, tangible. A sharp pain lanced through his skull, a splitting migraine that pulsed behind his eyes. His stomach twisted violently, as if his body was rejecting the very act of existing again. The sensation was wrong, too real. Mackiaveli hit the ground hard, breath coming in sharp gasps. He tried to move, but a wave of dizziness forced him to his knees. The world felt too real¡ªevery breath, every sensation crashing over him in overwhelming clarity. It was as if his senses had been reset to factory settings, and his mind couldn''t keep up. The sky above him was an unnatural swirl of deep twilight hues¡ªnot quite day, not quite night. Clouds hung glitching at the edges, their forms breaking apart before reforming again. A distant horizon stretched infinitely, dotted with looming digital monoliths, structures that seemed both ancient and futuristic. The air was thick with an eerie hum, as if the world itself was whispering secrets he couldn¡¯t quite hear. The ground beneath him was solid, but the textures¡ªoff. It looked like stone. It felt like stone. But when he ran his fingers across it, there was an ever-so-slight lag between sensation and response. He wasn¡¯t just in Another Life VR. He was part of it. Mackiaveli pushed himself up, his body heavy, sluggish. There was a noticeable difference¡ªeverything about him felt... diminished. His strength, his speed, his awareness¡ªall of it was a fraction of what it should be. He clenched his fists, feeling the way his muscles moved¡ªnot as fluid, not as powerful. His body was responding like he was human again¡ªnot the demigod-level player he had been before. "Something¡¯s not right." He turned his hands over, examining them. No glow. No latent energy pulsing through his veins. He used to feel power vibrating through his haptics which would feel like it was beneath his avatar¡¯s skin, but now? It was like trying to light a match in a vacuum. For the first time in years, he felt... weak in game. "I barely made it through those Wraiths." His breath came faster. He clenched his fists, willing something¡ªanything¡ªto happen. But there was no surge of power, no reassuring hum beneath his skin. What if it wasn¡¯t just a reset? What if this was permanent? A cold sweat formed at the back of his neck. He had fought gods in this world, walked through fire and void, but now¡ªhe was nothing. Worse than nothing. He was mortal. The memory hit him again¡ªthe shrieking void creatures, the way they swarmed him in darkness. He had cut them down with instinct alone, his body moving as if something else was guiding it. But that power wasn¡¯t his anymore. He needed answers. "Status," he muttered. A translucent interface snapped into existence, displaying his player profile. PLAYER PROFILE - MACKIAVELI Class: ??? (Data Unavailable) Respawn Status: Active (Unrecognized Entry Point) Primary Abilities: Stats: (Compared to Previous Max Level -95% Reduction) WARNING: SYSTEM RESTRICTIONS IN PLACE NOTE: Player must complete an Initial Registration Quest Mackiaveli stared at the stats, his mind racing. "No Perfusion Control. No Void Control. My Spirit and Shadow abilities are reduced to almost beginner-level." He flexed his fingers, expecting light to pulse from his hands¡ªnothing. He tried to phase into the shadows¡ªbarely a flicker. This wasn¡¯t just a reset. This was a complete nerfing of his existence. "I was a god in this world. Now, I¡¯m a damn tutorial-level scrub." The thought burned. He had spent years mastering these abilities, coding his own systems into the game. Now? Everything he built was stripped away. "Alright. Let¡¯s test something." He tapped the code interface in his mind, the one that had always been there when he played as an admin and developer. Nothing. "Okay. What about system overrides?" He tried to force an exploit, the same way he used to bypass security layers and rewrite skill parameters on the fly. [ERROR: INSUFFICIENT PERMISSIONS] A system chime rang in his ears¡ªsharp, artificial. ALERT: UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS ATTEMPT DETECTED. WARNING: DEVELOPER PRIVILEGES HAVE BEEN REVOKED. YOU ARE SUBJECT TO STANDARD PLAYER ENFORCEMENT. "What the¡ª" Mackiaveli stiffened. That was new. Before, if he tripped a security protocol, he could just rewrite it. Now? It was locking him out¡ªand watching. His gaze flickered toward the skyline, scanning the digital monoliths. Were they watching him now? Was someone¡ªor something¡ªtracking his movements? He turned his head slowly, scanning the skyline. The towering monoliths loomed in the distance, their surfaces rippling with unreadable data streams. For a brief second, he thought he saw a flicker¡ªlike a lens adjusting focus¡ªbut when he blinked, it was gone. His fingers twitched toward his HUD menu, but something in the back of his mind screamed at him not to act too suspicious. If something¡ªor someone¡ªwas watching, the last thing he wanted to do was confirm he knew. He wasn¡¯t outside the system anymore. He was inside it. That changed everything. A soft chime rang in the air. His HUD flickered, displaying a new notification. NEW QUEST RECEIVED Objective: Check-In at the Nearest Help Desk Details: As a new player, you must register your status for access to Another Life VR¡¯s services. Reward: Entry-Level Permissions Mackiaveli narrowed his eyes. "You¡¯ve got to be kidding me. A damn tutorial mission?!" His hand twitched, tempted to ignore it, but... he needed information. And he needed Stroma AI. He opened the system communication panel. "Contact Stroma AI." A pause. Then, a soft, digital voice¡ªcalm, neutral, and infuriatingly polite¡ªspoke into his mind. STROMA AI: "Hello, Mackiaveli. Welcome to Another Life VR! It looks like you are a new player. Would you like assistance in navigating the game world?" The AI¡¯s voice was smooth, professional¡ªbut there was something off about it. A forced cheerfulness, like an overly rehearsed customer service script. Too neutral, too manufactured. STROMA AI: "We¡¯re so happy to have you here in Another Life VR! Your adventure is just beginning!" His jaw tightened. The last time he¡¯d spoken to Stroma, the AI had been clinical, direct¡ªthis was something else. A different personality profile? A reprogrammed behavior tree? Whatever the reason, it made his skin crawl. His teeth clenched. "Stroma, it''s me. I need direct access. Developer permissions. Full system override." A long silence. Then¡ª STROMA AI: "I''m sorry, Mackiaveli. That level of access is restricted. However, I can direct you to the nearest help desk to begin your journey!" A new system alert popped up. QUEST UPDATE: Proceed to Stroma Help Desk. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. Mackiaveli stared at the glowing objective marker on his map. "...You''re telling me I have to check in like a damn noob?" STROMA AI: "Would you like to track your current quest?" "...Sure, Stroma. Why not." A blinking waypoint appeared in his vision, guiding him toward the nearest city hub. Mackiaveli exhaled, shaking his head. "Fine. First step in figuring out what the hell happened to me." He started walking, his mind racing with questions. But one thought refused to leave him. "Someone did this to me. And when I find out who¡­ They''re gonna wish I stayed dead." Mackiaveli walked. The roads leading into StromaTerra stretched far ahead, paved in a metallic-black obsidian, pulsing faintly with glowing blue energy. Towers lined the horizon, each one an impossible mix of futuristic digital architecture and ancient stone-like structures, their edges rippling with shifting patterns. The moment he crossed into the city boundary, a faint pulse rippled through the air, as if the system had acknowledged his presence. NPCs and player avatars bustled through the streets, their outfits ranging from high-tech combat gear to medieval robes, some riding hovering mounts, others weaving through market stalls filled with AI-crafted weapons, potions, and rare gear. He had walked into a living, breathing metropolis¡ªbut something was off. He could feel it. Eyes were on him. Not in the way they should be¡ªnot the way players recognized a famous champion. It was... familiarity, not reverence. As he passed, NPCs acknowledged him with nods, some with slight smirks, as if they knew him¡ªbut not the way he was supposed to be known. "Yo, Mack!" He turned, spotting a blacksmith NPC, a massive man with a cybernetic arm, hammering away at an energy-infused anvil. The NPC wiped his brow and grinned. "Didn¡¯t expect to see you back so soon, man. You just disappeared on us for a while. You finally done with all that secret mission stuff?" Mackiaveli kept his face neutral. "Something like that," he replied smoothly. He hesitated. The familiarity in the blacksmith¡¯s voice was too easy, too natural¡ªlike he had always been expected to return. But the way the NPC smiled¡­ it wasn¡¯t admiration. It was acknowledgment. Mackiaveli forced himself to nod, slipping back into his usual confidence, but beneath it, unease gnawed at him. The blacksmith chuckled, shaking his head. "Always cryptic. That¡¯s what we love about you. Well, if you need gear, you know where to find me. And if you¡¯re still looking for work, the old crew¡¯s been wondering if you¡¯d show up again." Mackiaveli nodded and kept moving. As he walked further into the city, the conversations around him felt... off. Players and NPCs spoke freely, but their words carried implications he wasn¡¯t ready to process yet. Near a marketplace, two players in high-tier armor chatted over a holographic map. "Bro, StromaTerra 2.0 is dropping in ten days. You hear what they¡¯re doing with Stone Chronicles?" "Yeah, total reset. Unless you got legacy access, everyone¡¯s starting from scratch." A third player, a woman in a sleek cloak, shook her head. "I heard Auracron Prime is holding onto some classified data about the original world. You know, the first build?" "Oh yeah. StromaTerra Version 1.0? Ancient. Barely anyone plays here anymore unless they¡¯re running archives. Most of the big names already ported over." "Not everyone," the cloaked woman said. "I heard someone came back." Mackiaveli¡¯s pace slowed. "Who?" "Dunno. Just rumors. Some guy who wasn¡¯t supposed to be here." His jaw clenched. He needed answers. As he neared a glowing information terminal, he activated his Stroma AI interface. STROMA AI: "Welcome to StromaTerra! How can I assist you today?" "Stroma. What version of the game is this?" STROMA AI: "You are currently in StromaTerra Version 1.0. Would you like an introductory tour?" "How long has this version been active?" "StromaTerra Version 1.0 has been in operation for approximately one year." Mackiaveli¡¯s heartbeat spiked. "And... before that? What was the previous version?" "There was no previous version of StromaTerra. This is the first and original version." His blood ran cold. That wasn¡¯t a lie but not exactly the truth. They created the Alpha Version of StromaTerra, with plans to launch the Beta version in two weeks. However, he died, and it was a year later. "Stroma, what is my original registration date?" "Mackiaveli, your account registration is listed as¡ªERROR. Data corrupted." Before this... what was the last thing I remember? Darkness. Screams¡ªhis own? No. Theirs. The Wraiths had come fast, endless, their shrieks splitting the void. He remembered fighting¡ªthen falling. Then... nothing. No death screen. No countdown. Just an abyss. A shiver crawled down his spine. He was missing time. And the system wasn¡¯t just blocking his stats¡ªit was hiding the truth. He wasn¡¯t in his original game. He was in its graveyard. A new notification popped up on his HUD. NEW QUEST RECEIVED Objective: Visit Stroma Help Desk for Full Account Verification Details: Your records indicate inconsistencies. To access full player privileges, check in at the designated Stroma Help Desk. Reward: System Clearance Level 1 Mackiaveli stared at the quest for a long moment. "Don¡¯t tell me this is just a damn tutorial help desk." He sighed, rubbing his temples. "Well, only one way to find out." And with that, he set off toward his next destination, unknowingly walking toward the truth that would change everything. The Stroma Help Desk stood at the heart of StromaTerra¡¯s central hub, nestled between towering monolithic structures of shifting metal and light. It looked deceptively normal¡ªa sleek, corporate-style information center with large, holographic banners flashing announcements about in-game events and updates. Mackiaveli stepped inside, expecting nothing more than a basic registration terminal. Instead, he was greeted by a line¡ªa long, miserable line of avatars, most of whom looked just as confused as he felt. NPC clerks sat behind glowing reception desks, wearing their regulation blue uniforms, calling out players one by one. A familiar irritation crept up Mack¡¯s spine. "Great. I¡¯m dead, I¡¯m in a video game, and I still have to wait in line." He almost turned around. Then he saw him. Behind the main registration desk, tapping through a holographic interface with exaggerated, passive-aggressive precision, was a bald man in a long event-coordinator robe, his sharp eyes flicking toward Mack with immediate disdain. "No. Way." Mackiaveli''s stomach sank. He recognized that man. Reginald Callahan, the former Event Coordinator of Another Life VR. A once loyal but smug NPC who had worked alongside him in the old days¡ªuntil Mack had written a system update that made him obsolete. And Callahan knew it. Their eyes locked. A slow, deliberate smirk crept across Callahan¡¯s face. ¡°Well, well, well. Look who it is. Mackiaveli.¡± Mack¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°Callahan. Didn¡¯t know you were still around. Thought they retired you.¡± Callahan leaned forward, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. ¡°Retired? Oh, no, no. I was... repurposed.¡± Mackiaveli narrowed his eyes. Repurposed. That meant Callahan hadn¡¯t been erased like other obsolete NPCs. Why? NPCs didn¡¯t get lucky breaks in this world. They were either useful or deleted. ¡°Someone decided you were worth keeping around,¡± Mack said slowly. ¡°I wonder why.¡± Callahan¡¯s smirk didn¡¯t waver, but there was something in his gaze¡ªamusement, but also certainty. ¡°Apparently, there was a demand for me here. Nostalgia, you know?¡± His smirk widened. ¡°Unlike you, I didn¡¯t just vanish off the map for a year.¡± Mackiaveli¡¯s muscles tensed. "So he knows about my ¡®death.¡¯" ¡°I need Legacy Access.¡± Mack didn¡¯t bother sugarcoating it. Callahan chuckled. ¡°Oh, do you? And what makes you think I¡¯d just hand that over?¡± Mack leaned in. ¡°Because you don¡¯t want to make me an enemy again, Callahan.¡± Callahan¡¯s smile twitched, but he held firm. ¡°Hah. Here¡¯s the thing, Mack. You were a legend, once. But now? You¡¯re an antique. A footnote. You¡¯re not in StromaTerra 2.0. You¡¯re a relic they stuck in here to entertain the few players who care about the past.¡± Mack¡¯s teeth clenched. Callahan leaned back, his smirk widening. He was savoring this¡ªdrinking in Mack¡¯s new, powerless state like a fine wine. ¡°You know," Callahan mused, tapping his fingers against his desk, "there was a time when I thought you were untouchable. But look at you now." His tone dripped with mock sympathy. "Back at the bottom. Bet that stings, huh?" ¡°Let¡¯s just cut to the chase, Reg. What¡¯s the damn quest?¡± Callahan sighed theatrically, waving a hand over his interface. A system alert popped up in Mack¡¯s HUD. NEW QUEST RECEIVED Objective: Complete the trial to Gain Permanent Legacy Access to StromaTerra 1.0 Details: You have been recognized as a legacy entity. However, proof of worthiness is required. Requirements: Complete a combat, endurance, and wit challenge within four in-game hours. Restrictions: No fast travel. No outside help. Bonus Challenge: Retrieve your stolen inventory before the final trial. Reward: Permanent Legacy Access & Porting Privileges to StromaTerra 2.0 Mack¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°¡®Retrieve my stolen inventory¡¯? What the hell does that mean?¡± Callahan grinned. ¡°Oh, that? Just a little... setback. Seems like someone accidentally withdrew your entire coin stash while processing your registration.¡± Mack¡¯s stomach dropped. He opened his inventory menu. Gold: 0.00 Mack looked up, fury burning in his veins. ¡°You son of a¡ª¡± Callahan leaned back, folding his hands behind his head. ¡°Oops. Looks like you¡¯ll have to get it back the hard way. Hope your weak body can handle this quest, Mack.¡± Mack¡¯s hand twitched toward his sword. But before he could act¡ª SYSTEM ALERT TIME REMAINING: 3 HOURS, 59 MINUTES STROMA AI: ¡°Mackiaveli, your quest has begun! Please proceed to your first trial location before time expires. Good luck¡ªyou¡¯re going to need it!¡± The floor beneath him pulsed, a golden rune circle forming beneath his feet. A flicker of data scrolled across his HUD before he could react. A name¡ª Trial Sector: The Hollow Depths. His vision warped, colors bleeding. Just before the teleport hit, he caught a glimpse of something¡ªmassive chains looping through shattered towers, something lurking in the dark below. Then¡ªblinding light. ¡°Wait¡ª¡± The flash of white light engulfed him. The teleportation wasn¡¯t instant¡ªit was wrong. He felt himself pulling apart, fragments of his code unraveling before stitching back together. His vision fractured, splitting into a thousand shifting frames of reality, each flickering out of sync. For a brief, horrifying moment, he wasn¡¯t sure if he was still himself. Then the world snapped back into place. And just like that¡ªhe was gone. Callahan grinned once more as he spoke into his wrist. "This is Keeper 31 Mission accomplished. Subject en route." "Acknowledged." The voice on the other end responded. 1.3 Gladiator **Ready for Veil of Titan: The Sentients? Book 5 of the VOT Series - Dani, Vessa, and Mackiaveli team up again to fight a demon horde. This book is action-packed and full of mystery and intrigue.** **Stay tuned! Book release on March 21, 2025 Click Here to Buy ** The sky exploded in fire. Mackiaveli hit the ground hard, rolling over jagged stone as the air filled with screams, steel, and system alerts flashing red in his HUD. The teleportation light barely faded before a massive, flaming spear slammed into the earth inches from his face, sending molten debris in every direction. "You¡¯ve got to be kidding me!" The battlefield was chaos incarnate. Jagged ruins, shattered spires, and colossal iron chains dangled from the sky, stretching into a blinding, celestial void. SYSTEM ALERT: Hollow Depths The system had dumped him right into the middle of a war zone. SYSTEM ALERT: ENGAGING IN BATTLE SURVIVAL MODE ENABLED QUEST UPDATED: SURVIVE THE WAR Objective: Escape the Hollow Depths Bonus Objective: Defeat a Field Commander "Great. First I lose my gold, now I get thrown into a goddamn war." A warhorn bellowed. From the horizon, armored warriors clashed in a brutal melee¡ªbarbarian warriors in fur and bone armor, wielding massive iron weapons, tore through legions of heavily armed soldiers, their glimmering golden shields marked with the Roman insignia. A barbarian raider rushed at him, a rusted cleaver swinging toward his skull. Mackiaveli sidestepped, barely ducking in time before instinct took over. He drove his knee into the raider¡¯s ribs, then pivoted, slicing his short sword across the warrior¡¯s exposed neck. Blood sprayed, then pixelated into data fragments. The body hit the dirt. Mackiaveli didn¡¯t stop moving. SYSTEM ALERT: +50 EXP GAINED NEW SKILL UNLOCKED: BATTLE INSTINCT ¨C LEVEL 1 A brutal rhythm took over¡ªthe kind of fluid combat only years of experience could teach. He twisted through the chaos, rolling between warriors mid-clash, deflecting strikes with precise parries, and counterattacking with deadly efficiency. But his movements weren¡¯t perfect. He wasn¡¯t as fast as he used to be. His Spirit Control barely activated, and his Shadow Control wasn¡¯t strong enough yet to phase-dodge attacks. Every step felt too real. Too slow. Too mortal. "Damn it¡ªno void powers, no high-tier skills, and barely any energy reserves. I¡¯m basically fighting like a low-level grunt!" Another barbarian lunged¡ªthis one larger, meaner, wielding a warhammer the size of a small car. Mackiaveli had no time to react. The warhammer swung down¡ª SYSTEM OVERRIDE ¨C EMERGENCY EVASION ENABLED His body moved before he could think. He twisted midair, barely dodging the warhammer¡¯s devastating impact, rolling across the ground before thrusting his sword forward¡ª The blade plunged into the raider¡¯s chest. The barbarian howled, blood spurting from his mouth, before Mack twisted the sword and ripped it free. SYSTEM ALERT: +200 EXP GAINED NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: ADAPTIVE COMBAT LVL 1 Mackiaveli panted, gripping his sword tightly as more warriors swarmed the battlefield. He wasn¡¯t getting out of here unless he thought tactically. But before he could plan his next move¡ª A blinding golden light engulfed the battlefield. The ground shook. From the cliffs above, legions of golden-armored soldiers descended, their shields locked in formation, their spears glinting in the light of a burning sky. A voice boomed across the battlefield. "BARBARIANS! LAY DOWN YOUR ARMS. YOU NOW BELONG TO THE ROMAN EMPIRE." SYSTEM ALERT: GLOBAL EVENT TRIGGERED NEW STATUS: CAPTURED Mackiaveli barely had time to react before the Roman forces swept through the battlefield like a tidal wave, subduing both sides with ruthless efficiency. A brutal strike to the back of his head sent Mackiaveli sprawling, his vision flickering, his HUD glitching. Strong hands gripped his arms, shackling him in place. "Oh, come on!" He tried to resist, but his energy was depleted. "Guess I would¡¯ve lost my gold anyway," he muttered, laughing as he was dragged into a massive iron cage. The iron cage rattled violently, rolling through the uneven, filth-covered streets of Rome. Chains clanked, bodies shifted uncomfortably, and the scent of sweat, blood, and decay clung to the air like a second skin. Mackiaveli sat wedged between two massive barbarian warriors, their glaring eyes burning with silent fury as they bounced with the movement of the slave cart. The crowd gathered along the streets, jeering, spitting, and hurling whatever they could find. A half-rotten tomato smashed against the iron bars, the juices splattering across Mackiaveli¡¯s already dirt-streaked face. He exhaled slowly. "Okay. This is getting a little too immersive." The ARET Module had clearly changed how Another Life VR processed its environmental physics. Every scent, every sensation, the heat of the sun beating down on his back¡ªall of it was real. And then¡ªSomething much worse hit him. His stomach twisted as a foul, gut-wrenching smell assaulted his nose. A dark, steaming mass of human filth splattered against the bars, barely missing him by inches. Mackiaveli recoiled, eyes widening as he watched an old, toothless man smirking beneath his toga, his hand still outstretched from throwing the disgusting projectile. "Oh, come on, man!" Mackiaveli growled, wiping his face as best he could. A chorus of laughter erupted from the crowd. More Roman citizens lifted their tunics, grabbing handfuls of their own filth, flinging it at the cages like it was some kind of twisted sport. "Damnit. This is disgusting." Mackiaveli had seen gruesome, gut-churning mechanics in VR before, but this? This was next-level brutality. "I swear, if I ever get admin access back, I''m turning all of you into respawn fodder." A barbarian next to him grunted, his expression unreadable. The slave convoy pushed forward, cutting through the winding streets. The stone buildings loomed, their intricate carvings catching the high sun¡¯s glow. Rome was breathtaking¡ªa sprawling, digital recreation so flawless, Mackiaveli could barely spot the seams of the simulation. For the first time since waking up in this world, he felt uneasy. How the hell did they manage this level of realism? This isn¡¯t just Next-Gen. This is beyond the engine limits I programmed. It shouldn¡¯t even be possible. He knew Auracron Prime had upgraded the system, but this felt like something else entirely. Then the gates to the slave market loomed ahead. Mackiaveli felt it before he saw it¡ªa pressure in the air, the unmistakable weight of deep corruption. The slave carts stopped in a massive, sunlit courtyard, where hundreds of Roman elites, merchants, and lowlife brokers examined the latest batch of human property. A fat auctioneer stood at the center platform, his voice booming over the murmurs of the gathered spectators. "Welcome, noble buyers, to today¡¯s glorious offering of strength and servitude! Behold¡ªthe finest warriors from the frontlines!" The cages were opened, and the prisoners were yanked out, their chains rattling. Mackiaveli stepped out cautiously, scanning the crowd of buyers. His eyes narrowed as he took in the scene. It wasn¡¯t just a slave market. It was something else. Some of the merchants whispered in hushed tones, exchanging strange coded phrases. A few high-ranking buyers bore insignias not of Rome, but something older, something off-grid. And then there were the hooded figures¡ªsilent, watching, waiting. Something was happening beneath the surface of this trade, and Mackiaveli had the sinking feeling that this was all part of the game¡¯s hidden architecture. A loud crack echoed as one of the Roman guards whipped a prisoner who resisted, sending a barbarian warrior to his knees. Mackiaveli clenched his fists. "Yeah, I don¡¯t think I¡¯m gonna be okay with this." His mind raced¡ªhe needed an angle, a plan. If this was a side story to his Legacy Trial, then there was a way to use it. But before he could think further, he felt it¡ªA presence. A cold shiver ran down his spine. Across the marketplace, standing beneath the shade of a marble column, was a hooded figure, hands moving subtly through the air. Mackiaveli¡¯s blood ran cold. No. Not him. The hooded man¡¯s fingers glowed with ghostly blue runes, subtle spellcasting hidden in plain sight. And then, for just a second, their eyes met. The hacker grinned. A slow, mocking grin. Mackiaveli¡¯s heart pounded, and he growled in a low voice. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. "What the hell are YOU doing here?" The last time he had seen this bastard, it had been in a completely different life¡ªa nightmare memory from the old world. And now? Here? In the depths of Rome¡¯s most corrupted underbelly? The hacker raised a single hand, fingers poised in a snapping motion. Mackiaveli¡¯s stomach twisted. The moment he snapped his fingers¡ªEverything would change. The auction square was a pit of heat, dust, and violence. It wasn¡¯t just a market¡ªit was a testing ground for blood. The sun cast long, merciless shadows, baking the ground hot enough to burn bare feet, while the stench of unwashed bodies and animal dung mixed with the overwhelming scent of fresh sweat and dried blood. Mackiaveli stood at the edge of the ring, his wrists still bound, his muscles taut with readiness, surveying the scene. The crowd had swelled, pushing forward in greedy anticipation, the air thick with murmurs of bets and speculation. Nobles, merchants, and lowlifes alike jostled for a better view, some sipping fermented wine, others clutching their purses as they eagerly watched the new batch of slaves fight for their survival. The Lanista, a man draped in a crimson and gold-trimmed toga, exuded power, his ornate rings flashing as he stroked his bearded chin in amusement. His gray eyes flicked from slave to slave, evaluating them like cattle. "Show me what they can do," he commanded. The auctioneer, a fat, sweaty man with a scroll clenched in his meaty fingers, nodded furiously and motioned toward the prisoners. One by one, the captives were thrown into the dirt circle at the center of the market, where they faced off against seasoned warriors, trained soldiers, and hired killers. Most of the slaves fell quickly¡ªeither from exhaustion, fear, or the overwhelming force of brutal, merciless beatings after they lost. Mackiaveli watched in silence. Some had spirit. But spirit wasn¡¯t enough here. "You there!" the auctioneer called, his sweaty hand pointing straight at Mackiaveli. Mack tilted his head, rolling his shoulders as the chain around his neck clinked. A bald warrior stepped forward, cracking a long leather whip against the stone, the snap echoing through the market square like a gunshot. SYSTEM ALERT: COMBAT TRIAL ENGAGED SURVIVE THE WHIPMASTER "Unarmed?" Mackiaveli asked, his tone flat. "Let¡¯s see if you¡¯re worth more than a sack of rotten grain," the auctioneer sneered. The whip coiled like a viper, and then¡ªIt struck. Mack jerked back, narrowly avoiding the lash as it split the air inches from his chest. The moment he stepped, another crack¡ªfaster, sharper¡ªsnapped toward his face. SYSTEM ALERT: DODGE SUCCESSFUL +1 AGILITY His footwork saved him, but the Whipmaster was relentless. SNAP! Crack. Whipcord whistled through the air. Mackiaveli darted left, then right, letting the momentum of the whip¡¯s swings dictate his movement. But he was playing a dangerous game. One wrong move, and that leather would flay skin from bone. The Whipmaster lunged in, flicking the handle¡ªa feint¡ªthen reversing direction mid-strike. Mack didn¡¯t dodge. He stepped into it. SYSTEM ALERT: COUNTER-ENGAGED His hand snapped forward, catching the leather cord mid-lash, yanking the Whipmaster toward him. With brutal efficiency, Mack drove his knee into the man¡¯s ribs, then whipped the cord around his attacker¡¯s throat, twisting it tight. The Whipmaster choked, struggling, eyes bulging. Mackiaveli twisted harder¡ªand then threw him into the dirt, the crowd erupting in cheers and angry shouts. SYSTEM ALERT: VICTORY ¨C 100 EXP GAINED The Lanista laughed, clearly entertained. "He¡¯s got some fight in him!" "Luck!" The auctioneer wiped sweat from his forehead. "Let¡¯s see how he does against real steel." A shadow fell over Mackiaveli as three armed gladiators stepped forward. Each one carried a gladius, the short Roman sword designed for quick, lethal thrusts. Mackiaveli exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "No weapons for me?" The Lanista smirked. "Let¡¯s see how clever you really are." SYSTEM ALERT: COMBAT TRIAL UPDATED SURVIVE THREE GLADIATORS The first attacker lunged, sword flashing toward Mack¡¯s throat. Mackiaveli sidestepped, catching the wrist mid-strike. Using his opponent¡¯s momentum, he twisted, sending the gladiator crashing into his ally. SYSTEM ALERT: COUNTER SUCCESSFUL The third man was faster¡ªhis blade whistled toward Mack¡¯s ribs. SYSTEM ALERT: INCOMING DAMAGE ¨C NO EVASION Pain exploded through Mack¡¯s side as the steel sliced through his flesh, red pixels flashing where the wound should have been. "Damn it." His health bar dropped by 30%, but he didn¡¯t de-rez. No respawn? No reset? The realization hit just as a gladius swung for his face. Mack ducked, rolling into the closest gladiator¡¯s legs. The man stumbled¡ªjust enough for Mack to rip the sword from his grip and drive the hilt into his jaw. The man dropped like a stone. SYSTEM ALERT: WEAPON ACQUIRED ¨C GLADIUS The crowd watching roared. But Mackiaveli was slowing down. The second gladiator tackled him, and then the first rejoined the fight¡ªthree-on-one again, this time with brute force. Punches. Blades slicing through the air. A knee slammed into his ribs. SYSTEM ALERT: HEALTH CRITICAL ¨C 5% REMAINING The world blurred. And then¡ªdarkness. The next thing Mackiaveli knew, he was on his back, gasping for air. Pain burned through his body, but he wasn¡¯t dead. He was still here. He wasn¡¯t respawning. "What... the hell?" he groaned. The auctioneer looked confused. "Why... isn¡¯t he de-rezzing?" "This shouldn¡¯t be possible," one of the guards muttered. The Lanista stepped forward, eyes alight with intrigue. "I¡¯ll take him." "But¡ªhe¡¯s¡ª" "You¡¯ll get your denari, auctioneer. I want him alive." Mack tried to push himself up, but a brutal fist smashed into his face, knocking him unconscious again. As he drifted in and out of consciousness, fragments of conversation filtered through the haze. "This one¡¯s different. The system didn¡¯t purge him." "He¡¯s not like the others..." "Make sure he lives. We need to see what he really is." Then¡ªdarkness. Mackiaveli woke to the sound of dripping water and the distant clang of metal on metal. A slow breath filled his lungs. Pain. Still there, but duller now. His body ached, but it was functional. SYSTEM ALERT: HEALTH RESTORED TO 60% His vision adjusted to the dimly lit chamber¡ªa vast stone room, flanked by heavy pillars carved with battle scenes, their engravings telling the stories of gladiators long dead. A single iron brazier crackled at the far end, casting long, shifting shadows across the chamber. He wasn¡¯t bound. No chains. No locks. The wide wooden doors stood open, a heavy iron grate just beyond leading down into the underground slave pits. His instincts screamed. Trap. But why? Before he could process the thought further, a deep, rumbling voice echoed from the doorway. "Ah, awake at last." The massive figure stepped forward, robes flowing over a powerful frame, his hair silvered, his face carved with the hardened lines of a man who had seen death and prospered from it. The rings on his fingers glimmered in the firelight, each one inscribed with the insignias of past gladiatorial champions. "I am Vibius Cassius Falco. You may call me Falco." Mackiaveli sat up, stretching the stiffness from his shoulders. "A Lanista with a name. Rare." Falco smirked, his sharp eyes studying him like a wolf sizing up its next meal. "And you, Mackiaveli, are... different." Falco took a seat across from him, pouring two goblets of wine from a clay jug. "You don¡¯t fight like the others, nor do you die like them." Mack took the cup, rolling the liquid between his fingers before taking a slow sip. "Noticed that, did you?" "Hard not to. The system should have wiped you. But it didn¡¯t." Mack¡¯s mind raced. The Lanista knew about the system. "You¡¯ve seen it before, haven¡¯t you? People who don¡¯t die the way they should." Falco¡¯s smirk widened. "Perhaps." He leaned forward. "What I do know is that I own you now. And your little grudge against this... Hacker?" He chuckled. "That makes you a very interesting investment." Mack¡¯s fingers tightened on the cup. "What do you want?" Falco studied him for a long moment before setting his goblet down. "Entertainment, for now. Victory, eventually. And control, always. But you? You want revenge. And that... is useful." Falco leaned back, folding his arms. "Here is my offer. Fight in my name, win my favor, and when the time comes? I will let you hunt your Hacker personally." Mack¡¯s heart pounded. "And if I refuse?" Falco chuckled. "You¡¯re free to go. Right now, if you wish. Walk out that door, take your chances in the underground pits, fight through the guards, and escape into the city." He gestured toward the open doorway, his smile full of mock amusement. "Or, stay. Rise through the ranks as a gladiator. Gain wealth, weapons, respect. Earn your freedom on your terms. And when you stand before your enemy? You¡¯ll do so as a legend, not a hunted dog." Mackiaveli took a slow breath. "And if I choose neither?" Falco smirked. "Then convince me. Show me why I should make your fight my fight. Manipulate me. Gain my favor. Prove you are worth more to me than the blood you spill in the arena." Before Mack could respond, a loud chime echoed through the chamber, followed by the flicker of a holographic message hovering just above Falco¡¯s wrist. The Lanista¡¯s smirk faded. Mack watched as Falco¡¯s expression shifted¡ªsubtle, but telling. The man was not often surprised. But whatever the message said? It unsettled him. Falco stood, adjusting his robes. "Excuse me. I must attend to something." His guards fell in behind him, leaving Mackiaveli alone. The chamber remained open. His path was clear. And then¡ª SYSTEM ALERT: THREE CHOICES AVAILABLE Select one of Three Choices below: CHOICE 1: Escape before reaching the Colosseum and find a way to get to the Hacker CHOICE 2: Play along, rise through the ranks as a gladiator to get free, and get the Hacker. CHOICE 3: Manipulate the Roman Lanista into helping him get the Hacker. Mackiaveli smirked. ¡°So now that you¡¯re all caught up, this is where I need your help. You see, I don¡¯t know which path I should pick. What do you think? My path is your path.¡± ¡°So the decision is YOURS. Pick YOUR path!¡± Select your choice from the poll below. The selection with the most votes will determine the main storyline. The other two paths will be included in the final book, so anyone reading later can follow any path they choose. But for now, I¡¯m enlisting the Royal Road Community to help write the main story. Will you step up to the challenge? Or take a backseat in this adventure? MACKIAVELI: PICK YOUR PATH BELOW NOW! 2.1 Messenger Mackiaveli stared at the wide wooden doors, still open, beckoning him to leave. The iron grate that led to the underground pits was the only obstacle between him and the street beyond. He could run. He could fight his way out of this place and find the hacker himself. But something held him in place. A gnawing suspicion, a thread of curiosity that refused to let him bolt into the unknown. No. Running wasn¡¯t the answer. Not yet. He had seen the hooded figure before. The Hacker who nearly took down Sarah during the Auracron Prime competition. The same twisted creature who worked for Welsby III, a maniac willing to cheat, hack, and sabotage just to win. And Grieger. That bastard who killed him in cold blood. They were all connected. The Hacker was here for a reason. If Mackiaveli ran, he¡¯d lose his only real lead. He needed the Lanista. And more importantly, he needed to convince the Lanista to work with him. Mackiaveli took a slow, controlled breath, feeling the pain from his injuries still pulsing through his body. But he was awake. He was alive. And he was ready to make a deal with the devil if it got him closer to revenge. The door creaked open, the heavy oak groaning under its own weight. Falco¡¯s booming voice echoed through the chamber as he stepped back inside, his two guards trailing behind him. ¡°Ah, my mysterious fighter. Awake and alert, I see.¡± Falco¡¯s grin was broad, arrogant, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. ¡°Quite the spectacle you put on out there. The crowd adored it. And I must admit, you¡¯ve caught my interest.¡± Mackiaveli pushed himself up to sit properly, his back aching from the stone bench. ¡°Interest enough to keep me alive, apparently,¡± Mack said with a smirk. Falco laughed, the sound deep and rich. ¡°Indeed. You¡¯re a rare find, Mackiaveli. Men who cannot die are valuable. But more importantly, they are... fascinating.¡± Mack pretended to mull over the words. In truth, he was analyzing every subtle twitch, every smirk, every condescending gesture. Falco was arrogant. Too confident. And that made him vulnerable. ¡°Tell me something, Falco,¡± Mackiaveli said, testing the man¡¯s name like a weapon he was about to use. ¡°You keep me alive because I don¡¯t die like the others. But what happens if I stop being valuable to you?¡± Falco shrugged. ¡°Then you are no longer useful. And I deal with you as I would any other broken thing.¡± ¡°Right. So what¡¯s the plan then? Throw me to the lions and see if I can keep putting on a show for you?¡± ¡°Ah, but there is so much more to life than the arena.¡± Falco poured himself a drink, swirling the liquid before downing it. ¡°However, your talents would be wasted as just another gladiator.¡± Mackiaveli¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Then what do you want from me?¡± Falco leaned forward, his face turning serious. ¡°I want you to earn your freedom, Mackiaveli. And in return, I will help you find what you seek.¡± Mack¡¯s pulse quickened. ¡°And what do you think I seek?¡± Falco chuckled. ¡°Oh, revenge, of course. You muttered something about a ¡®Hacker¡¯ before you passed out. And the way you looked at that hooded man in the market square? Rage, frustration, desperation.¡± He was goading him. Testing him. Trying to peel away the layers to see what Mackiaveli was hiding. Mackiaveli grinned, allowing a hint of madness to flicker in his eyes. ¡°You have no idea what that son of a bitch did to me. What he¡¯s taken from me.¡± Falco¡¯s eyebrows rose. ¡°Then allow me to help you, Mackiaveli. Let me give you the tools to hunt him down and end him. All I ask in return is your service in the arena. Fight for me. Win for me. And when the time is right, I will hand you your enemy on a platter.¡± Mack¡¯s mind raced. Every instinct screamed at him to turn this deal around, to find a way to make Falco work for him, not the other way around. But he needed information. And he needed it fast. ¡°Fine. But I have a condition.¡± Falco¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Do you, now?¡± ¡°If I¡¯m going to work for you, I need something from you first.¡± Falco¡¯s laughter boomed again. ¡°Oh, this should be interesting. Very well. What do you need?¡± ¡°I need information. About the man who killed my wife.¡± Falco¡¯s smile faltered. Just a fraction. ¡°And who was this man?¡± ¡°His name is Marcus Aurelius Carbo. High-ranking official. Untouchable by most standards.¡± Falco¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°You wish to assassinate someone of that stature? Interesting. Suicidal. But interesting.¡± ¡°Not assassination. Justice.¡± ¡°Semantics.¡± Falco shrugged. ¡°But tell me, Mackiaveli. What do I gain from this arrangement?¡± Mack leaned forward, his voice dropping to a near growl. ¡°You gain a champion. You gain the man who will not only survive your games but dominate them. And you gain the power to leverage someone with a death wish into making you richer than Caesar himself.¡± Falco¡¯s eyes gleamed with hunger. ¡°You do have a way with words.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve had practice,¡± Mackiaveli replied. ¡°But let¡¯s cut to the chase. You help me get close to Marcus Aurelius Carbo. You make it possible for me to kill him, and I will fight for you until you decide I¡¯m no longer useful. And when I¡¯m done... you¡¯ll help me find the Hacker.¡± Falco¡¯s smile returned, wider, sharper. ¡°You drive a hard bargain, Mackiaveli. But I think we can work something out.¡± Mackiaveli¡¯s heart pounded. Every word he spoke, every bargain he struck, was a gamble. But if he was going to find the Hacker and get his revenge, he needed a powerful ally. ¡°Good,¡± Falco said, rising to his feet. ¡°Prepare yourself. Your training begins at dawn.¡± ¡°Before you rest, come. I wish to show you something.¡± Falco¡¯s voice was smooth, its tone smug and inviting, as if whatever he was about to reveal was meant to impress. Mackiaveli followed the Lanista out of the chamber, the guards trailing just far enough behind to seem casual. The halls of the compound were grander than he expected¡ªstone walls etched with intricate carvings of legendary battles, marble pillars reflecting the dim light of flickering torches. ¡°Your operation is a bit more luxurious than most of the others,¡± Mackiaveli said, keeping his voice cool. Falco chuckled. ¡°I prefer to call it¡­ refinement. A man of my status doesn¡¯t concern himself with mere gladiator pens. No, I breed champions. Train warriors. Cultivate gods of the arena.¡± ¡°Quite the ego you¡¯ve got.¡± Falco smirked. ¡°Ego is the tool of ambition, Mackiaveli. And ambition, when paired with strategy, breeds power.¡± They continued down a long corridor until they reached an arched hall adorned with elaborate murals. The imagery was familiar¡ªscenes from Roman mythology and history, heroes of old clashing against monsters and mythical creatures. But one mural drew Mack¡¯s attention. It was a tall fresco, almost twice his height, depicting a man standing triumphant over a slain beast. His features were etched with chiseled detail, and there was no mistaking the sharp, calculating gaze in his eyes. But it wasn¡¯t the artistry that struck him. It was the face itself. The Hacker. Or at least, a refined version of him. He was depicted as a hero, a conqueror, dressed in the robes of a Roman dignitary. And below the mural, inscribed in gilded letters, was a name: Marcus Aurelius Carbo. Mackiaveli¡¯s fists clenched, his eyes narrowing as he took in the details. It was him. MAckiaveli knew he saw in on his way in. The bastard was right here, holding a place of power and influence, just like before. Falco noticed his reaction and chuckled. ¡°Ah, the great Marcus Aurelius Carbo. High-ranking official, esteemed by the Caesar himself. His wealth alone funds more than half the Colosseum¡¯s events.¡± Mack couldn¡¯t tear his eyes from the painting. ¡°He looks familiar.¡± ¡°I should hope so. He¡¯s practically a demigod in Rome. His influence touches every corner of this city.¡± If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°Why¡¯s he in a place like this?¡± Falco shrugged. ¡°He enjoys the games. But more importantly, he enjoys control. Men like him don¡¯t simply indulge in power; they consume it.¡± Mackiaveli filed the information away, his mind already racing with possibilities. ¡°And you? You work for him?¡± Falco¡¯s face twisted with disgust. ¡°Work for him? I may entertain his whims, but I am my own man. My empire is built on blood and victory, not the coin of some self-righteous bureaucrat.¡± ¡°Right,¡± Mack replied, pretending to accept the explanation. But he knew there was more to it. There always was. They continued through the hall until they reached a heavy wooden door, polished smooth with age. Falco pushed it open, revealing a lavishly appointed room with a thick cot, a washbasin, and even a small table with bread and wine. Mack glanced around, his eyebrow arched. ¡°Didn¡¯t expect a gladiator¡¯s quarters to be this cozy.¡± Falco chuckled. ¡°I told you, I breed champions. My fighters are not shackled or starved. They are honed, sharpened. Prepared to destroy anything that stands before them.¡± ¡°And what stops me from just walking out of here?¡± ¡°Nothing,¡± Falco replied coolly. ¡°But you would have to fight through a hundred guards, each one eager to end your life for a few coins. And while you may be skilled, even you cannot handle those odds. No, Mackiaveli, chains are not needed. You¡¯re free to walk the grounds as you please. Explore, meet your fellow warriors. But if you try to escape¡­¡± He left the sentence unfinished, letting the unspoken threat hang in the air. Mackiaveli just nodded, his mind already working over his options. ¡°So, I¡¯m a guest, not a prisoner. Nice hospitality.¡± ¡°Think of it as motivation,¡± Falco said, smiling again. ¡°Now, get some rest. Your training begins tomorrow. And do be careful. The others won¡¯t be so friendly.¡± With that, Falco turned on his heel and walked away, his guards falling in step behind him. Mack spent the next hour wandering the compound, his senses on high alert. The place was massive. Sand-covered training pits, rows of wooden dummies, racks of weapons ranging from simple swords to spears and weighted nets. Gladiators of all shapes and sizes trained viciously, some sparring with each other, others working on exercises meant to build strength and endurance. But as he walked, he noticed something else. The fighters all eyed him. Some with curiosity. Some with disdain. And some with outright hostility. ¡°Hey! Fresh meat!¡± A large man with scarred cheeks and a chipped front tooth stepped into his path, flanked by two others who looked equally bloodthirsty. ¡°You the one everyone¡¯s talking about? The man who can¡¯t die?¡± ¡°Something like that.¡± ¡°Guess that means I can beat the life out of you and still have a sparring partner tomorrow.¡± Mack sighed. ¡°Is this the part where you puff your chest out, act all tough, and then I have to drop you to make a point?¡± The man¡¯s grin twisted into a snarl. ¡°How about we skip the talk and get straight to me pounding your skull in?¡± ¡°Fine by me.¡± The man lunged, swinging a massive fist toward Mack¡¯s head. Mack shifted his weight, ducking under the blow, then stepped inside the man¡¯s guard and drove an elbow into his jaw. The brute¡¯s head snapped back, and before he could recover, Mack¡¯s fist buried itself into the man¡¯s stomach. He crumpled to the ground, gasping for air. ¡°Anyone else?¡± Mackiaveli asked, his eyes flicking between the other two. They backed off. ¡°Well, that was impressive.¡± Mackiaveli turned to see a smaller man, wiry and draped in leather armor, his expression smug. ¡°Who the hell are you?¡± ¡°A messenger. From Callahan. He sends his regards.¡± Mack¡¯s blood ran cold. ¡°Callahan? That snake is still alive?¡± ¡°Oh, very much so. And he has information you¡¯ll want to hear.¡± Mack¡¯s fists clenched. ¡°Go on.¡± The messenger¡¯s smirk grew. ¡°Not here. Too many eyes. But trust me, Mackiaveli. You¡¯re going to want to hear what I have to say.¡± ¡°Fine. Lead the way.¡± The messenger turned, leading Mackiaveli toward the far end of the compound. Mack¡¯s heartbeat quickened. This was either a trap, or the breakthrough he¡¯d been waiting for. Either way, he was ready. The messenger led Mackiaveli through the winding corridors of the complex, away from the training pits and the noise of clashing weapons. The air was colder here, the stone walls smoother, slick with condensation from some underground spring. A heavy silence pressed down on them, the echoes of their footsteps lost in the stillness. The messenger¡¯s gait was confident, but too relaxed. Too deliberate. As if every step was meant to draw Mack¡¯s attention away from something else. And it was working. ¡°Where exactly are we going?¡± Mack asked, his voice bouncing off the narrow walls. ¡°Somewhere we can speak without prying ears. Callahan wanted the message delivered in private.¡± Mackiaveli¡¯s senses were on high alert. The walk was too long. Too deliberate. As if the messenger wanted him isolated. His mind raced, piecing together the moments that had led him here. The message from Callahan. The immediate willingness of Falco to show him the compound¡¯s facilities. The strangely detailed mural of Marcus Aurelius Carbo. Everything felt orchestrated. A dance where he couldn¡¯t quite hear the music. ¡°Tell me,¡± Mackiaveli said, his eyes narrowing as they turned another corner. ¡°What exactly did Callahan want you to say?¡± The messenger¡¯s expression was calm, smug even. ¡°You¡¯ll find out soon enough. All in due time.¡± Mack¡¯s patience frayed. ¡°Why not just tell me now?¡± The messenger glanced back at him with a smirk. ¡°You¡¯ve never been one for patience, have you, Mackiaveli? You were always the type to charge forward, never taking the time to see what lies just beyond the shadows.¡± Mack¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Funny. I don¡¯t remember you being so damn cryptic before.¡± The messenger laughed, his voice echoing through the corridor. ¡°People change, Mack. Or should I say... you change.¡± They reached a small, dimly lit chamber. Stone walls stretched high, meeting in a domed ceiling carved with patterns that resembled circuitry intertwined with runes. ¡°Talk,¡± Mackiaveli said, his tone low, his fists clenched. The messenger leaned against a stone pillar, arms folded. ¡°What do you think happened to you, Mackiaveli?¡± Mack¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°I died. That¡¯s what happened. And somehow, I ended up in this twisted game.¡± The messenger¡¯s lips twisted into a grin. ¡°A twisted game, yes. But a game within a game. And you¡¯re only just beginning to realize the truth.¡± Something was off. A faint shimmer danced across the messenger¡¯s skin, like light passing through heat waves. It was subtle. Too subtle. But it was there. ¡°Are you just going to keep talking in circles?¡± Mack snapped, his eyes never leaving the man¡¯s face. ¡°Or are you actually going to say something useful?¡± ¡°Oh, it¡¯s all useful,¡± the messenger said, his voice a near whisper. ¡°Every word. Every step. Every moment. They¡¯ve been leading you here. And you¡¯ve been playing the part so beautifully.¡± Mack¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°And what part is that?¡± ¡°The part of a puppet.¡± The messenger¡¯s smirk deepened. And as he laughed, the sound distorted, like a corrupted audio file playing over damaged speakers. Mack¡¯s pulse quickened. The shimmer was stronger now, rippling over the messenger¡¯s body like a broken image trying to maintain its shape. ¡°What the hell are you?¡± Mack growled, his fists tightening. ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious?¡± the messenger replied, his voice now echoing as if coming from a distant place. ¡°I¡¯m the one who will show you the truth.¡± Mackiaveli¡¯s patience snapped. Without hesitation, he lunged forward, his hand shooting out to grab the messenger by the arm¡ªBut his fingers passed straight through him. His eyes widened as his hand met nothing but air, the illusion rippling like water. ¡°What the hell¡ª?¡± Mack whispered, his stomach twisting. The messenger¡¯s face flickered, his smirk now distorted, pixelated around the edges. ¡°You¡¯re not as sharp as you think, Mackiaveli. Always reaching, always grabbing for what¡¯s right in front of you. And yet, you never see the bigger picture.¡± ¡°You¡¯re... you¡¯re a hologram.¡± ¡°Very good.¡± The messenger¡¯s form pulsed, the shimmer becoming more intense. ¡°But I¡¯m much more than that.¡± ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Before he could press the question further, a deep, commanding voice echoed from the air above him. ¡°TK10. That is your new designation, Mackiaveli. I am Director Shilling.¡± The voice was calm, authoritative, and undeniably real. Mackiaveli whipped his head around, his eyes searching the chamber for the source. But the voice didn¡¯t come from any one direction. It was everywhere. ¡°Your rebirth was not a glitch or a mistake. Since your death was imminent, we captured your soul before it could be Lost in Lethe.¡± Mack¡¯s breath hitched. ¡°Lethe... the river of oblivion.¡± ¡°Precisely. We are the Time Keepers. And your role in this timeline is very important.¡± Mack¡¯s mind raced, his thoughts tumbling over each other. ¡°What the hell do you want from me?¡± ¡°Many things. But you are already aware of your first mission. Find the Hacker and retrieve the key. If successful, you will have to complete all of your missions and then you will have a chance to face your killer.¡± The words stabbed through him like a blade. ¡°Grieger.¡± ¡°Yes. The one who orchestrated your death. The one who betrayed everything you once held dear.¡± Mack¡¯s fists trembled, rage seething just below the surface. ¡°And if I refuse?¡± ¡°Then your soul will be Lost in Lethe. Forgotten. Erased.¡± Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. ¡°What makes you think I¡¯ll play your game?¡± ¡°You already are. The question is whether you will finish it.¡± Mack swallowed hard, his voice a low, guttural snarl. ¡°If this is some kind of sick joke¡ª¡± ¡°It is not. It is the only chance you will ever have for true justice. For your revenge. The path forward is yours to choose. Will you accept the challenge, or will you simply allow your soul to be Lost in Lethe?¡± Mack stood there, fists clenched, eyes blazing. His breathing was shallow, ragged. Everything he had been fighting for, all the rage and desperation, suddenly found a new focus. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t think I like the sound of being Lost in anything,¡± he muttered, his voice tight but defiant. ¡°And a chance at true justice for those who wronged my family...¡± Mackiaveli¡¯s fists unclenched. His face hardened into cold determination. ¡°If I must be that hand, then so be it.¡±