Endzone: Simulated Apocalypse

"Any pings on the radar, Michael?" Ragnar asked cautiously, keeping his voice low and just barely audible above the soft clanking of their footsteps on the hotel floor.

"Nope," the boy replied with a smile. "All clear so far!"

"Good," Ragnar said with a satisfied nod. "How much longer until your radar runs out?"

"About another minute, sir!" He declared, whispering this time after being scolded by his older brother earlier.

"Hey," the girl of the group suddenly called out. "Is that the light switch…?"

She was pointing at a pulsating green light not too far away, laying on top of a desk. Above her head was a small orb of bright white light—Illuminate, a Life affinity Soul Art.

"Maybe," Michael's older brother said with a shrug. "Let's give it a try."

The girl nodded and stepped forward, but-

"Hold it," Ragnar interrupted, pulling the girl by the arm.

"E-Eh?" She turned in surprise, to which Ragnar furrowed his brows.

"If we turn on the lights now, we could alert any mutants in this building that are outside of Michael's radar range," he explained. "We should find a safe room first and stay the night there—discretely. Tomorrow morning, we can explore this place properly."

"I concur," Spencer said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "It is best to eschew nonessential conflict as we are right now. We are in tenebrosity, and the Scarlet Hour is imminent. Even with Ilydia's Illuminate, we are at a lamentable disadvantage."

"Uh… what?" Michael's older brother arched an eyebrow. "I have no idea what you just said."

Michael smiled happily. "Basically, he's saying we would be at a disadvantage if we fight the mutants here."

Spencer nodded in approval. "Mm, yes, indeed. You are keenly intellective for a child as young as yourself."

"You actually understood that?" Ilydia—the girl—widened her eyes in surprise. "Wow. I'm impressed."

"He's… what people would call a child prodigy," Michael's brother said hesitantly. "Skipped like 5 grades."

"You guys…" Ragnar sighed and shook his head. "Idle chatter can come later. For now, just follow me."

*****

It didn't take them long to reach a hospitable room. They took the stairs, since the elevator would attract too much attention. By now, Michael's Radar had ran out and wouldn't be back online until at least five minutes. They couldn't afford to just wait until the cooldown was over, either. After all, this was a danger zone, and every minute spent loitering the halls was another minute of possible death. As such, they needed to be extra careful, and listen for any tiny bit of sound that seemed unusual.

"… This is it," Ragnar whispered, stopping before a door. It was open. Whoever was here last—be it another player or simply a native of this world—must've been in a hurry to leave.

Slowly, he pulled his broadsword off of his back. It was a simple weapon made of normal steel, but its size was impressive.

This was Ragnar's weapon of choice, even back on Earth. When underground criminals saw a broadsword, they didn't point and laugh and call it old-fashioned. No, they saw it as a symbol of power. They would be terrified, knowing that the Titan of Shadows had come for them: Ragnar Creed.

But for all his fame on Earth, here in Endzone, he was just a nobody. After all, no one knew Ragnar's real appearance, much like the infamous number one underground assassin, Cyanide. Unlike Cyanide who wore a half-mask that hid the bottom half of his face, however, Ragnar wore a casque that covered his entire head, akin to a dark knight from medieval times.

Gently, cautiously, Ragnar pushed open the door, ready to cut off any heads that appeared before him. His party members did the same, each drawing their weapons and readying their Soul Arts. However… thankfully, there was no one.

After making sure the room was clear, Ragnar let out a deep breath and nodded towards his teammates, who quickly understood the signal and scurried into the room. Ragnar closed the door behind them, and locked it tight before barricading it with a nearby shelf. With his STR stat of 101, that was easy.

Of course, having such a high STR stat meant his other stats were severely impacted. He was only Level 15, after all. He had put all of his remaining CP into VIT and a little into LUC, while all of his other stats remained at the default: 1. He knew about Soul Arts and the like, but he was simply stubborn enough to refuse to change his combat style no matter what.

"… All right. We should be safe here, at least for the night," Ragnar muttered, sitting down on the carpet. The others followed, forming a tiny circle around a small candle in the middle of them, lit by a lighter Michael's brother had found somewhere. "You guys… aren't going to get rest?"

"Agh, I don't feel like sleeping yet," Michael's brother groaned, crossing his legs and leaning back. "I dunno, I'm just… not tired."

"I must concur," Spencer said, closing his eyes. "I do not particularly feel fatigued."

"In that case…" Ilydia smiled. "How about we all have a little talk?"

"A talk…?" Michael's brother raised an eyebrow. "About what?"

"Let's see… well, we've been in the same party for a little bit now, but I don't think I've really gotten to know you guys all that well," Ilydia said thoughtfully. "How about we take turns talking about why we chose to accept the invitation to come here?"

"Well. I must verbalize, my motive is nothing special," Spencer said, pushing his glasses up (yes, again) the bridge of his nose. "I have a dream of science. However, no company was particularly inclined to fund me and my work. As a result, I came here, hoping to obtain the money compulsory to establish my project. It it succeeds, I dare verbally express the entire world will be revolutionized. I'm afraid I cannot go into details though, as those are my trade secrets."

"Huh, that's cool!" Ilydia said encouragingly.. "I guess I'll go next, then. I came here… for an adventure!"