Riker, as if enting on the weather, asked, “What do you know about Nathan?”

  “Nathan?” I blurted, my voice a mix of surprise and fusion. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that. “Isn’t he the creator of Rimelion?”

  As if ohe guards left the room, leaving us with Riker alone.

  He trusts us that much?

  Riker nodded, a faint sneer curling his lips. “Yes, that might be the narrative the masses accept. Yet I believe you are capable of dedug far more, Miss Charlie.” He took a measured sip of his drink.

  I shifted unfortably, but tinued anyway. “He’s the leader of the Ring of Smiling People,” I said, watg his rea. Riker nodded again, that ever-present smile urgio tinue. “And he pns to work closely with the govero repce all workers with robots. I told you that already.”

  “Oh, splendid dedu! That is indeed his aim,” Riker said. “But I must correct you on two points—Nathan isn’t w with the gover, and he didn’t create Rimelion. It has simply always existed,” he added, his smile widening as though he’d just shared the secret to make triple oak signature reserve whiskey.

  I bli him, my brain scrambling to make sense of the words. “What?” was all I said, the sylble tumbling out ftly.

  Riker rose from his seat with a graceful flourish, his multicolored coat blinding me again, as he crossed the room to the massive window. The city stretched out beyond the gss, and his gaze drifted over the skyline, his expression ptive.

  “The prevailing belief,” he began, his tone now soft and measured, “is that Rimelion has always existed—a world as immutable as our own.” He gestured toward the glittering view with his gss. “A pce outside the fines of time, always existing, with all the rules that simply exist.”

  “Nonsense…” I protested. “That’s a game we talk about! It’s fake! Fake like real, but fake he less. Not this Gaia nonsence again…”

  He turo us, a sly smile tugging at his lips. “Your friend Pearl,” he tinued, “has uhed a rather provocative notion: that our reality is but a simution. Such a clever girl, isn’t she?” His admiration was almost genuine, but it sounded like a parent proud of their children walking. “She’s eluded even us, a feat few cim.”

  I stiffe the mention of Pearl. “Ahis theory,” Riker tinued, his tone pivoting back to its calcuted precision, “is embraced by Nathan. Or… is it Jeffrey? Yes, your enigmatic patron. How fasating that such divergent minds verge on the same question.”

  The name Jeffrey made me pause. My head was a mess and so many things happened in the past days—what about my time travel? “I don’t have a patron,” I said, my tone sharp. “Nobody’s holding my hand. I have to do everything myself. Thank you very much.”

  Riker turned bae, ughing. “You do have help,” he said. “But what I’m referring to is Jeffrey. For some reason, he chose you as his champion. To retrieve a seed for him.”

  With a flourish, Riker snapped his fingers, and a holo-s appeared mid-air. The image on it ainfully familiar: Jeffrey talking with Lucas.

  The young punk.

  The one who sent me back.

  I turo Lucas, my lovely, stupid, damn mage. “What? Lucas? Who’s that?!” I demanded.

  “Charlie…” Lucas begaantly, his tone a mix of guilt and nervousness. “One leader of the Ring of Smiling People? I don’t know. He tacted me to… show his support, kind of. But not to tell you, though.”

  My jaw tightened as I bolted up from my seat, the leather creakih me. I started pag, my heels clig against the polished floor. “So this young punk is some leader of a big anization? What nonsense! He’s barely fifteen!” My head iraling, the absurdity of it all making it hard to focus.

  Riker pced a hand lightly on my shoulder. His touch was strangely calming. “Miss Charlie,” he said, his voice dropping, “he is but twelve years old, thrust into the weight of an iance.”

  I froze for a moment, his words cutting through my frustration. Twelve? That number rattled in my head as I slowly sat back down, the weight of it settling in my chest. “Twelve…” I murmured. “How could he even find me?”

  “Ah, allow me to illumihe matter,” Riker began, stepping back, as though delivering a well-rehearsed monologue. “Nathan and his ente—formidable figures in their ht—were apprehended a few years ago and pced into a highly cssified prison facility. But not just any facility,” he added, leaning slightly forward. “It was an ambitious experimental program.”

  “What kind ram?” I asked warily, my brow furrowing.

  “A program desigo rehabilitate criminals,” Riker tinued. “They were immersed in simuted enviros aimed at easing their minds aegrating them into society. Or so the official pitch went.”

  My mind fshed back to the punk’s cryptic words and strange behavior. “Jeffrey was behaving strange,” I muttered, rubbing my temple. “I don’t know. I was super drunk when I met him.”

  Lucas suddenly burst out ughing, the sound breaking the tension like whiskey gss shattering. “Of course you were, Charlie!” he said between gasps of ughter, his shoulders shaking.

  I gred at him, but Riker’s sharp ugh interrupted. “Fate, it seems, has a twisted sense of humor,” he said.

  He posed himself quickly, his tone darkening. “The program malfuned spectacurly, trapping its partits in an endless cycle of simutions. The authorities, in their infinite wisdom, attempted to salvage the situation by introdug their families into the system, hoping for some e, some breakthrough. Instead, they only expahe chaos, ensnaring even more lives in the digital web.”

  I blinked. “So Jeffrey wasn’t the inal leader?” I asked, my voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

  “His father was. These individuals,” Riker said, his voice l to a spiratorial hush, “are no ordinary criminals. They are powerful, dangerous, and utterly relentless. Within these simutions, they’ve tested tless sarios—what works, what doesn’t.” He paused, his eyes log onto mih a glimmer of self-satisfa. “Thankfully, they uand I am a reasonable man.”

  “So Jeffrey?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady despite the storm of questions swirling in my head.

  “Oh yes, my dear,” Riker replied with a knowing smirk. “His father met an untimely end—somehow—within the simution. Simply… expired.” He leaned back, swirling the drink in his hand zily again.

  What a slow drinker. He should shake hands with Lucas.

  “The peculiar logic of their twisted minds insists on maintaining an equal number of partits, as though bance were some sacred principle to them.” He paused, his gaze flig toward the city beyond the window. “A,” he added, “they’re down by two now. But that curious little detail doesn’t seem to deter them in the slightest.”

  I sat frozen, my mind rag. Should I tell him about me? About the young punk and what he’d done?

  No.

  I ’t trust him—or ah that.

  Not yet.

  “How’s that possible?” I asked instead, my voice steady but my heart pounding. “To simute the future, I mean.”

  Riker’s grin widened as he slowly lowered himself onto the sofa between Lucas and me, his movements as calcuted as always. “Magic,” he said simply, as though he’d just told me the sky was blue.

  “What?” I stared at him, certain I’d misheard.

  “You heard me correctly.” His tone carried a hint of amusement, like a teacher expining something obvious to an oblivious student. “Magic.”

  “The gover discovered a e to something they call the seed. That e allowed them to make magic real. After the unification wars in the Pacific region, and especially following Africa’s incorporation, they faced a drum.”

  I raised an eyebrow, but he pressed on.

  “What to use the seed on? Unlimited energy? This is the unified gover we talk about. They redirected it into other applications, thinking they could address issues like the deing birth rate. A noble goal, yes?” His smirk returned. “As, by returning criminals to society? That, my dear Charlie, ectacur failure.”

  “And now?” I asked cautiously, feeling he was building toward something.

  “Now,” Riker said, leaning forward slightly, his gaze log onto mine, “Nathan holds the keys to the e. To Rimelion.”

  “But…” I started, almost saying we, but stopped myself just in time. “But they returned only a few days ago! I was a game tester for years. It makes zero sense. We had testing servers!” My voice rose, frustration spilling over.

  Riker shrugged, his rainbow-colored coat shifting faintly in the dim light. “I hold no cims to have all the answers. None of us . Some things remain a mystery, but ohing is certaiure lies in Rimelion.”

  I ched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. “So, no more ao my questions?”

  “I’m afraid not,” he said, his tone softer, almost apologetic. “And I could be wrong about everything. Perhaps we do live in a simution.”

  I gred at him.

  “Nathaainly believes that.” He turo me then, his pyful smirk repced by a rare seriousness. “I want to implemeain ges in this world,” he said, his words deliberate.

  “The march ress has shackled humanity, f us to serve the very maes we created to serve us,” he said, his voice ringing with vi. “The time will e to seize trol of our destiny. To wrest power from the cold hands of AIs and robots aurn it to the people! You, with your wit, resourcefulness, and the heart of a fighter, could be the ally this struggle needs. Together, we could spark a revolution and recim what’s been stolen.”

  Revolution? Sure. Let me just pn that after breakfast.

  It souraight out of a political speech. Maybe he’d practiced it in front of a mirror. “I’ll think about it,” I said, not itting to anything.

  “But if that fails…” He let out a sigh, a sound that felt almost too human ing from someone like him. “I need a backup. Another life, if I may.”

  “In Rimelion?” I asked, though the answer was obvious.

  “Yes,” Riker replied simply. “That is where your card es into py.”

  I dismissed him with a ugh; the kind I hoped to sound sweet. “Me? I’m just a pyer.”

  “Ranked eighth on my ranker list,” Riker said smoothly, tapping a button on the holo keyboard embedded iable. The dispy shifted, and I reized it instantly—the ranking page.

  My ranking page!

  The design was old-school—or brand new, depending on your perspective—but unmistakable. There it was, my name and presumed stats in all their high-ranking glory. “The only hero not directly tied to any known criminal,” he said.

  This just got plicated. “That’s…” I trailed off, unsure whether to feel proud or nervous.

  Riker brought up a holo-s, the flickering light illuminating his smirk. A video pyed, capturing a chaotic battle at sea.

  The perspective was from a pyer aboard a ship, battling a swarm of floaters.

  The rec tered on a massive Duke’s vessel—should have I said uncle’s?—Istvan’s shields holding steady against the relentless pounding of an enormous, writhing boss.

  Then, through the rain, the distinct light of the Spear of Destiny pierced the gloom. Moments ter, I was hurled from the safety of the shield into the raging storm beyond.

  Me and Lucas leaned forward, both staring at the holo-s with bated breath.

  I was unched mid-air, colliding with a monstrous tentacle. Frost spread from my spear, an almost se foraking through the storm.

  The battlefield ure chaos—tentacles smmed into frozen waters, shattering the ito sharp, glittering fragments. The storm howled and twisted, rain transf into freezing sleet and snow in my wake.

  My movements on the s were wild but deliberate, each strike calcuted to push back the onsught of enemies.

  I danced across the frozen o, icy trails marking every step as my spear cleaved through floaters and massive limbs. The camera captured the raw ferocity of the fight—the shattering impacts, the desperate bursts of mana turning the storm into a blinding vortex.

  And then came the climax: a final sprint, weaving through the Boss’s writhing limbs, the glowing spear driving me forward.

  The rec ended with a brutal, decisive ssh that cleaved the Boss apart. The s froze oermath—me standing amidst the frozen age, victorious but battered, as snow gently settled around my still form.

  It felt surreal.

  “That’s… me?” I muttered, the words barely esg my lips.

  “Holy… Charlie…” was the only thing Lucas said.

  “Dubbed Ice Princess Charlie.” Riker ughed. “Ah, yes, you are ihe sole pure support representative withiop 100—a precarious foothold, and at a rather modest level, no less.”

  “Priest is…” I trailed off, shaking my head. “I want to battle with swords.”

  Riker nodded, his eyes gleaming with i. “Still, should you asd in rank, I have little doubt our AI would swiftly recalibrate and puch higher. Your potential is undeniable, after all. Thus my offer, build your kingdom and I shall i into it.”