Below the toxic fog, I disabled my face shield and allowed my rebreather to snatch up oxygen to replenish the system. According to my map, the orb was only two kilometers away. Unfortunately, this was where the tree line ended. There was nothing but a wide body of brown water ahead. Occasionally, the surface rippled with movement, bubbles rising from below. The map flashed several, intermittent red dots as creatures swam in and out of range. There was no way around it. I was going to have to get in there. Recalling just how savage the Bog Gators were, I wasn’t too enthused with the idea.

  I used the hydro-conversion pack. It was just as disgusting as I had imagined—sucking ‘purified’ brown water up through by boot, armor, and a straw. It tasted the way I imagined a urinal cake smoothie might.

  I took a moment instead to check out the Wormhole for the first time. Just like the ISSN feed, ERNI had a direct patch into the Wormhole’s network. I simply thought of the network, and he brought a floating window up into view. The interface was cluttered, riddled with holographic advertisements and overlays. It was pure sensory overload as three-dimensional replays from the tournament and animated memes all competed for my attention in staggering, life-like detail.

  And I thought our socials sucked.

  There wasn’t a search window. Like most things in my inventory, it required thought to navigate.

  Warrior… Sam… Clip…

  I mentally focused, and, just like typing keywords into a browser, the three words materialized in front of me as innumerable pop-ups appeared. All of them showed various angles of my boss fight with the Pukeodactyl and my orbdown footage. It was the most bizarre thing ever to see yourself in complete, full, three-dimensional form—so real that you could reach out and touch yourself.

  Okay, that came out wrong.

  I smiled as ‘Replay-Me’ ducked and dodged the Pukeodactyl’s attacks, outsmarting it at its own game. Then, there was the coup-de-grace—that brilliant finishing move—the uppercut slice.

  Several of the replay clips had been tweaked and edited. There were alien voiceovers and flashy animation overlays, artificially enhancing the geyser of orange blood that erupted from the sliced creature. Adding X’s to its dead eyes. And unfurling a cartoon-like tongue from its corpse. There were other feeds that showcased my boss battle and had superimposed alien commentators down in the corner, giving play-by-play hot takes on my performance.

  I shook my head. This was unlike my experience on any of the earthly social media networks. I was never very popular in social circles. Because of my lanky build and geeky interests, I was always ostracized and relegated to the outskirts of coolness.

  It was only through specific, nerdy interest groups that I was able to find my tribe. We were all a bit different but celebrated the same things. Yet here I was, trending across the multiverse, all because I was able to kill a half-man, half-pterodactyl with an acid reflux problem—in a cool way.

  “Hey ERNI, any way for me to capitalize on this newfound attention in order to gain fans and sponsors?”

  “You could create your own profile. This would enable viewers to tag you and interact with you directly. It also would open up a new channel for sponsors to contact you.”

  “All right, let’s do it then.”

  “I will need a 3D holographic scan of your face. Fortunately, I took the liberty of making one earlier.”

  ERNI brought up the three-dimensional image. There I was with the black eye and the missing tooth.

  “Oh, come on! You’ve got to have a better option than that!”

  “I could attempt to retake it. However, I believe that my holographic scanning circuitry has been affected by the marsh water.”

  “Great. You know what? Forget it. Just go with that.”

  “What would you like to name your profile?”

  I thought about it for a minute. In many instances, choosing your social media handle was a consequential decision. I smiled and nodded as a thought came to mind.

  “SackUpSam.”

  “Sack up?” ERNI questioned.

  “Yeah, it’s something my mom always used to say to me. It means man up. Grow a pair. Take control of the situation.”

  “Grow a pair of what?”

  “Testicles, if we’re going to be scientific about it.”

  “For clarification, you do have a pair of testicles, correct?”

  “Yes, ERNI, I have a set of balls. It’s just something you say when somebody seems hesitant in a situation. You want to motivate them to take that next step and overcome their fear.”

  “Very well. SackUpSam it is.”

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Big surprise—no one in the multiverse had claimed this username for themselves.”

  I was so used to having an appended number after my username because my handle choices were often a little more complimentary. SamTastic167. SamIAm243.

  But not this time. There was only one SackUpSam in the multiverse—and that was me.

  With the Echo Pulse activated, I was able to see through the murky water every 60 seconds. It gave me the added advantage of seeing the Bog Gators before they even got within the circumference of my map. I splashed down and waded my way through the muck. From time to time, I felt the sting of Murk Leeches. I quickly peeled them off and flung them back into the water.

  I was one kilometer from the orb now. I unmuted the ISSN feed. Blink and Gill were giving an update on how many warriors had fallen.

  1.8 million.

  That’s how many were left out of 6 million. I checked my rank. Even with a drastically reduced field, I was still sitting squarely at the bottom.

  4,095,183.

  But I did have over 100,000 fans now.

  As I made my way through the water, I saw a floating cottage in the distance to the right. It looked like the sort of thing you would hear about in any frightful, cautionary children’s nursery tale. It was crudely constructed out of mud and sticks—a hut seated perfectly on the water, with no landmass leading to it or away from it. Obviously the home of some bog witch.

  “Nope,” I said to myself as I continued to wade along.

  An icon appeared in front of its entrance. I could barely make it out, but it looked like a three-dimensional question mark.

  “ERNI, what does that icon mean?”

  “Question marks are typically indicative of quests.”

  “Quests.”

  I remembered what ERNI had said earlier. One way to earn some of the better perks was by taking side quests. But that came with a word of caution. While pursuing side quests, the game clock would not stop. I checked the play clock.

  09:11:23.

  Nine hours left in the first quarter. And at least I had already scored my mandatory orbdown. Still, seeing the number, I suddenly realized just how physically tired I was. Battling monsters. Slogging through mud. I’d finally gotten a bit of hydration, but I hadn’t eaten. And I was in no way physically prepared for the amount of exertion I was putting out. Maybe the side quest also came with a meal. Maybe there wasn’t a bog witch inside the hut after all. Maybe there was a tree elf wanting to give me a tray of freshly-baked cookies.

  I understood what ERNI meant now—about morbid curiosity overriding logic.

  I veered towards the hut, intent on taking whatever quest it offered. I neared the door and noticed that it was constructed of rough wood slats, held together with vines. The 3D question mark hovered right outside. I reached out and touched it, and the image evaporated. A pop-up window appeared.

  New Quest: A Swinging Good Time.

  Swing across 20 consecutive vines.

  Reward: Unlock the Hut.

  “That’s it? I don’t have to go and kill some mythical bog dragon? Easy peasy. Yeah, let’s do this.”

  The bottom of the window asked:

  Accept Quest?

  Yes.

  Twenty trees magically appeared, sprouting directly out of the water. They rose up into the fog canopy, each unfurling their own creeper vines. The tree nearest to me featured a glowing vine. It swayed in the breeze as if to say:

  ’Start Here.’

  The trees were organized in a straight line. Piece of cake.

  I grabbed hold of the first vine and pulled myself up more than halfway. I knew enough from playing retro video games like Atari’s Pitfall and watching Indiana Jones movies that I would lose a little bit of altitude with each swing if I didn’t time them perfectly.

  The big problem was starting to get a swing going in the first place. I just dangled on the vine like a fishing weight. I held on tightly and kicked my feet back and forth, slowly building up a bit of momentum.

  I arced back, then forward, swinging like a pendulum. I built up enough speed to launch myself. I released the first vine at the apex of the swing and sailed through the air.

  I caught the next vine and quickly realized it was covered with thorns. I squealed in pain and immediately released my grip, splashing into the water below.

  Restart Quest?

  “Yeah, yeah, restart.”

  What was supposed to be a quick and easy quest, soon became a hellish endeavor. I tore strips off my pink, BADASS GILF undershirt and wrapped them as a protective barrier around my palms. This enabled me to navigate the first several vines.

  By the time I got to the fourth one, I realized there were also several unhappy insects embedded in the vine leaves. They were none too happy to be disturbed by somebody grinding for extra gear. Several of them stung my fingers. The hit to my health gauge was nominal, but my throbbing, swollen fingers kept losing their grip.

  Restart Quest?

  “Yes! Dammit! Restart!”

  The madness continued on a loop. Jumping onto a vine. Building momentum. Swinging. Catching the next one. Pausing to catch my breath. Flipping to the next one. Gritting my teeth and bearing the pain of thorns and stings. Finally, after an hour of exhaustive effort, I made it to the 20th vine.

  Quest Complete: A Swinging Good Time.

  Reward: Hut Unlocked!

  New Trophy! Quest Crusher.

  Reward: +10,000 Points!

  I didn’t care about trophies or rewards or upgrades at the moment. I just wanted something to eat. I splashed my way over to the bog hut. I approached the door and touched it with a few fingertips. It creaked open.

  “Uh, hello? Anyone in there?”

  There was no reply from the darkness.

  Sixty seconds later, I was able to see clearly inside. It was a rustic, simplistic hut with a single hand-carved wooden table and chair. But on that table was a spread of food that rivaled any feast I’d ever seen. I raced inside and took it all in.

  It was the sort of thing you might see at a renaissance festival. There was a giant roasted bird, legs of mutton, roasted potatoes, stew, and tankards of ale. I threw caution to the wind. I didn’t care if the stuff was poisoned or tainted. I devoured it all, tearing at the mutton with my teeth. I guzzled ale, amber liquid splashing down my chin. I grabbed potatoes and bit them like apples. I’m sure it was a sight to behold on the broadcast, but I didn’t care. SackUpSam was hungry, and he was eating.

  There were stacks of tins with foot pictograms on them. They appeared to be MREs (Meals Ready to Eat). I added them all to my inventory. And there was something else—an equipment chest in the corner.

  I opened it and a holographic icon sprouted into the air. It was a group of armored knights, raising their swords in unison. I touched it, and the logo disappeared, replaced with the words:

  Items Acquired:

  +20,000 Credits

  Stun Grenades x3

  Team Spirit Upgrade.

  Enhances 1 Teammate With:

  + 50% Awareness

  + 50% Combat Skills.

  Great. I didn’t have a teammate to benefit from it. I stowed it in inventory, figuring it might come in handy at some point.