As if gears were clicking into position deep below, the jungle floor continued rumbling and rippling until sprouting a doorway amidst displaced soil. Its full compacted-earth splendor glistened with the moisture of interwoven roots and flowering vines.
Rough-hewn timber formed an archway that would look more appropriate in a picture book, the kind of entrance a hobbit might use for their home. Before he could question its nature further, Neon’s UI solved the riddle for him.
[Skill: Door With a Smile Lvl 1]
Access the middle of nowhere with a knock.
“Oh, let me!” To expect CC to keep her attention on him for long was probably too tall an ask. She eagerly bounced forward before Teitai could reach the door’s handle, yanking it open with the enthusiasm of a kid showing off. “You go first. I’ll keep an eye on the runts.”
Teitai rewarded her with a brief hair ruffle that CC practically melted into, and then led the charge without hesitation into the throat of absolute darkness beyond the wooden gate.
No. Not quite absolute. Squinting, Neon could make out the tiny speck of an orange glow in the distance —very far distance, might he add— shimmering at the end of a gentle downwards slope. The walk there seemed substantial, and the blackness oppressive.
CC ignited her palm to fix that inconvenience, casting the earthen corridor in a flickering amber light that periodically surged in newfound life with consequent casts. As a torch, at least, she had her use.
The firelight brought to view how those walls were formed by the same packed soil as the entrance, threaded through with roots both thin and thick dangling like organic wiring. Everything dripped with moisture, making the whole structure look fresh.
Too fresh, in fact. The whole place looked like it could collapse at any moment, which made sense if all of this was being maintained by an active augment. Still, getting buried alive wasn’t exactly high on his bucket list of things left to experience, so for now he’d just have to trust whoever this Amelia person was and step forward.
Especially since the moment Whisper closed the door behind him and Nomine, it quickly disappeared as if swallowed back into the ground it once came from. Foreboding…
But to just worry and worry again would only tire him further. He had already committed to accept their hospitality, however tentatively. And besides, if this tunnel did decide to become their tomb, all of them would be following a similar fate.
This was a choice Neon had made a long time ago. To not lead a life built around deceit and mistrust. He’d rather believe and be disappointed, than try to find darkness everywhere his eyes turned to.
Whisper’s apologetic glance —delivered as he shuffled past him and into a closer position to his allies, or perhaps just as far away from Nomine as he could manage— was what finally yanked Neon out of his spiraling.
“Hey, would you mind if I asked you something?” Neon swiftly spoke as they began their march, unwilling to let this chance go to waste.
“Yes? What is it, son?” The old man’s head turned to him, his expression cycling through surprise and then wariness, until finally settling into cautious attentiveness.
Whisper’s speech was gentle. His addressing didn’t feel patronizing, nor condescending, and more like the kind that came without thinking after decades of parenting. It once again made Neon’s chest feel heavier than it should in a human hunting game.
“I just want to make sure.” He didn’t bother lowering his voice, not caring if Teitai or CC overheard him. Some questions mattered too much for discretion. “Are they forcing you to help them?”
The words hung like accusation and olive branch combined, making the already humid and oppressive air thicker as they continued deeper into the tunnel. Or maybe it was how the roots brushed his shoulders occasionally, making the confined space feel all the more restricting.
Ahead, CC’s flames stuttered briefly. Yeah, she was listening, but neither she nor Teitai stopped walking or turned around. Giving them privacy, Neon figured, or at least the illusion of it.
Way behind them, Nomine followed at a distance that only kept increasing the more they progressed —a good ten-step gap by now. The veteran seemed to not even need CC’s firelight to help him navigate the uneven floor. If he cared about Whisper’s answer, he certainly didn’t show it.
“They’re not bad girls, if that’s what you’d like to know.” Whisper’s weathered and previously nervous features slowly gave way to a smile, one of fondness and slight amusement. “My partner and I, we… Are not exactly cut out for this sort of thing. With their help, though… I hold onto hope that she gets to survive.”
The admission carried no shame or false bravado to mask vulnerabilities. Just an honest assessment from someone who couldn’t pretend to be someone else even if he tried.
Neon tried processing that, he really did. Of how banding together made sense amidst the grand scheme of things, even if temporary. The main issue impairing him was a scent that hit his nose hard enough to derail any semblance of rational thought.
Layered underneath the earthy smell of their surroundings, something warmer drifted up. Cooked vegetables, savory and homey. Something similar to potatoes, perhaps?
Whatever it was, it made Neon’s stomach clench with vicious hunger pangs. No wonder. The last thing he’d eaten had been an entire death ago. Whisper seemed to have picked up on his faltering focus, and laughed softly to himself for a moment.
“We’ll get there soon. I know you’re being cautious, but please feel free to stay for as long as you need. Is there anything else you’d like to ask?”
That openness made Neon’s earlier suspicions seem almost embarrassing. Paranoid. Like he’d been shadow-boxing phantoms while there wasn’t any fight to begin with. Sure, half that responsibility fell on Ashen Bloom’s shoulders for the aggressive way they approached. Neon made a mental note to take a jab at them for that at some point.
“Haha…” But to Whisper? He’d only manage a nervous smile. What else could he do against such a sweet old man? “No, that’s all I needed to hear. Thank you.”
Whisper’s smile seemed to widen, gaining warmth by the second until he turned ahead to mind their descent. The gesture felt significant, somehow. Like a bridge that had been successfully crossed.
Before they knew it, the tunnel opened before them to make CC’s firelight unnecessary, overshadowed by a brighter illumination from some unseen source. The rabbit burrow terminated in what could only be called a chamber —crude, but functional. Walls of dry earth rose to a dome ceiling, braced with the same tinder as the entrance door.
With curiosity blazing brighter than any augment-generated flame, Neon confidently stepped into the light.
And in its center, tending to a cooking setup of clay vessels and arranged stoned heating above burning wood, stood someone new.
[Contestant 129, Plaza.] <>
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
[She/Her. Team Hushhouse. Rookie. Respawned.]
“You’re all back! How did it go? A lil better this time?” Plaza’s face brightened with joy as she looked up from her work… At least until her gaze landed on Neon.
The wooden spoon she held fumbled away from her hands and clattered right into a clay pot. She immediately took a step back, then another, moving with the jittery quality of a small herbivore about to bolt into any escape route available.
“Um… Hello…” Neon raised his palms slowly, knowing it probably wouldn’t help much. Talking made him feel like he had been caught sneaking into someone’s house uninvited and now had to come up with an excuse. “… Pardon the intrusion.”
She couldn’t have been older than fifteen. Sixteen if he was being exceptionally generous, though even considering that felt like a stretch. Too young. Way, way too young for whatever nightmare had dragged her here.
Plaza was a small girl, her frame nearly swallowed by patchy winter clothes that made sense only in this damp, subterranean burrow. Wearing them under the jungle heat could very well be classified as a torture method. Maybe she thought they made her look bigger. They didn’t.
Razzled, medium-length chestnut hair surrounded her face messily to conceal it partially, though Neon couldn’t help but notice faint acne scars in her skin. Still, he did his best to avoid looking directly into her wide, bright brown eyes peeking through like those of a deer frozen in the headlights.
“It’s okay, Ames!” CC bounded forward in her usual exuberance, quickly positioning herself between Plaza and him with the aggressive protectiveness of a mother goose. “These guys are just losers. Say the word and I’ll send ‘em packin.”
“Corinna. Please…” Teitai’s correction came heavier than the ones before, though she seemed to emphasize her attention on Plaza —as if measuring or trying to control her distress. “I want them to be our friends. You’re making that difficult.”
So while CC performed her usual huffs, and Whisper equally joined them to try and calm the young girl —whose reassurance seemed to work better— Neon took the opportunity to let his attention drift around the space they’d entered. Partly to give Plaza time to settle to his and Nomine’s incoming presence, and also because his curiosity equally demanded it.
The place stretched wider than he’d initially guess. Enough room to easily accommodate for them all without feeling cramped, and corridors suggesting more chambers waiting beyond. More impressively, Plaza had obviously tried to make this dirt bunker feel closer to a home.
Shelves lined with small clay vessels, decorated with simple but careful designs. Fresh flowers and ivy hanging in clusters from the ceiling beams, clearly placed there by a conscious hand to add colour to the brown monotony. Smooth stones collected then arranged with intention. And drawings, of insects and birds, depicted with startling attention to detail despite how this lifeless jungle offered no reference.
“This is… Seriously impressive.” Neon couldn’t keep himself from speaking even when he had decided to remain in the background for a while. “You guys set all this up in less than a day?”
“Oh, that’d be mostly Amelia’s doing.” Teitai’s expression changed oddly to pride, even when it wasn’t her own accomplishment. Her hand reached out to squeeze Plaza’s shoulder gently, making the girl flinch at the contact before leaning into it. Out of courtesy more than want, probably. “Her trait builds around her passively. Her skill makes it accessible.”
Regardless of how wrong it felt that Teitai took it upon herself to expose Plaza’s augments, Neon decided to probe the kid anyway just to confirm. Door With a Smile belonged to her, yes. There was also her trait.
[Trait: Dance in the Dirt]
Every hiding place can be a home.
And it made Neon… Wonder, like it usually happened despite himself knowing better. What kind of life had Plaza led for Kyth to bestow upon her abilities like these? How many temporary shelters had this kid turned into a home before this one, injecting personality and beauty and meaning into what little she had?
Offering an awkward thumbs up to both women, Neon stopped his purposeless musings to give attention to the motions of a body quietly claiming territory in a distant corner. Nomine, planting himself as far as he could from the spot where CC and Whisper prepared a table together. Because of course he did.
The veteran had settled onto the ground with his back against the wall, one leg drawn up, and an arm resting on his knee in a posture that yelled not to approach in a language every human knew instinctively. He hadn’t uttered a word since entering. Hadn’t acknowledged fear nor hospitality. Hadn’t shown even a sign of interest in the care woven into every detail of this burrow.
He just… Sat there with closed eyes, isolating himself in an invisible perimeter that might as well have been marked with caution tape.
A containment zone for the perpetually heavy-hearted, Neon thought with what he wanted to label as amusement, yet rang too close to concern.
But barriers could never deter him. If anything, they only instigated Neon to reach harder for that which shouldn’t be touched.
“Yo.” Walking closer to his partner, Neon decided to let the privacy and efficiency of their mental link to remain unused. Decided to use his own voice, friction, parchedness, dehydration and all. “Are you sure this is alright with you?”
Because he wanted to believe Nomine’s humanity could still be salvaged from beneath all that cold optimization. From contestant numbers and augment levels, from data points and win conditions.
“It’s cool if you prefer to skip the cutscene and just lie low here.” Neon kept his approach reasonable, stopping just outside what felt like Nomine’s boundaries. His goal wasn’t to invade, and more just to let him know he was present. To let him know he was seen. “But you can come eat with us if you want. With me.”
Silence hung between them for a brief moment, making Neon unsure of what exactly did he expect to achieve. Nomine had done plenty to prove himself a glacier, one that confronted everything with ruthless indifference. And yet… Something had to be there beneath all that ice.
Something that explained why he refrained from killing Soreisan when he clearly could have. Why he hadn’t pursued the impaired Carrion Reign. Why he’d chosen to stick with him rather than just leave him behind.
Perhaps due to Neon’s insistent expectation for an answer, Nomine ended up sighing. This time, though, the gesture lacked his usual frost, adding another small contradiction to the piling cracks in his armor.
“I plan to get some sleep.” Nomine’s voice emerged soft-spoken and economical as always, not looking up at Neon, yet getting him to talk at all still felt like a victory. “Tell them I’ll remain on guard, and that I can’t promise I won’t attack subconsciously if they disturb me.”
>> “Eat your portion and conserve your energy. We leave after you’re done.” A pause came soon after, the next words coming so quietly that it was lucky he didn’t miss them. “… Neon.”
An intense feeling bloomed in his chest then —ridiculous and disproportionate to such a small concession. Maybe it was hope, or maybe just childish satisfaction at the realization that no matter how deep an abyss he might’ve fallen into, not everything was lost yet. That glaciers could still be thawed.
“Mmh! Don’t worry, I’ll be your beauty sleep’s protector!” Unable to contain his smile, Neon’s words tumbled out with relief and teasing affection.
He gave his peace back to Nomine, turning to find how Plaza watched them from a cautious distance, her hands fidgeting together skittishly. Was she waiting for them to be done, or just mustering the courage to speak?
“It’s… We’re ready. For dinner!” Her voice ebbed back and forth in volume and pace, fingers never quite settling. “I mean, of course it’s dinner. That’s obvious… So, if you’d like… To join us at the table?… Or eat there instead?”
The invitation came wrapped in uncertainty, like she expected vicious rejection or even punishment for daring to talk at all. Such a frail creature.
“It’ll be just me, and yeah, I’ll be right there.” Neon kept his voice gentle, trying not to worsen her anxiety. He thought about thanking her, or praising her decorations, but that might only fray her nerves further. “Just needa check on something with my buddy and then put on my hoodie. Don’t wanna show up to dinner looking like a disheveled damp rag if I can help it.”
He wasn’t being entirely honest. Disheveled was pretty much his default state after all. But the excuse gave Plaza permission to retreat without feeling like she’d failed at her task. A graceful exit from a conversation that clearly taxed her limited reserve of social points.
She nodded quickly and scurried back towards the safety of her group. Towards Teitai, and Whisper, and the familiar foundation they embodied.
Before following suit, Neon glanced once more at Nomine’s corner. The veteran had gone perfectly still, almost like in torpor. The glow from the firelights played across his features to soften those sharp lines into something almost peaceful.
It’d be good to commit that image to memory, for the inevitable moment when his harshness returned at full force.
The game could resume soon enough. But for now, there was dinner, and company, and the fragile possibility of connection in a place manufactured to pit them against one another.
Neon chose to believe it mattered. As he always did.