Once I was back in my room, I took a minute to splash some water on my face and thoroughly scrub the dried blood off in the sink—though it was easier said than done with only one hand. I was happy to see that my left arm was making progress. Instead of five little nubs, I had what almost looked like a baby fist protruding from the end of my wrist. It wasn’t functional yet and I couldn’t even wiggle the tiny digits, but before much longer I was sure I’d be back to normal.

  Well, as normal as anything was in the Backrooms.

  With the majority of the gore gone, I headed over to the Progenitor Monolith and pulled up my SBR.

  I’d leveled up a grand total of three times since the last time I’d visited a Monolith and had fifteen Stat points to burn as a result—not exactly a metric fuckton by anyone’s estimation, but every little bit counted. Especially since levels were coming more slowly, the more powerful I became. The experience gap was staggering. I’d only needed about a thousand points to move from level 10 to level 11, but to move from 53 to 54 I needed a little over thirty-three thousand points.

  Progress would be slower going moving forward.

  Still, even at a drastically reduced rate, I fully expected to be close to level 60 by the time I made it down to the heart of the 99th floor. I would need to be if I had any hope of taking the Franchisor out, even with my team behind me.

  I added five points to Resonance, increasing my overall Mana Pool and bringing Mana Optimization up to an even 20%. I dropped five more points into Grit, two into Athleticism—my weakest primary stat, other than Preservation—and three into Perception, which rose to 52. Based on my experience so far, I figured I was still quite a way off from pushing it past the boundary threshold, but inch by inch and point by point I’d get there.

  I’d also earned the new Waterboarding 3.0 Title but opted to leave it out of the rotation for the time being. It was good, but I wasn’t sure how often I’d be fighting heavily armored targets, so it just didn’t seem practical.

  I gave my updated SBR a final once over, before nodding to myself in approval.

  Dan Woodridge

  Specimen Biotag ID #03A-01-B00R7T569C

  Variant Assimilation Level: 53

  Race: Human, Archetypal

  Current Experience: 508,500

  Next Level: 541,750

  Personal Enhancement Points: 0

  __ __ __

  Health: 194

  Health-Regen/Hour: 15.5

  __ __ __

  Stamina Reserve: 112

  Stamina-Regen/Minute: 11.25

  __ __ __

  Mana Pool: 287

  Mana-Regen/Minute: 28.28

  Individual Adaptative Stats

  Grit: 89 (84 + 5 Enhanced)

  Athleticism: 36

  Toughness: 40

  Perception: 52

  Resonance: 126

  Preservation: 21

  Spatial Core - Active

  (R) Runic Glyph Array – Level 15

  (F) Hydro Fracking Blast – Level 10

  (F) Hydrokinesis (Fully Tempered) – Level 1

  (F) Frostfang Spire – Level 2 (Fully Tempered)

  (F) Eldritch Taxidermist – Level 15 (Fully Tempered)

  (F) Echoed Aura – Level 5 (Fully Tempered)

  (F) Neural Slipstream – Level 7 (Fully Tempered)

  (F) StainSlayer Maelstrom – Level 10 (Fully Tempered)

  (F) Psychic Sovereignty – Level 10 (Fully Tempered)

  (ME) Compass of the Catacomber (Fully Tempered)

  !!! Current Titles – Passive !!!

  Punch-Out!! Champion, Marked for Death, Legend in the Making, Overkill Overlord, Great White in a Barrel (E), Profane Purifier, Domino Rally, Kaiju Slayer, Dog Fighter, HR Horror Show

  I closed out of my SBR and left the Monolith behind, getting ready to head down and meet the others. When I pulled open the door, however, I found Temperance outside with her fist raised, as though she’d been about to knock.

  “Good, you’re here,” she said, storming in without waiting for an invitation. Her face looked like a thunderhead, and I could tell she was upset.

  Honestly, I wasn’t surprised to see her.

  “Yeah, just come on in,” I muttered, even though she was already halfway to the sofa in the living room. “You want a beer or something?” I called out at her retreating back.

  “Yes. A beer or five feels… appropriate,” she said, before flopping down onto the padded seat.

  I grabbed a couple of cold Bud Lites from the fridge, handed her one, and sank into the chair across from her. She cracked the tab and took a long swig without saying anything. There was no quip, no sarcasm. For once, her armor was down, and that alone told me how rattled she really was.

  I had a pretty good guess what this was about, though I waited for her to speak, letting the silence stretch between us.

  Finally, she sighed. “We need to talk about what happened with Krampus,” she said. “About what we saw.” Her eyes met mine, and I saw how heavy and tired they looked. “Or what we weren’t supposed to see,” she amended. “The memory loop. You felt it too, didn’t you? Saw what I saw?”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “Yeah,” I said with a reluctant nod.

  “That place. In the desert? Where was it?” she asked.

  “Iraq,” I answered softly. I couldn’t meet her eyes. I didn’t want her to see the shame burning in mine.

  “Then it was real.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. “The explosion. The man who died.” She paused. “Was he your friend?”

  I nodded again. “His name was Sergeant Martin. He was a hell of a guy.”

  “Why that memory?” she asked after a long beat. “You’ve been in the Backrooms long enough to see far worse things. You’ve killed. Nearly died more times than I can count. Personally witnessed countless horrors that would drive most people into a padded cell. So why does that memory haunt you?”

  I shifted in my seat, every instinct screaming not to open the box. I hadn’t liked reliving the memory during the time loop and I really didn’t want to unpack it for a second time, but her gaze didn’t let me look away.

  “It wasn’t just that he died,” I finally said. “We were in a war zone. Lots of people died. It’s one of those things you know is a possibility when you deploy.” I glanced down. “I guess the reason why I can’t let it go is because I didn’t do more. Didn’t do anything. He was just lying there, making these awful little noises. And I was right there. Fifteen feet away…”

  I trailed off, not sure how to finish.

  “And?” she asked gently. Gentle wasn’t a side of Temperance I was used to seeing.

  “I just stayed there,” I whispered. “I laid there in the dirt and watched him die.”

  She let that sit, then shook her head. “You did the right thing. I saw what you saw. If you’d tried to help him, you’d be dead too.”

  “I know that,” I snapped. “But I felt like a fucking coward. Still do. In my head, I know there’s nothing I could’ve done to save him. I tell myself the protocols were clear—that charging in would’ve gotten us both killed. But that’s not the part I remember. I remember his face. The way he looked at me when he realized what was happening. Like he was begging me to try. And I didn’t. I stayed down. Dead weight while he bled out ten steps away.”

  Temperance stared down at her beer, her voice low. “I know that feeling. The fear. The helplessness.” Her fingers tightened around the can. “You saw my memory too, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah,” I admitted.

  “It was so long ago,” she said. “In some ways, it feels like a different life. A different me. But even after all this time, the memory remains. I’ve had nightmares about that day for centuries. When I got stranded in a time dilation after noclipping, it was all I could think about. How weak I was.” She gave a bitter smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ve never told anyone about it, you know. Couldn’t bear to share it. But now you know the truth. Watched it unfold.”

  “For what it’s worth, I didn’t mean to,” I said, leaning forward. “It just sort of happened.”

  “I know,” she reassured me while staring down at the beer can like it held all the answers. “But you did. You saw me before all this. Before I was the ‘raging bitch with a meat cleaver.’”

  “You were just a kid, Temp,” I said. “What happened wasn’t your fault. If I could go back in time, I’d punch every last one of those assholes right in the dick.”

  “You’re right, it wasn’t my fault,” she replied, voice tight. “But I was old enough to know what was coming. Old enough to see the mob for what it was. To know they weren’t going to listen. And I froze. Let them drag me, chain me, build the pyre while I cried and pleaded like a helpless child.” Her lips curled like the words tasted sour in her mouth.

  “You were outnumbered and unarmed,” I said. “I don’t know what else you could’ve done.”

  “I could’ve run,” she said. “Fought. Something. Anything. Instead, I just let it happen.”

  “But you survived,” I said.

  She snorted. “Barely. And only because they were more afraid of me than I was of them.”

  “That’s not weakness,” I said softly. “It’s just circumstance.”

  “It felt like weakness to me,” she replied. “It still does. And that nagging voice has been whispering in the back of my head ever since. Telling me that the only reason I survived is because they were chickenshit. Not because I was brave, but because I got lucky.”

  I leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Temperance, I’ve watched you sprint into a horde of monsters like you were on your way to the farmer’s market. I’ve seen you put yourself between us and death without blinking. I’ve seen you bleed and fight and keep going while everyone else was screaming and losing their shit.”

  She looked away and I could see tears on her cheeks.

  “I saw the way you went after that horde in Krampus’s lair,” I continued. “How you didn’t even hesitate to dive in, headfirst. And you saved me, Temp. If you hadn’t summoned those chains, Krampus would’ve reeled me and gutted me like a trout. You’re tougher than anyone I know and fearless—even when you’re scared. If that’s cowardice, then I don’t want to know what courage looks like.”

  When she finally faced me again, her eyes were glassy but steady.

  “Then maybe you should get a mirror and say that to yourself,” she said evenly. “Yes, you lay in the dirt and watched your friend die. But I’ve also seen you risk everything for people you barely know. You fought for me the day we met. And I just watched you drown a man in a mech suit to free a group of slaves you’d never even spoken to. You gamble your life every single day for people you owe absolutely nothing. You’re an idiot, but you’re no coward.”

  “I still feel like one,” I admitted.

  “Then welcome to the club.” She lifted her beer in salute. “But you don’t get to hang that label on yourself. The word coward is reserved for people who don’t show up and you always show up. Even when you shouldn’t.”

  We drank in silence, the weight of old ghosts pressing in around us.

  “Thanks,” I said after taking another drink. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry I saw your memory.”

  “I’m not,” she said. “I’ve been carrying that baggage by myself for too long. It feels nice to finally have someone to share it with. Someone who understands what it’s like. We may have come from very different worlds, but underneath it all, we aren’t all that different.”

  Nikoli had said something similar, but this time the words were a comfort instead of a condemnation. Sometimes perspective was all that mattered.

  Temperance set her can aside and leaned back against the couch. “Just don’t ever repeat what you saw. Not to Harper, not to Jakob, not even to Croc.”

  “I won’t,” I said, and meant it. What had happened on the battlefield with Krampus was a secret I intended to take to the grave with me.

  “Good,” she said, eyes narrowing, “because if you do, I will slow roast you. Bastinade the feet, tie you to a spit, and glaze you in honey until you start begging for ants.”

  “Jesus Christ,” I said.

  “I’m serious.”

  “I believe you,” I replied, raising my hands. Then I brightened, as I remembered the gift I had for her. I opened my spatial storage and pulled out the Dark Solstice Cleaver. “This was Nikoli’s,” I said, gingerly handing her the weapon. “Won’t do me much good, but I figured it might be a nice upgrade for you.”

  Temp accepted the blade with a raised eyebrow and turned it over in her hands examining the leather wrapped hilt and the frost-forged steel. She turned the sword over in her hands with something that bordered on reverence. The peppermint stripped steel drank in the light from the room rather than reflecting it, and the faint runes pulsed with a glacial glow along the flat of the blade.

  She stood, beer forgotten, backed away a few paces, then gave it an experimental swing. The air seemed to shiver in its wake.

  “This thing is… vicious,” she murmured, the barest flicker of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I can feel the weight in it. The balance. Like it was made to carve through something ancient and angry.”

  “It was,” I said. “Nikoli forged it to kill Krampus, after all.”

  She paused. “What’s the catch?”

  “There is no catch,” I said simply.

  Temperance narrowed her eyes, unconvinced. “This is the Backrooms. There’s always a catch. No one just gives away something like this and you earned it. You keep what you kill, remember?”

  “Not this time,” I said, leaning back in the chair. “You’ve been through hell, Temp. You’ve walked into nightmares, fought tooth and nail for every inch. You stood your ground when you could’ve run and ran when no one else would’ve had the guts to. This isn’t a bribe or a favor. It’s just… what someone like you should be carrying. Besides, our new motto is ‘need over greed.’ What’s good for you is good for all of us.”

  She stared at me and something unreadable passed behind her eyes. Slowly, she nodded.

  “It’s a good weapon and though I’ll be sad to set my cleaver aside, I’ll put this to good use.” She glanced down at the weapon again. “And Dark Solstice Cleaver does have a nice ring to it.”

  “Sounds poetic,” I said.

  She smirked. “It sounds like something that drinks blood and whispers to you in your sleep.”

  “All the more reason for you to have it,” I replied. “I have enough trouble sleeping as is—especially since Croc farts like a fog machine and snores like a chainsaw.”

  That pulled a low laugh from her, the first real one I’d heard since she walked in.

  “Just so we’re clear,” she said, fixing me with that signature steel-eyed glare, “I’m keeping this. You don’t get it back unless I find something better. And even then, you’ll have to pry it out of my cold, undead hands.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” I said, rising to my feet. “Besides, I think it suits you. Winter forged. Brutal. Refined, in a terrifying sort of way. It’s very you.”

  “Aw,” she said, patting my cheek like a grandmother with murder in her heart. “You always know how to make a girl feel special.”

  I grinned, then sobered. “Now, how’s about we go round up the others. It’s high time we should be getting back to Kringlegard.”

  “I suppose that’s true,” she said, sheathing the sword then slinging it across her back. “There are a lot of people down there who’ve been waiting a long time to see their families again.”

  “And we promised to bring them home,” I added.

  Temperance gave a single nod and followed me toward the door. “Let’s go make good on it.” She paused and stole a look back at me over one shoulder. “For a long time, I really only cared about myself. About getting stronger so that I would never be as weak as I was that night. I must admit that doing things for others is a nice change of pace. It feels good.”

  We stepped out into the hallway, old trauma momentarily left behind and new purpose lighting the way ahead.