Two years ago, he drank himself out of a life.
While surviving in that barren land, he once risked his life to save a bureaucrat — and was rewarded with 20,000 Yev.He never truly believed he was the kind of person who wins.But money, as if to prove him wrong, kept dragging more money to itself like a magnet.He bought a lottery ticket — and won again: 40,000 Vey.
Then he gambled once more.This time, not with cards — but with a beautiful girl: Emma Tyle.
On the morning after a long, tangled night, Emma's kisses still lingered on his cheeks; her warm breath clung to his chest like a secret that refused to leave.
He thought those moments were special — maybe even entirely his.Until the night he introduced Emma to his closest friend, just for an evening.
That night, he hated himself more than ever.For drinking too much.For leaving the two of them alone long enough to find each other.
But what happened wasn't his fault.
The crystals in Steve Meyer's obsidian glasses had turned into a disco ball, lighting up the darkness like it owed him something.He wished the girl who gave him those beautiful glasses hadn't been Emma.
He'd stuffed a few obsidian daggers into his bag.After a few steps, he knelt to tie his shoelaces.The earth rumbled beneath him, sending up steam like some twisted underfloor heating system.
The glass vest he wore couldn't take it anymore — it began to melt, releasing the acrid scent of burning plastic into the air.
With every step, he could hear the obsidian daggers in his bag clashing against one another.His head buzzed with all the things he wanted to say to his ex-girlfriend.If he ever saw her again, he wanted to do a hell of a lot more than just spit in her face.
The sharp, high-pitched clink of the blades sliced clean through his thoughts.Meyer scratched the back of his neck, his veins tingling from the sound.
The cocktail party at Bruno's had bored him to death — thank God he'd slipped out between all the useless chatter.Whatever came out of that ancient speaker wasn't music. It smelled like filth.
His close friend Huyger — a man made entirely of basalt — suddenly stepped in front of him and asked, "Where'd you get the obsidians?"
Then leaned in and whispered into Meyer's ear: "They look damn cool."
"Yeah. They do."
As if Meyer had nothing else about him that could be cool, people kept saying it — and they loved saying it.But Emma was different.She was the only one who never said it.
Their first meeting.And the bed that had witnessed it.Goddamn it.
"Hmm. Yeah," Meyer muttered. "It hurts."Which maybe meant: I'm hurting too.
"So, where you off to now?" Huyger asked, placing his hands on his waist.His bronze-colored arms settled there like they belonged.He chuckled at his own joke — then went quiet.After rubbing his greasy belly, he reached inside his clothes and pulled out a sweaty bottle of beer.
"Don't tell me you stole that from the cocktail bar," Meyer said, rolling his eyes.Or rather, he rolled his glasses. That was more accurate.Even if he wouldn't admit it — his insides were burning.
The voices of the women from the party still echoed in his ears.One of them had even slapped his ass and said, "Baby."He realized he'd run away from what might've been a good night.What a damn shame.
"You there?" Huyger asked, opening his mouth wide like a mutt showing its teeth.He waved a massive hand in front of Meyer's glasses.
"Frozen solid on the icy crust of this dying planet," Meyer muttered with full sarcasm.Another one of Huyger's legendary jokes — unfunny, out-of-sync, as always.
The heat clawed at him with the arrogant grip of hell itself.A single drop of sweat slipped down to the bridge of his nose, trapped beneath the obsidian frames.
"How's your girl?" Meyer asked, swiping Huyger's beer.He couldn't think of anything else to say.None of the dumb, irritating headlines from Crystal 7 came to mind.He took a sip.
The cold beer — the same one he'd just criticized Huyger for stealing — cooled his throat."She's been cranky ever since she gave birth," Huyger said."Thought that only happened during pregnancy."
"It'll pass," Meyer replied, waving a hand.His braces were frozen.Exactly twenty-four wires.Just like his age.Perfect match.
"Well then. Yeah. It really passes," Meyer said, turning back to Huyger.
He didn't give a damn.
He threw the beer bottle into a trash can made of burning charcoal that glowed with orange flames.
By trash, he meant the depths of the earth.
A waste pit that could vaporize you in an instant.
Like a black box. A bottomless well.
"My wife will never get better.
Actually, when I say since pregnancy, I mean during the pregnancy of our first child.
Our daughter's seventeen now," Huyger said with a sigh.
Meyer raised an eyebrow."No way, man! How old are you?"
"If I said eighty-nine, that'd be a lie."
"Forty-five?" Meyer said, winking.To pull it off properly, he'd have to take off his glasses —but then he wouldn't look cool.It was like the Grandfather Paradox.
"Forty-six," said Huyger, emphasizing both digits.
"Well, cool. Is it a girl or a boy?"
"Girl, obviously. But if you so much as glance sideways, I'll filter your beers through your intestines."
"What the hell, man?"
Meyer suddenly shouted, focusing on a point behind Huyger.
He opened the lock on his bag and reached for one of his blades.
He imagined the sharp edge slicing through the enemy's flesh.
"What is it?" Huyger roared.
A giant spider was walking straight toward them.
"Hmph," Huyger grunted, crossing his arms.
He pulled out a spray from his pocket and, like someone who'd done this many times before, sprayed the multi-legged creature.
"Since these things evolved, they've surpassed my wife!" he shouted grumpily.
"And if your wife evolves, who will she surpass?" Meyer said.
He glanced at the handle and the blade of the dagger.
His chance to take out his anger on a spider had just passed.
"That's a damn good question!" Huyger said.
"Seriously, who would she surpass?
Eh, whatever. I dunno. See you."
Just as Meyer waved and started walking, his damn shoelaces came loose again.
His legs dropped to the ground next to a pile of blue spiders.
The stench of the creature's corpse was unbearable.
Its red eyes made it look like the spawn of the devil.
Lava had scorched his pants.
Good thing he'd only knelt on one knee.
He muttered to himself:
"It used to seem so stupid when people ran from erupting volcanoes...
Wait a sec.
Is a volcano erupting right now?"
A deafening, absurdly terrifying sound rang out.
He reflexively opened his mouth to avoid pressure shock.
He saw Huyger floating in a sea of lava in the distance — and without looking back, he took off running.
"Shit!"
The lava flow roared as it spread in every direction, unleashing gray smoke and blistering heat.
It was anything but gentle.
The smell of melted basalt filled the air.
While being swept along in the current, Meyer saw Huyger with his eyes shut.
"Huyger, are you dead?!" he yelled.
He was running, cupping his hands around his mouth like a megaphone.
He could feel the pain now.
"Say something, damn it! The lava's right behind me!"
Huyger floated in the peach-colored current, his eyes still closed.
Meyer had no choice but to run.
He'd been caught off guard.
If he turned back or stood still, he'd die.
And that would mean giving up on his grand goal.
He'd have to abandon the plan to plunge an obsidian blade into the heart of the so-called friend who stabbed him in the back.
Not by decision—
But by death.
That would mean he'd never get to take revenge on Magmus.
"I will never give up. Even if I die!"
he screamed—
but only inside.
Only inside.