As every day, the Nexus was crowded with people. Some headed toward the connector, others to meet acquaintances, and me… I walked on, carrying an axe that was clearly not made for me. It stood out more than I would have liked. My level three gave me enough strength to swing it like a hockey stick, but not enough to hide it.
I won't deny it—maybe because I was feeling nostalgic, remembering the good times with Ale—I genuinely wanted to see Rachel. Her presence was exceptional, and simply talking to her brought me a bit of peace inside this treacherous pit.
My steps were light. They echoed, and for the first time, I felt the stares. People fixed their eyes on the axe, on my swaying ponytail, on my suit… or maybe on the fact that I had started whistling Can You Feel the Sunshine, as if the world were smiling at me. You know, if life gives you lemons, make orange juice.
I wanted to see Rachel in all her splendor: those gala dresses worthy of her era, or even her knightly armor. In any form, she always looked glorious, and today would be no exception.
Or so I wanted to believe.
Reality hit me in the face harder than if I had shown up wearing nothing but underwear.
Hair loose and messy. A shirt with a barely visible pattern. Wide emerald-green pants. Barefoot. And the decisive point…
Glasses.
Damn glasses.
I stared at her, spellbound. It was like looking at—
—Ale…
—Tris!
Rachel didn't hesitate. In a single startled motion, she went from her seat to standing right in front of me. Her face was red, worried. She quickly took my free hand between hers, stealing my breath away. Her scent wrapped around me instantly.
"Marshmallow?"
I felt captivated, lost. But she wasn't dazed—she was anxious. The moment my eyes met hers, she asked the obvious.
—How are you, Tris?
—I… don't… know.
—God, Tris, you scared everyone.
—What happened?
Gently, she took my arm and led me to one of the benches so I could sit. Then she began:
—Well… you were like a zombie, you know? Walking around the connector, catatonic and lost, looking for Paul and asking about him. Bonaparte was the first to see you, and you ignored him completely. He thought you hadn't seen him…
—Because he's short? —I asked, forcing a smile.
—Very funny… but yes —she replied, mimicking my smile—. He didn't take long to warn Díaz, and well… that's when you ran into me. Do you really not remember any of this?
—I'm sorry…
I saw her face tighten before she continued.
—Well… you called me "Ale."
My heart skipped a beat. I was aware that I had confused them more than once, but in what state did I have to be to say that?
—Then you hugged me and started saying, "I didn't want to kill him… I thought he would come back."
—I'll have to apologize to Saladino for that.
—Don't worry, he was… —I felt another piece of myself die of embarrassment—. He understood immediately. He assumed you had killed… for the first time.
—And that's exactly what happened…
—Paul? —she asked, with genuine concern.
I didn't answer. I simply let the axe of Babe come into view. Rachel said nothing; she looked at it, then back at my face.
—Are you okay? You were friends… right?
—I'm not sure. If I had to say, I'd say yes, but…
The tears I had been holding back forced their way out. My vision blurred as I sobbed, trying to swallow the crying.
—Tris…
—I'm not sure… I never really knew him. I never asked his real name. I never asked about his dream. I never asked why he was here. I never asked him anything, Rachel.
She said nothing more. She stayed beside me in silence as I let the tears fall. Then she took a piece of lime-green cloth from her bag.
—You're Bronze now, right? —she asked, offering me the handkerchief.
I nodded.
—Perfect. Then we're celebrating. Today, I'm paying.
She didn't give me a chance to argue. She simply grabbed me—along with the axe—and started dragging me through the place. If before the stares had been fixed on me, now, accompanied by Rachel, I became the center of criticism and envy. So much so that I didn't even notice when we crossed the Silver wall.
—Wait, Rachel… I still can't access this floor.
—But I can —she said, raising her Gold plaque—. Besides, you're already Bronze. With that level, being invited is enough to enter the Silver floor.
She suddenly stopped, looking at the axe.
—I suppose Babe's Legacy left that axe, right?
—Yes. According to its status, it's broken.
—Then all the more reason we should go in. I'm sure the old man can reforge that legacy so it responds to you.
—Is that possible?
—Of course. Though you'll have to give him a story worth forging.
—Not again…
—Relax —she said, amused—. Forging is one thing, renaming is another. He won't take it from you.
She kept dragging me through increasingly empty corridors. Despite being the Silver floor, it didn't take long before I saw another wall identical to the last one, but made of pure gold—the separation to the next level. I didn't need to be a genius to understand that, to cross it, I'd need to be at least Silver.
What did surprise me was how empty the place was.
—Rachel, where is everyone?
—Let's just say the Silver floor is the least popular. Most people stay in Metal, and those who surpass it prefer to go to Gold. I can't take you there… unless I were Platinum.
—Then I hope you rank up fast.
—So do I —she replied with a mischievous smile.
Before I realized it, I was sitting in front of a storefront that looked like a seafood restaurant. Rachel handed me the menu.
—Order whatever you want.
I took it… and almost fell backward. Every dish cost at least forty thousand credits—literally a victory from the second floor.
—This is expensive.
—You think? I've never lacked credits… and that's with being thrown back to Aries four times already.
—Four times?
—Yeah. I died in Cancer the first time. I think most people die there. Nobody expects to go from fields and robots to a crab that spits pressurized water.
—Tell me about it… if it weren't for Roberts, I don't know how I would've made it out.
—Are you kidding? Roberts has been telling your feat everywhere. He made it clear: "If it hadn't been for the kid's space-time magic, my ship would've been renamed the Royal Misfortune."
She mimicked an exaggerated, seafaring voice completely out of character for her, making me laugh genuinely—and she joined in.
—I really depended on him.
—I'm not surprised. You're skilled, but not strong… still, you played with a handicap in the beginner filter and won.
Paul.
I didn't just carry the crab. I carried a predator far more dangerous than the incarnation.
—I think I'll have the fried fish with mashed potatoes.
—A classic —she replied with a playful smile—. Excuse me.
She gestured to a white axolotl with large black eyes. Unlike Axio, this one wasn't alive. It was the ultimate representation of an NPC.
—Welcome to the Roasted Axolotl. What can I serve you?
—One order of fish with mash and one shrimp pasta, please.
—Understood. I'll bring your dishes shortly.
—Oh, and one more thing… do you drink, Tristan?
—No… I don't like the taste, but I guess I can keep you company.
—That's the spirit! Two beers as well.
The axolotl nodded, and out of nowhere, two mugs appeared, filling from the bottom with thick, pale beer. Then it left.
—I feel strangely good talking to you, Tris —Rachel said, taking one mug and handing me the other.
—That's funny, considering our first interaction was me scolding you for not respecting a friend's mourning.
—And look at me now, cheering you up over another one's…
—We're human.
—We are.
And so, we clinked our beer mugs and drank, beginning our dinner.