Despite his mind's claim of relishing the trigger, Terry flinched when the blast came. The gunshot had no room for mistake, accurately hitting Stellan's temple, ending his moment of pain. Terry closed his eyes from the bang, the recoil of the revolver wild enough for it to loosen his grip. But not enough for him to let go entirely.

  He felt satisfied at least. But a second was too much as he turned his back as quickly as it happened. It was the very first time where he'd killed someone he knew, someone from his world. He despised the very act but knew that it was needed.

  It was either him or me, and I chose me, he thought.

  Always me, he added to halt the mental struggle he had. Before preparing himself for the last step that would return him back home.

  The guilt was quickly washed away. He would shoot as many people as he had to if it meant that he could return. Better yet, to return with his hands full of all the items he'd acquired throughout his years of isolation. So he laughed. Maniacally, showing the form of insanity he'd tried desperately to hide. Only for it to come up short when he realized the monster he had become.

  But it was too late, years too late. There was too much blood on his hands, too many lives taken for him not to push through. He was as confused as Stellan when he'd arrived in this world. It was only two months in the original world, but in his time here, it had already been four years.

  The first year he'd spent here was devoted to surviving. An email from a friend he'd had from college had forced him to enter this world. Throwing him into the middle of chaos, gunshots, slaughter, he couldn't even remember how he'd survived. But there was one thing that his memory refused to forget: it was the sensation of being near death.

  His first time returning to the original world, he'd thought that it was all a dream. But his bank account proved otherwise.

  He'd barely survived his first encounter, only returning with the amount of tokens he'd acquired from lasting long enough to escape. But the numbers were too high, the amount was too much, even if he worked several lifetimes, he couldn't have earned it. So he'd spent it all, on booze, gambling and women. But for the first time, it didn't go empty. He still had some left, some he could spend. More than enough to live a life of debauchery which he preferred.

  But the sensation was not the same. He could fuck, drink, and bet his life away the entire day, but the feeling of domination was never there. In the original world, he was known as the man who you trusted the least with your money. The man you wouldn't introduce to your parents. The man that you should never associate with. But here, in 'Luminous,' he was a force. A judge of life and death. Someone who could trample others with his own whims.

  So he became addicted. More severely than what any vice could offer. Changing him into a person that even he himself would not trust.

  But who cared?

  He was strong, stronger than most.

  And even in this world, the very fact never differed from the original.

  The strong always ruled, and it never changed. Nor would it ever.

  "FUCK!" Terry shouted, declaring his presence where none were to hear.

  "FUCK FUCK FUCK!" he rampaged, continuing with his delirium. Kicking at a corpse which he'd just pilfered, hoping to garner at least a reaction where none came.

  Terry then sighed heavily, in disappointment and in anticipation. Two emotions that proved to contrast one another. Ruffling his hair, looking at the dusted floor that he'd always seen throughout his stay. There was a moment where he was considering crying.

  No one would see. If he wept, no one would know. If he cursed his very being, no one would care.

  But this moment was short-lived. As the crumpled paper in his hand reminded him what it was all for. Returning him to his previous state, switching him back to himself. Rejecting the moment of vulnerability he'd had.

  He clutched it, pressing it tightly. Checking if it was real. And indeed it was, an unremarkable one at that. There were letters and drawings that fit the setting of a more prehistoric time. But he didn't care. All he cared about was what it entailed. So he proceeded with the ritual, getting the folded incomplete map from his denim pocket. Then imbuing it with his mana. Its crisp edges shone with a faint hue of blue, purer in shade than the sun's rays. Its contents were similar to the torn fragment, letters and images that were better translated by someone who was more knowledgeable. He then suspensefully attached the map and the torn piece together. Meshing it into one form, until the completed map had shown its true identity.

  There was nothing he could understand. Try as he might, it was all gibberish to Terry. It wasn't the same letters he'd grown up being taught. Nor the same drawings that were similar to any landmark in the original world. But it was all the same nonetheless. His victory was achieved. And his devious laugh accompanied it.

  Without a moment's rest, before he could even celebrate, a message appeared in front of him. A similar sensation from the character panel but it was direct. Only including the words.

  CONGRATULATIONS Candidate_PWNstar69

  FOR COMPLETING THE GRAND ROYALE

  Rewards and Experience will be calculated accordingly. Please await further instructions.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Time until return: 00:59.43 SECONDS

  This was it…

  The very same image that he'd dreamt about for many nights. The message that he'd ever so desperately sought. Abolishing any guilt from his actions with a single notification.

  "YES! FINALLY YES!" Terry celebrated, raising his arms from the joyous occasion. Laughing hysterically so that his voice echoed from the empty floor.

  "I CAN GO BACK! I CAN FINALLY GO BACK!"

  "I CAN GO HOME! I can finally quit this fucking game!" he shouted in a delirious state.

  "ALL THESE YEARS! ALL THESE FUCKING… It's finally over."

  "Home… I CAN GO HOME! I can–"

  However, his celebration was cut short when he heard a blast that wasn't supposed to be.

  Terry then felt a pain, increasing rapidly. Hollowing him out as his blood raced to the entrance that was freshly made. The smell of ash and agony wafted underneath his nostrils. Too quickly for him to muster a proper response, as he craned his neck down. Seeing a hole which wasn't there previously, placed on his left chest.

  He then turned and saw something that defied all logic.

  It was Stellan, still on the ground. Barely propped up with his knee still shattered, still rendered useless based on Terry's own doing. His eyes still remained muddled, almost lifeless. Reduced to the resolve of a dying man. Grinning as he spoiled Terry's moment.

  In Stellan's hand was the revolver, the very same revolver Terry had given him from their first reunion. The one Stellan had used to throw at his opponent earlier. Landing where the corpse was, faithfully located where Stellan used to squirm.

  It was a mishap that Terry would never have expected. How could he, when his thoughts were too busy on killing the one man who'd trusted him. The one man who he'd forcefully introduced to this wretched world. The man who'd shot him through the heart. Defying all logic and probability, before Terry fell down on one knee. Blood gurgling in his mouth. Map clutched in one hand, revolver in the other.

  He'd lost too much blood in such a short time. He didn't have any strength to mount a resistance. The feeling of coldness swept through him too quickly. Even with the various health pills he had stored in his ring, he couldn't summon them. His life fading quicker than he could draw breath.

  Time until return: 0:51.07 SECONDS

  "H–How?" Terry questioned. By no means should Stellan be living. He was already in a worse state. If he'd left him alone to his wound, then in a matter of few moments he would have died. Seeing that there was nothing that could nurse a shattered knee in his inventory.

  But the answer lay in one factor that Terry had forgotten to inquire about. As if it was by the whims of fate, he'd forgotten to ask the specifics of Stellan's one and only skill.

  < Smoke-Touched: Passive > The caster transforms into a smoke-like, intangible state for a set duration. While in this state, the caster is immune to all physical and non-mana-imbued attacks. Mana Cost: 25 MP

  ( Auto-activates when caster is in an instakill event)

  Of course, Stellan didn't know about this fortunate boon that had saved his nearly ended life. It was a rule of this world, that every candidate must be granted with a skill to help increase their chances for survival. A rule that is established regardless of the candidate's permission.

  But this wasn't the only factor that changed the course of the conclusion. The betrayal was an addition to it. But Stellan was never the kind to hold grudges. How could he? What kind of hate could he experience when he'd lived a life that was the envy of others? So this discovery of a new emotion fueled him. Igniting the last flicker of his life to one final moment. Allocating the last of his strength to his shaky arm. The same arm that had killed a man. The same arm that was the reason for another man's death. The only arm that hastened Terry's life. Shooting a bullet that was guided by sheer fading tenacity.

  Candidate Name: Castellan Moss/_Dandy628

  Gray 1-Star ★

  Health: 0.8/50

  Mana: 0/25

  Essence: 10/100

  Experience: 145/100 [ Promotion Available! ]

  Status:

  → Bleeding (Severe )

  Health will decrease in an alarming rate, seek medical health immediately

  (1:01 minutes left)

  → Crippling Injury (Severe)

  → Knee (Shattered)

  "W…wh," Terry gargled. Convulsing from the spilling blood from the hole in his chest. They exchanged glares across the distance. But on this occasion, Terry's eyes were filled with dread while Stellan's were tuned to grim satisfaction.

  He wanted to curse. His mind was out of sorts. He couldn't understand how Stellan, the man who he'd killed, was able to shoot him. It was unexplainable, almost too illogical. But Terry's attempts at understanding held no further use. Before Stellan snickered from Terry's deplorable state.

  It continued, faintly. Low enough that his panting breath and excruciating pain offered a bit of cover. Loud enough that Terry could hear. He continued, chuckling. While Terry was slowly consumed by the cold, despising the fact that he was helpless to curse Stellan back, whose mind was now far drifted into pain-induced insanity.

  "Bitches… First…"

  Stellan hardly uttered with the last portion of his breath that he was allowed to expend. As he observed with flickering eyes the bloodied wallowing of Terry whose expression was far too miserable to be described.

  Time until return: 0:18.02 SECONDS

  He could still live. Terry resisted the pangs of death. He was an inch close to victory. He could almost taste it.

  Time until return: 0:12.29 SECONDS

  He just needed to last a few more seconds. Clutching desperately at the hole in his chest as an attempt to stop the bleeding. But the blood refused to be obstructed.

  Fountaining out of the wound with relentless momentum.

  Time until return: 0:10.02 SECONDS

  He only needed to last. A couple more seconds and he would be proclaimed the victor.

  Time until return: 0:7.09 SECONDS

  Just a bit more, and he could return back to whoring, drinking, and petting the fat cat he was hesitant to claim. The only connection he had from a relationship that had ended from a misunderstanding.

  Time until return: 0:2.10 SECONDS

  He now had a chance to turn his life around. To change his ways. To be able to settle down and build a place where he could call home.

  Home.

  The very last thought Terry had.

  Before the light in his eyes went dark.

  Time until return: 0:0.00 SECONDS