"Welcome to f-floor %$###$#. Please… leave… exit the elevator. NOW."
"Thud!" sounds the elevator. The doors stutter as they slide open to a near-empty expanse of darkness that unfurls in all directions.
The only inhabitants appear to be towering cubes—pulsating between low lights of deep violets and blues—floating through space, rotating sluggishly on unseen axes and drifting lazily, while others hang suspended like great stars in the night sky.
Ollie steps out, wary, the edge of the elevator disappearing behind him. Thousands of Q-Bits appear under his foot, mimicking a surface made of the giant cubes and creating some semblance of a walkable surface on the level that some would mistake for oblivion.
There is no hum of electronics, no neon buzz, just the occasional low mumble of a cube as it passes Ollie. Every step echoes strangely, as if the void absorbs sound only to whisper it back.
A chill runs up Ollie's spine. Something about this place felt off, like the level of a video game that loaded without textures.
"This isn't the previous floor. What is this place?" Ollie murmurs to himself. He raises his hands to his face and cups them around his mouth. "Hello! Is anyone else here?"
Nothing responds to his call, not even the cubes.
"I guess I'm alone here for now. Might as well do something constructive while I wait. Someone will probably come looking for me. I hope."
With no one else around, Ollie sits on the floor, crossing his legs. Another cube lights up underneath him. He taps his MIND unit and pulls up a full read-out of his OverKnight's loadout and cards.
Each card displays its stats, and he knows these by heart. Memorized them. Practiced. But he still lost.
Ollie thinks about the last match, not the fight, but his approach. He always rushes in. Always starts with brute force. Always reacts from the gut.
But that Specter and its Pilot? Merciless. He hadn't stood a chance against Silas.
He sighs. "I'm not gonna make it if I keep doing the same thing. And I have to redo a whole level now." The void swallows his voice.
Lyra had tried her best to prepare him to fight against other Pilots, but she had collapsed during her first match. And some of the climbers were in a class of their own.
Ollie thinks that he can't be stupid about his attacks; he needs to be more in tune with his OverKnight. Yeah, Glaive was capable of powerful blade attacks, but it could also do so much more.
"Didn't I say something like that to Liz?"
A smaller cube floats past his face, its sides reflecting his image—not mirrored, but observed. Ollie stares at the boy looking back at him: already tired and unsure, but stubborn. Always stubborn.
Ollie adjusts the bandages on his hands and tightens them again.
He flicks through the card selection, his fingers slower this time. Not memorizing, but considering. And still, not making any meaningful choices.
Maybe there's more to this than instinct, he wonders.
"Well, well. Another rookie with big dreams and bandaged knuckles." The voice comes from behind him, and Ollie whips his head around.
A man lounges high above, perched on the edge of a cube like he's waiting for a train that'll never come. The man stands up and steps off the cube, effortlessly landing on another several feet below him.
Silver hair flows freely, covering his shoulders and upper arms and framing his youthful face. His appearance retains a hint of boyishness despite its intensity. He's all sharp lines and exposed skin, clad in dark, segmented leather and buckled straps that crisscrossed his lean, muscular frame. Every piece of exposed skin, from his arms to his face and neck, is covered in tattooed lines that seem to pulse red every few moments, not unlike the design of an OverKnight. In his hands, a deck of cards flows endlessly between his fingers, shuffling without pause.
The man's eyes are almost red, with hints of gold, and they fixate on Ollie.
"Are… Are those cybernetic implants?" Ollie points at the man's eyes, ignoring the fact that an entire person has appeared in the void before him.
"No. You could say that I was born with them. They help me to perceive." He shuffles the cards. "Been watchin' you," the man says, slipping a card from the deck and flipping it. It glows faintly before vanishing. "Your climb isn't going too well, now is it?"
Ollie frowns. "So what? You here to battle?"
"Perhaps," the man replies, smiling without warmth. With one last effortless step, he's now on the ground and level with Ollie. "But let's have a little chat before all of that—" he waves his hand in front of him, "—nonsense."
The man takes a step toward Ollie and gestures with both of his hands, a deck of cards still in one, to the world around them. "So, what ya think, eh? This is my place. Not a lot of Pilots end up here, not in this place between places. I like to think of it as home. Well, it's the only home that I know. Besides, I like the view." He winks. "And beating Pilots every so often is fun. Welcome to the UnderNet, my friend."
A cube passes lazily overhead.
Ollie narrows his eyes. "The UnderNet? And you duel Pilots?"
"Someone's gotta test if they're all good and ready for the next step. Someone has to judge if they're ready to navigate this distorted labyrinth of false creation," he says with a grin. "And someone has to course-correct them. I think it might as well be me."
"So you don't plan on climbing any further?"
"Overrated, and I can travel in my own unique way. I'm not shackled to any of that nonsense that the Big-Man-Upstairs has going on." He shuffles the deck, cards jumping from one hand to another in impossible ways.
Ollie struggles to comprehend how anyone would want to just stay in one place and not climb the Libra Tower. "What about the Hypercube? CyberMask is offering—"
"No, no, let's not bring Him into this, okay?" he cuts Ollie off and places the cards into a pocket. The man pulls out a lighter in one hand and a cigar in the other. A trench coat materializes around him while a bowler hat appears around his head, casting his face in a half-shadow.
"I don't think you're allowed to smoke in here," protests Ollie.
"I look pretty sharp, right? In all my readings and understandings, I think I love detective noir stories the most." The man smiles. "Eh, don't worry, kid. It's all just Q-Bits." The items decompile into a thousand tiny pieces before combining once more into something that looks eerily like a baseball. "See?" The man takes a pitching position and throws the ball at the nearest floating cube; both of them shatter upon contact.
Ollie is stunned. "Wait… how did you do that?"
The man winks before returning the deck of cards to his hands. "Now, let's have a little fun and see how good you are, Oliver—sorry, Mister Ollie—Greenfield."
"How did you—I didn't tell you my name."
"You didn't need to. Now, please."
Ollie activates his MIND unit. "Alright, let's do this!" he shouts, raising his fist into the air before pausing. "Hey, I didn't ask your name."
The man stares at Ollie for a moment. That's true, you didn't. You can call me, well…" Another moment passes. "I've gone by a lot of things, but you can call me Verax. Naming oneself isn't easy, but I do like that one."
"Err… that's a really weird name."
"It is? I'm terribly sorry that my name doesn't sound like an olive." He smiles, the slit in his face never fully forming, never showing any teeth. "Now, turn off that silly gadget, and let's play a game that's a little more… real."
"I came here to battle Pilots with OverKnights and climb the Libra Tower!" Ollie protests. He could feel himself starting to lose patience with Verax.
Verax shrugs, turns around, and begins to walk into the void around them. "Well then, Ollie, I guess you don't want any help with your little dueling problem. You've lost three battles in a row, haven't you? I could have helped you; I could have made you great. Pity. C'est la vie, my good boy."
"Wait!" Ollie shouted after Verax. "Okay, I'll play as long as it'll help me to be a better Pilot." He turns off his MIND unit.
Verax spins on his heel. "Splendid!" His smile might be real this time. "Let's get started. Besides, that wouldn't have even worked in here."
"My MIND? What do you mean?"