Free The NextWorld 02: Spawn Point by Jaron Lee Knuth Page A

better than you know yourself.”
    She's not answering my question, and the panic inside my chest is rising from the unknown.
    “What did they change?”
    Her answer is simple and soft, like she's offering me a goodnight kiss.
    “They changed your spawn point.”
    I stumble backward, away from her.
    “No,” I say, but no matter how strongly I mean it, it falls powerlessly from my mouth.
    “It's the only chance you have. You can go on living, without fear.”
    “I don't want this,” I say, my voice breaking with desperation. “I need to be here with you. I need to protect you. I need to save you.”
    She steps toward me and places her hands on either side of my head. She leans in and her kiss lingers against my lips. I lose myself, unable to focus on my own distress. She pulls away and her mouth rounds my cheek, settling in next to my ear.
    She whispers, “It's time for me to save you .”
    She steps back from me. Her fists clench. The muscles in her arms tighten, bulging with her Level 100 strength. I want to beg her to stop and think about what she's about to do. I want to plead my case and give her a thousand reasons why I should stay. I want to step away from her, but I can't move. Seeing her as a threat is something I don't understand. My brain stalls. The moment hangs between us. She steps forward and my body shudders. I flinch, ready for her attack, but her body slackens. Her muscles relax and her fists unclench. She covers her face and begins to cry.
    “I can't do it.”
    I let out a breath. My body melts back into the reality I know. Cyren would never hurt me. I was foolish to think she would.
    “It's okay,” I say, reaching out toward her. “There's no need to-”
    From behind me, hands slap down on each of my shoulders, fingers digging into me. They yank me backward and I slam onto the floor of the cargo area. I'm stunned as I look up and see the faces of the remaining Level Zeros pinning me to the floor.
    I hear Cyren in the distance whimpering, “I'm sorry. This is the only way to make sure you'll be okay.”
    I struggle, but there are too many of them. They point rifles and shotguns at me, the barrels inches from my face.
    The last thing I hear is Cyren's voice.
    “I love you.”
    My death is instantaneous.

00111010

    The announcer's voice is loud and clear. It lists the names of the Level Zeros that killed me. It tells me I'm dead, but my ears deny the truth as much as my mind and my heart.
    Pixels appear in the black, fading into view, multiplying their resolution. As they form, a part of me still believes that I'll see the game world of DangerWar 2. Maybe I'll be floating in the blackness of the deleted desert, or maybe I'll return to the inside of the cargo plane. My hopefulness would accept either, but as the world takes shape, I recognize my surroundings all too well.
    DOTfun.
    I'm standing outside the gates of the original DangerWar. Gamers of all ages are shouting and laughing, showing off the new inventory they acquired or bragging about their high score. A myriad of transports roll up, gallop up, or fly up to the gate, and players disembark, ready to start a new game session. The sky is an unrealistic shade of blue and the clouds are as white as I remember.
    My eyes flash to the wall, next to the gate, where the wooden door once stood as an entrance to DangerWar 2, but there is nothing there. I fall to my knees. My mind is weak. Useless.
    My player stats are public and available for all to see, but it takes a few seconds before one of the players notices my name in the NextWorld social system. An avatar designed to look like a skeleton stops in his tracks and points at me.
    “Arkade?” he says, his voice sounding young and prepubescent. “Hey! That's the Game Master!”
    A few more players stop and take notice. Some of them mumbling, which grows into arguing, which turns into shouting.
    “That's not Arkade.”
    “Yes it is! Look at his player stats!”
    “It's a hack. Someone is