The Extra-dimensional Pioneer Of Fiction [Draft]

The wailing siren blared through the early morning air, signaling the end of the Purge. For the first time in hours, the oppressive weight in the atmosphere lifted slightly.

Arlo stood on the house porch, his back against the splintered doorframe, as the oppressive weight of the night dissolved into fragile daylight. His hands trembled faintly—not from fear, but from the aftershock of adrenaline. He glanced at the blood drying on his hands and clothes, the sharp metallic scent clinging to him like a second skin.

Inside, the Sandin family huddled in the kitchen. James slumped against the counter, his bandaged torso stark against his pallid skin. Mary hovered nearby, her fingers brushing his shoulder—a silent anchor.

Charlie and Zoey sat at the table, their untouched mugs of cocoa steaming as they stared blankly at the wall. The children's wide eyes mirrored the unspoken truth: survival had come at a cost.

Mary approached Arlo first, her voice quiet but resolute.

"Thank you," she said, her gaze steady despite the exhaustion.

"For everything. If you and stranger hadn't been here…" Her words trailed off, but the sentiment was clear.

James pushed himself upright, wincing as he extended a hand to Arlo.

"You saved my family. Hell, you saved me." His grip was weaker than Arlo expected, but his eyes burned with resolve. "I don't know how to repay that."

Arlo shook his head, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "You don't need to. I'm just glad you all made it through the night."

He glanced at James's pale face, adding, "But maybe stay away from stab-happy lunatics next time."  

James exchanged a glance with Mary, their hands intertwining. "Compassion's a rare currency these days," he said quietly. "But it's the only one that matters."

Arlo's throat tightened. For a moment, he saw his own reflection in their weariness—the toll of choosing humanity over survival. He adjusted the Pit Viper holstered beneath his coat, its weight a familiar comfort.

"Just don't lose that," he said, nodding to the family. "Monsters are easy to spot. It's the ones who stop caring you gotta watch out for."

Mary's smile was faint but genuine. "Take care of yourselves," she murmured. "If you ever need anything…"

"We'll know where to find you," Arlo quipped, though the promise lingered in the air like smoke.

Mary's eyes softened, and she smiled faintly. "Take care of yourselves," she said. "And if you ever need anything…"

She didn't finish, but the unspoken promise hung in the air.

...

Outside, the rising sun painted the street in gold and shadow. Dante lingered at the gate, his silhouette sharp against the mist.

"You did good back there," he said, turning to Arlo. "For what it's worth."

Arlo snorted. "Says the guy who took a bullet playing decoy."

"A graze," Dante corrected, though his hand drifted to his bandaged arm. "You're still a reckless idiot. But… you're decent. Don't let the blood fool you."

Arlo glanced down at his stained clothes. "Tell that to my dry cleaner."

Dante's chuckle faded as he walked away, dissolving into the haze.

Arlo watched him go, the weight of the night settling into his bones.

He sighed, muttering, "I look like I walked out of a slasher flick."

The street around him was a graveyard—shattered glass, scorched cars, and bodies half-hidden in the gutters. This is what 'freedom' looks like, he thought bitterly. A nation that devours itself once a year and calls it catharsis.

Turning down the street, he began walking away from the Sandin house. Each step felt heavier than the last, but his mind kept turning over the events of the night. 

The family had survived. That was what mattered. But as Arlo disappeared into the morning haze, he couldn't shake the feeling that the night's scars would linger far longer than the dawn.

.....

Arlo continued down the blood-stained street, the Pit Viper holstered inside his inventory. The rising sun cast long shadows across the wreckage of the night—the shattered windows, scorched cars, and bodies strewn across the pavement told the story of the Purge.

He kept his gaze forward, unwilling to linger on the remnants of what humanity had unleashed.

As he reached an empty intersection, Arlo activated his BrainLink.

The holographic screen flickered to life in front of him, crisp and vivid against the hazy dawn.

A series of notifications popped up, Notifications flooded his HUD. 

[Quest Complete: Survive the Purge]

Remark: You have survived 12 hours of purging from everyone and stay sane without becoming a monster.

Difficulty: E-Rank Reward: +200 EXP, +400 Credits

Evaluation: A

Arlo smirked at the snarky System remarks. "Always judging," he muttered, scrolling to his updated stats. Another notification caught his eye.

[Hidden Quest Complete: Save James Sandin]

Remark: You have save James Sadin from his certain death. His existence can greatly impact the future of this world.

Reward: +400 EXP, +800 Credits, +5 Inventory Slots

A grin tugged at his lips. "Nice," he said, the words barely louder than a whisper. He opened his inventory and noted the added slots, each one a precious resource in his chaotic existence. "More space for snacks… or ammo. Probably ammo."

His EXP bar ticked upward

[Experience Gained: 600 XP]

[Experience : 955 (1280) XP]

[Credits: 1795]

He another notification appeared.

[Skill Level Up!]

[Hand-to-Hand Combat reached Level 5]

Arlo flexed his fingers, noting the faint ache from the night's brutal encounters. "Guess those headlocks weren't just for show," he quipped, though the memory of strangling a man made his stomach twist slightly.

He shook it off, focusing on the present. Arlo look to his [Status Window]

Arlo Leeroy

Job: Sequence 9: Seer (10%)

Race: Human/Beyonder

Level: 7

EXP: 955 (1280)

HP: 78/120

MP: 140/185

All in all nothing really change except to his EXP and increase in his hand to hand combat LV 5.

........

As he walked farther from the Sandin house, his thoughts turned inward. Humans let their darkest desires run rampant, and they call it freedom. The Purge doesn't cleanse anything—it corrupts. Turns neighbors into murderers, families into prey.

He glanced back over his shoulder, the Sandin house barely visible in the distance.

James and Mary made it through, but how many others didn't? The thought lingered, heavy and bitter.

When people let their desires control them, they become monsters. Just look at this place. It's not the masks that make them scary—it's the fact that they're still human underneath.

The street grew quieter as Arlo put more distance between himself and the remnants of the night. Far from the chaotic violence, the silence was deafening. The air felt heavy, like the world was still holding its breath.

Arlo stopped at an empty lot, glancing around to ensure he was alone. He opened his BrainLink again, scrolling through the menu until a new option appeared.

[Horror Multiverse: Purge Universe]

[Warning: Portal Transfer Imminent]

[Accept Transfer? Y/N]

Arlo stared at the prompt for a moment, his thumb hovering over the "Yes" option. A small, tired smile crossed his face. "Time to leave this nightmare behind," he muttered.

As he confirmed his choice, a swirling portal of blue and white light materialized in front of him. The edges crackled with energy, distorting the air around it.

Stepping toward the portal. The light engulfed him, pulling him forward into the back to the HUB.

=================================================

[Ataraxis: Quest Hall]

The shimmering portal rippled behind Arlo as he stepped onto the polished floor of the Quest Hall. He paused for a moment, glancing down at his hands. The blood, dirt, and grime that had coated him during the Purge were gone. His clothes were pristine, his skin free of any trace of the violence he had endured.

"Welcome back, Arlo." Aria's voice, calm and steady, broke through his thoughts. She stood a few feet away, her arms crossed in her usual professional manner, though a hint of a smile softened her expression.

Arlo gave her a small nod, still processing the abrupt shift from the chaotic Purge universe to the serene cleanliness of the HUB. "Thanks," he said, his voice carrying a mix of exhaustion and relief. "Gotta say, it's nice to not feel like I just walked out of a horror movie."

Aria gestured toward him. "The System automatically screens and removes all contaminants—blood, dirt, bacteria, viruses, and anything foreign to your body. It's a precaution to ensure nothing harmful enters the HUB."

Arlo raised an eyebrow, looking himself over. "So, you're telling me this is like a full-body car wash, but for… everything?"

Aria's faint smile grew. "You could think of it that way. It's one of the System's essential functions. We can't risk pathogens or alien contaminants spreading here."

"That's... impressive," Arlo said, turning his hands over as if searching for a missed spot. No more worrying about tracking diseases into a higher-dimensional paradise. I'd call that a win.

She nodded. "It's a necessity. The HUB exists outside the usual constraints of reality. The System are designed to maintain stability, especially with so many pioneers returning from vastly different universes."

Arlo's gaze flicked toward the nearest digital display. "Speaking of constraints, how long was I out there? I've been gone for hours."

"By your perspective, you have," Aria replied. "But here in the HUB, you've only been gone a few minutes."

Arlo blinked, his brows furrowing. "A few minutes?" He shook his head, processing her words. "You're telling me that while I was dodging psychopaths for half a day, barely a coffee break passed here?"

Aria's expression turned thoughtful. "The HUB exists in a higher-dimensional plane of existence where time operates differently. What feels like hours, days, or even years during a quest might only be minutes, hours, or a few days here. It's one of the unique aspects of this place."

Arlo's mind churned with the implications. "So, theoretically, I could take a quest that lasts decades and come back here like a few months?"

She nodded. "Exactly. But that's why it's important to choose quests carefully and understand their parameters. Some quests are short and intense, while others can stretch on for years."

"That sounds... dangerous," Arlo said, crossing his arms. "Wouldn't that age people out of usefulness? If someone spends too long out there, wouldn't they come back as an old man or woman?"

Aria's calm voice carried an undercurrent of authority as she continued her explanation. "For those concerned about the effects of long-term quests, their are shops and institutions that provides anti-aging solutions. These include regenerative treatments, advanced cellular repair, and even anti-aging pills designed to extend life spans by decades—or centuries, in some cases."

Arlo leaned back slightly, his hands resting on his hips as he considered the implications. "So, let me get this straight. I could spend fifty years in some dystopian nightmare world, come back here, pop a pill, and still look like I just graduated high school?"

"Not exactly," Aria said with a faint smile. "The treatments don't erase all signs of wear and tear. You'll still feel the mental and physical strain of your experiences. But biologically, your body will remain capable of enduring more than it could otherwise."

Arlo nodded slowly, trying to imagine what it would be like to live for centuries, hopping between universes, surviving impossible situations, and collecting rewards. The thought was equal parts exhilarating and terrifying.

"So, what's the catch?" he asked, narrowing his eyes slightly. "There's always a catch with stuff like this."

Aria's expression turned serious. "The catch is what you make of it. Some pioneers lose sight of their purpose after extended lifetimes. Others find the weight of their experiences too much to bear. The HUB gives you the tools, but it doesn't guarantee fulfillment or happiness. That's something you have to find on your own."

Arlo crossed his arms, digesting the information. The idea of extending his life, of exploring infinite possibilities, was tempting. But the thought of losing himself in the process gave him pause. What's the point of living forever if you don't know who you are anymore?

"Guess I'll stick with the basics for now," Arlo said finally, his voice lighter. "But it's good to know I've got options if I ever feel like becoming the next immortal action hero."

Aria allowed herself a faint chuckle. "You'll find that time in the HUB has a way of shifting your perspective. Take things one step at a time, Arlo. You've only just begun."

He nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Fair enough. One quest at a time, right?"

"Exactly," Aria said, her tone steady. "And remember—your choices define your path, not the tools available to you." 

As Arlo walked away from the platform, her words echoed in his mind. The HUB wasn't just a place of endless possibilities; it was a place of endless decisions. And he was only starting to understand what that meant.

......

Arlo stood in the Quest Hall, leaning against a wall, exhaustion evident in his posture. "I'm wiped, Aria," he admitted, his voice low and rough. "Can I head out now? I need to find a bed before I collapse."

Aria, standing nearby with her hands clasped behind her back, gave a small nod. "You've completed your quest and received your evaluations. There's no further need for you here tonight."

As the two started toward the exit, a tall, muscular figure blocked their path. The man was dark-skinned with striking blond hair, exuding a charisma that was impossible to ignore. He smiled at Aria, a confident grin that could charm most people on the spot.

"Well, if it isn't Aria," the man said smoothly, his tone laced with a flirtatious undertone. "It's been a while. Didn't expect to see you here."

Arlo's Danger Intuition flared intensely, the sensation almost physical. He glanced at the man and immediately felt on edge. This guy screams trouble.

Arlo subtly activated his [Analysis], hoping to glean some insight.

[Analysis Complete]

Target Examined: The target is using an item/skill to increase charisma that affect the minds of people near the target this lead to them becoming charmed by the target.

Warning: Due to the insufficient level, the skill cannot analyze further the target.

Suggestion: Extreme Caution Needed

The results were annoyingly sparse, but they told Arlo enough.

Confident, extroverted, dangerous… and definitely one of those smug "NTR" types who'd ruin the protagonist's life just for fun. The thought made his blood boil, but he kept his composure, observing the interaction quietly.

Aria's expression hardened, her usually calm demeanor replaced with icy indifference. "Leave me alone, Damon," she said flatly, her gaze piercing.

Aria's expression hardened, her usually calm demeanor replaced with icy indifference. "Leave me alone, Damon," she said flatly, her gaze piercing.

Damon leaned casually against the wall, ignoring her warning. "Come on, Aria. No need to be so cold. We've got history, after all. Why not grab a drink and catch up?"  

Arlo tensed, his hand itching toward his Pit Viper. This guy doesn't know when to quit. But before he could intervene, Aria's demeanor shifted.

She released a wave of Killing Intent so intense that Arlo staggered backward, his chest tightening. The air grew heavy, oppressive, as if the entire room was trapped in a suffocating fog.

Damon visibly flinched, his confident grin fading as he stepped back instinctively.The wave of Killing Intent spread through the Quest Hall, affecting everyone in the vicinity.

Lower-level pioneers dropped to their knees, clutching at their chests, while others froze, too terrified to move.

"Enough, Damon," Aria said sharply, her voice cold and commanding.

Arlo, struggling to breathe, reached out and placed a hand on Aria's shoulder. "Aria… ease up," he managed to choke out before collapsing to the floor.

The contact broke Aria's concentration. She blinked, glancing around the room as the atmosphere lightened. Murmurs spread among the onlookers as they began to recover.

Realizing the chaos she had caused, Aria knelt beside Arlo, helping him to his feet. "I'm sorry," she said softly, her expression conflicted.

Before she could say more, Quest Hall officials arrived, their uniforms crisp and their expressions stern. "What happened here?" one of them asked, glancing between Aria and Damon.

Aria straightened, her professional mask sliding back into place. "A minor disagreement," she said calmly.

Damon, recovering his composure, gave a tight smile. "Yeah, just a little misunderstanding. Nothing to worry about."

The officials exchanged skeptical glances before one of them said, "See that it doesn't happen again."

Aria nodded, and the officials moved on, though the murmurs of the gathered pioneers continued. As Arlo and Aria left the Quest Hall, he caught snippets of conversation.

"That was Damon Brimstone, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, from the Sacred Order Guild. Heard been trying to recruit Aria."

"Recruit her? More like sleep with her. He's notorious for targeting women."

Arlo frowned, filing the name away in his mind. "Damon Brimstone, huh? Sounds like a real piece of work."

The two boarded a hovercar, the quiet hum of the engine filling the silence as they sat in the cabin. Arlo leaned back, glancing at Aria.

"So," he began cautiously, "what was that back there? Damon seemed… persistent."

Aria's jaw tightened, her gaze fixed out the window. "He's a nuisance. Nothing more."

Arlo studied her for a moment before nodding. "Fair enough. Just let me know if you need backup next time. Guy like that… not worth losing your cool over."

A faint smile crossed her lips. "Thanks, Arlo. I'll keep that in mind."

The hovercar sped through the glowing streets of the HUB, leaving the chaos of the Quest Hall behind.