…me?

Where—where am I…?

Everything is so bright, and my head hur—

—No. No, it doesn’t. My hand only barely has time to touch my temple before I realize that my head doesn’t hurt. It’s been months since my head has last felt this… clear. The eternal chill in my limbs is gone. The rattle in my lungs is silent. My knees don’t feel crunchy. What in the world—

And then I realize that my eyes are also okay. My eyes. To reiterate, my vision has been piss-poor ever since I was six. I couldn’t wear lenses because my glasses had to be so thick. And now you’re telling me my vision is just…? Listen, I can actually see the things around me with near perfect quality! And sure, it isn’t much to look at, but there are things here!

I can see those white pillars in perfect clarity. The floor isn’t blurry in the least. And, uh… No, wait, hang on, is that it? Is that seriously it? No, that can’t be. There has to be something else around here apart from this infinite white void and the infinite white floor and the infinite white marble columns that seem to reach up thousands of feet into the distant, white sky.

…If this is hell, then it sure doesn’t look like it. I’d say it looks more like heaven, but this never-ending silence is kind of ruining the image. It feels eerie, somehow. Maybe it’s limbo instead?

Rightfully confused and disoriented, I look around for a bit. My body truly is completely healed. My mind feels clear. Clearer than it has in ages; maybe forever. It’s seriously tripping me out, but just as I’m about to accept that there’s nothing more than these pillars, I can hear something like a door open behind me, and when I whirl around to face it, what I find is an open door and exactly no walls. It’s just a door. It doesn’t even lead anywhere. It’s a door, and on the other side are six tables. But it’s kind of like a gate without a fence because I can walk around it just fine.

And there we have them. Six tables. But it’s not the tables I’m looking at. No, what’s on the tables is much more interesting, and it makes me want to chuckle evilly.

Starter weapons.

An axe, a bow, a staff, a hammer, a spear, and a sword and shield.

Oh, it’s beautiful.

I’ve changed my mind. Hell isn’t so bad. This is starting to look like my life before this was the tutorial, and now I’m in the real game. Or something. Heh.

Okay, alright, let’s wind down a little. This is probably the most important decision of my life, above choosing starter Pokémon and above choosing scholarships.

First up… I think I’ll just discount the axe and hammer. I’m scrawny, okay? I’m short, and small, and that’s just what I am, so there’s no point trying to use a weapon I’m not suited for. Sure, once I get stronger, I’ll be able to fling them around as I please and fulfil the small-character-with-big-weapon trope, but for now, I’ll need to be able to actually kill things properly.

Regarding the rest… I’m not doing a spear. Sure, I read somewhere that spears are good for untrained combat, but I’m not going to be untrained forever, and besides, it’s pretty inflexible in terms of range. I’m also removing the bow for that same reason. I’d obviously love to have some distance between myself and my possible enemies, but I need to also be able to fight in close-range if the need arises.

That leaves me with the staff and the sword and shield.

…I need to take a closer look at this. I creep up to the staff and put my head level to it.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

<[A Termite-Eaten Staff]

Magic: 4

Probably more effective at

bludgeoning people than magic.

Used item>

…Alright. So, in other words, it’s a magic staff. Despite what the description says, if I hit someone with a termite-eaten piece of wood, it’s not going to bludgeon them, it’s just going to burst into splinters and soft dust. Maybe if I’m lucky they’ll get a splinter stuck in a weak spot and somehow die from it? Yeah, no.

How about the sword and shield then? It’s two weapons for the price of one, after all. Besides, that sword looks really cool!

<[An Ornamental Sword]

Attack: 4

A foolish knight brought the ceremonial

sword to battle and died. It has a

blunt edge.

Used item>

Oh, well, uh, that’s—

<[A Termite-Eaten Shield]

Defense: 4

Makes for a good smokescreen.

Beware the splinters!

Used item>

Are there termites in this entire starter weapon selection area?! Aren’t we supposed to be in some sort of afterlife? Are you trying to tell me that ghost termites ate these weapons!?

But at least the sword, although blunt, doesn’t seem to be on the edge of complete disintegration at any second, so I guess that’s really my best choice. Unsure if it can be called anything close to best, but…

this starter weapon?>

…I really don’t have any choice, do I? Fine. Blunt sword and splinter-bomb it is.

I press the 'Yes' button.

And then the world below my feet disappears and I stumble and fall but someone catches my fall and for a second or so I just hang in their arms, staring down at the pristine white floor. “Whoa there!” that very someone says, just inches above my head. “Was about to take quite the tumble there, weren’t you?”

…English? With maybe a bit more force than intended, I push myself away from whoever caught me. He lets me go and even gives me a relaxed pat on the arm as he does.

And then we stand face to face. He doesn’t look like a Southerner. No, by all means, he looks completely normal. For a few uncomfortable seconds, we just stare at each other. “...Why are you talking in English?” I ask in a low, almost growling voice.

He blinks at me. “You’re Swedish too?” Oh, now he speaks the right language. Smiling, he scratches the back of his head. Meek. What a meek guy. That’s the word. Much like almost every other non-teenager in the world, he’s over a full head taller than me, and about as ordinary as you get. Average height, standard blonde hair and blue eyes, wearing a pair of ordinary dress pants and a stained shirt. Going by the smell, it seems he’s had a bit of a wild night before coming here. He’s also wearing a New Year’s Eve party hat hanging from his neck, so it’s pretty clear where he came from. But it’s not the hat I care about. Rather, it’s his hair.

“Pffftt—!”

It’s a crew cut. It’s stupidly short, and it looks horrible on him. Everything else is so ordinary, except for that hairstyle. Did he lose a bet or something?

He furrows his brows at me. “Is there something wrong?”

I boldly point my finger at his head. “Your haircut looks stupid.”

“My hair…?” He gently touches his hand to his head, his eyes widening as he does. But then he looks at me. “It would seem, in our appearing here, we both happened into the same predicament.”

“Huh? What do you—,” My heart stops. My hand flies up to touch my head. My hair isn’t long anymore. Or greasy. Or knotted.

It’s short, and washed, and would probably best be described as a crew cut.

Ah. Ahhh. I see. So, this is where the hell part comes in. Yes. I see. I see…

Gently, I lie down on the floor and bundle myself up in the so-called fetal position. My head feels breezy. So, this is the thing that breaks me, then. After so many years of growing out the ultimate luscious hair… Gone. Taken from me at such a young age. This truly is hell. By the way, now that I’m lying straight on the floor, I can say that it isn’t cold, nor is it warm. It’s some atrocious, unfeelable middle ground. The whole place is exactly at room temperature, and not a degree above or below. It feels weird. I don’t like it. The seemingly endless white is starting to hurt my eyes, too, but as soon as it begins to really sting it suddenly goes away. What.

A shadow falls on me and I glance up at my fellow sufferer. “Hey, man, just relax, alright? It’s not the end of the world.”

Oh, but it is. He’s a fool not to think so.

“If he wants to lie on the floor, let ‘em!” someone shouts in English from across the room. I raise my head just enough off the floor to see the face of this cruel man. He’s as young as me, and by the looks of it, Finnish. Despite that, his English is really good, and the accent is hardly noticeable. His hair is dyed blonde and cut in a crew cut, just as much a victim as me and this old guy. “That makes two, and all that.” Oh, and he’s also holding a huge axe. Well, he’s trying to, because for all his arrogance, the axe is still too heavy to properly lift. I smirk at him. His face twists in anger. “What, you wanna go, punk? Huh!?”

“Hey, come on, relax a bit! He’s just upset at… Well, whatever it is, it’s his emotions, so be a bit nice, okay?”

“Psh. Be nice. Yeah, sure.” He spits on the floor. Then, he lifts his axe and tries to wave it around. “I don’t know if you can read, geezer, but unless we start practicing soon, we won’t be ready for when the floor opens! Do I need to remind you that you can’t even lift your pussy-ass spear properly?”

The average-age man above me frowns a bit.

Still, he’s right. Lying here won’t do me any good now, and what I really need right now is to prepare myself for the…

The floor opening?

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