CHARACTER WINDOWName:PhilluxLevel:50Age:8Race:HumanClass:NoneHealth:InfiniteStamina:InfiniteMagika:InfiniteStrength:3Vitality:3Constitution:3Agility:2Speed:2Stealth:3Intelligence:0Wisdom:0Spirit:0Luck:0Charisma:0Attractiveness:-5D e a t h P o i n t s:0-----------------------------------------------------------------------------*-100% to all stats due to constant physical and mental abuse* Due to the nature of your race, mana shaping is impossible* God mode activated. Health, stamina and magika won’t decrease* d e a t h c o u n t: 1
Seated on a once white floor, now carbonized by some magical explosion, my legs crossed just like a Buddhist about to meditate, I examine my *character windows*, already brightened, yet still stealing the blue hue from the night-sky produced by the twin moons. It is actually the first time I see the past-evening horizon (thanks to that experiment that ended up blowing up the ceiling) since it is at this time that we started *working*. Nothing special about it, since I already had forged a mental image of this kind of scene since I was a kid
.
More importantly, it Seems like I guessed right. I ended up in one of these. . .
If I was still a kid, the me who used to be such a videogames geek would obviously be overjoyed by the idea of getting sent into one of those worlds where you become a hero, whose evolution is dictated by the simplistic rules of a classic RPG game, where taking quests, fighting monster, leveling up, gives you an awesome sense of achievement. . . . But now it just sounds like a pain to me . . . plus it looks like I already broke the system anyways, (with the infinite magika and health) so I don t think I would get any novel feeling from it.
Saying that I show zero interest to my unique situation would be a lie though, especially with the horrible stats that I have. . .
I knew that in this world humans have no magic ability, so I am not surprised by the void present in my intelligence, wisdom, and spirit.(Obviously those have little to do with intellectual capabilities, since if those were actually zero, I would be nothing more than a retarded tree).
Luck, charisma, and attractiveness were a given too, since I was born as an ugly ass human slave. (Attractiveness kind of hurt me a little though. . . I must be very repulsive to have some negative point there)
What intrigues me the most is how weak I am compared to my level, and that odd *death points* stat that just screamed for malice.
That window tells me I am already level 50. . . Though I do not know the level cap in this supposedly RPG world, generally speaking this level is considered pretty high in the norms of gaming, since in my time, the highest level in most game didn’t go beyond 150.
Yet my strength, vitality, and constitution don t even reach the modest number of 10, which should be the stats of a level 1 player . . .
Is this how fate tells me I am a failure with no potential? Is it the reason to why I have this *death point* stat and *death count* effect, since the gods lost hopes on my futile existence?
No it couldn’t t be it, since I have this unusual ability, the ability to break the rules of the system. The God did not abandon me . . . instead I became their source of amusement, expecting to watch my satirical adventures as I bring confusion to existence itself. . . in the sight of some Goddess. . .
Yea, that Goddess, or should I say the omnipotent being, as she declared herself to be before killing me, was probably behind all of it. So that is what she meant by *main entertainment*. . .
Well then so be it. If she want me to troll reality for her enjoyment, like a cheating kid who just discovered the wonder of Bethesda games console command, I will gladly oblige to her expectations. . . if so then . . . what is that *death points* stat for ?
I don t have time to think about it now, since it seems that some visitors are incoming. . .
From afar the crumbled left side of the white room that was now opened to the exterior, I see a grass field where a dozen of horse like creatures, each looking like a double horned Pegasus, are rumbling the earth as they dash in my direction.
On these horses were armored dark elves, probably scouts dispatched from the other building to examine the startling explosion that just occurred.
Reaching 20 meter from my location, they notice my presence and cautiously put a halt to their movement, by the hand signal of the dark-elf leading the group.
I assume he is the leader, since instead of the modest armor the rest is wearing, which consisted mainly of metallic looking wood covered in fur, (I guess it is the regular scout gear in this city), he exhibits a more polish and robust looking attire, taking a dim crimson shade reflecting the moonlight.
The man himself is handsome; although in elves standards, he is just about average. Except from these features, nothing about him was especially noticeable. Ordering his squadron to stand still and be on mark to attack at his signal, he leaves the group and proceeds alone.
The dark elf, while giving me a threatening glare, approaches me with caution, without taking the risk of unmounting his steed. Reaching the distance needed for a conversation, at about five feet away from me, he exclaims:
Squadron leader: Demon child! Are you the one who caused this?
Well technically yes, though that was an involuntary action that I was forced into. It doesn’t matter anyways, since he probably won’t believe me.
Me: you got it wrong man. I was a victim of this explosion too you know. . .
Giving me a baffled look for a second (probably because I didn’t t use any honorifics to address our little lord there), he continues
Squadron leader: You insolent Liar! How come you look perfectly uninjured then! You devil!
Now that I inspect myself, I am perfectly fine, to the point that my lost limbs are back and my burned face returned to its usual look (not sure if that is for the better or for the worse though ). I guess that is what having infinite health does for you.
Me: chill out mate. Can’t you see that I am just a puny spiritless infant?
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
Squadron leader: you can’t fool me with your disguise, you fiendish devil!
Not even giving me a minute to explain myself further, he takes out his bow with one hand and an arrow with the other, both holstered on his back. He took them in a very dexterous fashion, which would have actually looked cool if he didn’t point them at an armless kid.
Witnessing his emotions-based action, I can’t help but let out a tired sigh.
Now that I think about it; it might be a good opportunity to test the limit of my new-found cheat code.~~
I stand up. Taking a relaxed pose, using my head to bear my tired arms, and crossing one of my legs to the other as a support, I start smirking at him in a mocking way in order to taunt him.
Squadron leader: you . . . how dare you mock me . . .!!!!
And it works perfectly. I can literally see a nerve twitching on his forehead, almost in a comical anime-way. Led by his anger, he pulls the string of his bow until it reaches the limits of its elasticity. Just when I thought he was about to let the arrow directly pointed at head go, a strong wind start to blow.
This wind soon transforms into a raging whirlwind that circled around the livid dark elf. It looks like he is going to use magic. . .
The torrent of air then concentrates to the tip of the arrow, emitting a greenish threatening color. Once he is done charging his attack, the aftermath spell results in a giant ball of unstable wind circulating around the arrow head at an incredible speed. And he is about to throw that at me , only 5 feet away from him. . . isn't it a little overkill ?
If I wasn’t t absolutely sure that I would come out of this unscratched, I’d probably be shitting my pants right now.
Squadron leader: PREPARE TO DIE!
Me: cum at me bro~~
An incredibly fast arrow pierces its way through the sound barrier to my forehead. I would describe you the whole process, but it was way too fast for my slow perception to catch.
To put it bluntly, the attack blew up my head, and half of my torso. I died. The end.
Hahahah just kidding. His attack didn’t t do shit.
Upon touching my skin, the ball of wind instantly diffused into a bomb of air, while the arrow continuously disintegrated itself from head to toes(metaphorically speaking of course), as it hopelessly tried to pierce my diamond armor (my skin).
Smirking out the satisfaction, the dark elf holsters his bow that is now emitting a faint blue aura, probably due to the recent use of strong magic . . . of course only to be left in denial when the mist produced by the spell disperses itself, revealing an unharmed brat, looking at him with disappointed eyes. (That brat was me of course).
Yes indeed, I am somewhat disappointed. Sure, I knew that I wouldn’t get any damage, but not to the point where it wouldn’t even sting a little, yet actually feel refreshing, as if his attack was no more than a soft breeze that gently caressed my face. (Which my surrounding told otherwise, since the spell left a crater of 5 meters radius).
Unable to make sense of what he is witnessing, his lips start shaking, agitated by fear.
Struggling to calm them down in order to pronounce a sentence, he stutters:
Squadron leader: w... wh …. What are you!!!????
Hahaha . . . and I thought I was the one who would shit his pants. Look at his face! Hilarious!
As I unintentionally let out creepy giggles, facing him with a large evil grin, accentuated by my hideous facial features, I say in a trickster voice
Me: the devil of course, just like you said earlier~~~
As if those words were projectiles, they strike his heart with fear, rendering his sense of balance useless, making him fall butt first from his steed to the ground.
Breaking my pose, I take one step closer to him.
Squadron leader: d … d … don’t come near me!!!
Wanting to see more of his priceless reaction, his pointless begging (since I was only invincible as far as I know, not powerful, my attack capabilities being close to zero) only result In me hasting my stroll toward him.
As he shrieks in terror, pathetically trying to get into his feet, he raises his right hand, and throws a fireball into the sky, giving the signal to his subordinates to charge in and attack.
Nothing happens . . . he keeps throwing fireballs, but every each of them ends up being a waste of mana, yet I, his new found nightmare, am still approaching.
Reaching his steed, I stop, since I am myself curious to why his squadron did not haste at his rescue. Maybe they witnessed my demonic resistance to their leader deadly magic and decided to run away? That would be some hilarious display of insubordination. . . Though what my sight is showing me is something a lot worse than that. . . (Not for me though . . . I am immortal remember?)
Seeing that i am now immobile, his teary eyes start showing some signs of relief, displaying a desperate hope of getting away from me alive (not that I could kill him or anything ), only to be left decapitated by his forsaken fate. . . literally. . .
His head, still frozen in that *expecting to be saved* expression, slowly rolled at my feet, now out of reach of any kind of help . . . fate is sure a bitch sometimes . . .
His body, spurting a fountain of blood out of his cleanly cut neck, slowly falls, revealing its executioner.
The being that appears before me leaked a murderous aura. Even though the figure standing was cloaked in order to hide its appearance, I easily deduce that it belongs to a female, her chest clearly creating a round shaped shade on the cloth.
I can’t tell how she look, since her face is completely covered by a sinister cowl , hiding it by pure darkness, only avoiding her cold glowing eyes, that were for some reasons oddly familiars. . .
Afraid that she might steal my soul or something if I stared into them for too long, I escape my glare to the massacre behind her.
No wonder that dark elf ’s squadron never came at his rescue. . . they were too busy assuring their own safety, though it was all in vain, since every single one of them was now dead, bathing in their collective blood, and unlike their leader, each had a look of despair frozen in their face.
As if it wasn’t t obvious enough that the murderer is in front of me, I ask in disbelief:
Me: did . . . you do all of this?
Not saying a word, probably annoyed by my obvious question, she flings her sword spontaneously to the ground in a quick motion, letting the still fresh blood of her victim slide off her blade. I guess that s how she says yes.
After Sheathing her small sword back to her cloak, she slowly raises her hand towards me
Even though I knew no physical harm could be done to me, my instinct, being afraid of the unknown still kicks in, and forces me to take a defensive pose.
Understanding my fear, with a soft tender voice, yet bearing the burden of many lives, she whispers:
Cloaked woman: come with me, Phillux
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Author note: for the crazy ones that actually read that shit, sorry for the small chapter, got lazy. . .