The sky turned a vivid, blood red.
Xavier Collins stared at it, a frown lining his face. That’s odd. Some sort of blood sunrise, like a blood moon? He shook his head, shoved his ear buds back in and put his hands in the pockets of his plain black hoodie.
He walked over the wide bridge that separated the two halves of his city, ignoring the red sky. No one else seemed to have noticed it, after all. Traffic crawled across the bridge so slow he could walk faster than it moved. Sleepy drivers sipped coffee, rubbed eyes, and shook fists at the people in front of them.
It was a long trek to campus. He couldn’t afford the inflated price of the university dorms (even if he did have the money, he’d always been more of a loner and knew the noise would drive him crazy) and housing “across the lake” was far cheaper. He could have caught the bus, but the walk was the only exercise he got, and he enjoyed his ritual of listening to audiobooks on the way.
The soothing voice of the narrator drifted into his ears. He was listening to his favourite fantasy author’s newest release. He took a deep breath, the smell of water on the air. In his mind, he was on a four-masted ship a part of a fleet of thousands, mages throwing flames over the waves.
He couldn’t help but enjoy the escape. It wasn’t that he disliked his life. It wasn’t bad. It was just that the ones in books always felt so much… more.
If I could move things with my mind, or wield a magic sword, or fly upon a dragon…
He supposed he was like most young people inching into adulthood, slowly stumbling into the “real world” and wondering, Is this it? Is this all there is?
He just wanted there to be more.
Xavier struggled to focus on his morning classes. He had three lectures in a row and sat at the back of each one, right at the top of the stairs. He had a million tabs open on his laptop and kept switching between them and a story he was writing.
If Xavier wasn’t reading or actually studying, he tried to spend his time writing. He was an English Major hoping to get into an MFA in Creative Writing—what his mother had called an “infinitely unemployable career path.” But he wasn’t here just so he could get a job after he left; he wanted to learn.
Xavier loved learning. If he had any superpowers, it would be that. Problem was, the things he enjoyed learning didn’t tend to have easy ways to earn money.
In High School, he spent an entire year learning how to do parkour. He vaulted over benches and climbed walls and jumped from one gap to another. Learned how to fall from height and roll smoothly out of it to reduce the impact on his knees.
But what exactly was he going to do with that? Become a stuntman? A thief? He’d briefly considered that—the former, not the latter—but stuntmen tended to get hurt in their jobs.
He’d rather not make getting hurt his profession.
A couple of years later he’d stumbled on someone twirling two balls of fire at the ends of long chains. Poi, they were called. The balls were made of Kevlar—like in bulletproof vests and motorcycle gear—and soaked in kerosene before they were lit aflame.
He’d taken to it fast. Earned a few hundred dollars busking downtown.
Until he’d wrapped one of those chains around an arm and got, well, burned. Because, play with fire and… you know the rest.
His earlier desire—not getting hurt in his profession—made him shy away from continuing. Besides, there didn’t seem to be much career growth in that kind of performance art.
When he’d found writing he’d figured that was the way to go. He was always trying to escape into books. Writing was simply the next logical progression. If he couldn’t throw move things with his mind or fight a dozen orcs with only his trusty sword and shield, he could at least write about it.
Seemed like a good idea to him. Not to his mother, but he… well, he stopped taking her advice when he realised she couldn’t handle her own life, let alone his.
In his third lecture, Professor Manning, a man in a suit one size too big and old-fashioned half-moon glasses, droned on about the Hero’s Journey and Joseph Campbell in a rasping monotone, things Xavier had learnt plenty about before he’d even gotten to this class. Two girls sat in front of him whispering back and forth about some TV show. A guy three rows down openly played World of Warcraft, not even looking up from the screen. Xavier frowned, turned his head and looked out the window. The sky was still blood red. Dark clouds had gathered.
The whispering stopped. The guy playing on his laptop removed his earbuds.
A storm’s coming.
That definitely felt ominous. He was about to check his weather app when hail the size of golf balls plummeted from the sky and lightning flashed. The lightning forked off in six different directions. They were on the fourth floor here, and Xavier got a good view down to where one of the forks struck.
He blinked, inched sideways on his seat. The lightning pooled into the courtyard, congealing into one yellow-glowing mass. It sparked, electricity shooting off it and setting a trashcan on fire.
“What the hell?” Xavier muttered.
He stood and walked straight to the window. He wasn’t the only one. As the boom of thunder was released the lecturer stopped his droning, finally noticing what was off.
The congealing lightning rose, forming an arc as tall as a tunnel on the freeway. It buzzed and spat sparks until it appeared to stabilise.
Then something stepped out of it. Xavier blinked. Rubbed his eyes. Squinted. Am I hallucinating? Others were pointing, panicking. The lecturer was saying something, his voice a discordant mix of panic and strained calm.
Maybe I’m dreaming.
What he saw couldn’t be right. It was green. About three feet tall. Wore rough spun clothes one might find at a renaissance fair or the set of Game of Thrones. It had sharp features. A long, curved nose. Needle-sharp, yellow teeth. Pointed ears. And it carried a sword.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
It was a goblin.
The sky had been painted blood red. Lightning had created a portal. And a bloody goblin had stepped out of it and straight into one of the university’s courtyards.
Xavier took a stumbling step back from the window just as the world went grey and everything froze.
Including him.
Text appeared, transposed over his vision.
Interlopers have discovered your world. Your Solar System has now been marked for integration into the Greater Universe.
System integration begins in:
5…
4…
3…
2…
1…
System integration commencing.
A blinding flash of light erupted in Xavier’s vision. The world shifted until he appeared in a completely black room. He blinked, trying to see some shapes in the darkness, but there was nothing there.
He reached out, but there was nothing to touch.
“Where… where am I?” His mouth was dry. So dry. His voice cracked and shaky.
Then more text appeared.
Subject identified as XAVIER COLLINS.
Subject? Xavier thought. Where is this text even coming from? Why can I read it in the dark?
Subject’s physical skills deemed as: Minimal.
Minimal! Xavier rubbed the back of his head. He looked down—though he couldn’t see anything in the darkness of this place—and supposed he had gotten out of shape since he stopped parkour… four years ago.
Subject’s intellectual skills deemed as: Middling.
Xavier pursed his lips. He didn’t much like being judged, though he had to admit he couldn’t fault whatever the hell was judging him, even if he wanted to cuss it out. “Minimal, middling,” he muttered into the darkness.
Subject’s spirit skills deemed as: High.
Xavier tilted his head to the side with a frown. What are spirit skills? And… why are mine high?
“Hello?” he said, his voice sounding no more confident than before. “Is anyone out there?” He wasn’t sure if a response would help.
Please choose a Moral Faction.
Do you wish to:
1. Fight for your world.
2. Fight for yourself.
3. Fight for chaos.
Xavier shifted his weight from one foot to the other. What kind of choices were those? He chose what he considered to be the obvious one: Fight for your world.
“One,” he said aloud. “I choose one.”
You have chosen Moral Faction 1.
Do you wish to become one of your world’s Champions, Soldiers or Support?
Speak or think one of the options to learn more.
Xavier’s frown deepened. He still wasn’t sure if this was a dream, but as someone who’d consumed vast amounts of fantasy and science fiction novels, television and movies, he figured his best approach was to assume it was real until proven otherwise.
If it ended up being real, assuming it was a dream would likely get him killed.
Besides, since when were his dreams this… elaborate?
Xavier licked his lips. “Champion.”
Champions are a world’s best fighters, and so they are given the best opportunities. Once a Potential Champion has been tested against other Potentials and found to meet the requirements, they will be sent to a pocket world to experience their tutorial, where they will be pitted against other World Champions to fight for rewards, upgrades, powerups…
Xavier’s eyes widened as he read the text. There was more, but he couldn’t help but zero-in on what the second line said.
Champions would be sent to another world? He still had no idea what was happening. It was beginning to feel like some weird video game. Champion, Soldier or Support? He could guess what Support would be, and he couldn’t imagine Soldier would be near as interesting as becoming a Champion.
And he had to guess that only Champions would get to be sent to another world. Isn’t this what he’d always wanted? Something… more?
If this wasn’t just some dream or weird hallucination, he would forever be kicking himself for not getting the opportunity to be sent to a whole different world. His imagination went wild, and he spoke before checking the other options, or even reading the rest of the text.
“I choose Champion.”
You have selected Champion.
Subject’s full integration will not commence until after the first test.
Prepare yourself for battle.
Fight to the death.
“Battle? What do you mean battle?”
Before Xavier got an answer, another blinding flash assailed his vision. He blinked it away. This time, he didn’t end up in total darkness. Instead, he stood in a grassy plain that seemed to stretch on forever. The air was still. There was no breeze. The sky was a clear blue, no sun, though it was bright as day. Not a speck of cloud.
This doesn’t feel real.
Your opponent, another Potential Champion, will be arriving in:
5…
4…
3…
2…
1…
Your opponent has arrived.
Another Potential Champion? Opponent? He supposed this is what the text meant when it said he would be tested. Perhaps I should have read to the end.
Xavier swallowed as he looked over at his opponent. The man appeared to be in his late thirties and was built like a bear. He wore a military uniform. A tactical vest, helmet, goggles. There were several patches on his shoulder, one was of an eagle carrying a trident.
Crap, is that a bloody Navy Seal?
He didn’t only come with the uniform, either.
Xavier didn’t know much about guns, but he’d played a fair amount of Counter Strike in his day… which he knew meant absolutely nothing. Still, even he could identify the man’s weapon.
It was an assault rifle. An M4A1 carbine, if he was right. Not that the distinction mattered. Xavier checked his pockets. His keys and phone had been in his backpack, which currently sat under his desk in the lecture hall, and all he had on him was… a pen.
A writer should always have a pen…
To test the preparedness level of your world’s pre-integration elite, Potential Champions will not be supplied with weapons and armour, and will have to fight with what they came with before they can be fully integrated into the Greater Universe and receive their new abilities.
Fight to the death.
Xavier took a stumbling step back. He pulled the pen out of his pocket. He felt like a baby kitten pitted against a lion in a cage fight.
The soldier took a few steps forward. He had his hands on his rifle, but his finger wasn’t on the trigger. His uniform looked dirty and roughed up, like he’d been on deployment when this had all happened, which explained why he was decked out in full gear. He looked left and right. He’d been in a ready position when he arrived, but seeing only Xavier there he relaxed.
“What the hell is this?” The man’s voice was deep and gruff and carried far. Standing across from him, Xavier couldn’t help but feel… not-very-manly. The soldier looked up at the sky and gestured toward Xavier. “I’m not going to fight an unarmed, non-combatant! This isn’t protecting my world!” The man swore something fierce. He sighed, pulled the strap of his rifle over his head, then made to place it on the ground.
Surrender recognised.
XAVIER COLLINS is the victor.
JULIAN MYERS forfeits his chance at becoming a World Champion.
One cannot walk backward on the path.
Extermination imminent.
The soldier—Julian—scrunched up his face. “Extermination?” he muttered before his eyes widened.
A bolt of lightning struck him, jolting his entire body until he fell, unmoving on the ground.
Congratulations XAVIER COLLINS. You have passed the first test!
You have gained 100 Mastery Points.
You have gained 100 Spirit Energy.
You will be returned to the waiting room in 0 seconds.