Justin belched mightily, creating a fine dust of Cheetos accompanied by a cloud of spit-mist. He took a quick whiff of the cheesy exhaust before it could waft too far from his nostrils, then smacked his thin pink lips set below a wispy mustache.

“Come on, you son of a gun,” he mouthed. “Come on!”

He and his raid group had the boss down to 1% health. As he set up the chain combo to finish him for good, he was already salivating over the loot that was going to drop. Would it be the Armor of Eternal Night? Or perhaps even the Staff of Storms? The possibilities made chills break out over his unwashed skin.

Just seconds away from blasting down the last of the boss’s HP, the screen suddenly went dark.

Justin blinked, unbelieving, before rage welled up within him.

And then, from deep within his soul, he screamed with a despair that went far beyond the inconvenience, seeming to encapsulate, in auditory form, everything he’d ever felt about his life up until this point.

“REEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

He got up and kicked over his stained computer chair and was about to give his monitor the same treatment, before he saw in its black reflection his acne-ridden, pale, and pudgy countenance. The image of his greasy red hair and face was so offensive and alarming that instead of making him want to rage, it only made him want to cry.

Had it always been this way? How had he let himself slip so far into the abyss?

But before he could dismiss these thoughts, the basement walls rumbled, and the lights went completely out.

Justin removed his headphones, only to hear the sound of thunder and pouring rain. As with most nights, he was in the basement of his mom’s house. It was a rare thing for her to intrude on his underground sanctuary, except to deposit the odd meal, but normally for a storm of this magnitude, especially in the great state of Oklahoma, one would think she would have given him at least some warning.

Where was his mother, anyway?

“Mom? Mom!”

The wood floor above him vibrated ominously. Was that normal? And why did it sound like a freight train was heading his way?

“Seven hells, just what I need!”

To his dismay, the sound of the train only grew louder.

Could it be . . .? No, it couldn’t.

But his mom hadn’t answered, so he had to make sure she was okay.

Decision made, Justin headed for the stairs. Though it was nearly pitch black in the basement, he knew his way by heart. He ascended as fast as his heft would allow him. For the first time in what seemed like years, he was thinking about something other than a video game. It was almost as if there were an electric charge in the air, a distinct feeling that something big, and something unavoidable, was about to happen.

He entered the dining room, where outside the window, the sky was terribly dark. The scene was positively apocalyptic, with a sepia sky filled with boiling clouds and violently swaying trees.

And, louder, the sound of the train approaching.

He rushed to the television, but of course, there was no power.

“This is what I get for leaving the basement. Mom? Where are you?”

Before he could think to check his phone, the wind started pounding the wall something fierce. He realized that the best spot for him was right back where he had come from.

Justin fled, or at least, tried to flee, but he tripped over his own feet, taking a spill on the floor. Before he could get up, at that very moment, the ceiling was pulled out from over him as lightning slashed above.

But the ceiling did not fall, as expected; instead, it went up.

Up, into the funnel of a tornado.

He squealed, but the din was so loud that he couldn’t even hear his own voice. Everything in the room started to move, including himself. He was being lifted up, almost gently, toward the lattice of lightning slashing its way inside the tornado’s core. Faster and faster he flew, until all was chaos and noise. He no longer screamed. There was no point. In fact, it was at this point that a strange sense of calm acceptance overcame him.

If he was going to die, well, the thought had crossed his mind before. It was just happening a little more quickly than he’d originally thought, that was all.

But before he could truly make his peace, the darkness deepened. To his surprise, he was still very much alive, a field of endless black extending in all directions. Was he in the center of the tornado? Was he already dead?

That was when a blue light appeared, like a distant star. And that star seemed to be pulling him closer, an ovoid plane that flashed with potential.

Justin tried to move but could do nothing to control his trajectory. He was heading straight for that light, whether he liked it or not.

By fate, or perhaps luck, or even a mixture of both, he was thrown right through.

And this time, he did scream.

----------------------------------------

Justin blinked and woke up, hearing the faint trill of birdsong. Everything hurt, especially his head. Feeling it with his fingers, there didn’t seem to be any external injury.

It was just the mother of all headaches.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Mylanta,” he breathed. “What the hell happened?”

As his vision returned, he found himself in what appeared to be a forest. A thrill of fear coursed down his spine. He scrambled up, looking every which way wild-eyed and afraid. Trees . . . trees everywhere. Where could that tornado have possibly carried him? Oklahoma had its share of forests in the eastern part of the state, but not in Enid, where he lived. That would have meant the twister had carried him a hundred-plus miles.

“Impossible,” he said.

The aroma of earth and wild things filled his nostrils, while the cool air touched his skin almost like a kiss. Despite the situation, he felt a strange sense of calm at the surrounding natural beauty.

“Okay. What is going on?”

That was when his eyes focused on something before him in the meadow, something he had completely missed in the confusion, though it was impossible to see how. It was a bright-glowing orb that swirled with every color of the rainbow.

An ethereal, melodic hum emanated from it, and it rotated slightly on its axis, as if it were a miniature world unto itself.

It was just sitting there waiting to be picked up.

Seeing nothing better to do, Justin did just that.

He gasped as the orb reacted to his touch. A prismatic rainbow of light entered his body. Justin felt an infusion of power and potential that was the equivalent of a rapturous experience on a mind-altering substance.

You have absorbed a Prismatic Core. No Core Attribute Detected. Please select a Core Attribute.

Justin blinked as a holographic screen projected in front of him. Six words floated in the air before him: Power, Coordination, Endurance, Intellect, Perception, and Charisma.

Suddenly, realization dawned. Justin had played enough video games and read enough LitRPGs to know exactly where he was and what was happening. There had been the tornado, of course, and that tornado had obviously knocked him out, sending him into a medically induced coma.

His brain, therefore, was recreating a video game, which shouldn’t have been a surprise. After all, he’d spent almost every waking hour playing one.

This, he supposed, was inevitable. All he had to do was play the game and wait for the docs to resuscitate him.

But then again, there had been that strange portal. A common trope to be sure, and arguably a cliche, but how else was an adventure like this supposed to get started? A tornado had worked for Dorothy and Toto, so why not he, Justin Talemaker?

He rubbed his pudgy hands in glee. This could actually be fun! He noticed his hands were pale and freckled, the same hands he had in the outside world.

He frowned in consternation. Couldn’t he be an elf or something? Why was he still the same overweight individual he was in real life? Wasn’t the entire point of video games and LitRPG books to escape, to be the hero for once instead of the failure staring back at you from the mirror?

He would worry about that later. Aside from semantic differences, it seemed these Attributes were quite similar to many other games he had played. Power for smashing, Coordination for sniping, Endurance for tanking, Intellect for outsmarting, Perception for... magicky stuff?

And then there was Charisma. Usually as helpful as a chocolate teapot in games.

“Hmm,” he said, stroking his second chin. “Decisions, decisions . . .”

After thinking about it for a while, there was only one real choice he could think of. He would be a mighty warrior, and if possible, a barbarian of sorts wielding a claymore or warhammer. He didn’t know why, but he always gravitated to such builds in the RPGs he played. There was something strangely calming about smashing heads in like overripe pumpkins. Although doing so in a game as realistic as this one might prove to be a bit of a different experience.

Justin sighed and reached for Power.

But just before he could lock in his selection, a hideous screech resounded from behind him.

He let out a yelp, and he threw out his hands in alarm.

Only to touch the floating screen.

Congratulations! You have chosen Charisma as your Core Attribute.

He hardly registered the news, because now he was faced down with three short and nasty goblins, all bearing crude clubs. They had pointy ears, green skin, and slobbering mouths with rows of pointy yellow teeth. They garbled in a harsh dialect.

“Holy crap,” Justin said. “Goblins! Why do these things always start with goblins?”

As the goblins closed in, Justin backed away to a nearby tree.

You have unlocked Basic Charisma Classes. Choose wisely! Your choice cannot be undone.

Justin hardly paid the screen any attention. He saw enough to note several familiar classes, including Bard and Merchant, along with several unfamiliar ones, including Diplomat.

It was all he had time to look over. After all, his life was in the balance.

“Take this damn screen away!” he wailed.

Please choose your Basic Charisma Class.

Justin let out a frustrated growl. He couldn’t deal with this right now.

He swiped the screen away, hoping the action would clear the messages.

But all he’d done was select a class at random.

Congratulations! You have chosen: Socialite: Your character excels in social situations, making connections, and gaining favors.

Shit. How was being a bloody Socialite supposed to help him survive this goblin encounter?

As a Socialite, you have unlocked your unique Class Ability: Epic Barb.

Epic Barb. That sounded useful. Was it a magical arrow or something? Maybe he could use it to kill these goblins, which were hanging back a few paces away. Maybe they weren’t allowed to attack him while he was making his choices.

Justin read the ability description:

Epic Barb: Once a day, you may come up with the perfect barb, taunt, insult, comeback, or rejoinder that’s sure to impress!

Justin sputtered. “That’s useless!”

You are now Level 0. Good luck and enjoy Realms of Eyrth!

The screen finally disappeared, and as soon as it did, the goblins began advancing, their mouths slathered with saliva. It was almost as if the “System,” if it could be so called, had held them back just so Justin could make his selection.

Which meant there had been no need to panic; he could have picked any class at his leisure.

“Ye gods,” Justin said, nearly almost in tears. “Am I really going to die so soon?”

There was only one way out of this. He had to use his ability.

It seemed to happen naturally, without having to press any sort of button. He directed Epic Barb at the goblins advancing on him. He felt himself filled with adrenaline, a sort of primal instinct rising within him. Words began flying out of his lips unbidden.

“You guys must have been born on a highway because that’s where most accidents happen!”

The goblins looked at each other in confusion, clearly not understanding the insult.

Justin gulped, realizing he needed to come up with something better.

Sure to impress his ass. Maybe it was because he was Level 0.

“Or maybe you should go on a diet,” he fumbled, pointing at their rotund bellies. “You know, green is a wonderful color on you, but I think it’d look better on a salad.”

The goblins snarled and charged forward, brandishing their clubs, but Justin had distracted them for a split second, enough to make a run for it.

He dashed through the trees as fast as he could. He had a stride advantage over the goblins for sure, but he was very out of shape. The last time he’d been forced to run was in ninth grade P.E. class, and that was well over ten years ago. His breaths came out in pained wheezes. Did this fantasy world have asthma? He sure hoped not.

He swiped at the underbrush, pushing it out of the way, occasionally stealing glances over his shoulder. The goblins let out high ululating cries, clearly some sort of predator hunting instinct kicking in. Justin sobbed, his legs burning with exertion.

He was wondering if he’d have to stand his ground at some point when he came to a sudden cliff. He slid, attempting to stop, but it was far too late. With a shriek, he tumbled over the side and began sliding down the steep slope. He cried out in pain, wondering if this would be how he died: fall damage less than twenty minutes in.

At last, he came to a stop on a dusty wagon track, still conscious and hurting from head to toe. The goblins stood on the cliff above, yelping in vexation, seemingly not wanting to follow him down. Justin didn’t understand why. They could easily end him in such an exposed state.

But that’s when Justin noticed he wasn’t alone. He looked up to see a most unexpected sight...