2 figures stood in a room. One of them stretched, tapping his foot while staring at a clock. A mask and cloak hid their features, though it wasn't necessary as the room was shrouded in darkness.
"Hey, is he coming or not? It's D-Day over here!" One of them said, a deep, yet lady-like voice coming from their cloak. It echoed around the room.
The other turned and shushed them. "I'm checking right now, just give me a-"
A blue screen popped up in front of them. They read the info quickly, and then again at the same speed, as if they couldn't believe what was written on it.
"For fuck's sake, it's barely been a week!" They groaned, a low growl coming from within.
The girl facepalmed. "What'd he do this time?!"
"He must've gone to observe. I've got to go get everything ready now- damn him to hell!"
"Wait, what about the meeting? And where are the others?"
The figure waved them off. "I'm calling the meeting off! Everyone else is already at work, just ask them if you need help!"
"Understood." The lady vanished, leaving the figure alone. "That damned idiot, this isn't something they're just going to ignore..." They muttered, snapping their fingers as the room splintered, disintegrating into pieces.
----------------------------------------
By this time, the horde had approached the city. Howling fiercely, their attempts to break in were met with spears, swords, and arrows. Vaja stood at the gate, picking off those that were undamaged with his guns. When enough of them were in the area, after chanting briefly, he teleported the remaining monsters into the air and dropped them with a splat. Soon enough, the horde began to dwindle, but the more powerful monsters remained.
The huntsman had also come into view. Roughly 6-7 feet tall, with broad shoulders, tree-trunk arms and legs, and a wolf's head and body but standing on his hind legs, he was closer to a werewolf than a human. Slung over his shoulder was an oversized crossbow, about the size of his torso, with a few additional contraptions attached to it, including a scope. He wore a traditional hunter's garb, with hand-crafted leather clothes made from the animals of the forest. Surrounding him were several wolves, a few still in the shadows of the forest, but each of them larger than the average wolf and with some ominous looking outgrowths. Oversized fangs, horns, antlers, and even one with wings.
Markus crouched near the wall, the bag in hand. He made a torch and lit one of the bombs, throwing it over as a test.
He didn't dare raise his head to look up, but judging from the flurry of blue boxes that came up, it seemed to be pretty effective. The monsters only gave him minuscule amounts of EXP at this point, especially since he wasn't soloing them, but it was enough to raise his bar by 10%.
He could hear the snarls and growls from the other side. The guards were already there, holding them off. The gatekeeper- Gilya or Gaba or whatever his name was, had a pair of shiny revolvers out like an old-timey cowboy.
Alarm bells rang out in his head. Something was very wrong.
He was just here. Where'd the goddamn huntsman go?
Then came the impact. The wall next to him was blown to pieces.
What? Why isn't there any- A loud blast penetrated his ears, sending him reeling to the side.
Blood dripped onto the ground. The monster had moved so fast it had generated a goddamn sonic boom.
Markus looked around. The goblin soldiers were preoccupied with the horde. So much that it didn't seem like they noticed the huntsman was gone.
Besides, it's not like they could do anything, anyway. Any attacks they threw at the huntsman would either bounce off ineffectively or pass through like a ghost. Such was the power of a level 40 boss.
His ears were still ringing. He couldn't hear a damn thing.
He frowned. Did one slip thru the back? He felt a burning pain in his side for some reason.
He looked down to see a gaping hole in his chest.
What the hell?! When the fuck did this happen?!
His vision grew hazy. He lay flat on the ground, on his stomach, trying to staunch the bleeding.
Potion! I need a goddamn potion! Yes, yes!
"Shop! Open shop!"
You are in a boss fight. The shop is unavailable.
He swore. And for a second, he thought he was hallucinating:
Just save me some time and die already.
He punched the screen in anger. His fist only bounced off harmlessly, hurting him, as if it was taunting him.
He looked to his right. Dead bodies everywhere, the gate destroyed as the horde poured in. Vaja lay dead, a massive bolt in the middle of his chest.
No! No! What the fuck?! How did they get destroyed that fast?! What is this shit!
His breathing became ragged and got shorter and shorter.
It can't end like this! What was the point of it all if I die again? I still haven't gotten my revenge!
His vision flashed. Silhouettes and shadows appeared in front of him. He could see classmates, people he'd killed, family. All smiling, laughing, and jeering.
"What a loser."
"Dumbass. If you kill that many people, you're obviously gonna get fucked up."
"He got a second chance and wasted it."
"Sigh... Well, at least we can make another," his parents said.
More shadows came, crowding around him. He couldn't even see their faces by this point, his vision pitch black. Yet he knew.
They blurred together, forming a crowd. Shouts and taunts from a never-ending crowd of ghosts. Echoing around in his head.
And then his former comrades came in.
"What's wrong? Thought you were gonna get revenge on us?"
"Oh, no, the fatass hates us! Watch out, he's gonna try and eat us!"
"Go to hell, you disgusting pig."
"Born a virgin, die a virgin."
Fuck off. What a shitty way to die.
"You really sure you want revenge? Cause you ain't doing that good of a job, ya know." said a voice.
He didn't need to look to know it who it was. Just another heckler, treating him like a goddamn failure, when they were even bigger wastes of space. Trash, trash, and more trash.
Markus let out a shallow laugh. "Cut the crap and just disappear, you shitty hallucination."
A finger flicked him on the forehead. "Oh, I'm just as real as you, Markus."
He saw a hand in front of him, extended. A single hand, illuminated in the darkness.
"Get up, kid. We got a lot to talk about, and we don't got a lot of time."
Markus felt something, maybe the pressure in his side, and then his eyes closed.
----------------------------------------
His forehead stung.
He opened his eyes, blinking them as he adjusted to the light. White walls surrounded him, a small lightbulb attached to a string illuminating the space around him. He sat in a comfy armchair, at a small table. A masked man sat on the other side, their arms folded, waiting expectantly. They looked up when he saw Markus.
"Ok, great, you're awake. So, next step is to-"
"What the mmgh-" hell is going on? Markus thought, as a hand came down on the top of his head. Is this one of the admins? The man was dressed business casual, with a suit but no tie and shorts. And his mask was reminiscent of the ones the game devs wore. But the devs would've just killed him outright, wouldn't they? He opened his mouth to talk.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
"Shaddap, I'm gonna explain some shit." They waved their hand and his lips snapped shut. Markus tried to move them, but nothing came out.
"Anyway, so I'm going to tell you some general info first, and then you can ask me some other stuff. Got it?" He didn't wait for a response. "Good, let's get to it."
He stood up, strolling around the room as he talked. He put his arms by his sides, then across his chest, before finally settling on behind his back.
"So. Your name is Markus Zhang, and you are a former tanker that was betrayed, more or less, by your comrades. But magically," waving their hands, "you got a second chance. Only that, it wasn't exactly "magic."
The man continued, their mask twisting and turning, like it was a part of him. His shoes made an almost soundless thud on the floor as he walked around.
"Just before you died, you unlocked a unique skill, which is why you're still alive."
Markus moved his mouth, but no sound came out. A force hung over him, making him sit down in his chair, look straight ahead, and listen like a puppet with its strings cut.
"Basically, you get 3 lives. Thing is, you've already used 2 of those, so you're kinda fucked."
The man looked straight at Markus. "Anyway, you might be thinking, well, if you could think, that this skill is great and wonderful and amazing and awesome and all kinds of shit." He held a finger up. "But don't forget, each unique skill has its own drawback."
The man continued. "Well, I say own, but most of them are just a decrease in stats or sanity, but whatever, that's not important, and you know what, fuck it, I'm just gonna give it to you straight."
"Each time you die, you need to XXXXXX. The first time you died, it XXXXXXX-
Every few seconds, the man's speech became garbled, as if he was talking in a different language. The man noticed, as his speech grew angrier, while he pointed a middle finger at the ceiling. As if in response to his actions, the room shook, causing him to stumble. He sighed.
"Apparently, someone isn't letting me spill the beans on your ability, so you'll need to figure it out on your own. My job, by the way, is to brief you on that, lower the drawbacks of your ability, and get you ready to go out there again. Also," he checked his wrist, which was not wearing a watch, "We have about 20 minutes give or take a few, so keep it short I guess?"
He sat back down and snapped his fingers. The pressure on Markus dissipated.
The first thing Markus did was roll up his shirt. Let alone a wound, not even a single scratch was there. It had been completely healed over, like it never happened.
Then he got a better look at the masked man. They were wearing some kind of clothing, so he couldn't really make out anything. It shimmered in the bright light, creating some kind of effect like a mosaic or a visual filter.
"Kid, I got a blocking skill so don't even bot-"
Markus tried Examine. Nothing happened.
"Also, you're technically dead right now so you can't use skills. Listen, ya don't got all the time in the world, so hurry up, will ya?"
Markus exhaled slowly. What was going on? How was he alive? Was this some sort of twisted dream?
"You died; you're here. No, this isn't heaven or hell or whatever." The masked man clicked his tongue. "I guess you could call it purgatory, but like game-purgatory, and only for you. You're alive because of your unique skill. I can't tell you what it does due to circumstances, but there are consequences for dying, just so you know. I think I can talk about that as long as I don't get too specific...And this isn't really a dream, by the way. Well? Ya want me to go in-depth on the consequences?"
Markus nodded slowly. Thinking about it, it made sense, but not really. The game was all-powerful, so it could probably do something like this, right? Making purgatory or whatever. But for what purpose? And why send him someone to tell him about it?
"Yeah, the game doesn't know about this. Call me K, by the way. I'm part of a... thing. Third party, dark horse, that kind of thing. Moratulis doesn't know about what's happening here, and shouldn't. Don't tell them by the way, since that'd give them even more of a reason to smite your dumb ass." K scratched his head. "To tell you the truth, I wasn't supposed to be here in the first place. I didn't think you'd end up dying so soon. But anyway, enough of that. On to the consequences now."
He leaned forward in his chair, hands on the table. "So you know about unique skills and crap, right? Every player has one that only they can unlock, but they can be transferred to others through cores, which are formed under either reaching level 10 or gaining a unique skill. However," he said, holding up a finger, "each unique skill has its own price."
"Now, for most unique skills- by that I mean the ones that only the individual can unlock- the price tends to be sanity. Take, for example, the skill Capricious, where the user's abilities depend on their emotions. If the user spirals out of control, they can go on a rampage for days, eventually turning into a monster themselves. But, of course, your skill requires something different."
K sighed. "Now, due to certain circumstances," he said, pointing a thumb behind him, "I can't tell you what it is specifically. I can give you clues though, so let's see how smart you are."
He stood up. "So, let's see. You had, what, five former comrades? Tell me their names."
Markus frowned. What was the point of this? The names came easily to him. "Karen, Marissa, Xander, Zack, and Byron," he said, without missing a beat.
K put his hand under his chin. "Interesting. Next question... What level were you when you died?"
Markus exhaled. How the hell was he supposed to know? Levels didn't matter back then, since there were so few players by that point that they took anyone and everyone. Not to mention that the weak just didn't survive, so everyone knew that everyone else was strong. "Forty?" He guessed.
"And lastly, what's the name of the city you're in?"
Markus furrowed his brows. Truthfully, he wasn't even sure it had a name in the first place. After all, it barely had any defenses, meaning that the city was at a low level and might've not unlocked a nameplate for itself. "Gaba Village?" He guessed again.
K exhaled. "Okay, you got all three questions wrong. See my point yet?"
"What?!" Markus exclaimed. Sure, he wasn't sure about the last two, but how could he get the first question wrong? "What would you know about my life anyway?!"
"First off, it's Xavier, not Xander," K replied.
Markus scoffed. "That's bullshit, how the fuck would you know? Last time I checked, you definitely weren't-"
"Secondly, you were level 45."
"Forty's pretty close! And who gives a shit? No one gave a fuck about levels by that point since-"
"And thirdly, the name of the town you're in is Ganbara City."
Markus "Well, no one cares about city names! And do you really expect me to believe that it was Xavier and not Xander?" Markus crossed his arms.
"Except you knew that name around five days ago. And it's Xavier White, by the way." K said calmly. "Did you know he had a unique skill?"
Markus smirked, pointing his finger accusingly. "Now you're definitely lying! Nobody on our team had a unique skill!"
"Actually, it was the reason you were so easily fooled."
"...Wait, what? What are you talking about?" Markus said, his face contorting into a state of confusion.
"It was originally a buffing skill. Freebie. Every time he healed someone, they gained a little buff, or a freebie. But the price was that, since nothing is free, they had to pay up. So every time he healed them, he gained a little bit of power over them. That's how he killed his last party."
"Wha-"
K continued, not missing a beat. "They grew reliant on his heals to the point where they couldn't function properly without him. Same thing happened with you. He healed you so much you grew reliant on him, which he warped to force you to become the almighty meat shield of the party. Which is why you couldn't believe it when your teammates betrayed you, even though you were clearly the weakest link in a world full of bloodthirsty, untrusting players."
Markus became silent, processing information.
"But hey, that's just proof that, well, I know more about you than you. Even though you should know more. Do you see what I'm hinting at here about your price yet?"
Markus shook his head. He had gotten so absorbed in Xavier's story that he had forgotten the original purpose.
"Yeah, yeah, hold on. If that was his "ability," he asked, making air quotes, "what the fuck's the side effect? That sounds so busted."
K clicked his tongue, looking up. "Let me see if I can tell you..." He pulled a manila folder out of thin air. "Alright, let's see... It had really specific conditions, like time spent with, knowledge about the target and vice versa. It restricted his class so that he couldn't change to, say a fighter or warrior. And he couldn't use any damage-dealing skills, blah blah blah, that ain't important."
"Let's get back on topic. I'll put it in simple terms." He spaced out his words. "I know your birthday. I know the names of yer mum and dad. I know the name of your school. And you don't. Even though you should. Because you've..." He trailed off, waiting for Markus to respond.
"...forgotten?"
"Yes! Which means your price is what?"
Markus thought for a second. "My m-"
"Shut up. Don't say it, 'cause then they'll know. And you don't want them to know that you know, or they'll turn you into a blank slate. It's also the reason why we can't say much. That's a freebie for you."
He held up a finger. "There's one thing I need to mention though. The price isn't enough this time."
Markus looked at him confusedly, sitting straight in his chair. "The fuck is that supposed to mean? Am I going to lose my kidneys or something?"
K exhaled. "You'll see. Anyway," He glanced up. "We've got ten minutes left, so now to talk about making sure you don't end up here again."
He snapped his fingers. The table disappeared, replaced with a whiteboard. He snapped his fingers again, words appearing on the whiteboard.
Then he flicked Markus on the forehead.
"Ow!" Why did it hurt so much?
"So here's a bunch of rules that ya need to follow if ya want to survive." K had dropped the formal tone by now.
"Rule numba 1: Stop being a goddamn prick," K said.
Markus looked at him incredulously. "That's your advice? Really? You don't have any, I don't know, strategies or tips?"
"Kid, there's no way you can take that thing solo. Besides, even if you do, are you sure you can deal with the aftermath?" Seeing that Markus didn't react, he elaborated. "Considering how many enemies you've already made, you'll just get backstabbed the second the huntsman dies. Say sorry or something, and make some damn friends."
"And how am I supposed to do that? Pretty sure they're the type to kill me on sight, you know, especially since they're cannibals," Markus rebutted, scowling. Why should he come to them for help? They would just be dead weight, assuming they bothered to use their damn ears.
K scoffed. "That's easy. Just think about what happened when you first got here, since I'm pretty sure you still have those memories. And think about what exactly that you have that they don't have. Like, you know, certain system functions. Shouldn't be hard to turn them to your side."
K took a breath. "They don't even have to be from that group. Not everyone was stupid like them and turned to cannibalism. There's definitely a few people either hiding in the city or on the outskirts, in the forest. Use one of them with the same strategy if negotiations don't go as planned. "
He held up a finger. "Keep in mind, though, that they might be nuts. Or well, sort of nuts. You'll see."
"Sort of nuts? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"I can't tell you. Rules. Moving on. Rule numba 2."
The words on the whiteboard disappeared, then reappeared.
"What's the point of the whiteboard if you just say everything out loud without giving me a chance to read it? Seems kinda useless." Markus asked.
K stopped, raising a finger before lowering it. He looked at the board. "Well, I guess it's useful to me. I wrote everything down on there, after all."
Markus raised an eyebrow. "Uh, didn't you just erase everything?"
"Nah, it's like a slideshow thing. Like a projector screen or whatever they call it."
"What's a slideshow?" Markus frowned. The word seemed familiar, but he just couldn't figure out what it was.
K looked at him. "What, you forgot that too? Whatever, it doesn't matter. It's magic. And as I was saying..."
The room rumbled. K cursed loudly. The walls disappeared, revealing darkness. Shadows surrounded them, muttering and moaning. The floor and ceiling crumbled into pieces, but strangely, as Markus looked down at his feet, K and he was levitating in midair.
"Time's up, kid. Make some friends. And-" K said something else, but Markus couldn't hear it, the words garbling like before.
He looked all around him. Darkness, darkness everywhere. The shadows floated closer and closer, mumbling. They turned into silhouettes and cutouts of the people he'd seen before:
Bzzt.
His vision disappeared for a second, like a light switch had been turned off momentarily. He turned his head, trying to find the source. Attached to one of the ceiling pieces, he saw, was a lightbulb, swinging from side to side.
And with a final crackle, it fizzed out.