The heavy thud of Joshua's footsteps echoed through the dimly lit hallway of the apartment complex, each step a weary reminder of the day he had just endured. The faded carpet, once a vibrant shade of red, now bore the weight of countless tenants' stories, its surface marred with stains and worn patches. The dim, flickering fluorescent lights overhead cast a sickly glow on the walls, revealing years of neglect and disrepair. A faint smell of mildew and stale air lingered, a constant reminder of the building's age and the lives that had passed through its corridors.
As Joshua approached his door, the scratches around the keyhole told their own tale—a story of fumbling attempts and anxious returns. The metal surface was marred with a myriad of small gouges, a silent record of his hurried, often frustrated efforts to unlock the door after long shifts at the hospital.
A pile of mail lay scattered on the floor just inside the threshold, each envelope bearing his name, "Joshua Ash Caleb," in bold, impersonal print. The red "Bill" stamps on them stood out starkly, a relentless reminder of the financial burdens he was struggling to keep up with.
He pushed the door open with a resigned sigh, the hinges creaking in protest. The apartment greeted him with a cold, indifferent silence. Boxes were stacked haphazardly against the walls, remnants of his hurried move out from his ex-roommate's place. They were a grim reminder of the recent upheaval in his life, each one an unfulfilled promise of a fresh start.
The living room, if it could be called that, was a barren space devoid of any personal touches. The furniture was sparse and utilitarian, a couch that had seen better days, and a coffee table that wobbled precariously with the slightest touch. The walls were bare, save for a few faint outlines where previous tenants' decorations had once hung.
Joshua shrugged off his uniform, letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor. The fabric crumpled into a heap, a stark contrast to the neatly pressed state it had been in at the start of his shift. He trudged towards his bedroom, his feet dragging across the worn carpet.
As he passed by the window, a bright light from outside caught his eye. He glanced over and saw a billboard through the glass, the image of a smiling woman staring back at him. For a fleeting moment, he thought it was his ex, a cruel trick of his tired mind. But as he blinked away the illusion, he saw it was just a random advertisement, the woman's face now a painful reminder of his loneliness.
The bedroom was even more desolate. There was no bed, just a blanket spread out on the floor with a handful of pillows arranged as a makeshift cushion. The room was stark, the only light coming from the glow of the TV he used as a monitor for his computer tower. But tonight, he had no desire to escape into the virtual worlds he usually found solace in. The controller lay untouched on the floor, a silent reminder of his disinterest.
Joshua sank down onto the blanket, the weight of the day pressing down on him. The apartment, with its bare walls and empty rooms, felt more like a prison than a home. The silence was deafening, filled with the echoes of his own thoughts and regrets. As he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was trapped in a life that offered no comfort, no escape, and no hope.
He reached for his phone, the device feeling heavier than usual in his hand. His fingers moved mechanically as he unlocked it and began scrolling through his notifications. There were no messages, no missed calls. Just a few app updates and a weather alert. He sighed, his heart heavy with the weight of his thoughts.
“What did I do wrong?” he muttered to himself, his voice breaking the stillness of the room. He tapped on the Facebook icon and watched as the app loaded, the familiar blue and white screen offering a momentary distraction. He navigated to his ex-girlfriend's profile, hoping to find some sign that she understood the pain she had caused him. Maybe a post or a comment that hinted at regret or a plea for him to come back.
But there was nothing. Her page was a blank slate, devoid of any trace of her existence. Joshua's heart sank further as he tried searching for her name again, hoping it was just a glitch. The search yielded no results. He frowned, confusion and frustration bubbling up inside him.
“She wouldn’t…” he whispered, the thought barely forming in his mind before he dismissed it. But then, a sense of determination took over, and he opened an incognito tab in his browser. He typed her name into the search bar, and within moments, her profile appeared, filled with posts and photos he could no longer access.
Joshua's chest tightened as realization dawned on him. She had blocked him. The woman who had cheated on him, shattered his heart, and upended his life had cut him off completely. He was left with nothing but a digital void where she once existed.
His mind drifted back to the last conversation they had, the night he found out. He had confronted her, his voice trembling with anger and hurt.
"Why?" he had asked, his voice raw with emotion. "Why did you do this to me? With my roommate, of all people. My livelihood."
She had looked at him with wide, tear-filled eyes, her expression a mix of guilt and something else he couldn't quite place. "Joshua, it's not what it looks like," she had said, her voice soft and pleading. "I was just... practicing for you."
"Practicing?" Joshua had repeated, disbelief and anger mixing in his tone. "You expect me to believe that?"
She had reached out to him, but he had pulled away, unable to stand the sight of her. "Please, Josh. It wasn't real. It didn't mean anything."
But her words had rung hollow. He couldn't believe her, didn’t want to. The betrayal was too deep, the pain too real. He had ended the call, leaving her voice echoing in his mind.
Back in the present, Joshua's hand trembled as he set his phone down. He had come to terms with the fact that she had blocked him, but the pain of her betrayal still lingered, a constant ache in his chest. He felt lost, unsure of what to do next, his thoughts a tangled mess of hurt and confusion. The emptiness of his apartment mirrored the emptiness he felt inside, a stark reminder of the life he was struggling to piece back together.
Joshua turned off his phone, the screen fading to black just as a notification flashed briefly: "Hurricane Warning." He barely registered it before the phone powered down completely, leaving him in the dim light of his apartment. The silence seemed even more oppressive now, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him like a heavy blanket.
He walked over to the window, the worn carpet rough under his bare feet. Pressing his forehead against the cool glass, he stared out into the night. The city lights blurred and distorted by the rain that had started to fall, streaking the glass with trails of water. He watched the droplets race down the pane, his mind drifting into darker thoughts.
“How fatal is a three-story fall, really?” he whispered to himself, the question hanging in the air like a poisonous cloud. The idea lingered, unsettling and persistent. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the world, but the thoughts kept swirling in his mind.
A voice, soft and distant, spoke up from somewhere deep inside him. "You know it's not the answer," it said, gentle but firm. It was the part of him that still found joy in the little things—the taste of his favorite ice cream, the thrill of a perfectly executed game strategy, the comforting nostalgia of 90s anime.
"Why not?" Joshua muttered, his voice barely more than a breath. "What’s left for me here? I've lost everything. She left me. I have nothing."
"You still have you," the voice countered, a note of defiance creeping in. "Remember the small victories? Beating those pros in Halo 2? The times you made someone smile at the hospital? The missions where you helped people who had nothing?"
Joshua clenched his fists, frustration boiling over. "None of that matters now," he argued, tears stinging his eyes. "I'm alone. I'm broke. I can't even trust the people I thought were my friends."
The voice was quieter now, harder to hear, but it persisted. "But you’re still here. You’re still fighting. There's still a chance for things to get better. You have to believe that."
He opened his eyes, looking out at the storm outside. The rain was coming down harder now, the wind picking up and making the building creak. He knew the voice was right, but it was getting harder and harder to hold on to that hope. The storm inside him raged just as fiercely as the one outside, and he felt himself slipping further into the darkness.
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But for now, he took a deep breath and stepped away from the window. He didn’t have all the answers, and he didn’t know how he was going to fix his life. But he was still here, and maybe, just maybe, that was enough to get through tonight.
The storm outside intensified, transforming from a mere inconvenience into a monstrous force of nature. The wind howled like a vengeful spirit, whipping the rain against the window with relentless fury. Joshua watched as the glass bowed under the pressure, each gust sending tremors through the walls of the old apartment building. The power flickered, plunging the room into intermittent darkness, only for the emergency lights to flicker back on with a sickly, pale glow.
Suddenly, a deafening crash reverberated through the building. Joshua's instincts screamed at him to move. Grabbing his phone and jacket, he bolted towards the door, his heart hammering in his chest. The hallway was a chaotic mess of flickering lights and debris. He stumbled through the darkness, the air thick with dust and the acrid scent of smoke.
As he descended the stairs, another explosion rocked the building, sending chunks of plaster and metal raining down around him. He was trapped. Panic surged through him, but he forced himself to stay focused. He spotted a gap in the railing, an opening to the floor below. Without a second thought, he leaped, crashing through the barrier and landing with a bone-jarring thud. Pain lanced through his leg, but he ignored it, driven by a primal urge to survive.
He was about to make a dash for the exit when a faint, desperate cry for help reached his ears. Against his better judgment, he followed the sound, his steps unsteady and his breath ragged. He found a young woman pinned beneath a fallen beam, her face pale and streaked with tears.
"Please, help me," she gasped, her voice barely audible over the storm's roar.
Joshua braced himself and heaved the beam off her with all his strength, his muscles straining. The woman crawled free, looking up at him with wide, grateful eyes.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I thought I was going to die."
For a brief, fleeting moment, Joshua felt a flicker of purpose. He had done something good, something that mattered. But their moment of relief was shattered by a sudden, deafening crack. The woman screamed, shoving Joshua out of the way as a massive tree crashed through the ceiling, its gnarled branches impaling her. She had misjudged the tree's trajectory, sealing her own fate.
Joshua stumbled back, horror and shock numbing his senses. The last image in his mind was the girl’s lifeless eyes, wide open in terror, before he fell. He plummeted through the shattered floor, crashing onto the ground below. The impact sent searing pain through his legs, shattering bones and tearing muscles. He lay there, broken and bleeding, his body pinned under debris, his mind reeling from the storm's violence and the girl's death.
As the storm raged on, Joshua's adrenaline surged, his will to survive clawing its way to the surface. The voice, harsher and more demanding than before, echoed in his mind, a sinister reflection of his own thoughts.
"Do you really want to live?" it demanded, no longer the gentle, comforting presence it once was.
Joshua screamed through the pain, the sound raw and primal. "I will live! I need to tell Mary off for what she did to me! I want to be happy! I won’t let this be it!"
The voice seemed to curl into a dark, twisted grin. "That's sufficient."
Joshua’s vision blurred as he saw a truck, its headlights cutting through the storm’s chaos, rolling slowly towards him. His breath hitched in his throat, terror seizing his heart. The voice, now a malevolent entity, reached out and grabbed him, forcing him down with an iron grip. He struggled, his body weak and trembling, but the force held him firm, pinning him to the ground.
"You will live again," the voice said, its tone dripping with command and cruelty. "And this time, you will get the life you want."
Joshua's eyes widened in horror as the truck approached, its massive wheels looming closer. He thrashed and fought, desperate to escape, but his limbs were like lead, his strength sapped by pain and fear. The truck's front wheel pressed down on his leg, the bone snapping with a sickening crunch. Agony ripped through him, and he screamed, a sound torn from the depths of his soul.
The wheel rolled inexorably up his body, crushing bone and flesh with brutal efficiency. His vision darkened, spots dancing before his eyes as he struggled to breathe. The last thing he saw was the truck's massive tire hovering over his head, the voice's cold laughter echoing in his mind.
And then, with a final, gruesome crack, the truck rolled over his skull, and everything went black.
Joshua felt himself falling into a void, his body weightless and formless. He drifted in darkness, the pain receding but leaving behind a lingering sense of dread. A window appeared before him, like something out of a video game. It asked a simple question:
"Do you want to proceed?"
His mind reeled, the enormity of the choice before him. He took a deep breath, summoning the last of his willpower, and reached out to make his decision.
Joshua's consciousness floated in the void, surrounded by a soft glow that pulsed with a comforting warmth. The familiar sensation of weightlessness made him feel as though he were suspended in a dream. Suddenly, a glowing window appeared before him, displaying a list of choices. His heart raced with a mixture of excitement and trepidation as he took in the fantastical options.
"Race selection," the disembodied narrator intoned. "Choose your new origin."
Joshua's eyes scanned the list of races, each one more intriguing than the last. He considered each carefully, his mind buzzing with possibilities.
"Elf," he murmured, reading the description. "Long lifespan, agile, excellent magic users." He shook his head, moving on.
"Dwarf. Strong, durable, master craftsmen. Nah, too predictable."
He continued down the list until one caught his eye: "Goliath."
The description intrigued him. "A monstrous race, feared and misunderstood, considered a high-level threat by adventurers. Goliaths are known for their immense strength and resilience. Despite being perceived as brutish and unintelligent by other races, Goliaths have a rich oral tradition and a deep connection to nature."
Joshua felt a spark of recognition. "Powerful yet underestimated," he muttered. "Sounds familiar." He selected Goliath without hesitation.
The screen shifted to show a brief overview of their culture. They were a nomadic race, living in harsh, mountainous regions, known for their formidable combat skills and strategic prowess.
"Background selection," the narrator continued. "Choose your new background."
Joshua considered his options carefully. "Warrior, Mage, Thief... Warlord," he read, his interest piqued. "A leader in battle, skilled in strategy and combat, responsible for guiding their clan to victory."
"This sounds like it would give me a better chance at gaining experience," Joshua said aloud. He selected Warlord, hoping it would provide him with the best opportunities to grow stronger and lead his new life.
"Skill selection," the narrator announced, and a new list appeared, filled with various abilities and powers. Joshua's heart pounded with anticipation as he scanned the options.
"Fire Magic," he read, envisioning the destructive power it could grant. "No, I need something more versatile."
"Enhanced Strength," he continued. "That could be useful."
He moved on, considering each skill in turn. "Enhanced Agility, good for dodging attacks and moving quickly. Animal Communication, useful for understanding and controlling beasts. Beast Taming, that's incredibly powerful. If I can control the beasts of this world, that would make me a significant threat."
He paused, considering the implications. "Divine Blessing... what does that even mean?" He frowned, but the allure of the unknown was too strong to resist. Finally, he chose Metal Manipulation, imagining the versatility and power it would give him in battle and beyond.
Satisfied with his selections, he spoke again. "What about the Goliath traits? Are there any specific abilities I get from being a Goliath?"
"Yes," the narrator replied. "As a Goliath, you gain three racial traits: Titan's Endurance, allowing you to recover quickly from injuries; Mountain's Resolve, granting you resistance to mind control and fear effects; and Nature's Kin, enhancing your ability to survive in the wild and connect with the natural world."
"Those sound useful," Joshua said, nodding. "And the monster trait?"
"Your monster trait is called Primal Fury," the narrator explained. "When enraged, you gain immense strength and speed, becoming a nearly unstoppable force in battle. This trait is the main reason Goliaths are feared by other races."
Joshua felt a thrill of anticipation. "Sounds perfect."
As he confirmed his selections, a new screen appeared, revealing the ranks of his chosen skills. He saw Enhanced Strength at SSS rank, Enhanced Agility at A rank, Animal Communication at S rank, Beast Taming at SSSSS rank, Divine Blessing at Infinite rank, and Metal Manipulation at SS rank.
"Is this normal?" Joshua asked, bewildered by the high rankings.
The voice responded, "No, these values are far beyond the norm. You are very powerful indeed, Joshua."
Joshua took a deep breath, feeling a surge of determination. "Alright. Let's do this."
The void around him pulsed, and he felt himself being drawn into a vortex of light and sound. His consciousness began to fade, and he felt a strange sensation, as if his entire being was being compressed and reshaped.
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He awoke to a blinding light and a cacophony of sounds. He was no longer Joshua Ash Caleb, the broken man from Tampa. He was now a newborn Goliath, surrounded by the chaotic remnants of a battlefield. The air was thick with the scent of blood and smoke, the ground littered with the bodies of fallen warriors. His senses were overwhelmed, and he cried out instinctively.
He was cradled in the strong arms of a Goliath woman, his new mother, her face smeared with the grime of battle. Around them, Goliath warriors roared in victory, their war cries echoing through the mountainous landscape. Joshua's birth had come at the end of a brutal raid on a human settlement, the aftermath of which lay scattered around him.
His new father, a towering Goliath with battle scars etched across his body, approached. He was the War Chief, the leader of this fearsome tribe. He looked down at Joshua with a mixture of pride and expectation, unaware of the human soul that now inhabited his son.
As Joshua lay there, cradled in his mother's arms, he struggled to process his new reality. The cries of the wounded and the dying filled his ears, and the weight of his new existence pressed down on him. He was reborn into a world of violence and chaos, a stark contrast to the life he had left behind. Yet, despite the horror of his surroundings, a flicker of determination burned within him. He had a second chance, a new path to carve out, and he would not let it slip away.