“Here it is,” the lady presented the bed he requested.

He laid his eyes on the normal-looking bed. The frame was made out of mahogany-like wood, and the design was as simplest as it could be. Pale yellow dyed the mattress and pillows as the color was not as inviting as the usual white he was used to. Yet beggars couldn’t be a chooser. And it was quite strange for a bed to be here in the middle of the vault room.

“Thank you,” John said. Smiling at the lady for her courtesy despite the many rejections he made.

But the lady hadn’t given up. She lay on the bed, seductively arching her body with a gaze of a temptress. “You sure you won’t change your mind?” that soft tone of hers snuggled his eardrums. John was sure that any men would drop down to their knees over this woman. But being a dead man wasn’t what he was looking forward to.

He faked a yawn and said, “I’m sorry, ma’am. It’s not you, it’s me. I’ve heard lack of sleeping is one of the main causes of lack of performance in bed.”

The lady sat and for once she glared at John. “Fine then,” she got up and left, leaving a trail of her sweet scent. Yet by the door, she said, “rest well, straggler, I hope you won’t disappoint me tomorrow.”

She left for good this time with the metal door shut right behind her. He thought he might be prisoned here but the lever on the wall told him otherwise. It seemed he wasn’t a prisoner like he thought.

Then he turned back to the vault room. The high ceiling bested against the main cavern area while the dunes of gold scattered throughout the vast room. From coins to trinkets, you named it. Everything that could be of luxury was in this room. As though it was a vault owned by royalty.

Yet the lady didn’t seem to be bothered letting a stranger like John knowing about this place. It was either she didn’t care about materialistic things or she had that much confidence in herself that John wouldn’t grab even a zilch.

Nonetheless, John toured himself through the vault. Everywhere he went his lips were smiling and his eyes twinkled like the stars. Golds coins were literally on the ground and different ornaments half-buried in those little gold hills. If he had this much gold back on earth then he was pretty much set for life.

Looking around, John was up to something. He had always wanted to do this ever since he watched that stingy duck on the television screen. John jumped on the heap of gold coins as he started swinging his hands and flapping his legs. He was swimming in gold like old Scrooge McDuck. A few yards was all he could muster as it was pretty much difficult than it looks.

John lay there half-buried in the gold coins, staring at the ceiling with his mind clouded by uneasiness. It was the first time since he felt this safe in this world. Well, partly safe considering the lady was still an unknown anomaly. Yet this free time let him sunk in his thoughts.

‘Why am I here?’ it was the biggest question he could think of. A sense of purpose drove a person to grow and live their life. Back when he was on earth, he was like the rest. Working a job for a better life and down the line perhaps he would have married a girl that loved making latte early in the morning. Then perhaps having a kid or two, one girl and one boy. Watching them grow until they left their nest. Leaving him and his wife to grow old together with their hairs turning gray. At times the children would visit in the holidays with their own children. Then they came and went with each passing year. Perhaps he would be lucky enough to see them in the next year or perhaps he would rest six feet under.

‘On second thought, that’s pretty sucks,’ he thought about it. That kind of stable life felt pretty lackluster in response to what he had been through. John got up with gold coins falling over his clothes. The coins chinked against each other as the sound had a pretty nice tune to it. Yet John’s mind was not at the gold around him as his interest lay on something bigger.

‘Since everything about this world is a game, then I could be anyone I like,’ his mind opened to endless possibilities as the simple thought of it made him smiled from ear to ear. And by luck, he found something sticking up among the pile of gold coins.

‘It can’t be,’ he fleeted across the floor and stood before the thing he saw. The pommel of a lion head staring at him in the eye. His hand reached out and grabbed it by the hilt. John pulled it out and the glistening blade unveiled itself to his eyes. It was a brilliant sword as he could see his own reflection over the shimmering blade. And John couldn’t stop smiling. He was like a kid having his own playground.

‘For an ornamental sword, it got quite a good balance,’ his experience in handling swords started to show. John swung it a few times, testing it like a brand new toy.

But his smile weakened a bit. ‘It’s a bit heavier to my liking, but for my first sword I can’t really complain.’ The thought of the lady came to mind. ‘I wonder if she wouldn’t mind.’

John fiddled with the sword until he remembered something. “Menu. Equipment,” John said.

A coronation sword was made for the late King Aslan the 13th. Carry a hint of regal aura, enhancing dominance against a weaker opponent.

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

[https://i.imgur.com/Rw1XH6S.jpg]

‘As I’ve expected. A weapon this fancy would have its own requirement. But I guess it’s better than having nothing.’ Despite not knowing whether he could own it, John walked around with it in his hand as he continued his leisure search. He kicked a few gold coins along the way and one of them started to roll across the floor. With nothing else to do he tracked the coin until it suddenly vanished.

‘Where did it go?’ John opened his eye wide and raced towards the spot it vanished.

‘I swear it went through here,’ John stared at the wall in front of him up and down, hoping he would find a clue. ‘Damn, I should have finished playing Uncharted.’ A bit too late for regret, yet playing a game wasn’t the only solution. Grabbing a coin, John threw it at the wall.

‘It went through!’ the coin vanished without a sound and John reached his hand towards the wall. Inches away before he touched it John had a change in mind. He held his sword up high and stabbed the wall with the pointed edge. Again, there was not a sound that could be heard. Half of the blade went right through the wall as if it wasn’t there.

“Here we go,” John took the plunge. Darkness took over his sight as memories from the forest came back. But instead of panicking, he had an ace up his sleeve.

“Lucerna. Est. Lux,” uttering those words, John held his palm up. Within seconds, a little light flickered above his palm before burning brighter into a small ball of flame. The warm orange light pushed the darkness away, returning John’s sight. His only arcane spell, Lantern’s Light came in handy in a situation like this. It really amazed him how a person like him just did the most impossible thing. The words came naturally to him as if the knowledge was embedded right into his brain. He had to admit, the game system really did wondrously.

With nothing blocking his path, John trod forward. It was dead silent within this narrow path, the only thing he heard was the flickering flame of his floating Lantern’s Light. ‘Is it me? Or the path is getting narrower?’ It wasn’t his imagination. After a few more steps, he could feel his shoulders sliding over the walls. Yet John wasn’t stopping. For a casual gamer, a hidden path was a must thing to do, no matter the cost.

Reaching the end, John escaped the tight path and stepped inside a perfectly square room. ‘I’ve to say it. If this is a game, it’s a pretty weird one.’ The room was mostly empty except in the middle, where a complete circle was carved perfectly in the ceiling. Letting in the moonlight shining on the small study table.

For precautionary sake, he took a quick lap around the room. Shining with his Lantern’s Light, seeking for any clues on the floor or on the walls. With nothing turning up, John flicked his hand and the light vanished.

His eyes found the study desk, empty without anything on top. ‘An odd choice for a study room.’ He thought of the lady. Yet everything about this room didn’t fit the loving nature aspect of the woman who wanted to get in his pants. ‘Or it might not be hers.’

Tilting his head, John sat on the chair and adjusted his seat to the study table. “Great. Just like elementary.” Nostalgia flooded him as the chair and table made him remembered those innocent days of his. Yet out of nowhere.

“The heck?” his hands were stuck on the surface of the table. “I’m not liking where this is going.” No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remove his hands. As if it was glue right to the wooden fibers of the table. His senses were tingling and it wasn’t a good sign. Only a single person came to mind and his mouth parted as his voice blared like a megaphone.

“Lady!” he didn’t know her name and lady was the only thing he could think of. “Hel–” his voice stopped before he could finish as he felt his energy being sucked dry by whatever that trapped him here.

His eyelids grew heavy and slowly his consciousness was fading. Then, he blacked out.

***

“Ugh, my head,” John woke up with a bad case of a hangover. He didn’t drink but he just felt he had.

“Forgive me for that, the headache is just a mild side effect and it won’t last long,” said a voice.

“Yeah, right. You’re not the one who–” John realized something. There wasn’t a man before he fainted. He turned and faced the source of the voice. And there stood a white-bearded man with a funny hat dressed in a long robe. The wrinkled face man smiled even with his eyes.

“Who are you?” John asked, flustered by the sudden change of venue. He was no longer trapped on the study desk as the vast whiteness of this whole room seemed infinite. “Where am I?”

“What you see here is a fabric of space created by a sliver of myself,” for someone who talked nonsense, the old man was pretty confident.

John was left in a daze for a while, not knowing what to say in this sort of situation. He tried to calm his nerve. Doing the breathing exercise he learned in the anger management workshop, yet something felt odd. ‘Am I not breathing?’

“Indeed, you are not,” the old man spoke as if he just read John’s mind.

“What did you do?” John asked. His eyes rapidly blinking as the worst-case scenario came to mind. It seemed everywhere he went, danger kept greeting him like a friend.

“Hush, child,” the old man raised his hand, hinting at him to stay still. “The you right here is not the real you. Your body is still sitting there in that old study desk of mine.”

John looked down and scrambled his hands all over himself. His body felt real except it wasn’t. The talk of one soul came to mind and it dawned on him. “Wait, if this is my soul, then…” he thought of something terrifying. “…is my body still breathing?”

“There’s no need to worry, young one. The you here is not your soul, it’s a sliver of it or you might just call it an astral projection of yourself,” the old man said. His tone was calm and collected like teaching a new student the wonder of the world.

But John wasn’t buying it. The old man could have spun a tale of lies and trapped him here for who knew what.

“A skeptical one, aren’t you,” the old man waved his hand and the vast whiteness replaced by the little square room. Both of them floated in mid-air, translucent in body with a sprinkle of magical dust floating around them.

John saw himself. Sleeping on the table with his body heaving in tandem with his breath. The sight of him being alive relieved him.

“Enough?” the old man waved his hand once more and the vast whiteness returned.

Despite the calming outlook of John, he was still wary of this old man. The thing he just saw might be an illusion conjured by the old man. But the current situation left him at a big disadvantage. He had no power in deciding his own fate and for now, he had no other choice than to play along.

“A wise decision,” said the old man.

John frowned. Getting his mind read was the most unpleasant thing he had ever felt.

“Now why do you brought me here?” John asked.

The old man had never lacked a smile, and it grew wider from that question of John’s.

“Would you like to be a Warlock?”