Its transformation complete, the carrion golem ascended the rest of the stairs. It held out one of its arms and the tissue at the end shaped itself into an elegant hand, far more detailed than the rest of its reconstituted form. With unusual grace for such a misshapen creature, it entered the ring and stood in the opposite corner. Waiting, patiently, for the match to begin.

Streams of new text blurred past Roman’s vision, far too fast to read. Somehow the intention of the words burned themselves into his mind regardless, and he intuitively understood the basic contents. The information resembled some sort of video game screen or stat sheet from a tabletop game--concepts Roman was somewhat familiar with, though he had never been able to sit still long enough to personally enjoy them much.

He focused on analyzing the information.

[ Roman Miller ]

[ Species: Mortal Human (E) ]

[ Class: Earthly Peon (Common) ]

[ Patronage: None ]

[ Level: 0 ]

I don’t fucking think so. Try again.

The text contained far more than that, but he saw no reason to delve deeper into the various complex breakdowns, subtext, and empty node networks.

If this wasn’t some mad hallucination, why even make him into one of these ‘Players’ just to be torn apart within a minute? Why this much complexity for a dead man? He doubted he was the only survivor, and everyone else would have likely received access to the same system, but there must have been a point to him being one of the chosen. Some eldritch force, such as this Sul’gurrath being mentioned in the first batch of text, clearly acted as an overseer for this ordeal.

While Roman was confident in his ability to fight, he had a feeling the carrion golem would be much harder to take down compared to the original Oscar. And if he did manage to, an entire parking lot of its equally ugly friends was waiting for him. Including someone he was trying his best not to think about too much.

Perhaps there was no real meaning behind this particular trial, and his destiny was simply to be torn apart. If that was the case, he’d at least explore his options first. The world remained completely frozen, and the carrion golem looked to be in no rush.

At first, nothing responded to his denial. Time passed, though he had no way to conceptualize just how long. Whatever biochemical process usually triggered his overblown response to remaining still couldn’t take root in this uncertain purgatory. His immediate subconscious reaction to being frozen in time faded away. So, like the carrion golem in the opposite corner, he waited.

Finally, a response came, and not from the impersonal text. A Mind brushed against his, an unfathomable pressure capable of crushing his soul if it hadn’t restrained itself. Like a chunk of rock caught in a star’s orbit, Roman found his consciousness circling the grand intelligence that had revealed itself. Hints of its true nature leaked into him, almost all of it unfathomably alien, but he did recognize one of its dominant aspects: amusement.

[ Watcher Nyarlathotep of the Infinite Faces extends its Patronage to Player Roman Miller. Accept? ]

No. I’ll kill all of you pieces of shit. Try. Again.

The Mind didn’t immediately respond. Then the mental equivalent of a bullet sniped into Roman’s soul, shattering it into a million jagged fragments. His existence unraveled before reforming an instant later. This time the memory of his destruction remained with Roman; despite his bluster and paralyzed emotional state, it shook him to the core.

He had to admit, it was unlikely any drug or psychosis-induced hallucination could feel this way. All of this was terribly, terribly real.

At least the Mind had vanished. In its place came a flood of new text.

[ Watcher Nyarlathotep of the Infinite Faces has declared Player Roman Miller a nemesis. Rare bounty placed. All of the Watcher’s Chosen are compelled to hunt him down for all eternity. ]

[ Adjusting Player start. ]

[ Main quest added: Hunt the Hunters. Learn more? ]

Fuck off.

[ Watcher Uriel of the Corrupted Heavens extends its Patronage to Player Roman Miller. Accept? ]

[ Watcher Lilith of the Eldritch Gardens extends its Patronage to Player Roman Miller. Accept? ]

Several more of the prompts burned their way into his vision, though he refused to acknowledge them. None of these new Watchers came personally like the last one, which bode well for Roman’s sanity.

He was beginning to piece together the basics of this so-called Greatest Game in the Cosmos. If the text could be believed, dark entities had claimed the entire galaxy as the backdrop for their entertainment. The majority of intelligent life had been condensed and repurposed, just like Oscar. From the sound of it, celestial objects like planets--maybe even stars--had met the same fate.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Given this whole Patron aspect, all of this effort had been expended to, what, amuse a pantheon of cruel beings? To play with lives the same way humans played video games, to the point they implemented an entire system explicitly based on them?

Despite being turned into one of these ‘Players,’ he doubted his actual physical capabilities had improved after seeing his mundane description and nonexistent level. The various offers of Patronage were tempting.

As far as he could tell, some real Revelations shit was going down. His mind couldn’t help but turn biblical after seeing the names Uriel and Lilith, figures he vaguely recognized from Sunday school and random references over the years. Uriel sounded like one of the major angels, though the ‘Corrupted Heavens’ part of his moniker didn’t exactly inspire faith. Best to avoid even those two for the time being.

No doubt Patronage came with a slew of benefits to help him survive, but he had no way of knowing the downsides. Some fates, like eternal slavery, could be worse than death. And if he received all these new offers after defying Nyarlathotep and the force behind the system, perhaps they all had their own alliances. Meaning accepting any one of them could mean gaining a half-dozen new enemies.

Most of all, even if the entire affair was beginning to sap his desire to rage against the heavens, he still didn’t want to give in to the bastards.

His saving grace was that one of the lines of text claimed that his Player start had been adjusted. He hadn’t been teleported to another location, so that meant something else had changed.

With a thought he pulled up the block of text describing him from earlier. He would have grinned if he could.

[ Roman Miller ]

[ Species: Human (E) ]

[ Class: Chaos Disciple (Rare) ]

[ Patronage: None (5 Pending) ]

[ Level: 3 ]

[ Nemesis: Nyarlathotep ]

Perhaps the apocalypse wasn’t so hopeless after all. If this was the end of the world foretold by Christianity, the system could have very well been based on piety and altruism. The fact it rewarded his stubbornness made him better suited to this new world than the old one.

Just in case it worked, he readied another mental complaint. That’s not nearly enough. Try---

Instead of a bullet piercing through his soul, his mind filled with a sense of danger, as if he was watching an enemy raise a gun to his head. He let the thought die off and the feeling passed. The powers-that-be had their limits, and he wasn’t foolish enough to make an enemy of the force behind the system itself. He suspected he would already regret becoming Nyarlathotep's nemesis sooner or later.

But if it could sense his thoughts it knew his underlying determination remained the same. There would be a reckoning for this. He’d see how far this system could take him, and if it was still nothing in the face of these cruel gods, then he’d figure out the source of their power and master that too.

Across the ring, the carrion golem tapped its opposite forearm with the forefinger of its elegant hand, as if telling him time was ticking. A series of numbers appeared in the corner of Roman’s vision, counting down the seconds from 60.

[ First trial will begin in one minute. Manually allocate free attribute points?]

Roman blinked at the prompt. The phrase triggered some memories of the few video games he had played in the past. Yes.

Base Attributes

Strength: 15

Agility: 12

Endurance: 13

Will: 14

Perception: 9

Charisma: 6

Free points: 7

His mind twisted itself into a knot attempting to make sense of the information. Seconds ticked away in the corner of his vision--no time to think too deeply. Brute force would serve him best here. Greater survivability or speed could spell the difference between life and death, but he’d just be delaying the inevitable if he couldn’t destroy the carrion golem with his own hands.

With a thought he distributed five points into strength, some irreverent part of his brain pleased at smoothly rounding it up to 20. He split the final two points between agility and endurance.

[ Confirm free point distribution? This prompt will not appear in the future. ]

Yes.

Finally, his body was able to move, but not of his own accord.

Blinding pain consumed every inch of his being. Tremors wracked his body, his muscles flexing, expanding. Bone grated against bone as they elongated. Tendons and ligaments strained, snapped from the force of his explosive growth before knitting back together. His jaw felt on the verge of shattering, and hot blood filled his mouth--he’d bitten the end of his tongue clean off.

Five seconds passed according to the timer in the corner of his vision, bringing the count down to 30. The agony abated, and his body had been forged anew.

Still unable to look around, he couldn’t see how much mass the system had somehow added on to his frame. But he already stood head and shoulders over the average person, and now he had blown past the threshold to be considered a light-heavyweight. Good thing they’d already weighed in.

The memory of pain lingered, another mental scar added to the collection, but mostly Roman was relieved it was over.

Though he subconsciously understood the system held other upgrades for him in reserve, for the moment they were useless. Thinking about the skills and node systems flooded his vision with text and patterns, but it was all a faded gray instead of the usual bolded black, unresponsive to his mental commands.

The countdown timer reached 15. Suddenly Roman remembered how to move, how to breathe. He spat a mouthful of blood to the side before he could choke on it.

A storm of emotions overwhelmed his thoughts--outrage, panic, terror, resolve. Outrage and resolve won out in the end, resonating with the flood of violent energy coursing through his body. The timer couldn’t tick down fast enough.

On the other side of the ring, the carrion golem underwent its own transformation. It flung its arms out to the side, and the abundance of organic material shifted, reforming into intricately sculpted limbs that still retained their exaggerated bulk. A moment later its legs likewise perfected themselves. The skinless abomination glistened in the moonlight, striated muscles shifting as it assumed a fighter’s pose.

10 seconds remaining.

The temporal hold on the rest of reality vanished. A flood of sounds rushed in--the harsh whine of the commentator’s microphone as the holder dropped it, car brakes squealing in the distance, a man shouting.

Roman ignored all of it.

He shifted into his own stance. Southpaw, hands up, right foot forward. He lightly bounced on the balls of his feet, tasted the blood coating the inside of his mouth

5. 4. 3. An explosion in the far distance. 2. 1.

[ Challenge begin. ]