A fog of pain was the first thing Sam felt as he regained consciousness; he could almost see it as he blearily opened an unseeing eye. The other one remained tightly shut.

Letting out a low groan Sam began to move and immediately stopped once he listened to his body’s passionate speech against the idea, conveyed by the medium of agony. Every part of him seemed to hurt, and he could do nothing but lie still for several moments in order to to take in his situation.

The back of his head throbbed awfully. An image of one of those big 'axe spears' came to Sam’s mind, as part of him thanked the guard for not using the pointy end. Another part of course, still thought the guard was a massive prick for knocking him out in the first place.

Regaining some focus in his eye, Sam looked along the ground which his face was level with. The floor was rough stone, crudely worked so that although there was a pattern to it, no care had been made to make it presentable. The wall opposite was fairly dark, though it seemed to have been made with a similar standard as the flooring. High up along its stony surface, a small barred window allowed enough light into the room for Sam to see all of this.

Grimacing against what was to come; Sam carefully rolled over onto his back and ended up resting there for another moment. He had aimed to get into a sitting position, but quickly decided on doing so in small manageable chunks. Looking up, Sam saw some broad wooden beams holding up the high ceiling above him. ‘Nice to know it’s not all stone’ Sam thought to himself.

As he waited, Sam reached a hand up to his closed eye to find out why he couldn’t see. His fingers gently probed a puffy mass of flesh that must be his eyelid. Worried about his vision, he was just about able to painfully, but successfully, pry them apart to confirm he could still see. Channelling this relief allowed Sam to finish sitting up and to continue examining himself.

Despite his seemingly superb health when he had looked under the torchlight, Sam saw that his body was now a mass of bruises. The strange white scars on his right side could no longer be seen beneath his now black and blue skin. His nose was also broken to go along with his heavily swollen eye. ‘Must have fallen forwards after I got knocked out’ Sam thought, however he knew that even if this was the case, it still didn’t explain all the other bruising.

The click of a lock made Sam look up to one side of the room, where he saw a thick wooden door, reinforced with metal, swing open. Through the door stepped a man holding a burning torch, dressed similarly to the guards from the previous night. Behind him followed an older man with quite an impressive white beard which matched an equally white but less impressive robe.

The guard marched up to Sam and spoke in a harsh and cruel tone. He had a sneer on his face, as he waved the torch threateningly in front of him. Clear that this man was not a friend, Sam kept his mouth shut and tried very hard to adopt the same innocent expression he would use as a child when his mother accused him of stealing cookies.

Not seeming to care however, the guard spat at Sam, who raised up his hands in disgust. Using this opening, the guard kicked Sam hard in the ribs, ruining Sam’s hard work and knocking him over again.

“Jesus!” Sam exclaimed as he smacked into the floor. ‘What kind of fucked up society is this?’ Sam thought to himself, knowing that saying anything aloud in any kind of critical tone was an unwise decision. He had no need to speak out though, as the old man let out his own protestation at the guard’s violence, followed by a fast and heated discussion between the two involving a lot of gesturing in Sam’s direction.

Unsure what to do Sam kept quiet and simply watched this unfold, slightly glad that abusing prisoners was not apparently a socially approved past time. With a final gesture and a dismissive wave, the guard left the room and closed the door behind him. This left Sam alone with the old man, who was immediately placed in Sam's good books, as he was helped back up to a sitting position. The old man then shared a seat beside him.

The man mumbled something under his breath, which Sam took as an apology. He then raised a small flask to Sam’s lips, who upon seeing water for the first time in who knows how long, greedily accepted by chugging down the entire contents.

The old man chuckled as he returned the flask to wherever it had come from. With a smile the old man spoke, the inflection at the end of the sentence placing it in the context of a question.

“I’m sorry.” Sam replied. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

The man did not reply, instead he bit his bottom lip as though thinking. He then spoke again, this time the words seemed more guttural and had a different rhythm than before. The old man looked at Sam expectantly.

“Sorry, I still don’t understand...” Sam replied again, feeling bad for some reason, despite his circumstance being quite outside his control. The old man seemed to get the gist of it however and nodded, accepting no conversation between the two would be taking place. The man straightened up and reached behind his back to pull out a book. He then began to read.

The old man’s voice was monotone and had an air of formality about it. Unsure what to do, Sam listened, trying to appear polite to the man. It must have been a good five minutes before the man fell silent and the book closed with a snap.

The old man held Sam’s gaze for a long moment, his expression was sad and Sam thought he saw a hint of pity in those old eyes. He then abruptly stood up and turned to leave.

“Wait!” Sam pleaded, causing the man to turn back towards him. “Where am I? I have absolutely no idea what I am supposed to be doing!” Sam reached out towards the old man, wanting him to stay. The pain in body flared up when he began to reach, and Sam could not help but whimper slightly.

“I think I need a doctor...” Sam whispered, eyes welling up from the pain and the uncertainty of his future.

The old man took Sam’s hand and spoke in a reassuring tone, he then reached into his robe and his hand returned with a necklace made of a small leather cord that had a wooden figurine tied to it. Taking Sam’s hand, the man placed the necklace into it, and then closed Sam’s fingers around it. He squeezed Sam’s hands comfortingly, before turning around once more to leave.

Upon reaching the door, the man was let out by the same guard as before, who slammed the thick wood shut after glaring in his direction for a moment. Sam could then hear the lock click back into place, and once more he was alone.

“Shit.” Sam said loudly. “Shit Shit Shit!”

“Ok, new plan.” Sam once again started talking to himself, trying not to freak out about being held captive in what was essentially a medieval dungeon.

“First step, get out of this dungeon. Second, find out why I need to go to a temple to satisfy some stupid blue bo...”

Please proceed to your preferred temple to complete your reconfigurement.

“Yes I’ll get to you eventually...” Sam muttered under his breath before crossing his arms over his knees and sinking his face into his wrists.

Religious symbol detected. Requirements overridden. Complete reconfiguration?

Yes/No

The blue box blazed straight into his vision, even with his head buried in his arms. ‘Religious Symbol?’ thought Sam. He glanced up from his arms at the necklace that was still held in his hand. ‘Is it glowing slightly?’ Sam wondered.

Religious symbol detected. Requirements overridden. Complete reconfiguration?

Yes/No

The box reappeared and Sam carefully read, his eyes hovering over the “Yes”. Unsure what else he could do in his current situation, Sam mentally yelled “yes” hoping this would be enough. It was, and the blue box was replaced by another.

Stolen novel; please report.

Reconfiguring...

‘Well that was anticlimactic’ Sam thought, before his vision turned white.

*

“Wh... What?” Sam muttered, coming out of a daze “Where am I?” Gone were the harsh stone walls of the dungeon, in their place, smooth white surfaces covered the floor, four walls and a ceiling. The only object of note contained within the room, was a small stone statue, reaching up to Sam’s chest.

The statue was of a woman. She looked down and to the side; a marble like stone flowed naturally around her, creating a marvellously crafted shawl. Her hands were stretched out, palms facing upwards, as though making some sort of offering.

After briefly wondering what kind of crazy world he had fallen into, one which just teleported him to seemingly random places, Sam wandered over to inspect the statue more closely. Upon reaching it, his examination was cut short as another blue box popped up in his vision.

Greetings

Sam blinked a couple of times to check if any more text would appear, however none did and the message did not disappear after several seconds as the others had.

“Hello?” Sam hesitatingly said, unsure if it was waiting for some sort of response.

Welcome to the realm of Vaelen.

As a traveller from beyond the Construct, you have been granted several gifts to aid in your adaptation to the laws of this realm.

The first of these is the gift of knowledge.

You may ask three questions, which will be answered with divine authority.

Three questions remaining.

“Umm, what?” Sam asked unthinkingly.

As a newly arrived traveller from another world, you lack the knowledge of how the Construct affects those living in the realm of Vaelen, something those born to this world would naturally acquire. An opportunity for balance is gifted to you by the Construct, in order to gain the knowledge to properly prepare for your life ahead.

In order to maintain this balance, a limit of three questions can be asked.

As a newly arrived traveller from another world, your body lacks the character that beings forged and moulded by a lifetime in Vaelen have acquired. An opportunity for balance is gifted to you by the Construct, in order for you to recast yourself into a body more suited for the trials ahead.

In order to maintain balance, three customisations can be made.

As a newly arrived traveller from another world, you lack the wisdom and insight aquired through instinct and lessons learned. An opportunity for balance is gifted to you by the Construct, in order for you to gain the natural skills and wisdom to face the lessons ahead.

In order to maintain balance, three Constructed skills shall be given.

The tenth and final gift grants you, the traveller, the opportunity to gain the blessing of a class. A mould and structure. A scaffold and frame. To flourish and grow..

Two Questions Remaining.

‘Shit, I didn’t mean to ask anything!’ Sam mentally yelled at himself, keeping his lips consciously tightly sealed. Though considering the accidental asking of the question, the answer still gave him some information about what was happening to him. It seemed the world itself thought Sam was pitiable enough to give him a helping hand.

The blue box mentioned three sections. The first he was currently in and was simple enough; he could ask any question and be given an answer.

The second seemed to be some sort of physical customisation, making Sam wonder if he could change his appearance back to his old self, rather than the mystery body he fell into. This idea certainly appealed to Sam, who felt on the edge of claustrophobia, being in a body that wasn’t his.

The third section was a bit more mysterious. ‘It would give wisdom and skills?’ Sam pondered, unsure what this could mean. ‘Holy shit!’ Sam thought eyes widening. “Am I going to come out of this knowing Kung-Fu?’ He was tempted to ask this as a question, however seeing as how he would come across this section later on anyway, Sam decided he would get more value from asking something else.

The word “Construct” still had little meaning to Sam, and after thinking about several additional subjects, he kept coming back to this as the major mystery. It seemed like this was what was causing strange blue boxes to appear in front of his face. Better understanding the core system he was living in seemed the wisest course.

With a question thought out beforehand, Sam had decided to keep his first intentional query basic, and simply asked “What is the Construct?”

The Construct is a divine system, created by the builders of this realm to keep in check its wild and dangerously untamed magic’s from spreading and corrupting other realms.

The Construct creates order from chaos and provides a framework for the denizens of Vaelen to utilise this treacherous force without fear of obliteration, allowing them power inconceivable to mortals from other lands.

One Question Remaining.

'...'

'...'

‘...That was it?!' Sam wondered, slightly put out. ‘I got more information from the first one!’

Shaking his head, Sam thought on the bestowed knowledge, to see if anything deeper could be gained. It seemed this construct played both the part of defending the ‘realm’ against some sort of destructive power, but instead of sealing away this power, it used it as magical fuel to give to those living here. This was interesting, but not particularly helpful. ‘It granted inconceivable power? Great! How?’

“How do denizens utilise the power granted by the construct?” Sam asked out loud to the statue.

The Construct grants all denizens the most basic of powers by allowing them to utilise the Constructs categorisation repository. This allows the denizen to obtain basic knowledge about objects and other denizens by merely inspecting them.

Advanced power is granted upon reaching maturity, by bestowing the opportunity to gain the blessing of a class. Accompanying this class, related skills and abilities can be chosen and utilised once enough essence has been gathered for the class to grow.

Zero Questions Remaining.

'...'

‘So power is mostly related to a class’ Sam concluded to himself, luckily the other box had told him he was getting one of those later. Though according to what the Construct had just mentioned, he should already be able to use its power to ‘Identify’ things. ‘And how do I do that?” Sam wondered.

“Inspect!” Sam said out loud. There was no reaction and the Constructs answer to his previous question remained in his vision.

“Identify! Evaluate! Inform! Tell Me!” Sam said aloud, again to no reaction. Frustrated he tried flailing around whilst saying other potentially relevant words. He eventually ended up doing something, as the box from before disappeared, replaced with another.

The second gift is the gift of character.

The construct will now evaluate you to determine which three customisations you will benefit from the most, equivalent to current denizens in Vaelen.

Sam began to feel a tingling sensation all over his body. The blue box in his vision started vibrating, along with everything else he could see. Thankfully this only lasted a couple of seconds, and was followed by another message from the Construct.

You have been given the opportunity to change your name.

Do you wish to change your existing name of “NO NAME”?

Yes/No

“Yes” Sam responded instantly, seeing to sense in being called 'NO NAME' by the boxes for the rest of his life.

What is your new name?

Sam was about to just repeat his own name, however paused before doing so. There was nothing wrong with the name 'Sam'. Nothing at all. He did however; feel it lacked a certain something. There had been some very famous 'Sam’s', even set in fantasy worlds, but still taking on that name in this new world, with swords, dungeons and magic, just didn’t quite sit right.

One good thing of playing computer games when he was younger, was that he had already overcome this problem before.

“Samael.” Sam stated confidently, choosing the character name he often went with in games. It also already contained his own name, so he could still use it as an abbreviation.

You have now been renamed “Samael”.

You have been given the opportunity to change your appearance.

Do you wish to change you current appearance?

Yes/No

“YES!” Cheered Samael. ‘The Construct literally read my mind!’

After Samael’s loud confirmation, the text in the message box began to twist and distort. Its colour began to change from white to a more pale pink, as the words enlarged, stretched out and morphed into an image of a young man. A man that was a complete stranger to Samael.

‘Is that what I look like now?’ Samael asked himself, examining the body in front of him. It was... not inspiring. The face of the body was slightly pudgy, several scars and pits marred its surface, along with too much hair in several incorrect places. Rather than an easy going smile, the mouth was held in a natural grimace, as though having an unpleasant disposition.

There were no clothes blocking his view, and Samael saw a build that could charitably be described as stocky at best and thuggish at worst. There were silver scars covering several parts of the body and Samael realised he had seen those before, especially down the body’s right side. ‘This is definitely me as I am now...’ Samael thought before rubbing his hands together. ‘Let’s fix that!’