Cereus’s boot steps onto the concrete with a dull thunk, his other following after. He lifts his black hooded head to the dark sky, taking a deep breath of the spring air.
The sky above is completely black, only the moon standing out.
He mutters under his breath, “It’s been a while, Earth.”
He adjusts the belt that runs across his chest, the sword on his back jingling quietly. His black cowled head turns to look at the dark windowed house.
It is of moderate size, and relatively new. The white paint has faded to a off white and it’s roof has become battered and beaten from weather. The plain front yard, that has only a few shrubs as topiary, chirps with insects.
Cereus flicks his wrist, a translucent and minimalist menu popping up in front of him. He clicks on a few icons, navigating through it till he gets to what he wants.
He grunts, scrolling down through the list and stopping on a picture of a young man. The man has disheveled brown hair, dark brown eyes that are close to being black, and a dusting of freckles over his cheeks and nose. The dark, purple blue, bags under his eyes stand out against the harsh light the picture was taken in, the angles of his face giving him a sinister appearance.
The Dark Swordsman scratches his chin, hmming. “So you are the 78th subject? Not much from what I can see.”
Cereus scrolls through the profile, looking at the detailed information, things such as height, BMI, thought patterns, traits and much more. He stops on the traits, tapping on one and making an understanding sound. “Ah, that’s why. Interesting.”
Cereus swipes, and the screen disappears. He cracks his fingers, rolling his shoulders and neck to limber up. He flicks his wrist again, pulling up another menu. He winces as he finishes reading it, “Ohf, that’s a nasty one. Time of death is estimated to occur in 30 minutes, I best get prepared.”
He looks up at the dark windows, then takes a step forward, and the shadows of the night seem to stretch towards him and consume him. A predatory smile flitters on his lips as he mutters under his breath, “Now I just have to wait.”
The Dark Swordsman vanishes into the shadows, the cool spring air once again filled with the chirping of crickets.
***
I sigh, rubbing my eyes. Man, I shouldn’t have gone to that party.
Clutching the plastic, convenience store bag, I glance up and down the street. The light from the gas station and convenience store behind me illuminates the darkness of the night for several feet.
Rubbing the back of my aching head, the headache pounding at the inside of my skull, I step onto the street.
I walk over the asphalt, the plastic bag rustling in my hand.
The screech of tires assault my ears and bright headlights fill my vision. I squint at the fast approaching car. Loud music is booming out from the car as the driver heedlessly rushes towards me.
Oh, cheesus.
The trees rustle in the spring breeze, and the vroom of the car speeding up fills my mind. Time seems to slow as the car approaches me.
The car is feet from me, about to crash into me bodily. It’s driver is bobbing his long haired head up and down to the screeching metal music the radio is playing.
My eyes open in horror as it registers with my brain. He’s not stopping!
I twist my body, stepping quickly forward. I watch in slow motion as the car crosses the last few inches between where I am standing. The plastic bag slips from my fingers, flinging itself into the air.
Then I am floating in the air, my feet off the ground.
The car speeds past me.
I land hard on the asphalt, skidding my cheek across the coarse surface, peeling skin from the palms of my hands. I roll, trying to defuse my momentum.
The back of my already aching head cracks against the cement curb and I go flying over into the grass.
Rolling on my side, I eventually stop, my mind spinning. I stare up at the dark sky, the only light coming from the waxing moon. The trees rustle in the wind above me, and I stare at the moon, slowly regathering my thoughts.
I sit up with a groan and curse, yelling out in anger and outrage, “WATCH WHERE YOU’RE FREAKING DRIVING!”
The car speeds around a bend in the road, the wheels screeching as rubber is burned on asphalt and its headlights vanishing further into the night.
Climbing to my feet, I massage my cheek, my hand comes back sticky and wet. Great, now I’m bleeding.
The palms of my hands are torn to shreds, and I curse as the pain finally hits me. Oh god, it hurts!
I look at the remnants of my convenience store bag and curse even more. Its contents have been pulverized, fizzing soda leaking out and the candy bars turned to mush.
I throw my hands up in defeat, slouching over and saying heatedly, “Just great! Just. Freaking. Great!”
Limping my way onto the sidewalk, I look over the metal fence and to the dark houses of my neighborhood. I hold my bloody and shaking hands to my side as I walk down the sidewalk, heading towards home. “God damn idiot.”
The sidewalk continues onwards, but I step off it and onto the street that the sidewalk intersects. Walking down the street’s edge, I eventually make it to my home.
Walking up the stone steps, and onto the porch, I fish around my belt for my keys. After a few tries, I manage to unhook the keys from my belt.
Fumbling with them, and trying to not cover them in blood, I grab the silver house key. The keys rattle with my shaking hand as I go to unlock the door.
As I touch the door knob, the door creaks open. What?
Pushing the door open the entire way, I glance at the dark insides of the house. Did mom leave the door open?
I limp into my house, shutting the door behind me and locking it. That’s just like her, I think ruefully. I’ve still got to apologize to her though.
I flick the lights on and shuffle my way to the bathroom. Carefully opening the door, so as not to smear blood on it, I go over to the sink.
I turn the water to freezing cold, and dunk my burning hands under the faucet. I sigh in relief as the water rushes through my wounds, numbing the pain.
Looking up, I turn my face so I can see my cheek in the mirror. I wince, That’s nasty!
My right cheekbone’s flesh has been skidded off, blood welling up and dripping down the side of my face.
Dang! I’m going to have to get disinfectant.
I pull my hands from the sink, letting the red water run down the drain. I pull a wad of toilet paper off the roll, and wet it under the faucet. I rub the blood away from my cheek, clearing away as much blood as I can.
Wincing at the sting, I finish cleaning the wound to the best of my ability and toss the bloody paper into the trash.
I look at my cheekbone again. Shoot!
White glints from within the wound. God darn it, that’s freaking bone.
I’m going to need some disinfectant and gauze.
Limping out of the bathroom, I make my way to the closet near the living room. We should have some stored in the closet.
Movement catches my attention in the living room, and I squint in the darkness. Hey, what?
I watch as a humanoid shadow appears from the back of my living room, a bag in one hand and a dark, metal object in the other. It lets out a surprised gasp, and in the blink of an eye, the metal object is pointed at me.
There is a flash of light, a thunderous roaring and a blossom of pain in my gut. I gasp, my eyes widening, and I fall to my knees, hunching over my stomach.
I clutch at my stomach, sticky fluid spilling out and covering my hands, staining my clothes.
I choke out in disbelief, “W-what?”
I hear distantly someone curse, “-be! No, no, no!”
I curl up, hyperventilating and shuddering, trying to take in gulps of air. Not like this!
A shadow falls over me, and I look up at my attacker. In his shaking hand is a smoking, black handgun. In his other is a bag that clatters with metal.
My mind instantly flashes to understanding. A thief! He’s a bloody thief.
The man is cursing even more, and just looking down at me, his voice climbing in higher octaves of panic.
I glare up at him, gritting my teeth. I can’t die here! No! I can’t!
With a force of will, my hand flops onto my killer’s sneaker, smearing dark crimson onto it.
He jumps back, startled and breathing heavily.
My eye’s meet him, and I glare at him, my ears ringing with blood rushing. I grit out through my teeth, “Damn… you!”
The man’s face is twisted in something between a grimace, horror and panic.
I etch what I can see of his face in my mind. Pale, icy cold blue eyes are the only thing I can make out from the shadows of his hood, a bandana covering his lower face.
Darkness creeps at the edges of my vision, consuming my sight. I give into the sweet bliss of unconsciousness, entering oblivion.
My last thought echoes through my mind, I… can’t die like this.
***
I float in a endless abyss, there is nothing. No light, no ground, no air and I can’t feel my limbs. I can’t move.
Where.. Am I?
“You are dead.” A voice echoes out from the abyss, sounding reassuring and calm.
As I float, a figure seems to unfold itself from reality, standing in front of me. It is a man, a black cloak on his shoulders and hood obscuring his face, eery amber eyes burn from within the darkness of his hood. A short sword’s hilt on his back glints in the non existent light, a leather belt over his chest and dark clothes that blend with the cloak.
He walks with heavy boots towards me, the noise echoing in the air that doesn’t exist. The figure stops a few feet in front of me.
I feel like I should be panicking, but for some reason I can’t. Infact, now that I try to think about it, I can’t feel anything, both physical and mental. I purse my imaginary lips, thinking, I don’t have emotions.
My thoughts feel sluggish, and my memories hazy. I feel incredibly detached.
The figure chuckles, his shoulders rising and falling. “That tends to happen when you don’t have a brain to think with, or the chemicals it produces to make emotions possible.”
I say dumbly, still trying to understand whats going on, Yeah. That.
The man claps his hands together, wringing them. “Well, it is nice to meet you. I am Cereus, though I have gone by many names.”
I try to be polite, I’m… I’m…?
The man nods slowly, “You went by the name Eric Hall.”
I’m Eric, nice to meet you. I say, or rather think. I look Cereus up and down, and I suddenly get a bad premonition. Are you the grim reaper?
The man bursts out laughing, his laughter echoes in the abyss, and it for some reason puts me on edge. He soon stops, bending over and leaning on his knees.
He holds up a finger, motioning for a second.
Once he has caught his breath, he stands upright. His amber eyes boring into my very soul. “Some people have called me that, it is one of the more common things people call me. Though I don’t usually meddle with souls anymore. And before you ask, yes, you are dead.”
I am… dead? I focus, trying to remember.
Hazy images of blood, pain and icy blue eyes come to the front of my mind. I was murdered.
“Yes, well the person who killed you, I can say, very much regrets it. Now, I have come here with an offer,” The hooded man reaches out a hand, palm up. “How would you like to be reincarnated? Think on this, for what I am offering you is both a curse and a miracle,” He holds his arms out to his sides with a flourish, “You will find both great pain and boundless love. Adventure, riches, power! But also suffering, misery and death.”
It’s an offer that I wasn’t expecting. And I have a niggling in the back of my mind, but I can’t figure out what it is. What if I refuse?
The man nods his head in understanding, “Then I let your soul return to the natural cycle of life and death, of normal reincarnation.”
It’s tempting, to be reborn again. The idea of having a second chance at life, but he had also said some things that make me hesitate. What’s the catch?
A predatory smile gleams from under the hood, the man bobbing his head and pacing back and forth. He steeples his fingers, thinking for a second, his cloak swishing behind him. “There is a catch. You will be reincarnated on a different world. Now, that’s only a part of it. You would become a willing subject in a test that me and my... colleagues are conducting. Our hope is to extract enough variable data from this experiment.
It’s a rather wide scale project, and we’ve learned from our past mistakes, that there needs to be a more structured system in place, or… certain variables may get out of control. It’s also our hope to stimulate growth in the directions we intend. Though, this is only an experiment, if you are getting what I am saying.” He says under his breath away from me, I can barely make it out, “That variable being a strong willed, stubborn and vengeful young man.”
I furrow my brow, even though I know I don’t actually have one. So… I’m going to be a lab rat?
Cereus freezes in place, and for a few uncomfortable seconds, he doesn’t say anything. Then he starts back to pacing. “Sort of. I think the better idea would be that you will be playing… a game. Like an RPG.”
A role playing game?
Cereus nods, “Yes! There you go, you’re getting the idea.”
Why an RPG?
He chuckles a little, and says in a loud whisper, “It took a lot of convincing, but I managed to get my boss to agree to my idea of using something similar to a video game’s mechanics. Of course, this is real life, so things are bound to be different. It’s great!”
I could feel myself getting slightly excited, but the emotion feels more like a memory than anything. The idea of playing a real world video game seems to excite me and it captures my interest.
Also, I know I didn’t want to die. So, why not take this second chance?
I accept your offer.
Cereus claps his hands, a smile gleaming from under his hood, his amber eyes burning. “Great! Now, a few things before we do anything else.”
He straightens, his tone becoming more serious, “You will gain access to the System whenever you undergo the ceremony. You will be reborn on the continent of Ilira, in the kingdom of Soma. To help you better integrate, I will be downloading several languages into your mind, namly Common.
You may feel some disorientation on rebirth, and you will find that your mind is going to be not developed. So, I will be bolstering your thought processes to help you think more clearly, it will approximately give you the brain capacity of your previous age, even in the body of a baby.
That sound good?”
It takes me a second to process what he has said. Do I get a special skill?
The hooded figure chuckles, shaking his head, “Not from me, no. It all depends on you and what you do.”
I think of one more question I have. What am I going to be reborn as?
Cereus shrugs, “You’ll find out soon enough. Plus, I don’t want to spoil the fun.”
I shrug my mental shoulders, trying to muster up the urge to care, but am unable to. Is there anything else I need to know?
Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
The hooded man rubs his chin, which is cloaked in shadow, then clicks his tongue and holds up his finger, “I’m not in charge of which body your soul will be put in. It’s hard, you know, to find a newly born infant without a soul.
Also, if you want to get access to the RPG system, you’re going to have to work for it. I’ll give you a hint… you need to do something notable to impress the Spirits into giving you a powerful Djinn. That’s all, now have a fun time.”
Wait, what does that mean?
“Nope, no time. I got to go to the next candidates and can’t spend anymore time on you. Don’t die, again... This might be a tab bit unpleasant, but we gotta get your soul there in a timely fashion, so you’ll have to deal with it. Bye, bye now,” The man chuckles, a predatory smile shining from within his hood. He holds up his fingers and snaps them.
The sound slows, time seeming to stutter to a stop and the snapping warping into a long chime. Reality seems to shatter like a mirror around his hand, shards flying everywhere.
I scream as my soul is ripped across space, dragged through the fabric of reality. Millions of potential worlds go flying by at the blink of an eye, and I can barely process them.
I get a glance inside a cold, empty space. A giant eye opens, glowing with eldritch energy, it reaches a humongous tentacle towards me, it is covered in suckers full of teeth and spines. Then it is over, and I am dragged into the next universe.
This time a volcano on the horizon spews molten fireballs, clouds billowing out of it laced with lightning. A giant claw clings to the rim of the volcano, hauling a nightmarish form up. I can feel it’s very presence tearing apart my soul. Then space shatters again and I’m hauled on.
Prisms reflecting light, shining rainbows through the foggy, cool air. It is beautiful, and hard for me to look at, to comprehend. I can feel my mind having trouble processing the strange, impossible shapes and colors. Colors that shouldn’t be possible. Then I launched on through space and into another dimension.
I can feel my mind shattering and being put back together, only faint images remaining of the horrors and wonders I see.
Then it feels like I hit a wall, air escaping my non existent lungs as I wheeze mentally. I float high above a world, my mind, even detached from its emotions, reeling from what I have experienced.
Looking down, I can see wide blue oceans and swathes of lush green land. It looks like a marble in a vast universe, and I can’t help but feel relieved at the sight of it. It’s something reasonably sane, even if I am floating high above it.
A cold, robotic voice says in my mind, ‘Transfer successful. Commencing integration…’
I feel a cold, sting in the back of my mind. It worms its way into my soul, and I can’t help but wither and scream at the unnatural feeling of it.
‘3...’
I scream louder as it feels like my soul is being stretched.
‘2…’
A feeling of my soul being sucked down into a straw commences, my mind swirling in confusion.
‘1…’
There is a jolt, my body and soul shivering as they are tethered together, my mind reeling in pain and confusion.
‘Integration of Ex.078L successful.’
I gasp, coughing up foul tasting liquid. A scream wrenches itself from my throat at the pain, it feels like my head has been machine pressed, every muscle and bone in my body aching in pain.
Cracking my eyes open, fitting through the pain, I look at the world around me. It is blurry and smudged, my eyes unable to focus and the light piercing. I scream louder, my throat feeling sore from the massive amount of pain.
My wails slowly choke off as I feel rough, coarse hands swindle me in a itchy blanket. The feeling of vertigo is a massive rush as I am picked up.
Blinking and squinting, I can make out objects close to me. Above me a giant face looms, a smile stretching across its features. The person comes into focus, and I realize that it is a woman.
She has big, almond colored eyes. She has olive skin, bronze like in the dim light. Her hair is a auburn red, seeming to flame in the light. Her face is round, her features seemingly perfect in every aspect, from her flawless skin to her sad smile.
Wait, sad smile? Why are there tears in her eyes? Are they of joy?
What my eyes are drawn to most are her ears. They stick out from her hair, coming to a round point.
An elf!
The shock from seeing such a thing completely silences my wailing in pain. I try reach to touch them, but my arm doesn’t follow my command. Instead, it flops around and my head lolls with it, giving me a good look at my body.
It is chubby, the skin flushed a reddish pink. I am swaddled in a brown wool blanket and held gently in my new mother’s arms.
The events of what has just happened come over me, and I can feel my mind starting to spin into panic. I agreed to be reborn! I’m alive again!
My mouth feels funny, no teeth and only gums smacking against each other as I try to smile.
Then it hits me.
Mom’s going to be devastated.
I died right in our home. Murdered.
What am I going to do now?
I’m a baby, reborn thousands of universes away. I can still remember bits and pieces of what I saw as I was dragged here, and I shudder even at those quickly fading memories. What am I supposed to do now?
Maybe I shouldn’t have taken that man’s deal. While it seemed like I was getting a good deal, I am not sure what I am supposed to do now.
I am drawn from my quickly spiraling thoughts, which were headed to a dismal place, by a maid.
She stands off to the left of the bed my mother is laying in, blood all over his hands and down the front of his shirt. Other women rush around her, vanishing into blurry shapes out of my range of sight.
It is at this moment I realize something is horribly wrong.
My mother turns my head to look at her, her smile sad and tears streaming down her face. She whispers to me through choked back sobs, her language complex and it takes my ears a second to understand through their ringing.
Gently, carefully, she takes my tiny left hand in her own, rubbing it slowly.
“My sweet baby, I love you so-so much. You’re beautiful, please don’t forget me. Be strong, for mommie,” She runs a shaky hand over my face and the top of my head, smoothing down my hair. Her bottom lip trembling and tears streaming down her face, curving along her cheekbones and pooling in droplets on her perfect chin. “Don’t-don’t -forget me, I-I love you.”
Something is horribly wrong. She’s talking like she isn’t going to see me.
I feel hands other than my mother’s around my blanket wrapped form. They tug, and my mother let’s go with only a little bit of resistance, her arms flopping limply on the bed.
He reaches out a second layer, towards me, shouting in a desperation, “Wait! Can’t I at least name her?”
The maid is holding me, her hands now having been cleaned and a fresh apron on her. She is human, with pale skin, dark brown eyes and chestnut hair.
She stops, hesitating. She wavers between my mother on the bed and walking off, her eyes filled with pain and indecision.
“Please, she’s my daughter,” My mother pleas again, tears streaming even faster down her cheeks.
That seems to do it, and the maid walks back over to the bed. She stands to the left, hovering over my mother and not making a move to hand me back to her.
I can only watch this strange exchange in confusion, unable to understand what is going on. It takes my mind a minute to catch up.
Did she say daughter?
The maid says in a heavy accent that I can’t place, “You can name her, but be quick about it. The master wants to see her as soon as possible and then wants her gone.”
Gone? Wait, why do I have to go?
My mother reaches a delicate hand up to me, holding my small hand and rubbing the back of my palm slowly. She chokes down a sob, her tears eyes staring at me in sorrow, “Her name’s… Her name is Kara.”
The maid nods and says, “A good name. Strong, yet still kind. Now, we must be off.”
She turns swiftly, walking towards the door of the dimly lit room.
I reach out to my mother, who lays on the bed, weeping. I can tell something is terribly wrong, and I can feel panic take hold of me. A scream rips itself from my throat as I try and make my body move.
The maid hums quietly under her breath, rocking me back and forth in what she probably is a comforting manner. I continue to wail, from both the pain and the fact that I am being torn away from my new mother. Wailing because of everything I have left behind.
I had a fight with my mother before I died! Oh gods, how I wish I could tell her sorry. Oh, how I wish I could have said goodbye.
I had friends back on earth. I never got to say bye, or even apologize to Sam for punching him at the party. I didn’t ever get to explore the world, or even go to college.
The regrets sit like a rock in my stomach, and I wail as loud as I can.
And now, only moments after my rebirth, I am being torn away from my new mother.
The maid pushes through the dark wood door and into a lavishly decorated hallway. She turns to the left, cradling my wailing form in her arms, and walks down the empty hallway.
Through my vision, I spy hanging on a wall, a banner. It is embossed with golden thread on a black background. A large star sits in the center, both of it’s top points stretched longer than the others.
For some reason, it catches my attention. I burn it in my memory, along with my new mother’s tear covered face. For some reason, I can sense that this banner is important.
Then we are past it and the maid reaches a T fork in the hallway. She turns on her heel, walking down the left branch.
The walls are soon covered in portrait that I can barely make out, the finer details. But I can make out the hawkish like predatory pose they all make, looking down like they are peering at prey.
My wails slowly slow down, and I can feel my eyelids getting heavy.
Then the dark haired maid stops before a pair of dark wood double doors. She sucks in a deep breath, releasing it and schooling her features into a neutral expression.
Knocking on the doors, she takes another breath and waits, listening.
A muffled voice comes from the door, “Come in.”
The maid turns the golden handle of the door, pushing it in and walking through.
My vision is quickly improving, and I can make out most of the room. It is cloaked in shadow, a fireplace crackling in the back and throwing moving shapes across the room. A large bookshelf stands against the left wall. Large, sweeping windows provide a view of a town bathed in the darkness of night, a full moon streaming moonlight into the room.
A shape moves near the fireplace, in a chair facing the fire. A man places a goblet of wine next to the bottle on a small, ebon wood desk.
The man is clothed in what looks to be expensive finery, a dark robe embroidered with gold and white, a star weaved into the fabric over his chest.
He has dark rings under his eyes, his face aged with tiredness. His hair is salt and pepper, a five o’ clock shadow adorning his face. His eyes have a cold look in them when he turns to look at me and the maid that took me from my mother, I can’t help but shudder.
This can’t be good.
I push back the sleepiness that threatens to take me. Whatever is happening, I need to be awake for it.
Another man sits in the chair across from the haughty man. This man has a potbelly, round glasses perched on his nose. His cheeks are a ruddy red, and his magnified green eyes are cold. His hair is swept back and shines in the light of the fireplace. He is covered in all sorts of silver and gold jewelry, diamonds, emerald and rubies set in necklaces. Expensive rings shine on his fingers, clear crystals on a few glinting in the light.
The fat man sets his goblet of red wine down on the table as well, huffing and causing his large jowls to bounce.
The first man speaks in a neutral tone, looking at me, “Is that it?”
“Yes, yer Lordship,” The maid says with a bow.
Lord? That man is a lord?
The Lord stands slowly up from the cushioned chair, walking methodically slowly towards us.
The maid shifts me around in her arms, moving so that I am facing the man.
The Lord stops a foot away, peering down at me like a hawk, his hands behind his back. He doesn’t make a move to touch me.
“Which is it?”
The maid, with her schooled expression, says, “A girl, yer lordship.”
The Lord pinches the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes. “Is that so?”
Now that he is closer, I can see that he has icy blue eyes and his ears are rounded. A human.
He says after a breath, “Tiron, lets be done with this as quickly as possible.”
The fat man stands with no small bit of effort, his large stomach sticking out in front of him as he walks over. He bows shallowly to the first man, saying in a respectful tone, “Of course, Lord Everstar. It shall be quick, and it’ll be out of your hair in no time.”
Done quickly? A horrible thought crosses my mind. Are they going to kill me? Again?
No, I don’t believe that the hooded man would give me a second life for it to end just minutes later.
Lord Everstar nods, motioning to a desk that is set under the large moonlit windows. It’s surface is dark and has a red blanket embroidered with gold tassel draped over it.
Is that a sacerficial alter?
My tiny eyes widen at the sight of it.
The maid walks over to the desk, and I desperately force my limbs to move. They flop around my chest as I try and hit the maid, wailing my discontent at being put on top of the alter.
I flail my limbs screeching and wailing as much as I can, fighting against the blanket wrapped around me and the maid who is holding me still, shushing me.
The fat man, Tiron, aproaches me, Lord Everstar going around the table so he is standing in front of the windows. Tiron, brings a meaty palm up, his sausage fingers barely fitting in the many rings on his hand.
He hovers the palm over my head, muttering under his breath. A triangle inside a circle with three circles on each point, strange writing scraled all along its edges, is tattooed onto his palm. The air feels like it is charged with static, like right before a lightning bolt strikes.
I screech. I don’t want to die! I don’t! No!
Tiron lays his large, chubby hand on my forehead, holding my head still. The rings on his hands flash with multicolored light, strange symbols etched into them start glowing.
The fat man holds up a small crystal ball in his other hand, muttering. His jowls move up and down as he speaks, focusing on his hand as I wail.
Then there is a flash of bright light, and I can feel something wash over my mind. A tingling, pins and needles feeling rushes over my forehead, and then it travels down my body, eventually stopping at my toes.
I blink, realizing that I stopped screaming.
Tiron raises his hand from my head, his strange muttering stopping. There is a strange silence in the air, only the crackle of the fire filling the dark study.
In front of me hovers a game-like screen, I can see through it and I can tell that it is being projected by the crystal ball into the air. I study the screen along with everyone else in the room.
Status:
Name: Kara Suntec Everstar
Racial Bloodline: Half-Elf
Gender: Female
Age: 0
Djinn:
Class: Blade Magnus Lvl. 1
Rank: Vermillion
Mana: 110
Statistics:
CON: 1
STR: 1
DEX: 9
INT: 6
ARC: 11
Free Perk Points: 12
Skills:
Blade Sorcery Lvl. 1
My eyes scan over it, taking in the information. This must be the RPG system the man talked about.
Tiron moves the ball, the status screen hovering in the air vanishing as he grips it in his whole palm.
Lord Everstar’s expression darkens, his grim features turning even grimer. He grabs the ball from Tiron, looking at the screen again. His eyes move back and forth as he reads it, and he looks increasingly unpleased.
Tiron says, “It take’s after you, A Blade Magnus. And already at Vermillion! Are you sure you still wish to proceed? Bastard child or not, it could still be of some worth.”
Everstar looks up sharply, glaring at the fat man. “Watch your tounge, Magnus. This thing should not have existed in the first place. It was a mistake, one that I intend to not let ruin me. Proceed with the operation.”
Their going to kill me now, aren’t they?
Tiron nods, stooping down to grab a case from the floor. He sets it on the table with a thunk, flipping two clamps open.
He says with pride, boasting, “This is a extremely rare device. It took a entire team of Emeralds to extract it from the ruins of a once great city. The Ancestors had locked it up in a trapped facility. If I must boast, it took quite some charm to convince the man holding it to trade for it.”
With a grunt, Tiron pulls a silvery device from the case. It is a ball made of metal hexagon tiles, red energy glowing in between the tiles. Those strange symbols are etched in complex spirals on each individual tile, and glow with the same sinister red light.
The fat man lays the strange device down next to me gently, almost like he is afraid of touching it. He reaches back into the case, pulling out a curved dagger.
The hilt of the dagger is made of wood, embossed with gold and a high quietly leather grip. It’s blade curves to a point, and it is wickedly sharp.
Tiron reverses his grip on the dagger, holding it out to Everstar. The Lord grips it with surety, his eyes glinting with menace as he looks at me.
Tiron continue to speak as he grabs the sphere and places it above my head, “Now, as agreed, I will be paid in valuable gems amounting to the sum of 40,000 gold. Yes?”
Lord Everstar nods, holding the dagger in his hand and ignoring me.
This can’t be good, can it? I don’t think they are going to kill me, though.
It didn’t seem like they were planning to murder me. Instead, they were planning to do some kind of “operation”.
Tiron pulls out two scrolls, setting them to either side of me. He unrolls them, revealing long, complex strings of symbols. He continue to speak as he works his ministrations on the ritual, “This device here, as I said, is exterminly rare. I know of only two others that exist. This beaut,” He motions to the hexagon paneled sphere, “Is something special. It can strip a person of their Djinn. Completely. It severs all bonds they currently have with any Djinn, and also neutralizes their ability to Bond, with the proper ritual in place, of course. A true marvel.”
The fat man rubs his hands together in excitement, looking at Lord Everstar.
I stare at them both in horror. They are removing my Djinn?
From looking at my status, I can only assume that the “Djinn” is some sort of class, and from their conversation that I got it for my relation with Everstar. And the evil ball stop me from getting another!
I desperately try and flail about, but the maid hold me still. I scream my little throat hoarse, trying to escape.
Tiron looks down on me and chuckles, “Feisty little one, ain’t she? Well, no matter. Now, the Orb of Severing of course comes with it’s restraints. It requires the blood of the person that it would strip of their Djinn, with consent. Otherwise it wouldn’t work at all. Luckily, with the consent and blood of a close relative, it will work. Now, go ahead and cut your palm and hold it over the Orb.”
My throat is screamed raw at this point, and I cough, my wails ceasing. My chest is heaving as I gulp in cool night air. Tiron nods at this, a pleased expression over his face. I glare at him as best I can, trying to give him the bird, but my fingers only twitch.
I watch as Lord Everstar holds his palm over the sphere, bringing the dagger up. He swiftly cut across it, and puts the blade back on the table. I watch as blood drips from his palm onto the sphere with a quiet patter.
An ugly smile stretches across Tiron’s features, “Now say, ‘I give my consent to Sever Kara Suntec Everstar.’”
Everstar stares at the orb, and glances at me. His expression twists into one of disgust, and he turns back. Straightening is posture, he says, “I give my consent to Sever Kara Suntec Everstar.”
I watch, as time seemingly slows, a drop of blood wells up from within the cut. It slides down his hand, stopping for a second and stretching into a drop ready to fall. Then it falls, the small red dot plummeting towards the metal sphere.
My eyes widen slowly as the drop cuts through the air, splashing down on the metal of the sphere. Time seems to speed back up, and a loud chime sounds from the Orb of Severing. The light between the plates seems to pulse, growing brighter.
I watch as long, sinister red, tendrils poke out from the crack of the sphere, the plates being moved around to allow them to pass like a horrible maw opening. I watch as four of the red energy tentacles slither forward on the red cover draped desk.
The symbols on both scrolls on either side of me are glowing the same sinister red color, pulsing with power.
I flail my body, trying to rock myself out of the tendril’s reach.
“Hold her still!” Tiron yells at the maid.
The woman complies, grabbing me and nailing me to to table with her superior strength.
I continue to kick and flail, screaming out my discontent.
No, no, no! I don’t want to lose my Djinn!
The very thought of it churns my stomach.
The tendrils slither around my head, heat pulsing off them. They move up my head, and wrap around it. I scream louder.
A pulse of orangish energy travels from the tendrils coiled around my head to the sphere, it feels like a chunk of my soul is ripped out. My vision blurs, and my body jolts as another one of the draining pulses tears something I didn’t even know was there away from me.
I scream my tiny throat raw as my Djinn is ripped from me, the things tethering it to my soul slowly severed with each pulse. It feels like an eternity, a vortex of never ending pain not unlike that of being hurtled through thousands of universes.
Then it is over.
The red tendrils uncoil from my head, slithering back into the sphere. It shuts with a quiet hiss, the red energy dimming to nothing.
I lay there, my body in immense pain and my head feeling like it has been split open. My wails chock off into coughs.
Tiron nods, “It is done.”
He lays his palm on my flushed forehead, muttering again. He holds up the sphere, I watch as my status flickers into existence.
Status:
Name: Kara Suntec Everstar
Racial Bloodline: Half-Elf
Gender: Female
Age: 0
Djinn:
N/A
Statistics:
CON: 1
STR: 1
DEX: 1
INT: 1
ARC: N/A
Free Perk Points: 0
Skills:
N/A
Tiron turns it to face Everstar. I watch as a satisfied grin twists itself onto the Lord’s lips. He nods, “You shall be given your gems immediately.”
The fat man smiles back, “Of course, your Lordship. I do not lie. Now, if you let me pack my things up, I’ll get out of your hair immediately.” He turns and rolls up His scrolls, placing the Orb of Severing back into the case along with the dagger.
Tiron closes the case with a snap, clicking the locks closed. With a heave, he takes it off the table and bows, waddling off to the door. With a quiet click, I hear him leave.
I feel like something important has been taken from me. Like a piece of my soul. Like I lost a sense, or no longer have a limb.
Everything has happened so quickly, and my mind is still trying to process it. My thoughts feel sluggish, and all I want to do is fall asleep. But I force myself awake, listening to Lord Everstar.
He stays away from me, like touching me would give him the plague. He motions at me, “Take it away, far away. I don’t want to ever see it again. Make sure it goes to the very fringes of civilization. Make sure that its blood relation is never discovered.”
He turns around and stalking back over to the fire, his hands crossed behind his back. I watch in amazement as the wound on his hand quickly stitches itself back together, only a line of blood remaining where the cut was.
The maid grabs my swaddled form up in her arms, bowing to the lord’s back and quickly walking out of the room.
I feel too tired, too in pain, to care about anything anymore. I let my heavy eyelids close, falling into a deep sleep.