Prologue
The [Bar]Keeper
Marcus wouldn’t say that he enjoyed his work. It was work. Work was not something that had to be done with enjoyment in mind.
‘If you work your dream job, you will never work a day in your life’, is what they say. In Marcus’s mind, they would find themself resent their former passions soon enough. Work was work. It served the utility of survival. To pay bills and live comfortably. Beyond that need, work became something different again. Self-fulfillment. A creative outlet. Not that he knew about any of that.
Working on a barkeepers living wasn’t going to give him that.
But he enjoyed his work at times like this. The times after the hour of the witch had passed and the silent night marched on steadily towards a new sunrise. Here, Marcus felt the most at peace. Most of the bar’s traffic had passed at that time, all but the usual stragglers remained, and he was able to slowly but surely chip away at cleaning up so he could close early at around four or five in the morning.
Rarely did the regulars stay around until sunrise. Marcus knew when to bring them another round and when to withhold it. He knew to carefully guide them towards leaving the bar at the usual hour.
As the second-to-last load for the dishwasher finished, the second-to-last customer rose to leave.
The burly, dark-haired fellow rubbed the sleepiness out of his eyes grumpily before he barked at Marcus, more bear than man. “M- Hmm. “, he scratched his beard and raised his eyebrows when the bartender looked at him inquisitively. “Ah, yeah. My tap today. Pat will do tomorrows. Thank- “, he hickuped, “you.”
“Shall I call you a cab?” Mark handed the man a plastic jar filled to the brim with candy. The bears wife disliked the alcohol on his breath. “Take two or three, on the house.”
The bear of a man stood there, his fingers skittishly trying to unwrap the candy paper. “Right, right. Thanks.”, he said as he finally understood the gestures Marcus had been throwing at him. He let his car keys drop on the counter as he put on his jacket. “Gonna walk. Cab’s expensive.”
Marcus grabbed the keys with a sly smile, no drunk driving for that bear today. And before Marcus had stored away the keys in the hidden compartment below the counter, the burly man had left the bar in precise, well-practiced, and very drunken steps.
Marcus loaded the dishwasher once again, collected the last empty glasses from the last table, where the last regular snored in quiet breaths, and locked the earnings in the safe. Then he gently but persistently shook his final, sleeping guest awake. “Pat, lets get you home now, shall we?”
The fat man, twice the size of the bear blinked at him, incomprehensive. “Time?”, he inquired.
“Yes, it’s time. Let’s get you home, shall we?” Marcus said with well-practiced patience. His hand on Pat’s shoulder he beckoned him to rise, ready to catch the man at any time. It would not have been the first time that the last-straggler-standing keeled over past the finish line.
And sure enough, Pat had to lean on him briefly, lest he fall face first towards the bar floor. The fat man clapped Marcus on the back repeatedly. “You alwaysch- “, he hickuped and took a deep breath. “Take such good care of me. I love you.”, he breathed with a cloud of alcohol breath towards Marcus.
“Love you too big guy, lets get you home.” Marcus blinked away the tears left behind by the sharp alcohol stench and gently led him towards the exit.
“Thanks Dan. I will introduce you to my niece next time.” The fat man slurred, as he stepped out the door. At least he didn’t have it far. Lived right across the street.
Of course, ‘Dan’ had retired from the bar more than four years ago, and Pats niece Mariella had been here to pick the guy up a few times, but she was happily married and pregnant for the second time. Pats dementia took a turn for the worse, whenever he was too drunk or too tired. Still, Marcus found it somewhat endearing to be appreciated at his workplace.
Marcus happily closed the bars door as he stepped out into the cold air of early December. It had snowed about a hand’s breadths. Which meant snow shoveling before sleeping. Grumbling, Marcus turned around and saw Pat fumble around on the ground trying to pick up his house keys. In the middle of the street no less.
And the drunk man had not checked left and right. A truck was coming! Marcus committed immediately, boosted his sprint by pushing himself off the stairs as he heard the vehicles breaks engage with an audible squeak. Three long strides later he kicked Pat into his back, the poor footing of the drunk man making it easy to roll him out of harm’s way. Then Marcus dashed backwards to the safety of the sidewalk.
Old Mother Frost however, had other plans in mind for him. Marcus slipped on the icy, not-yet-salted road making his dash hardly cover any ground at all. He could barely correct himself upright before the truck crashed into him and flung him some distance down the street as it came to an abrupt halt.
With his body numb and unresponsive, a massive ringing in his ears and a wet feeling on his chest, pain had yet to catch up with him. Breathing however, felt impossible as Marcus corrected himself upright and forced himself with all his might to breathe in. As he released air however, all he did was cough blood in large quantities. He walked towards the now stopped truck and the horrified Pat in weak steps and managed to cough up blood four more times before his vision went dark and he slammed into the asphalt below.
The [Dungeon]Keeper
When Marcus came to, he found himself standing naked in a bright, white void space. There was a slight breeze, running a shiver down his spine, even though it felt like a warm summer day.
The numbness of his body was gone, his breathing normal and steady. The first thought he had was that he must have sleep-walked into this area. Probably some sort of meditation room in the hospital. Hopefully no one would spot him before he found some clothes, he would die of embarrassment.
“Welcome, Traveler.”
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Marcus turned to find a beautiful woman sitting across a large white marble table. Easily twenty square meters worth of stone. A glass vase with white roses adorned it humbly. As he approached, he took in the ethereal beauty of the one who had spoken to him. Her eyes were glued to a silken sheet of paper, on which she took notes with a golden fountain pen.
How had he missed this when looking around just a second ago? His medication must have made him hazy.
Her beauty felt unreal. Wrong. It was too perfect, her skin seeming more flawless the closer he stepped, her dark blue hair fell in long waves over her shoulders and back, yet the color felt so natural, he would have never assumed otherwise. She wore a golden helm and well fitted armor, that seemed more like a silk dress than a sheet of metal and gave her the look of a Valkyrie. A pitch-black sword that was adorned with a golden handle rested against the marble table next to her.
When Marcus finally reached the table physically, he asked the question that was second on his mind. “Where are we?” It would have been rude to ask her who she was right away.
The beauty raised her head and her eyes fell upon him. Eyes of pure light. A piercing white abyss that gazed into his very soul. “I think you already know.” She gestured behind him. “Take a seat, Marcus Sinclair.”
A white leather chair had appeared behind him. How had he missed the chair? Everything felt so surreal. A knot in his stomach formed and he felt like his feet would give in below him, so he sat down. Only then he realized that he was still naked.
The beautiful woman still scribbled on her sheet of paper, as he slowly gathered the strength to ask another question. He did not find it in himself to ask the more important one, so he obfuscated. “Are there some clothes around here, somewhere?”
Without regarding him directly, she smiled. “Is this really the question you wanted to ask? Besides, you are dressed properly enough.”
And Marcus found himself wearing a black shirt and a comfortable pair of black training pants. He felt out of place in all his white surroundings. But the feeling that was dragging his stomach to the floor would not let up. It took him a few moments to ask.
“Am I… I am dead, am I not?”, he said as the horror of the realization hit him.
His counterpart regarded him once again out of her pure white eyes. “Your past life is over Marcus Sinclair. And you will never return to it.” She put aside her paper and pen and they both vanished into thin air. “Most humans take a lot longer than you to ask this question. I had dinner with an older gentleman once, he took six weeks to finally ask whether he was dead or not.”
“Dinner for six weeks?”
“There is a very different perception of time here. If you never grow tired and can eat forever before being full, it is difficult to comprehend the passage of time.” Her lips curled upwards slightly. “And we were having some interesting conversation topics.”
Marcus frowned. He still felt like he could rise to leave the hospital room and return to his flat any time he wanted, despite the surreal feeling of his current surroundings. “Are you going to serve me dinner?”, he said half-jokingly.
“Just wish for what you want. It helps some with the process of moving on.”
As the beautiful woman promised, his favorite dish appeared before him. In fact, the whole table filled with all sorts of delicacies, some of which he had never tried before. As he grabbed a fried tempura shrimp, he felt a surge of anger at the thought of never returning home.
He hadn’t watered his house plants, the energy bill for the heater he left on would be through the roof by the time someone got access to his apartment. His cat would probably find herself some food at the apartment next door, but he also had a date this weekend, that he would never show up for.
The taste of the fried tempura turned to ashes in his mouth, and he flung half of it back on the white marble table in a flash of anger. If he hadn’t been so foolish to try and save that drunkard, if he had been more mindful of the icy road. He had more than sixty thousand dollars’ worth of assets he could have sold. He could have gone on a year-long luxury trip. Marcus didn’t want to give up all he had worked for all his life. It was unfair.
“Death is rarely fair.”, she said as she was partaking in the dishes, she had conjured up for him. “It comes in many forms and can happen as quickly as a flash of light. And few are ever ready for its arrival.”
Marcus noticed that his fingernails had burrowed deep into his hand as he formed fists. Was he irrationally angry? He used to do that a lot when he was a teenager. He took a deep breath. “Can you send me back? I will do anything you wish.” He rose from his chair, raising his voice. “Just name your price! I will do it.”
The woman flicked her wrist, and the table, chairs and food were gone. She rose. “Your past life is forfeit. You will never return. It is beyond my power to send you there, and I know of no power that may.” She held her sword towards the distance and two gates appeared. One of glowing gold and another of shimmering purple obsidian. “Follow me, Marcus Sinclair.”
He did so hesitantly, now fearing the unknown beyond these gates. Heaven and Hell, which would await beyond the gate? “Are you giving me a choice?”
“Of course.” She stood between the gates, unfolding a pair of white wings, shimmering golden, orange and in a slight red hue on one side and darker, blue, silver and green tones on the other. “Marcus Sinclair. Your life has ended.”
Marcus swallowed hard and approached.
“In light of your bravery shown in death, the gate of eternal rest will open for you.”, she pointed at the golden gate, which swung open, revealing nothing but a golden light within. “Your eternal rest shall be peaceful here.”
Marcus discarded the thought of eternal rest immediately. He wanted to be alive. “And the other door?”, he nodded towards the obsidian gate. “Hell?”
“No. This is my defiance against the heavens.” She raised her sword and the gate swung open, revealing a chunk of green land next to a mountainside. A clear blue crystal ball appeared in her hand. “This is a dungeon core. It will be hidden away deep in the depths of this mountain, a hundred floors deep. If you manage to touch it, you will be able to reincarnate.”
Marcus was already on his way to step through the gate when her sword blocked his path.
“Be warned Marcus Sinclair. If you die here, your soul will be lost forever.”
The gravity of her statement did not deter him, so she continued.
“My power will support you on your quest. If you find your [PRINCIPLE] my power will grant you strength.”
Marcus frowned. “What is a principle?”
The blue orb in her hand vanished and was replaced by a revolting black and red ball that spiked rapidly.
“[AGONY].”
Thousands of memories assaulted his mind. Memories of pain, suffering and torment. He saw himself inflicting pain on others and received it in turn. A second later the rapid assault was over. The only remnants of it ever happening was her voice echoing in his mind.
“A principle such as [AGONY] can be interpreted in many ways and it is only one of many. If someones principle is [AGONY] they may seek out pain and suffering delibarately or they may seek to inflict it on others.” Her hand gently carassed Marcus’s cheek. “Fear not. There is [KINDNESS]. [LOVE]. And [FAITH].”
Again, his mind was assaulted by countless experiences. This time it the memories were more upbeat and satisfying.
“You will find them for yourself and grow. I have faith in you.”
A kiss on his forehead and a burst of feathers later, she was gone.
Only the obsidian gate remained.