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Fatebringer
Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

While looking at his stats, he noticed a yellow dot pulsing in the lower right of his vision. He focused on that, and a new notice screen appeared. Cool, minimized notices. Nice.

Congratulations! You have chosen an Advanced Class! As a bonus for achieving an Advanced Class, you gain the Special Ability, [Ever Vigilant].

Ever Vigilant: Your subconscious mind is ever on the lookout for dangers to yourself and your companions. With this special ability you are much harder to surprise, and you have the knack to see when others are intending harm.

“Oh snap! Spidey sense! Fucking cool!” Orville exclaimed. He carefully climbed onto his bed and pulled his sword down from the wall. As he did so, he noticed that his pants felt a little loose. He furrowed his brow in confusion, and he climbed off the bed. He checked his belt and saw that it was still sitting at the normal notch, but the pants were almost a size too large for him. Did I just lose a bunch of weight? Was that because my Endurance just went up by two points? Whoa. “Alright. More points into endurance in the future.” He also received a skill in one-handed sword. As soon as he focused on it, he felt an odd influx of knowledge. Once the feeling passed, he swung his sword around a bit, feeling it in his hands with a basic understanding of how to use it. It felt comfortable in his hand as if he’d practiced with it for a long time. Smiling, he saw that he had two free skill points to distribute and a small list of skill options to choose from. He decided that one needed to be the shield skill. Since that seemed to be the bread and butter of his class. The other took him some time to think about. He finally decided on a skill called Athletics.

Skill - Athletics: Your body is the engine that fuels your physical feats. The Athletics skill confers a one-time bonus of +1 to Strength, Endurance and Agility. Additionally, it adds plus 5 Stamina Points. Each subsequent level adds an additional 2 SP. Every 5 levels, you will receive a +1 to Strength, Endurance and Agility.

As he chose the skill, he felt a warmth wash over his body. Then he felt a new sensation. His pants fell around his ankles. “Holy shit!” Orville bent down to grab his pants and stopped. He was bending over. Without effort. He slid stepped in his pants across the room until he got to his closet and looked in the door length mirror. He almost did not recognize himself. His face was leaner, his body was way thinner. He was maybe half the size that he was before. Where’s the scale? He thought. Oh yeah, in the bathroom that no longer exists. “Huh. Well, now what do I do?” He did not have any smaller pants. He stood staring at his closet.

Having finally decided, he took some time to root through his closet for the sword scabbard and belt, and then pulled a pocketknife from his desk drawer. He measured his belt and made a new hole in it, pulled on his pants, and cinched them tight. It’ll have to do until I can find something smaller. Okay, what’s next?

He stood in his room gazing at his things. He had an extremely expensive gaming computer sitting inert. A couple of walls covered in posters of various movies, superhero, and game characters and some shelves with comic books and action figures. What was he supposed to do now? Without his mom, he was lost. He was so used to her always being there, making his meals, washing his clothes, buying him all the toys and electronics, and making sure he felt loved and cared for. For the first time in his life, he would have to make decisions on his own. He had no idea how to wash his clothing or even cook anything that wasn’t microwavable. He had no money and did not know how to even shop for groceries. It hit him that he was just a lazy, pampered fat kid. How am I going to survive? It took him a moment to realize that tears were slowly sliding down his cheeks.

He sat back onto his bed and fell into a depressed funk. He sat for an hour with tears occasionally flowing down his cheeks when suddenly, he had an epiphany, “Mal’s folks!” Malcolm’s parents were awesome and always fed him when he came over. They were across town, but he figured he could walk there in about an hour. He wiped his eyes, happy that he had a plan. He pocketed his knife then rummaged through his room and found his backpack and his winter jacket. He grabbed a couple of pairs of underwear and socks and threw them into his bag as well as the half-finished bag of Cool Ranch Doritos by his bed. He also pulled his secret stash of old Playboy magazines and wrapped them in a t-shirt, tucking them into the bottom of his backpack. His flashlight, he left when he found that it would not turn on, but he pocketed a Zippo lighter that still worked. He didn’t smoke, he just liked the lighter because it had his favorite Star Wars character engraved on it and it made him feel more adult to carry it around. He fantasized often about sidling up to a woman with a cigarette and offering to light it which would cause her to see how much a gentleman he was then offer to take him home with her. He knew it was a pipe dream, but it was his pipe dream.

With his jacket, backpack of supplies and his sword, he opened his bedroom door again and stepped out into the rain and wind. The street was a mess. People were either wandering around in confusion or standing in small groups. Some were combing through the wreckage calling names and crying out for help. Orville worked hard to ignore them. He felt terrible about it, but what could he do? He was just a scared kid. And besides, he didn’t really know his neighbors all that well. At least that’s what he told himself. He tried in vain to stay out of the mud, but it took no time at all before his feet were caked in it, making his boots heavier.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

He traveled down his block, along the line of the wreckage until he came to a side street. There, he turned off and stomped as he walked to try and get the clinging mud off. As he focused on the mud, he heard a weird noise over the driving rain. It sounded like a foghorn or something. He looked for what was making the sound but saw nothing out of the ordinary. He took a few strides forward then heard it again only louder and it seemed to come from above. He craned his neck to look and then something moved in the distance. Something enormous. Something impossible.

Through the rain Orville could just see what looked like an elephant’s leg, only it was taller than the houses. The leg took a ponderous step, and he felt a slight vibration as the foot came down. He then heard what sounded like a building being trampled. As he watched, the single leg became two, became four, and soon he could see an underbelly. It was a dinosaur. Maybe a brontosaurus? Only it was larger than a brontosaur ever was. A single foot could crush an entire house. It was tall enough that because of the obscuring rain, Orville could not see a neck or head or tail. He stood transfixed as the beast slowly made its way past him. Even though it was several blocks away, footsteps thundered and shook the pavement. Windows in the nearby houses shattered and people could be heard screaming.

As he watched, occasionally, a long, thin tentacle would drop from somewhere above the belly and drag along the ground. When it lifted again, it held one or more people in its grasp. These people were then yanked up and out of view. Once, he saw a man gripped by a tentacle launch a bolt of lightning at the tentacle which let go of the man and he dropped out of sight. Although the height he was at when he was let go, Orville was unsure if a person could survive that. It took at least ten minutes before the behemoth was lost to sight, if not sound. He thought he may have peed his pants at some point, but he was soaking wet, so he decided that he hadn’t.

He managed to walk another block before something in his mind screamed at him to turn around. He spun in place, dragging his sword from its sheath and instinctively raised his left arm and cast his shield spell. Something large slammed into his shield and staggered him. Since his arcane shield was translucent, he could make out the large body of a dog. He set his feet as his shield skill seemed to easily come to the fore. The dog shook off the effects of slamming into the unexpected obstacle and growled wetly at Orville. It looked like it was maybe a pit bull. It was muscular but then he noticed that the dog had some sort of glowing green drool coming from its mouth. However, the oddest thing happened as the two stared each other down, a red bar of energy appeared above the dog’s head.

What the hell? Orville had never liked dogs. He had been bitten on the face by one as a child. Admittedly it was a small dog, but it left a faint scar and he had been terrified of them for a long while. This one was a beefy looking animal. And it looked rabid. Magic rabies? Whatever was wrong with it, Orville was terrified. He began to backpedal, and the dog lowered its head with another growl.

“Nice doggy.” Orville’s voice cracked and he was momentarily embarrassed that he felt like such a coward. “I sure hope that red bar over your head doesn’t mean what I think it does.” In most video games, an enemy’s power level could be gauged by the color of its bar. Green was typically easy, or at least equivalent of the player’s level, while yellow meant it was a tougher opponent. A red bar meant it was a high-level enemy that took a lot to defeat it. If that were the case here, Orville was pretty sure he was screwed. Other than getting his ass kicked by bullies at school, he had never been in a serious fight. And even with the skills the system had given him, he was still too timid and unsure of himself.

The dog did not care. It dashed forward, barking madly and trying to find a way to bite Orville’s legs. Orville kept moving backwards while sweeping his shield side to side to keep the teeth and glowing drool off him. The dog was relentless and after a minute, Orville realized he was going to have to do something offensive otherwise he would quickly run out of mana and his only protection would disappear. Steeling himself, Orville yelled back at the beast and allowed his new sword skill to guide him. He swung and connected with the dog’s head. It was like hitting a concrete wall with a steel pole. His sword reverbed in his hand, causing it to hurt. The dog didn’t seem to notice.

Orville switched stances to better put his weight into the swing when his back foot caught the curb and he fell backward, landing on his tailbone. A shock of pain charged up his backside and the dog leapt on top of him, claws and teeth scrambling at Orville’s shield. “Ahhhhhh!” Orville screamed in pain and terror. “MOM!!!” He cried out, wishing his mother would come to save him.

The dog slobbered and barked, growled, bit, and clawed at it tried desperately to get to any exposed part of Orville’s torso.

Warning! Mana nearly depleted! Active spells will be dismissed.

“No!” Orville had lost track of the time and now his mana was about to be drained and his shield would disappear. I don’t want to die! Tears blurred his vision as he imagined having his throat torn out. Huge sobs escaped him as he pleaded with the dog to go away. But his pleas fell on uncaring ears. Until finally, his mana drained, and his shield vanished in a shimmer of blue light. The beast instantly bit down on Orville’s forearm, giving a new reason to scream. The pain was unbearable. Something foreign was creeping through his arm even as the mad creature savaged it.