[System Notification]
Universal Quest Unlocked: Clear the Dungeons
Rewards: the continuation of Humanity
Those words chased Dalton in the darkness. His unconscious mind repeated them over to himself, puzzling over their meaning, their existence. He began to hear a voice saying the words, a deep, familiar voice…
“Dude, wake the fuck up!” Jackson Lee shouted.
Dalton’s eyes shot open. He stared up at a rocky ceiling, wondering if he was dreaming, when the sounds of what sounded like fighting came from beside him.
He turned his left, dazed and confused, and saw the strangest sight.
Jackson, his school uniform dirtied and torn, held a mace in one hand and a shield in the other. Blood ran down a cut on the side of his face, and with a roar he lunged forward to strike…
A statue? The statue easily parried the blow and pushed Jackson away.
Now I know I’m definitely dreaming, Dalton thought, closing his eyes to wake up from this madness.
“Dalton?!” Jackson shouted. “A little help here?!”
Dalton shut his eyes tighter. “I’m dreaming and you’re not real!” he shouted back.
“What?! Get your dumb ass up, now!”
Alright, maybe this was real.
Dalton shot up to his feet and got a good look at the situation at hand. Him and Jackson were the only two inside this weird square cave. Light glowed from crystalline veins in the rock walls, providing just enough illumination to see.
Directly opposite to Jackson was a statue made of stone in the shape of a knight. It held a longsword in both hands and steadily advanced on Jackson, who cursed and tried to avoid its blows. Further back in the cave, Dalton could just barely make out the outline of a door.
“Grab… a… weapon…” Jackson gasped between blows, “and… fight… you… pussy…!”
Dalton desperately looked around for something to use. He turned around and there he saw that the back wall of the cave was embedded with all different kinds of weapons. He saw swords, maces, battleaxes, bow and arrows, staffs, knuckles; every weapon he could possibly imagine, and all were intimately familiar to him as a degenerate gamer.
But one stood out to him clearly. It seemed to shine and beckon where the others were dim and unresponsive. It was the weapon he always chose in a game if he had the option.
Dalton dashed forward and grabbed the glaive. It was tall, about a foot higher than his head, with a single-edged crescent-moon blade at the end of a reinforced wooden haft. The moment it touched his hand, he knew he made the right choice.
He tugged it off the wall. And promptly, all the possible weapons disappeared, leaving behind just another rock wall. He blinked in surprise as a text box appeared.
[System Notification]
Tutorial Quest Unlocked: Defeat the Stone Statue
Reward: Class Designation, Skill Tree, Stat Allocation
No time to think about how absolutely absurd this was. He needed to help Jackson. On instinct he blinked the notification away then turned around.
The cut on Jackson’s head had intensified. Cursing, he deflected another blow from the statue’s merciless strikes.
“Jackson!” Dalton shouted. “Disengage and come back here!”
With a roar, Jackson managed to push the statue back and ran back towards Dalton at the end of the cave.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
“Took you long enough,” Jackson said between heavy breaths. He wiped the blood off his face, spat to the side, then turned and stared at Dalton’s glaive. “What the hell is that? What are you gonna do, stab the statue to death?”
“I… I don’t know,” Dalton stammered, now realizing the foolishness of his decision. “It just called to me!”
Strangely enough, Jackson didn’t mock him for that. He just wiped more blood off his face then nodded grimly. “I get it. This mace thing and the shield did the same. Shit!” Jackson cursed, staring at the statue as it continued its slow approach. “What the fuck is going on?”
“I have no idea, but for now let's focus on surviving this death trap. I have a plan, but you’re not gonna like it.”
“Does it involve me doing all the heavy-lifting?”
Despite the moment, Dalton grinned. “No, just most of it.”
And though he had never been close with Jackson—a jock, a D1 lineman prospect, one of the “popular” kids—the taller boy grinned back as well, dried blood flaking on his cheek.
“I practically drag our team to the finish line every game,” Jackson said, shaking his shield arm out, “so this is nothing new to me. What’s your plan?”
“I’m the QB, and the statue’s trying to sack me; don’t let it happen.”
“Well, when you put it like that, that sounds easy enough.” Jackson tossed his mace aside and strapped his shield tighter to his forearm. “Then I’ll just focus solely on defending. When I tried to do both I got messed up and it got me a couple times.”
Dalton nodded and held his hand out. “Let’s kill this fucker.”
Jackson clasped it, squeezed, and gave a mad grin. “Fuck yeah.”
The two broke and Jackson dashed towards the statue, roaring a battle cry, as Dalton followed closely behind. His thoughts were a wild mess: he had no idea what he was doing, his “plan” was barely a plan, it might lead to both of them getting killed, where was Kelsey, are his parents okay—
Then, Jackson and the statue exchanged blows, and all thoughts escaped his head except one:
FIGHT!
The statue swung overhead, and Jackson knelt and caught the blow with his shield with a grunt; thankfully the shield didn’t shatter, but splinters of wood went flying as the stone blade sliced into it. Dalton immediately swung his glaive over Jackson’s head and slammed the blade into the statue’s neck, breaking off bits of stone.
Painful shockwaves reverberated up the haft, causing him to almost drop it; he held on by sheer force of will as Jackson tugged his shield away and rolled out of the way.
The statue, not even noticing the chip in its neck, advanced without relent. Dalton stayed back as Jackson engaged it, keeping its attention solely focused on him; when the opportunity presented itself, Dalton dashed in for a quick blow against the same spot in the neck, always making sure to focus on that one spot.
Everything was going swimmingly.
Until Dalton stepped out of position, like an idiot.
He went too aggressive and tried to go for two blows instead of taking one and backing away. With shocking speed, the statue let go of its sword with one hand and used it to slam into Dalton’s exposed ribs.
He flew back from the force, rolling on the floor with a cry of pain. His ribs felt like they were caved in. Breathing was agony.
“Dalton!” Jackson shouted.
Get up, get up, get up!
Dalton mustered every bit of strength he possibly could and stood. It was torture, but he couldn’t just lay down and give up. He picked up his glaive, which had fallen by him, and practically dragged himself back into position.
“We’re almost there,” he said through gritted teeth. “Just one more strike!”
The statue wordlessly swung its blade in a wide arc. Jackson caught the blow with his tattered shield then, with a resonating roar, pushed the blade aside.
From behind, Dalton seemed to watch in slow-motion.
The statue swung.
Jackson deflected and pushed the blade away.
Caught off guard, the statue was left wide open, exposing its wounded neck…
Dalton dashed in, and without a sound, pivoted and used the force of the turn to smash the blade of the glaive directly into the statue’s neck. He didn’t know how he performed the movement without tripping or missing the blow; his weary mind and broken body aligned in one perfect second.
A second was all he needed.
There was a brief moment of resistance, then the blade burst through the statue’s neck. The force of the blow carried the glaive forward, slamming it into the wall of the cave, making Dalton drop the haft with a hiss of pain.
The headless statue teetered back and forth before collapsing to the ground with a heavy thud.
All was silent in the cave.
[System Notification]
You have cleared the Tutorial Quest: Defeat the Stone Statue. After analyzing your performance and personality, the System has designated you the Special Class: Glass Cannon. Do you accept? If not, you may choose from the other options available to your specific person.