“Why is it that the deadliest things are always the sexiest?”
John looked over at Torin with a look bordering on incredulity. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Torin continued to look upon the source of his fascination and answered John almost absent-mindedly. “I know she’s not much to look at now but take away all the bloody wounds and scorch marks and you have to admit, she does look pretty damn sexy.”
John turned to look at the dragon, the source of Torin’s half mad fascination. The dragon in question was named Shalgaruud, Ender of Worlds, and had come pretty close to proving its name. Two days ago, the Cult of the Grave had used a ridiculously powerful ritual to summon the chaos dragon in order to use it in an even more ridiculously powerful ritual designed to crack the world like an egg and kill all life on the planet.
Unsurprisingly, a lot of people had an issue with their plan. The call had gone out and hundreds of the most powerful people on the planet had assembled to assault the cult’s mountaintop base and slay the dragon. 548 people, not a single one under level 200, bore down on the mountain like the wrath of a particularly peeved god.
Of those 548, only two survived to see the quest’s end.
Of those two, one wanted to have sex with a dragon.
John studied the dragon for a few seconds before turning to horny idiot next to him.
“Okay, three things. First of all, no, the dragon does not, and never will, look sexy. It’s a Chaos Dragon. It has horns and teeth everywhere. Second, and I can’t believe that I need to remind you, but it’s a summoned creature; it doesn’t have genitals. Finally, I cannot, I repeat cannot, believe that you’re the idiot I’m going to die with.”
Turin turned to look at John, shock written on his face. “How am I an idiot?”
“Oh, I don’t know, because we’re about to die in a massive fiery explosion from a Chaos Dragons revenge mechanism and, instead of being solemn and thinking of your loved ones, you’re thinking of having sex with the very thing that’s going to kill us.”
“Hah, that’s where you’re wrong! I said it was sexy, I never said I wanted to have sex with it. And why do I have to be solemn, we’re about to die, I can be whatever I like.”
John was ready to reply when a voice spoke up from a few meters behind them. “Will you two shut up, some of us are trying to die in peace here.”
Both men tried, and failed, to whip their heads towards the voice. The battle had been long and neither of them had the strength, or even the ability, to fully turn around.
“Maggie, is that you?” John asked
After a couple of seconds, long enough for John to wonder if he’d hallucinated the voice, a tired reply came. “Yeah, it’s me.”
John felt a little hope rise. “Any chance we can get a couple of heals over here?”
“Sorry, nothing left in the tank. You think I’d still be here if I had?”
“Crap.” “Shit.” The two men slumped down, the last scraps of hope dying back down.
They stayed like that for another minute, the silence blanketing the cave as the reality of the situation finally sunk in. The mana writhing the dragon's corpse continued to swell, speeding toward the inevitable explosion that would annihilate not only the mountain, but everything within thousands of kilometers.
John couldn’t help but think of the world they would leave behind. They may have defeated the Cult of Homicidal Morons, as John preferred to think of them, but there would be plenty of threats in the future and the worlds greatest fighters currently had a greater resemblance to a poorly prepared stew than to people.
Maggie was also worried about the people they were leaving behind, but most of her thoughts were on her son, Kevin. The Systems integration of Earth hadn’t been kind to their family and both her husband and her daughter had died within the first year. For the next 23 years Kevin had been her whole world and the thought of leaving him behind in this cruel world was agony. He had been too young to remember his father and sisters' death but that wouldn’t be true for hers. The last time she had seen him they had argued about him joining the quest.
Looking around Maggie was happier than ever that she had forced him to stay, she just wished she could go see him one last time, to say the things she wished she had said.
Turin was wondering if he could crawl over and take a bite out of the Dragon. His body was still a wreck, his regen still locked by Shalgaruud’s aura even after death, but with enough effort he might be able to crawl over to the dragon and take a bite.
John was pulled from his grim thoughts by the sight of Turin drooling while occasionally mumbling the words ‘dragon steak’. For a moment he was lost for words, the sheer absurdity of the man sitting next to him beyond what he could have ever imagined. Unbidden, laughter welled up in him until it burst out.
And so, when the mana building up within Shalgaruud finally detonated, John Trevenski died not in grim contemplation of the futility of life, but laughing his head off which, as most would agree, was not a bad way to go.
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The horrific explosion, the last ‘F you’ from a cult of maniacs, was visible for over fifty thousand kilometers in every direction and left a crater the size of Mount Everest. The destruction was terrifying and left a magical radiation that tainted both land and air and killed anything it touched. The land would become a dead zone for centuries and would likely never be resettled, even after it recovered. The death toll was in the thousands as most within the blast zone couldn’t be evacuated fast enough.
Despite the devastation, countries around the world celebrated as they knew what the explosion really meant; the world ending threat was no more and the heroes had won. With bated breath people all over waited for the return of those brave men and women so they could celebrate with them. Excitement quickly turned to sadness as scouts from all over failed to find any evidence of their survival and everyone was forced to face the truth; their heroes had fallen.
With the news of their demise the various leaders came together and unanimously decided to designate the day of the explosion as a world holiday, the day of hero’s sacrifice; the day when people from all over the world came together and paid the ultimate sacrifice to save the world.
Those that witnessed the explosion knew the day by a different name, one inspired by what they saw. The day of the Purple Mushroom.
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For a brief moment John felt a searing pain, the kind that takes either large amounts of therapy or large amounts of alcohol in order to forget. Fortunately for John, and unfortunately for the next bar-keeper or therapist he’d meet, both the pain and its haunting memory dissipated instantly as his soul slipped into the afterlife.
When Johns mind regained clarity he was startled to find himself sitting on a couch in a place that very much didn’t or at least shouldn’t exist. The beautifully restored rustic cabin sat nestled in the foothills of northern Vermont. It was the cabin that his parents spent their honeymoon in. The cabin that he had been both conceived and born in.
The cabin that he had never even seen. It had been destroyed during shortly after Earths integration with the System. The only version John knew was the one in his imagination, created from faded photos and his mothers bittersweet memories.
Which is why John was more than a little surprised to find himself sitting in a comfy couch in a cosy little living room overlooking the snowy forests of Vermont. Looking around John found that every detail of the room was exactly as he’d imagined, apart from one. At no point had he ever pictured an orange cat sitting on the coffee table.
“Meow” John greeted the cat.
“Meow?” The cat asked.
“Yeah, meow. Isn’t that what you say to cats?” John asked.
“Not usually.” The cat said. “Besides, I am not a cat.”
John paused, taking a closer look at the not-cat. “Are you sure? You look like a cat, whiskers and everything. You even said meow.” He sat back, sinking into the plush couch. “Granted, most cats don’t actually say meow, so you may have a point.”
“Are you quite done?” John nodded. “Good. As I have said, I am not a cat. I am Atria, the Functionary of Reincarnation and Rebirth. I do not look like a cat, cats look like Me.” The cat looked upon the human with Imperiousness and Majesty radiating from every hair.
John was suitably impressed. He wasn’t sure if the cat in front of him was speaking the truth or not but the way it had said it was quite cool.
“Nice. No idea what that means though.”
Atria deflated a tad, but rallied. “It is simple. Once I took the position of Functionary I was forced to choose a new form, in order to disassociate from my previous race. After choosing this glorious and majestic form the beings you know as cats were released into the multiverse to act as my agents.”
“Ohh, that explains it.” John nodded, and then he went back to frowning. “Wait, what’s a functionary? Is it like a goddess or something.” John asked.
Atria hung her head and sighed. “Why is it that every fool and his uncle asks that same damnable question? No, it is not a goddess. Those known as gods or goddesses are usually trumped up idiots who are either massive liars or are actually deluded enough to think that their paltry power is actually worthy of being called divine.” Atria paused and gave John the kind of withering glare that only cats are capable of. “And before you make the mistake again, it’s Functionary. Capital F. Do not mistake a being of my level with some common busybody or you will find yourself attacked by every feline you encounter for your next ten incarnations.”
Stolen story; please report.
John looked at the cat with trepidation and a touch of helplessness. “My apologies, but how on earth do I pronounce the capital F?”
Atria narrowed her gaze, staring deep into his eyes and making his primal monkey brain want to run for the nearest tree. “Learn.”
After checking that the human was suitably terrified, Atria continued. “As to what a Functionary is, it is a being of near unparalleled power who oversees an aspect of the system. In my case, I oversee the reincarnation and rebirth of the countless souls under the domain of the System. Since most of the process is automated I only really interact with the special cases, such as you.”
Atria sat up with her back straight and cleared her throat before continuing in a much more official tone. “John Grisholm. Thanks to your tireless efforts, along with no small amount of luck, you have managed to save your world three times in total during your last incarnation. As such, you -”
“Wait, what?” John asked, interrupting Atria and risking life and limb in his surprise. “How did I save the world three times? I know the dragon was one, but what were the other two?”
Atria gave him a condescending look. “Indeed, it is a wonder how someone foolish enough to interrupt the being who literally holds their soul in its paws could possibly save the world more than once, but apparently miracles do happen.”
“To answer your question, whilst the Dragon was indeed one of the threats, there were two others early on in your life. When you were seventeen you came across a valley containing a Proliferous Deathvine, which you subsequently destroyed.”
The name rung a bell for John. Thinking back he could vaguely remember finding a large bus sized vine that had tried to kill him. At the time, he’d simply thought it was just another monster in a world that was now full of them.
“The Proliferous Deathvine, once it begins pollinating, is capable of covering a medium sized world such as Earth in the space of a year, killing every living being in the process.”
John paled a little, he had not realised just how dangerous the vine was. When he’d faced it a few strategically placed fires had been enough to burn it to a crisp.
“The vine wouldn’t normally be deemed a world ending event, more mature worlds having the infrastructure needed to deal with the threat, but it was deemed that a juvenile world such yours would have likely been wiped out.”
John rankled a bit at the juvenile comment but he felt that complaining would be childish.
“The third threat you saved your world from, was an individual named Jim Parsons.”- John frowned, his memory for names might not have been the best but he was pretty sure he’d never met a Jim Parsons -“or as you knew him, the self styled ‘Death Eater Overlord’.”
John raised his eyebrows, surprised. “You mean that ranting two-bit chuuni Voldemort wannabe could have actually destroyed the world?”
Atria smiled, showing a tad too many teeth for comfort. “Yes, the [Plague Alchemist] Jim Parsons could indeed have destroyed your world, or at least a significant portion of the population. Whilst many would argue that it did not deserve to be counted as a world ending event, the ultimate arbiter, the System, chose to view it as such.”
“Jim Parsons had in his possession a recipe that, if he managed to gather all the ingredients and concoct the potion, could have been used to unleash a bio-magical plague that, depending on where it was released and the local response, could have wiped out anywhere from a town to a planets worth of people. When you met him he had already managed to gather 90% of the ingredients.”
“So I got there in the nick of time.”
“Not really. One of the final ingredients was the heart of a unicorn, of which only 42 existed on the entire planet. It would likely have taken Jim months to gather one, if he found one at all.”
“Oh. Wait, where did he get the recipe in the first place. Something like that should be ridiculously rare, right?” John asked. He knew that even the most basic of recipes were incredibly rare; something as powerful as a world ending plague should have been near impossible for an antisocial non-fighter like Jim to get his hands on.
The cat not-goddess rolled her eyes. “I neither know nor do I care. My domain lies in what happens after you mortals die, not in the events before. Now, if you’re all out of questions, I’d like to continue with your rewards.”
Jim still had plenty of questions, but rewards were better than answers. Especially if he wasn’t going to get any answers. John motioned for Atria to continue.
“Very well. Due to having saved your world three times, you will receive three rewards. The first is a choice of the location and circumstances of your next incarnation. For example, you may decide that you want to be reincarnated as an elfin prince of a peaceful and prosperous kingdom or the daughter of a humble servant in a world on the brink of war. You cannot, however, be reborn on Earth.”
Jim frowned as that had actually been his plan. With most of the high level heroes currently reduced to atoms, Earth was at its most vulnerable. Especially since apocalyptic events were apparently so common that a relative nobody like himself could stumble into two of them without even noticing. Thinking about it, John couldn’t help but wonder if he was actually just really thick.
“If you don’t mind me asking, why not?” John asked.
“Simple: Soul Dissonance. If you were to return to Earth immediately, the fabric of the world would recognize your souls resonance. It would also recognize that the body your soul resides in should be dead. The resulting dissonance would cause a fracture in the soul plane, killing you and likely injuring your soul in a way that would take aeons to heal.”
John took in the information and accepted it. To be honest, it had only been his left over sense of duty that had made him want to return. Besides, after taking a moment to actually think about it, the idea was silly. He wouldn’t be returning as John the bad-ass [Final Bulwark], defender of humanity and the wall upon which monsters died, he’d be reincarnating as a chubby baby. Even if he kept all his memories it would be years before he could do anything.
With Earth no longer an option, his mind turned towards the decision at hand but immediately ran into a problem; he had no idea what to even ask for. A life of absolute dedication towards a singular goal had led to a distinct lack of imagination.
“Can I ask a few questions before deciding?” John asked. More information might spark some ideas.
“You may.” Atria answered, before adding “As long as it pertains to the matter at hand.”
“Of course, thank you. First question, is there any other limitations to the world I’m reborn on?” He asked.
“Yes and no. For the worlds under the guidance of the system, there is very little that isn’t possible. The system currently guides 13 billion 42 million, 823 thousand and 2 worlds, each unique in their own way. Realistically, there is little chance you could think of an option that is not present in at least one of the worlds, but it is possible.”
Atria paused for a moment. “There exists the option to be reborn in a world outside of the systems purview. There is currently 322 worlds that are being seeded for the systems introduction, which limits your options somewhat. Those options are further limited by the systems lack of involvement on those planets. Essentially, you would only be able to choose the world, every other aspect of your reincarnation would be random.”
Atria sighed. “Honestly, in normal circumstances I wouldn’t even bother mentioning the option but it was actually requested by one of your companions, Maggie Fletcher. Apparently she blames the system for the death of her loved ones and wanted nothing more to do with it.”
“Yeah, there was a lot of that going around. What about Turin?”
“Your other companion made a far more common choice. He asked to be reborn on a far more peaceful world, one that had been fully integrated with the system for over a thousand years. He had little requirements otherwise, only that the world had widespread plumbing. He didn’t care what kind only that he, and I quote, ‘wouldn’t have to shit in a bucket’.”
“As for the circumstances, he asked to be born to middle class parents in a city with at least one nearby dungeon. I must say, despite his colorful language and complete lack of anything even approaching decorum, he was quite sensible.”
John smiled. “Yeah. I barely knew the guy but sensible with a dumb mouth does sound like him.” John paused as a thought struck him. “Did he say if he wanted siblings by any chance?”
“He did not.” Atria frowned, an odd look on a cat. “Are you perhaps suggesting that you wish to be reincarnated as a sibling of his?”
John shrugged. “Yeah, why not?”
Atria’s frown deepened. “Several reasons, his ‘dumb mouth’ included, but most importantly; this is a monumental decision, one which should be yours and yours alone. Choosing to follow Turin is giving up all agency and simply following others like a blind sheep.”
Now it was Johns turn to frown. “Actually, that’s where you’re wrong. It may seem like I’m saying ‘eff it, who cares’, but I’m really not.” John paused, getting his thoughts in order. “I died staring death in the face, with no hope of surviving. By all rights I should have been as grim as a grave, pun intended, but I wasn’t. Instead of dying whilst cursing the world, I died laughing my ass off, because of Turin. It may not seem like much to you, but it means a lot to me.”
John sighed, his frown dropping as a bittersweet sadness overtook him. “Looking back now, I can’t remember the last time I was actually happy. I spent my entire life training and fighting, all to protect everyone else. I can’t say I regret that, I just wish I could’ve done it with a bit more laughter.” John paused, a wry smile appearing unbidden. “And you have to admit, Turin knows how to make people laugh.”
Atria sighed. “Very well, I will respect your decision. Would you prefer to be reincarnated as a woman or a man, and would you prefer to be an older sibling or a younger one.
John was a bit surprised, he hadn’t thought a gender change was possible. Giving it a quick think, and then a longer one to make sure he wasn’t being sexist, he responded. “I think I’d like to stay male. Nothing against woman, but a guys equipment is much easier to deal with, maintenance wise. I’d also like to be older. Even though I think having a bit more fun in my life would be best, I have a feeling Turin could probably use a responsible older brother.”
Atria nodded. “You are likely right. Now, unless you have any more requests, we can move on to the rest of your rewards.”
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Atria sat there, staring at the spot the human had stood. After several moments one of her subordinates, a small black and white Persian cat, appeared.
“Is there any news on the world threats?” Atria asked, her voice grim and hard.
“No mam.” The cat replied, looking meekly at the floor. “Despite extensive searches from agents throughout the planet, we are still no closer to learning the origin of the threats.”
Atria continued to stare into empty space, her mind pensive.
After several more moments of uncomfortable silence, the subordinate asked in a timid voice “Mam, if I may, is it possible that there is no source? Newly introduced worlds are often rife with world ending threats, it may be that it is simply a coincidence.”
Atria finally broke her stare and looked at her subordinate, who began to tremble ever so slightly under her gaze. “Possible? Yes. Likely? No. Threats are common, but never this many in such a short amount of time. Especially threats like chaos dragon rituals and plague recipes. Even one of those would warrant investigation, and there have been far more than one. No, there is someone, or something, behind this.”
Atria’s gaze returned to the empty space, her subordinate almost collapsing in relief, before she spoke again. “I must inform the other Functionaries, despite the lack of evidence. This has grown too serious to do otherwise.”
With that, she left, disappearing from that place as if she had never been there in the first place. Her subordinate left in a more mundane fashion, on her paws, and soon the picturesque cabin dissolved into nothingness, its purpose fulfilled.