Atreo emerged from the cave mouth into a vast grassy glade, the sudden brightness causing him to shield his eyes with his hand. He blinked, trying to adjust to the unexpected sunlight. One moment he had been in the dim, echoing tunnel following the train tracks, and now he stood in this open, unfamiliar field.
“How long was I in that tunnel?” he wondered aloud.
It felt like he’d only been following the train tracks for a few minutes, just as he did every day on his way to and from school. But something must have happened—something strange, because today, he’d ended up here.
"And where the hell is here?" he questioned, looking around in confusion.
Something flashed before his eyes, momentarily blocking his vision. Instinctively, he tried to swipe it away like an irritating bug but quickly realized it was readable, like a HUD display in a video game. He squinted at the text, confusion mingling with a strange sense of familiarity.
"Welcome!" it said, and a wall of scrolling text reminiscent of a Star Wars film began to appear. The text unfurled, detailing his new circumstances in this strange land:
"The fuck? Am I dreaming?"
Taken aback, Atreo removed his headphones, only to have his ears assaulted anew by a feminine yet overly eager voice speaking directly into his brain.
"Welcome, you've taken your first step into the world of Memora."
Atreo’s heart raced, confusion and panic gripping him.
"You are here because you recently died in your original world," the voice explained. Each word sank like a stone in his gut, leaving him reeling. He remembered the blinding light, the tunnel, and then... nothing. How could he be dead?
Atreo’s eyes widened. "The hell? What do you mean I died?" he muttered, struggling to grasp the revelation.
"Your last moments were shrouded in blinding light as you exited the tunnel," the voice continued. "The details are fragmented, but your presence here is a consequence of that end."
Atreo’s mind reeled, trying to piece together the shattered fragments of his memory: the bright light, the cave, and then... nothing. His surroundings in the grassy glade felt too real, too tangible, yet the voice's words echoed with unsettling clarity.
"In Memora, you will face challenges beyond your wildest imagination," the voice continued. "Monsters, treacherous landscapes, and trials that will test your very limits. Your survival and success will depend on your wits, strength, and the allies you choose to trust. This world is both your battleground and your new home. Embrace it, for there is no turning back."
As the voice guided him further into the explanation, Atreo was presented with four starting class options: Warrior, Ranger, Caster, and the intriguing "Unchosen."
The urgency in the voice heightened, "Due to an unforeseen anomaly, you have one minute to select your starting class, or your selection will be interrupted by hostile forces."
"Each class comes with its own unique abilities and strengths," the voice explained. "The Warrior excels in close combat, with unmatched strength and endurance. The Ranger is a master of the wilderness, adept at long-range attacks and stealth. The Caster wields powerful magic, able to manipulate the elements and bend reality to their will. The Unchosen, however, is unique—it allows you to select abilities historically left unchosen by others, offering flexibility and the chance to carve your own path."
Atreo’s heart pounded in his chest as he stared at the options before him. The urgency in the voice left no room for hesitation. His mind raced, trying to process everything at once—the shock of his death, the strange new world, and now the imminent danger.
With a deep breath, he made his choice. "I choose the Unchosen," he declared, hoping the flexibility it promised would give him an edge in whatever lay ahead.
Just as the selection was confirmed, a rustling in the nearby bushes alerted him to the presence of bandits.
"Please review your class, starting skills, inventory, and attributes. You have 45 seconds."
Atreo quickly scanned the floating text that detailed his current status:
Atreo Level 0 Unchosen
Skills Known: None
Attributes:
* Dexterity: 1
* Strength: 1
* Intelligence: 1
* Luck: 1
* Will: 1
* Constitution: 1
Dressed in a sleek black hoodie with bold red letters spelling "Famine" on the right sleeve, Atreo quickly scanned his attire. His black shorts, featuring a red cloud in the corner—a nod to a childhood anime—paired well with his black socks and bright red PF Flyers. There was no time to dwell on the fact that he seemed taller at 17, almost reaching his dream height of 6 feet. Urgency pressed in as he focused on the task at hand, every second ticking away.
Upon examining his familiar possessions, Atreo realized he still had his phone. Excitement surged as he attempted to power it on, but it only displayed the title of the last audiobook he'd been listening to. He chuckled, acknowledging the futility of trying to call anyone from the afterlife. Somehow, these items had crossed over with him, remnants of a life he was starting to believe he had truly left behind.
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"30 seconds," the voice said.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Atreo muttered, frantically checking his inventory.
His headphones, cellphone, and wallet appeared in the list. He quickly reached into his pocket, pulling out the wallet with a sense of urgency. Flipping it open, he scanned the contents, desperately hoping to find something useful. Nestled in the bill pocket, he spotted a cherished item—a lucky two-dollar bill.
The sentimental value hit him for a moment—a memento from his childhood gifted by his mom. Memories of her collection of rare bills and coins flooded his mind, along with the day she had shared this particular bill with him, hoping he'd forever carry a piece of her. But there was no time for nostalgia.
Pushing the memories aside, Atreo shoved the bill back into his wallet. Time was running out, and he needed to stay focused.
Surrounded by vibrant green grass and the cave's mouth he had just left, he realized the cave had transformed into an ordinary mountainside, blocking his path back. Urgency gripped him as he considered his options: traverse the grasslands or attempt the ascent up the mountainside.
On the distant horizon, more mountains loomed, their silhouettes stretching towards the sky as the sun gracefully descended. Suddenly, a flicker of movement seized his attention just 100 yards away. Though he couldn't discern its nature, his senses told him it was real.
Bent low, he cautiously advanced toward the tall, dense grass, gradually picking up his pace as he neared. While it wouldn't unveil the source of the earlier movement, staying concealed within the foliage seemed a prudent choice. Straining his ears, he detected only the soft hum of insects and the distant chirping of birds. Just as he contemplated rising to his full height, a faint voice carried on the breeze reached him.
"Do you see anything?" it inquired, sending a shiver down his spine.
"Maybe that's the welcoming party," he thought.
Yet, he quickly dismissed the notion, realizing that no one with good intentions would lurk in the shadows. Drawing from his experience in countless video games, he recognized the signs of individuals camping around spawning areas, preying on newcomers. "Not today," he vowed silently, slipping away in the opposite direction of the voice he had just heard.
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Atreo cast aside any semblance of stealth and sprinted recklessly through the expansive grasslands, the raucous hoots and hollers of his pursuers hot on his heels. With no time to strategize, he made a beeline for the distant mountains, praying to stumble upon a river or marsh where he could shake off the relentless pursuit.
As they closed in, their proximity tightening with each passing second, Atreo relied on the stamina he had developed during his days on the football field. Estimating they were only a short distance behind him, he spotted a descending slope ahead.
He dashed towards it, but to his dismay, the grasslands persisted with no relief in sight. A force slammed into him from behind, hurling him towards the ground. Rolling skillfully, he sprang to his feet just as his assailant—a middle-aged man attempted to recover. Despite the man's surprise, Atreo unleashed a swift kick to his jaw, the resulting pop drowned out by screams of agony.
Ready to bolt once more, Atreo found himself face-to-face with another adversary—a monstrous figure that barely resembled a man. A half-giant towering over him, face adorned with piercings, eyes oozing an inky blackness. A deep, booming laugh echoed from the giant.
"You're a fighter," he bellowed, his voice deep and resonant. "It's been a while since we've had one with such vigor." He accentuated the word 'vigor' with a teeth-sucking sound, unsettling Atreo.
As the giant's words sank in, more figures closed in, transforming the grassy expanse into an impromptu arena. The injured man limped away, muttering about needing a healer. His voice faded into the background as the tension mounted.
Atreo remained focused on the giant, contemplating his next move. Despite the lack of a visible weapon, uncertainty lingered.
"You'll be fighting me next," the giant declared, pounding his chest.
Atreo had done his fair share of fighting growing up, mostly with his older cousins who would try to draw on his face while he slept or put his limp hands in cups of water to make him wet himself. Those battles always ended with him getting his ass kicked, but he always managed to land a few solid hits. This was different, though—real stakes, real danger. While he might not be able to best this beast in a one-on-one, he wasn't going down without a fight.
For Atreo, anything worth doing was worth taking seriously, which is why he didn’t waste time trying to converse with the man before launching his attack. He feinted to the right, aiming for the giant's knee to throw him off balance. But the giant didn’t move, standing there with a smug grin on his face.
Too late to back out now, Atreo committed to his plan. He slammed his foot into the giant's knee with all his might and immediately dodged to the side, bracing for a counterattack. But none came. The giant just stood there, watching him, as the crowd's frenzied chants echoed around them.
Frustration boiling over, Atreo shouted, "What do you want from me? Why are you chasing me?" There was no time for an answer. The giant bellowed, "My turn," and in an instant, he was beside Atreo.
The attack was a blur. A whistling sound cut through the air as the giant's ringed fingers sliced toward him. An open-handed slap struck Atreo's upper body, nearly snapping his neck. The force sent him flying, crashing to the ground six meters away, cushioned only by the grass.
Pain exploded in his head. Blood gushed from his ear, and his vision in his right eye went dark. Gasping for breath, he struggled to one knee. The giant was already upon him, clamping him in a crushing bear hug. As consciousness faded, Atreo felt like he was being suffocated by a snake, the world closing in on him.The searing pain of his ribs breaking jolted Atreo back to consciousness. Gasping, he realized he was within reach of one of the large hoops pierced through the giant's lower lip. Though his upper body was pinned, his foot was still free. With a burst of desperation, he landed a swift kick to the giant's groin.
The giant grunted, hoisting Atreo higher inadvertently. This new position brought Atreo face-to-face with the giant's vulnerable, dangling hoop. Seizing the moment, Atreo bit down hard on the metal bangle and jerked his head back with all his might.
His world erupted into a chaotic spin of pain and adrenaline. Vision blurring, he struggled against the tightening grip of his injuries. Every breath was agony, his ribs screaming in protest. Blood filled his mouth, leaving a coppery taste that lingered as he fought to stay conscious.
Summoning the last reserves of his strength, Atreo focused on the giant's torn lip. The metallic taste of blood mixed with the bitter tang of victory as he clamped down harder, tearing through flesh and sinew. The giant roared in agony, momentarily loosening its grip.
Seizing the opportunity, Atreo wriggled free and stumbled backward, gasping for air. His body screamed with pain, but survival instincts kicked in. His right eye was useless, and the world around him was a disoriented blur.
The crowd's chants intensified, caught in a fervor of bloodlust. Atreo knew he had to finish this, and quickly. Gathering his resolve, he searched for a weapon, anything that could turn the tide in his favor.
His hand found a discarded weapon, a rusty sword lying abandoned nearby. Atreo clutched it tightly, his fingers slick with blood. The giant, now enraged and bleeding, lumbered towards him.
Atreo moved with newfound urgency, every motion fueled by the will to survive. He aimed for the giant's wounded knee, remembering the initial plan. The battered sword struck true, and the giant crumbled to the ground with a thunderous crash.
For a moment, the arena fell silent. The crowd's chants turned to murmurs of disbelief. Atreo, battered and broken, stood victorious over the fallen giant. He panted heavily, his body on the brink of collapse.
As the realization of his unexpected triumph settled in, Atreo staggered towards the edge of the arena, casting a defiant gaze at the stunned spectators. The cheers and jeers blended into a cacophony, but Atreo, battered but alive, had defied the odds.
With each labored step, the world around him blurred, and the weight of his injuries bore down upon him. The rhythmic chants of the crowd became distant echoes, and the vibrant arena transformed into a hazy dreamscape. Atreo's body, pushed beyond its limits, finally succumbed to the cumulative toll of the brutal encounter.
A shiver ran through him as he collapsed to his knees, the taste of victory lingering on his lips. His vision dimmed, and the defiant gleam in his eyes faded. The last thing he heard before slipping into unconsciousness was the fading roar of the crowd, a distant melody as he surrendered to the welcoming embrace of darkness. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered what awaited him when he woke up, if he ever did.