https://i.imgur.com/bo9AsHr.png [https://i.imgur.com/bo9AsHr.png]
In the quiet of the night, a lone figure sat in their room, shrouded in darkness, saved by the erratic flickering of their computer screen. The room itself seemed to breathe in the soft glow of the monitor.
The room's walls were adorned with striking posters depicting fantastical landscapes and eerie mythical creatures, including menacing skeletons, zombies, and enigmatic figures found only within the realms of fictional fantasies.
On one side of the room, a substantial bookshelf held its ground. Its shelves were meticulously arranged with well-loved volumes encompassing a diverse array of epic fantasy tales, such as light novels, manga's, and comic books. Each of these books shared a common, haunting theme - necromancy.
A floor-to-ceiling window on the opposite side of the room was veiled by thick curtains, barely allowing slivers of moonlight to infiltrate the room. The ambient darkness cocooned the space, creating a desolated ambiance.
Seated in a plush, high-backed chair, the solitary figure stood in place. Their fingers danced gracefully across the keyboard and mouse, their gaze fixated on the glowing screen.
The screen displayed a sprawling landscape. Lush forests extended as far as the eye could see, their towering trees swaying gently in the night breeze. Shimmering waterfalls cascaded down emerald cliffs, their crystalline waters reflecting the moon's radiant beams. In the distance, a colossal, ancient castle perched atop a hill, its spires reaching for the sky.
The individual's in-game avatar, a heroic figure with a formidable cane at their side and a billowing black cloak, stood poised at the forest's edge. By their side, an entourage of numerous figures loyally stood, responding to their every command with unwavering loyalty.
Yet, in the midst of this enchanting digital realm, the individual's increasingly frustration began to show. Bathed in the glow of the computer screen, they couldn't help but feel a growing sense of annoyance.
"Ah~! What a joke! Become a storyteller? Weaving my own narrative? Unparalleled freedom?" He scoffed, his voice tinged with incredulity. "What a load of bullshit!"
With a frustrated sigh, the individual pushed the keyboard away, his hands dropping to the mouse figure as to logout from the game, abandoning their digital adventures. He rose from his chair, left it behind, and walked over to his bed, where a hoodie laid in plain sight. Slipping it on, he headed to his small balcony.
Outside, the city street sprawled before him, its alleys and avenues veiled in the night. The chill in the air nipped at his skin as he withdrew a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, extracting one with practiced ease. Igniting it, he inhaled deeply, watching the tendrils of smoke intertwine with the cold breeze. His gaze was fixed on the cityscape below.
"Tsk, tsk." came the reproachful sound as the man indulged in his nightly ritual of smoking. His tranquil moment was abruptly disrupted by the disapproving noise from someone nearby.
"Huh? Come on... not again. Can't I enjoy a quiet cigarette in peace?"
His neighbor stood just a breath away, separated only by the narrow gap formed by the balcony and the enclosing walls.
"Ever even felt a damn shred of shame, huh?" the neighbor sneered, their voice dripping with disgust. "Night after night, you strut your lazy ass out here, puffing on those damn cancer sticks. Back in my day, I busted my ass to scrape by. And you? You've got everything handed to you on a silver platter, yet you're holed up in your cave, glued to those damn video games, jerking off like it's a full-time job, and sucking down those damn cigarettes like they're air."
"Look, old lady," he retorted with a touch of frustration, "every single fucking night, it feels like you're waiting here just to pounce on me with your useless lectures. Does that really make you feel good? Does berating someone somehow add meaning to your own miserable fucking life?"
He paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing with intensity. "Yeah, I'm living in a world loaded with resources and knowledge, but it's no walk in the park either. Back in your day, you put in your time at 16 bucks an hour, maybe snagged a mortgage in a decade. Nowadays, even if I grind away at a 40-dollar-an-hour gig my whole life, I'd barely make a dent in this never-ending stack of bills."
"How dare you speak to your elders in such manners, How did your parents raise y-"
Before the neighbor could continue her scolding, the man cut her off with a puff of smoke he inhaled from his cigarette.
*Cough, Cough*
"Ah~! I've had a lousy day already; I don't even feel like smoking anymore." the man grumbled. With a resigned sigh, he plucked the cigarette from his mouth, cast it to the ground, and extinguished it with the sole of his sandal. He retreated to the sanctuary of his chamber, closing the balcony door firmly behind him, letting the neighbor's voice gradually fade into the background.
The man shuffled over to his kitchen, his footsteps echoing through the empty apartment. He opened the refrigerator door, only to be greeted by its desolate interior. The fridge held a scant few items, hardly enough to put together a proper meal. He cast a stoic gaze at the sparse contents, closed the door with a sigh, and reached into his hoodie pocket for his wallet.
He peered inside the worn wallet and retrieved a handful of coins, counting them slowly. "One... two... three... three dollars and fifty cents," he muttered to himself. "I suppose that should be more than enough to grab a cup of instant noodles."
The man left his shabby apartment behind, the door closing with a creak as he stepped into the dimly lit hallway. The faded wallpaper and worn carpeting in the corridor seemed to mirror the weariness that clung to him.
As he descended the narrow staircase, each step echoing in the silence. He reached the ground floor, passing by rows of locked doors, each hiding its own set of hardships.
Stepping out into the chilly night, the man buttoned up his hoodie against the crisp breeze as he walked on the cracked pavement beneath his feet shown by the faint glow of streetlights.
He navigated the dimly lit streets, his path ultimately leading him toward the distant beacon of fluorescent light—an unassuming 24/7 gas station.
*Ding*
The subtle chime resonated through the store as he stepped inside. His arrival barely registered among the disinterested glances from the night-shift gas station clerk. Unperturbed by the indifference, the man advanced further into the store, guided by the convenience store's well-stocked shelves.
With a confident stride, the man navigated the aisles of the store, seemingly unswayed by the tempting array of delicious options that surrounded him. His purposeful journey led him to his intended destination, where he paused to examine the item he planned on buying:
[CUP NOODLES CHICKEN - 1,72$]
Without hesitation, he selected two of these cups and proceeded to the cashier's counter. The cashier, comfortably seated in a plastic chair, engrossed in his smartphone, was quick to pocket his device as he noticed the approaching customer. Not a word was exchanged as the man placed the two cup noodles on the counter. The cashier mirrored his silence, efficiently scanning both items and revealing their prices.
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| Convenience Store Receipt |
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| Item | Quantity | Price |
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| Cup Noodle Chicken | 2 | $1.72 |
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| Subtotal (Before Tax) | $3.44 |
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| Tax (Sales Tax Rate: 10%) | $0.344 |
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| Total | $3.79 |
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The man took out his change from his wallet and glanced at the money laying on his palm and then back at the cashier, knowing full well that he lacked the necessary amount needed to purchase the items. Without a word, the cashier reached out to the man's hand and took the change, processed it, placed the receipt and the two cup noodles into a plastic bag, and handed it over to the man. Sensing the cashier's act of kindness, the man accepted the bag in silence and whispered his gratitude.
"Thank you."
With a mixture of gratitude and a touch of embarrassment, the man walked out of the store. The warm act of kindness from the cashier had left an indelible impression on him, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of shame for being in a situation where he needed such help.
As he stepped out, clutching the bag containing the two cup noodles, he couldn't shake the feeling of vulnerability that had washed over him. With a humble heart, he continued his journey, silently making his way home.
***
Upon arriving home, the man set the plastic bag containing the two cup noodles on his kitchen counter. With a sigh, he filled a small pot with water and set it on the stove, waiting for it to come to a gentle boil. Once the water was boiling, he carefully opened one of the cup noodles and poured the steaming water into it, watching as the dried noodles and seasonings began to transform into a warm, comforting meal. The aroma of chicken and spices filled the air.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
He let the cup noodles sit for a few minutes, allowing the flavors to meld together. With the cup noodles in hand, the man decided to take his meal and enjoy it at his computer. He carefully carried the steaming cup to his desk, placing it beside the keyboard.
*Slurp*
With a sip of the flavorful broth, he began to eat his meal while browsing the internet, catching up on some work.
Search: |
Tap, Tap...
Search: RMTHAVEN.net |
Tap!
Post: |
Tap, Tap...
Post: WTS FULL SET OF LEVEL 100 NECROMANCER ITEMS, WHISPER WITH PRICE|
Tap!
Post Sent!
Ding
Ding
Ding
Ding
Ding
[Messages x 37]
A wry smile crossed his face as he observed the flood of incoming messages. "Ha~, must be nice to be rich." he mused, shaking his head. "Those fortunate brats can toss around their family's wealth for virtual crap, must be nice to not care about bills and rent."
[Mister NecroMerchant, I wish to purchase your items for 300$.]
[NecroMerchant, you bastard! This time you better sell me your items, I've been trying to buy from you for the past 2 months! What's the highest bid! I'll double it!]
[Hello NecroMerchant, I'm interested in purchasing your Necromancer Lv.100 equipment set for 550$.]
[Holy shit, finally! I've been waiting for an entire week for you to sell your stuff, refreshing your page every other hours. I'd like to offer 1000$]
[...]x33 others.
NecroMerchant, was the alias the man was known within the RMT(Real Money Trading) world of gaming. He had spent countless years from childhood to adulthood immersed in the realm of popular RPG games. Over the years, he had earned his reputation as a seasoned player and trader, focusing his endeavors on the exclusive trade of Necromancer items. His dedication to this niche had made him a legendary figure within the gaming and RMT community.
Known for his unwavering commitment to quality, NecroMerchant's items were considered the gold standard when it came to Necromancer's items. Gamers that could afford purchasing his items far and wide sought out his wares, confident that what they received would be nothing short of exceptional. He had honed his craft, ensuring that each item he sold was of the utmost quality.
Though NecroMerchant wasn't amassing vast fortunes, he had managed to turn his passion into a way of life. It provided him with more than just enough to survive.
"With the money from this trade, I should be able to cover the rent and bills. There might even be some left for other things. Ah~! Forget it. It's probably going to be the same bullshit and uninspiring narratives anyway."
The man channeled his earnings into a variety of avenues, all in the pursuit of indulging his fascination with necromancy. Whether it was delving into countless light novels on the subject, poring over manga and comic books, or immersing himself in video games, he spared no expense to satiate the profound curiosity he had harbored for this particular class.
Despite his firm belief that necromancers were the most captivating class among the vast array of fantasy archetypes, he couldn't ignore the subtle deficiencies that he perceived, shortcomings that might not be readily seem as such by the general public. Throughout the years, as he experimented with countless variations of necromancers in video games, explored diverse portrayals of necromancers in literature, and even contemplated the imaginative interpretations of others, he couldn't help but feel that none of them truly captured the excitement he craved.
As a devoted Necromancer main, he had come to a realization that consistently bothered him. It revolved around a particular aspect of the class that never failed to irritate him. At a certain point, the class began to appear rather uninspired and lacking in originality.
You might wonder what may have been the cause of this disquiet? Well...
"Why the hell is it always this same damn trope? 'Oh, I can summon a whole frickin' army of undead!' or 'I've got minions from 1 to 1000, baby!' Can't it ever be just one? One summon, one beefed-up, steroid induced mammoth of a minion! Why's it gotta be thousands of these wimpy, bony little shits that keel over with one poke? Why not just one badass minion that can take a thousand hits and still be like, 'Is that all you got?'"
It stemmed from the fact that a Necromancer's strength and utility were seemingly determined solely by the quantity of summons they could maintain simultaneously.
Throughout his years of relentless pursuit for "The Necromancer," he found himself unable to resist the allure of daydreaming about the perfect scenario. He made efforts to sway game developers, light novel authors, and even artists with his view. However, the majority of them dismissed his ideas as absurd and unnecessary, essentially delivering a verdict that he was attempting to mend something that was never broken.
"I mean, come on! Imagine it! One goddamn minion strutting through the battlefield like an undead behemoth, unstoppable in the face of puny heroes! A minion that could tank a thousand attacks, and how 'bout this – the thing actually learns some damn skills! These frickin' minions, they're just hanging around, and swinging their weapons, auto-attacking the heck out of a fucking dragon. How awesome would it be if your summon could learn Active and Passive skills, maybe even use equipment's. But nah, they're like, 'Let's just level the skill up increasing their health with it and expanding the quantity of the same shitty skeleton.' That's cool, right? Hell no!"
"Ha~, whatever..."
While the man vented his frustrations to himself, he soon came to the realization that his complaints were futile, and he pressed on with his trade. Once his tasks were complete, he shut down his computer and sprawled out on his bed, preparing to call it a day.
He laid on his bed, a distinct lack of enthusiasm coursing through him. The thought of grinding through the early levels with a new necromancer held zero appeal. Originality had taken a vacation from the books he'd been reading, and contemplating 'what ifs' felt like a tiresome exercise in futility. In that moment, all he craved was a spark, something to rekindle the same fervor he'd felt when he first stumbled upon the world of fantasy and the class of necromancers.
*Ding*
With a sudden, eerie sound, a mysterious holographic image materialized right in front of him:
His eyes widened in surprise as he read the message.
The 'Tower of Awakening' has opened its doors!
"What's this???" he muttered, curiosity piqued.
Before he could delve deeper into his thoughts, an overwhelming sensation washed over him. It was as though an invisible force was engulfing him, pulling him down into the abyss, deeper and deeper, as if he were descending into the unfathomable depths of the ocean.
"Waahh!MMFP..."
'I Can't breathe...'
The 'Tower of Awakening' Welcomes you. Asher Gray!
'Tower of Awakening? What the hell is going on?'
Please select your Difficulty.
The rewards received during your time in the 'Tower of Awakening' will be based on the difficulty chosen.
'I don't know what's happening, but...'
Easy
Normal
'...is this finally the spark i was graving for?'
Hard
'I...I can't live the same way I used to! Make me feel... ALIVE!'
Difficulty has been chosen!
May your results reflect your hard work.
Transferring challenger to the 'First Floor' of the 'Trials of Awakening'.
A radiant brilliance enveloped Asher, encircling him until he was completely submerged in its luminous embrace. Shortly thereafter, he discovered himself in an unfamiliar realm, distinct from the comfortable chamber he had previously occupied.
"Bah~, haaa~. I can finally breathe."
'Wh-Where am i? A Grassland?'
The Trial will begin shortly. Please prepare yourself.
Trial's Objective: Survive!
'Huh?'
Failure from completing the trial - Closure to further floors
Reward for completing the trial - Class selection & 'Unique Skill' Awakening
"Class???Unique skill???"
The 'First' Trial will begin. Good Luck!
'Trial of Awakening' Chosen Difficulty - Hard
As the holographic image heralded the commencement of the trial, an abrupt, thunderous rumble reverberated through the surroundings, accompanied by a tremor that could be both heard and felt. It was in this moment that the unforeseen event began to unfold.
'W-What the hell is this thing!'