“Before I ask of you your questions, tell me, does it meet with your expectations?”

*** *** ***

Spear in hand, he spurted forward, drilling it into the creatures left shoulder; instantly, blood leaked from the wound. The once-wielded dagger dropping to the ground in a clang of iron, from its’ bright-green, witch-like hands. Taking the opportunity, I launched my bare clenched fist at the now-exposed face that was my target. Knuckles dug into cheek and bone, as my wrist held on in a battle against the brick wall.

Flem and spittle flew at me from its’ tight mouth like pellets, showering me in a toxic perfume only comparable to raw sewage. Still, my fist held on, my jaw clenching in defiance. ‘I will not give in’, the mantra echoing through my mind, as the creature resisted- its’ other gaunt arm violently reaching towards my throat. Blade like fingernails piercing flesh, my neck dripping red liquid all over, down my once-loved t-shirt (ACDC, Thunderstruck). Dirt and grime, sliding all over my skin, as the nails dug in, deeper and deeper.

“ I will not give in!” My cry a sense of strength, as finally, my first powered through the grotesque green face- it snapped back completely to one side, my fist having won.

Grunts and moans filled my ears, as the creature felt pain for the first time. ‘I was winning’, the thought entered my mind, providing a moment of surprise. I followed up the first strike with another, then another, the creatures face now swollen and bruised, blood poured out from what I can only imagine was its’ nose.

As I readied my scraped and broken fist for one more punishing strike, my eyes examined the creature, its’ eyes looking somewhat helpless now. ‘I will not give in’, I repeated, firing my fist for one final blow.

Knuckle met the last remaining bricks of what was once a wall, causing them to crumble like a sledge hammer through stone.

It fell. Not dramatically like in the movies or stories, it just fell. Like its’ body had become… well, nothing. Nothing of this world anymore, except from a pool of blood- not clean and red, no- brown and murky.

Feeling as if I had just ran up and down a mountain, only to repeat it again with a drained body and mind, I forced my uncooperating foot to move, prodding the now lifeless corpse- ‘one can never be too careful’, I thought to myself in a moment of haze.

My throbbing hand lay idly by shredded jeans, as I stared downwards waiting for movement, any movement. After what felt like hours, nothing happened. I waited longer- nothing. ‘It has to be done’, the whisper leaving my mouth as a pang of guilt echoed through my battered and bruised body.

Into the air my knee went, as I forced it higher, looking down pitifully, I angled my foot, exposing my heel. Exhaling in one short motion, it was over.

Instantly, a slight warm tingle filled my exhausted body, as I experienced progression for the first time. As I felt the feeling fade, I glanced downwards, down towards my once bare wrist; it now featured a roughly etched green marking, which read , ‘ +1 EXP’.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

However unimportant, however minute to others, however insignificant, to me it t’was the beginning of my journey.

My wicked grin became wider as the forbidden thought entered my mind, ‘I’m now one of them’.

***************************************************************************

The unconscious state faded, bringing to light conscious thought once more; my mind once again alive, almost anew. ‘So, it is true…’ The thought entered my mind, as did ‘sight’. Not simply black and white, or coloured, but true vision. A pale purple hue lay latent in my sight, as did strange markings at the bottom of my peripheral: 0.5/10 and 0/0 ; 1/100 and 1.

‘Success’, a wide smile forced its way onto my bruised and battered face, fighting the pain- wishing for it to subside, longing for a sense of celebration to replace it. ‘Should success really hurt this much?’ The thought lasted for a mere moment as I went against my body’s desire to remain there, amongst the filth and gore.

Phrases of motivation became my mantra: ‘I have to move, I have to fight. I am not finished. My journey does not end here, it cannot.’

Providing me with just enough will to roll onto my side, I fought, again and again, and managed to rest shoulder to the bloody dirt.

Sadly, I remained there for far longer than would be thought heroic- why do heroic tales never mention laying down in such mess? One does have to wonder… Or would wonder if not for the life and death scenarios that such a life entails. My mind continued spiraling into a mess of ideas, all ending answerless.

“Who would choose to be a hero, or does the heroic life choose you?”

“What is choice?”

“Why did I choose this? Who in their right mind would choose to lay in a mix of blood, limbs and mud?”

Me, apparently I made such a choice… What does that say about me really?

Spiraling further into the dungeon hole my mind entered.

Darkness once more prevailed, my questions ceased, my mind became fuzzy and my eyes closed.

Nothingness.

Violently shaking myself awake, my body convulsed in a cacophony of agony with every twist and turn. This time, I pushed through, not allowing my brain to succumb to the endless questions; I forced myself over onto my shoulder then round to my front. Cracks of hurt echoing throughout the colossal, now desolate, chamber. I pushed through again, onto my knees. Unstable, my cut hands hopelessly fell to the floor. Tiny streams of red ran from my hands towards the ground, my lacking of armour proving stupid and idiocy, an almost fatal mistake yet desperate. I was desperate. Once.

Not now. Now, I was one of them.

I will succeed.

Whilst the chorus of suffering still beat upon me, I held myself- my arm resting upon the cavern wall.

I was up, on my feet and that was all that mattered.