Clay Andrews lay on the rough ground watching the clouds float by in a blue sky, the sun shining brightly.

"Not exactly how I expected things to end...", he croaked," At least its a nice day"

He chuckled then groaned as his stomach became a raging torrent of pain.

"Fuuuck...no more laughing."

He could feel the blood flowing past his hands that held against his stomach, feel its wetness pooling beneath him in an ever-growing puddle. Every breath was a struggle and caused his intestines to push against his hands threatening to slide the rest of the way out of place. He let his head roll to his left and looked at the gray creature that killed him.

It was short, maybe five feet tall with long gangling arms that ended in hands with three fingers and a thumb. Each digit was tipped with a broken dirty nail that turned out to be pretty damn sharp. The creatures' legs were short, far too short for it's body, which caused it to waddle like toddler but allowed it to leap like an Olympian. The feet were overly large and ended in four toes, also having nasty, razor sharp nails...apparently sharp enough to gut a human. The head was a nightmare that looked like a pumpkin someone smashed a bunch of play dough on to make a nose and pinned a couple of bat ears to the sides. The yellow eyes were huge, almost touching together above the smashed nose and Clay swore he could still see an animal hatred there even after death. The lip-less mouth went half way around the head and was filled with crooked triangular teeth that would have given any orthodontist nightmares. Lastly, an overly long tongue protruded from its mouth and lay in the dirt. Clay blinked his eyes a couple of times and a yellow box appeared over the creatures' body.

"Goblin, level 3"

Clay turned his head back to the sky and watched some more clouds.

"Nope, can't be a goblin. Everyone knows goblins are green."

He closed his eyes and let his mind drift. Damn, what a difference a few minutes can make....

"Get the fuck outta my stuff asshole!", Clay screamed as the grabbed the other man by his grimy jacket, yanking him off his feet then throwing him to the ground. He cocked his fist back ready to pummel the terrified man, "Its my stuff you fucking prick!"

"It's cool man, it's cool!", the man shouted as he scooted back on his butt his hands held out in front of him," I didn't know! I swear! I didn't know!"

Clay felt his lips drawn back from his teeth, rage pouring through his body while his mind showed him beating the man, knowing that if he started he probably wouldn't stop. Puffing and blowing spittle past his unkempt beard, Clay slowly began to pull back his rage.

"Get the fuck outta here. Touch my shit again and I'll kill ya.", he growled at the other man.

"Sure man, sure! All good!", the man said, scrambling to his feet and then running deeper into the homeless encampment below the freeway.

Clay dug through his few belongings and grunted when nothing appeared to be missing. He looked toward where the man ran.

"Musta been a newb", Clay muttered. Anyone else in the camp knew not to touch Clay's stuff or try an take his sleep area by the edge of the camp where you could still get some sun.

Pulling aside the plastic tarp covering his makeshift home, Clay crawled into his "cave" and, once he was settled, reached into his threadbare jacket and pulled out the bottle of Benchmark #8. Unscrewing the cap, Clay up ended the bottle and took a long drink letting the liquor burn his throat then explode into his stomach. Hissing with pain more than satisfaction, Clay could feel the burning of what could only be ulcers.

"They must be getting worse", he said to himself then laughed," Of course they're getting worse. All you eat is whiskey and garbage.", He raised the bottle above his head," Here's to me!"

He took another long drink and wiped his mouth with the back of a dirty hand as he felt the whiskey start to take hold then laid back on his pile of old clothes he used for a bed.

He swore he could hear her voice, "I love you Clay."

"Ill see you soon.", he whispered as he drained the rest of the bottle in one long pull, letting the empty fall down with the others scattered around him. He closed his eyes letting darkness come.

Clay woke suddenly with a splitting headache and his mouth tasting like a cat took a crap in it. He tried to hear what woke him but it took a few moments for him to realize that it wasn't a sound that woke him but the lack of it. He strained his ears but there was nothing: No highway noise above him, no bums arguing around him, nothing. He sat up slowly letting his head acclimate to movement and then sat there still listening when the bright box appeared in front of his vision .Blinking several times and rubbing his face did nothing to remove the box.

"Beings of Earth, The Order has judged you and you have been found lacking. Your have squandered the gift of life that has been given to you fighting amongst yourselves, polluting the planet that sustains you, and stripping it of the resources you need to live! You are vermin! Still, the Order is not without mercy and will give you one chance to redeem yourselves. You will be tested, and those found worthy will be given the time to grow strong and, If you grow strong enough, your champions will be pitted against the other champions of other condemned planets in a winner takes all battle. Win, and Earth shall be spared. Fail, and Earth will be scrubbed of the humans scourge and be given to the one of the other races of the contest. The testing will begin in five of your earth minutes. Prepare yourselves."

"What in the hell is this?" Clay muttered wiping at his eyes again. Suddenly, the box was gone and there was a crash as something landed on his makeshift tent collapsing it, followed by a snarl and ripping as that something tried to tear through his tarp roof to get at him. Clay thrashed and pushed at the weight on top of him finally shoving it and the tarp off himself scrambling back on all fours as something finally tore free of the tattered tarp.

"What in the fu...", Clay managed to say as the gray creature launched itself at him, huge mouth open to clamp onto his head. Clay reared up as the creature slammed into him and drove him to the ground, teeth gnashing just inches from his face. Managing to lock his hands on its throat, he held its head back while he trying to throw it off but It had its long arms wrapped around the back of his head, attempting to pull his face into his mouth. Shaking with effort, Clay let go with one hand and slammed an open palm against one of the oversized ears eliciting a scream of pain from the creature and causing it's arms to loosen. Grunting with effort, Clay finally threw the creature to one side while he rolled to his feet in the other direction then watched as the creature shook its head like a dog and sent a baleful, hate filled glare at Clay.

Exposing its teeth with drool running down it's chin, it gathered itself to jump at him again, but Clay didn't wait for the attack choosing instead the creature with a roar. Catching it by surprise, Clay slammed all his weight into the creature smashing it to the ground and felt a couple of the creatures' ribs snap under his weight, though that just seemed to just enrage it more. Snarling, the creature began to claw at Clay's back while Clay kept his head below its chin, pummeling it with heavy blows from his fist. The two rolled back and forth on the ground leaving a trail red blood and black ichor until they finally broke apart again glaring at each other. Clay could feel blood trickling down his back and face from the lacerations the creatures' nails made.

Chest heaving from exertion, Clay watched as the creature gather itself for yet another jump. Behind the gray monster Clay saw one of the concrete highway support columns with a piece of rebar sticking out from it about chest high and, when the creature leaped, Clay grabbed it around the waist and drove it backwards even as it buried its teeth in his shoulder. With a scream of pain, Clay pushed the creature backwards against the column, skewering on the rebar. Pulling it off, he drove it into the rebar again and again as the creature clawed and bit him. Slamming it onto the rebar a final time, the creature shuddered then finally stilled. Dropping to his knees then rolling to his back, Clay watched as the creature fell off the rebar to land next to him. He felt a burning pain around stomach and reached down to touch the wound feeling huge, deep cuts in his abdomen with his intestines pushing against them.

"Ah shit...that ain,t good.", he said as he pushed his hands against the wound feeling blood moving past his hands, flowing down his sides to a pool beneath him.

Fuckit...might as well get on with dying. Damn, wish someone had caught that on a phone though. Would have gone viral for sure."

Clay closed his eyes and waited for the darkness to take him.

Clay opened his eyes when he heard quiet clapping then looked around when he realized he wasn't under the freeway overpass anymore. If fact, he had no idea where he was at all. He was seated in a comfortable office chair in front of a large, wooden desk covered with several folders and around him was a well decorated office space with glass walls that looked out over some sort of city scape. Looking out, he could see other people in other offices in other buildings looking around much like himself.

"What the hell?", he muttered.

"No Clay Andrews, not hell. Hell would have no air conditioning like this space.", said a voice from behind him. Snapping his head around, Clay found himself looking at a familiar face, "That was an impressive display you put on!"

"Uncle Henry?"

"Ah...yes and no. I took a face familiar to you that seems to en-site trust in you.", Uncle Henry said as he stepped around Clay, pausing only long enough to hand Clay a tumbler with an amber liquid in it," Benchmark #8, correct?"

Clay looked at the tumbler, then the man again. Shrugging, he took the glass and sniffed. It definitely smelled like whiskey.

"It's perfectly safe Clay Andrews as I have no need to poison you. In fact, I'm going to help you become so much more than you are now!", Uncle Henry said as he stepped around the desk and sat down in a overstuffed office chair.

OK, your definitely not my Uncle Henry since he's dead and gone.", Clay stopped, sniffed the whiskey again and then slammed it down in one gulp waiting for the usual stomach pain but nothing happened. He felt nothing more than the normal heat associated with slamming a glass of whiskey. Looking back at Uncle Henry, he set the glass on the desk and leaned back in his chair,"So since you're not him, who are you? Is this the afterlife? It can't be Heaven cuz I doubt they'd open the gates for me."

He looked down at the glass again and his eyes widened seeing it half full again. Picking it up, he held it while Uncle Henry picked up a folder off his desk and opened it

"As I said, this face and body are nothing more than a trusted face from your past. Someone who you thought highly of and might listen to."

"Uncle Henry was a raging asshole who no one liked, not even his dog.", Clay said as he sucked down half the glass of whiskey, "But he didn't lie about anything and if he gave his word, it was engraved in stone."

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Uncle Henry blinked a few times then sighed," I had a few choices. Maybe I should have went with the female you hold so close in your mind.", Uncle Henry started to blur around the edges.

Clay dropped the glass, spilling the whiskey all over the thick rug. He felt his blood begin to boil, pounding in his ears and behind his eyes and he could feel a growl forcing itself out of his chest.

"Don't you do it! Don't you fucking even think about doing it! I'll rip your throat out I swear to God!", He was leaning over the desk, not even remembering getting up

Uncle Henry solidified again, "Ah! I am sorry Clay Andrews. I should have realized that seeing her would have been very traumatic. Human emotions are hard to understand. Please have a seat again Clay Andrews and we'll begin."

Clay continued to lean over the desk, slowly reigning his anger back. With a final huff, he took his seat again and spied his half full whiskey glass on the desk again. Gripping it, Clay slammed it down enjoying the burn down his throat.

"Begin what exactly. One minute I'm driving off a thieving asshole, the next I'm fighting some gray thing that's trying to eat my face, and finally I'm on the ground with my insides trying to become my outsides. Fuck, this has to be my brain firing its last big load. I always thought you saw your life flash before your eyes, not some crap like this.", Clay downed the refilled glass again, "At least the booze is unlimited."

Uncle Henry glanced at the folder then looked up at Clay again.

"I must say, your taking this well. Many of your peers are becoming somewhat unhinged."

"It's a dying fever dream from drinking too much.", Clay said as he polished off yet another whiskey, his head beginning to swim," What's the use of getting wound up about it?"

Uncle Henry gave Clay a smile, "No fever dream Clay Andrews. You have been tested by the order and survived, even surpassing expectations! Only two percent of the world population passed the test, and you are only one of a handful that, how do you say it, fought above your weight class! That was a level three goblin and you killed while still being level zero yourslef.", Uncle clapped again," We'll done! That success will make that start so much easier for you!"

"Easier for what?"

Uncle Henry picked up a folder, opened it and started leafing through the pages.

"Clay Andrews, 52-year-old male, unemployed, widowed with no children or next of kin. College graduate, former EMT and paramedic whose hobbies included power lifting, cycling, swimming and, surprisingly, live action role play?", Uncle Henry looked up for a moment eyeing Clay then continued," Health history of degenerating knee cartridge, chronic rotator cuff injury, slightly herniated discs between the L3, L4, and L5 vertebrae. And, lastly, early-stage cirrhosis of the liver.", closing the folder Uncle Henry leaned back and looked at Clay with a smile on his face.

"Yeah, you forgot alcoholic, but I guess the cirrhosis covers that.", Lifting his whiskey Clay saluted Uncle Henry, "Here's to me!". Sipping the liquor, Clay looked out the window again at another building into another office where he saw a man beat against the window, his mouth open in a silent scream. Turning back toward Uncle Henry, he finished the whiskey shot.

"Well Clay Andrews, you will be happy to know that the benevolent Order will be repairing all physical damage to you body and regressing your age to when your body was in it's prime heath, which for you is age 31. Isn't that wonderful?"

Heaving himself to his unsteady feet, he went to the window where he watched other people in other offices as they heard the same spiel he had. Most folks were still seated listening as everything was laid out though he saw one person curled up on the floor in the fetal position being was pretty certain it was the same one who had been beating on the window earlier. In another office he saw a young woman at the window looking back at him so he held up his glass toward her and received a nod in return.

"Now Clay Andrews, if you can return to your chair, I can finish explaining everything and go over your starting options."

"Why?", Clay asked, not moving and taking a sip of his drink.

"I, uh, why return to your chair? Well because we have..."

"No, why should I give a shit. Humans had a shot and we fucked it up. Personally, I was doing my best to keel over since I was already pretty much done with life but it turns out my liver just seems to be tougher than I thought.", Clay stared at his drink," Probably should have picked something a little more deadly.", He turned to face Uncle Henry, "That aside, why should I give a shit if the human race continues? I don't care if I continue.", Clay walked over and dropped himself into his chair, holding up his glass to signal a refill watching in fascination as the glass seemed to fill from the bottom up," That would have been handy a few months ago", he muttered then looked at Uncle Henry," Your little pop art already said The Order...and what the hell kinda name is The Order anyhow? Makes it sound like some cosmic drive thru. Anyhow, The Order", his fingers making quotation signs," already said humans were pretty much crap. Does his mighty Order think that humans are gonna somehow pull our collective heads out of our collective asses and fly right? Good fucking luck! We cant even agree on what to order for dinner half the time!"

Uncle Henry stared at Clay for a will, his fingers steepled under his chin, "Tell me Clay Andrews, If you wanted to die then why did you fight?"

Clay shrugged, "Hell if I know...old habits, I guess. You attack me, I fight back.", staring out the window," Guess I should have let that goblin dude rip my throat out.", He looked back to Uncle Henry," By the way, I thought goblins were green, not gray."

"Ah! Goblins from Aleru are gray to help camouflage themselves in the mountainous area they live in", Uncle Henry saw a confused look on Clays face, "Aleru is one of the worlds that is under The Orders domain. And as for humans having a chance to change, I'm not truly expecting it though your race does have a habit of fighting back when challenged. I've seen better prepared races fail. "

"Huh. So, I'm guessing that there is a butt load of worlds this Order controls?"

"Oh yes, a big butt load", Uncle Henry said chuckling," The Order pulls from various planets to seed worlds to be tested. It also pulls multiple challenge worlds apart and recombines them to add new species and ecosystems, which is happening to your planet as we speak. Lastly, it uses ambient energies to create various life forms from legends and myths of the planets being tested. It's quite intriguing!"

"Huh. What are ambient energies? Like electricity and shit?"

"No, something far more complex than that. People from your world call it many things: Chi, mana, life force, even the soul.", Uncle Henry waved his hands about," It's all around us, powering everything and everyone. Take the so-called human soul, it is nothing but a piece of energy that's been given a pattern and shape such as your body and mind. As it ages, the pattern pulls in more energy using it to create smaller, additional patterns within itself that you humans refer to as memories or experiences."

"Huh. The force is real, who'd have guessed. So, when we die, where does this energy go? Heaven, Hell, limbo?"

"Nothing so grand. It goes back into the vast pool of energy around that world. The smaller the population on a planet, the larger the pool, though some planets like your Earth have an exceptionally large pool to draw from. It's because of that massive pool that Earth has garnered a great deal of interest from other worlds. You see, beings can learn to tap into this pool of energy and use it to do nearly miraculous things, including extending their lives infinitely. As you can imagine, that is a very strong draw for many beings."

"Huh. And what happens to the patterns after they get tossed back in the pool?"

"The patterns maintain themselves for a short time while some have even reentered newly created bodies giving your people the idea of reincarnation, though this is exceptionally rare. Eventually, the patterns break down and are lost."

Clay took a sip of his whiskey, "So people who have life after death experiences are actually going to this pool of energy, only to be pulled back when their body is jump started again? What about ghosts?"

"Simply patterns that haven't left the world yet to join the pool."

"And people who say they can summon the dead, or even demons?"

"Those people have learned to tap into and draw energy from the pool, albeit unconsciously, and have used it to create what they visualize is in their minds."

"So, someone can really summon a demon? And the demon can possess people?"

"Sort of and yes. The demon pattern, once created, simply forces itself into the person being possessed and overwrites their pattern. Interestingly, the created patterns have to abide by the rules set forth in the summoners mind when they created the pattern."

"An exorcism?"

"A person with a strong will, or pattern, using their ability to dismantle the possessing pattern."

"Huh. Well, that's some interesting metaphysical shit right there but it still doesn't answer the question as to why I should bother fighting in this contest. Let us humans all go back and jump in the pool, maybe someone can use us to do some good.", Clay set his drink on the desk, leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms and closed his eyes, "Ready to check out, just make it quick."

"Clay Andrews, you don't seem to understand, your race will cease to exist.", Uncle Henry stated in an exasperated tone.

"Yep."

"Your world will be given to others"

"Yep"

"You will cease to exist!"

Clay opened one eye, making a gun finger at Uncle Henry, "Bingo! Now you're getting it!"

"Clay Andrews! There is so much that can be done by the champion of the test! You would be the per-eminent of your race! You would to interact with other being from other worlds, make things better for humans, and that doesn't even count the final prize that the champion receives!"

"Never was big into trophies. All they do is sit around and collect dust."

"It's not some trophy Clay Andrews! It is a boon from The Order itself! It can be anything you desire!", Uncle Henry yelled throwing his hands up," There is almost nothing that cannot be asked for and granted!"

Clay opened his eyes, a spark of interest showing in them, "Anything?"

"Yes Clay Andrews, anything!"

"My weight in gems, a new Ferrari that never needs a fill-up?"

"Anything. Even a Ferrari with endless fuel.", Uncle Henry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Though I would hope the champion would have grander expectations. Plus, the Order maintains it's worlds in a lower technology bracket as it were."

"Can the order bring back the dead?"' Clay asked in a whisper.

Looking up, Uncle Henry saw Clay staring at him intently.

"If the pattern hasn't degraded beyond recover ability, yes. The creation of a new body would be easy enough, then the pattern would be implanted back into it."

Clay closed his eyes, hearing her voice again: "Help them Clay. I'm alright, you need to help them. I love you Clay." When he opened them again, Uncle Henry saw rage and , maybe, determination filling them, "OK, so how do I do this?"

Smiling, Uncle Henry waved his hand to Clay's' right were a model of Clay appeared in nothing but a loin cloth.

"Cripes, that is not a good look for me.", grumbled Clay," At least put some damn pants on me!"

"This is you as you are now with all of your scars, injuries, and age related infirmaries.", then Uncle Henry waved a hand to Clay's left were a second, younger Clay model appeared," And this is how you'll look when you reappear on the new Earth."

Clay climbed to his feet and walked over to his older model eyeing himself critically. He took in the the dirty, tangled mass of graying blonde hair and thick bushy, unkempt beard. His dark blue, wide set eyes were hard and uncaring, over a nose that had been broken and poorly reset. He still remembered the drunk who had broke it by sucker punching him with a beer bottle figuring it would end the scuffle quickly. Clay smirked remembering the drunk howling in pain with both shoulders dislocated. His mouth, almost lost in the vast beard, was set in a permanent scowling sneer. His body has definitely seen better days. He had always been big, slightly over 6'6", but the massive amount of muscle he had used to carry was slowly sliding to fat, especially across his middle. He shoulders were still thick, as were his arms, but the six pack she used to love to run her hands over was covered in a layer of fat. His hands were scarred and covered in callouses with knuckles that had swollen from too many fights and arthritis setting in. His legs were still heavy and strong from all the squats and dead lifts he did in his younger days though. He may have never been a champion lifter, but he was no slouch either.

As he walked around himself, Clay noticed his models back bowing as though he carried the weight of the world on shoulder. Unconsciously, he straightened himself up and pushed his shoulder back smiling as he remembered her telling him to quit slouching because it made him look like a blonde gorilla.

Clay moved over to the younger model of himself. Here he found a doppelganger of when he was in his prime, maybe 34 years old. He was big with powerful muscles that bulged and swelled with every movement. She used to smile just watching his arms work as he tied his work boots on, the corded muscles rippling. He chuckled as he remembered they were late for work more than once just because of him tying his boots.

"This is what you will look like when you get back to Earth. All your infirmaries and ailments will be removed, you will have an increased resistance to disease and poisons, plus you will have the energy and virility you had when you were at this point in your life.", Uncle Henry stated stepping up next to Clay.

"No.", Clay said flatly

""Pardon?"

"No regression. I don't want it. Can you fix everything wrong with me without making me younger?"

"Well, yes", Uncle Henry replied in a confused voice,"but that is quite irregular. Most being jump at the chance to be young again"

"Would it effect any of my ability to move forward if I don't get younger?"

"Um, no...you will have all the same benefits of your younger self and you will be able to grow and strengthen as normal since the body is nothing more that a cosmetic effect for the most part. The true strength comes from the energy that drives it and the willpower of the mind inhabited within it.", Uncle Henry glanced at the older model," You'd rather look like that than this? I had thought vanity was a failing of your race."

Clay looked at Uncle Henry and then walked back over to his older self," Fuck vanity, that just isn't me anymore. That younger me is dead and gone along with the had hopes and aspirations that he had.", Staring at his older self, he continued," But this old bastard has seen a lot, been through a lot and has more than enough disappointments under his belt so that nothing shakes him anymore.", He turned to Uncle Henry," And something tells me this contest of yours is gonna take a mean, cynical asshole to win."