A single light glittered dimly far above, as if the entire night’s starlight canvas had been gathered into a single orb so far out of reach set into a murky black background. Staring up at the darkness didn’t register until Zahn realized the ongoing attacks had finally stopped. Laying flat on his back with his eyes staring up, he’d gone an unknown amount of time without thinking, trying to escape the ongoing cycle of rebirth, pain and death. Blinking took effort, but his dry eyes cried their thanks as he slowly began to come back to life.

Laying flat and breathing was starting to leech the cold from his body and something tugged at the back of his head this wasn’t a good thing. Grunting and coughing with the strain, the single digit rolled himself off the altar Towards the dirty dusty floor. Just as he left the top, his face and all the delicate fleshy bits on his torso were rudely stabbed with rows of blunted stone spikes someone had left surrounding the respawn point. Zahn recoiled at the pain, trying to grab at support when the spikes vanished and he fell hard the three feet to land on his arm. His mana vision had been active for who knew how long, and the stone tomb he’d been locked to was still glowing and held stacks upon stacks of the resurrection spell lined up, but the incandescent glow he’d caused some time before was long gone and the blue coloring from his recent rebirth still swam slowly through the rock.

Turning off his side he fell against yet more small pillars that held for moments before becoming dust and memory. Trying to sit up and gain his bearings, the Player saw every inch of floor around the altar was covered in his graves, their square bases locking together like a macabre overfilled cemetery. Leaning back against a row felt cold and unforgiving before vanishing into dust.

Staggering back to his feet, the Player looked around the dark room and found he could only see the graves by the light given off by the altar in his Mana Sight and he couldn’t make out the doorway. Walking slowly and tapping the graves with his feet, he cleared the room around the altar and sat down, rubbing at his aching head. What happened with the kill squad? Why did they stop? Remembering his briefings back in the Revolution had taught him groups intent on making you suffer don’t normally stop for weekends or meal breaks. He hadn’t been aware of any break from his unending death cycles until this respawn, but the reasons still bothered him.

Staring at the darkness began to annoy him more than the masses of graves, and he opened his status window more for something besides a creepy room to look at than anything else. His first tab opened up on his character screen, and his jaw dropped as he saw the side effects of being killed way too many times in a dark hole.

Name :

Zahn

Class:

Custom

Race :

Human

Sub Class :

N/A

Title(s) :

N/A

Type :

Player

Deity :

N/A

Home :

N/A

Free Stat Points :

0

Free Att Points :

0

Player Level :

1

Total Exp :

18

Alignment :

Chaotic Neutral

Next Level :

82

Health :

74.9

HP Regen :

18.2

Stamina :

68.5

SP Regen :

16.8

Mana :

135

MP Regen :

308

Strength :

7

Muscular powe...

Melee damag...

Constitution :

7

The physical ch...

Total Stamin...

Endurance :

6

The ability or st...

Health regener...

Agility :

6

The power to m...

Ranged dama...

Dexterity :

6

Flexibility an...

Dodge chanc...

Perception :

9

The capacity fo...

Ranged accu...

Intellect :

13

Capacity for th...

Magic damag...

Spirit :

14

The energy of c...

Mana pool...

Charisma :

7

The ability to co...

Social fluen...

Luck :

7

The force or cir...

Beneficial occ...

Willpower :

5

The control of o...

Magic accu...

Will(Passive):

11

He gaped at the drop in his stats, and glared at his level being reduced back to one. Looking around the room in his open-mouthed indignation he found nothing nearby he could vent against and settled for spewing fire in a random direction. The light given off shone against the angled tops of his graves and briefly gave color to the dusty tomb before vanishing against the wall in a spot of soot. Turning back to his tables he flipped through the various bits in his menus trying to find something that would explain what the hell happened to his hard-earned ability scores.

Finally reaching his logs, he found the lists blinking with an urgent pattern that did nothing to show up on his regular daily display. Adding the ‘alerts’ section to his HUD and giving the icon its own real estate on his field of view he turned back to the folder and started to sift through its entries.

The logs showed everything he’d said or heard since coming to the land of Riviana, and the list ran backwards through time showing him the most recent events first. His lack of conversation since entering a private hell showed as a flurry of notifications and almost no sounds picked up from anyone. Zahn flicked past the same message over and over again, the display indicating that he had died followed by the respawn message happily telling him he’d been reduced to level one and could not fall further. As if there’s any further to fall, stupid fucking system. Trying to scroll past them faster and faster left him beginning to panic as the rows spun and spun, his frantic stabbing at the holographic display bordering on manic before he hit a button by mistake.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Would you like to condense similar entries?

Tapping yes he saw the endless rows about his respawns collapse into a pile with something else splitting stacks of death notices apart. Near the beginning, just a few respawns after trying to deal with One in the small room, there was a different notice that seemed to be timed about the life he’d been brought down to level one and answered at least some of his immediate questions. He tapped the notification and it sprang from its listed form into a full popup demanding his attention.

Alert! You have died!

As you have fallen before, you know the toll for your resurrection is one half of your current level’s worth of total experience, rounded up. This donation is given to the Deity that Patrons your resurrection.

Woe be unto ye! You have fallen a Rank!

You have lost a minimum of 10 levels from your highest peak, and have been reduced one complete ranking from your previous record.

Your current level is: 1

Your current Rank is: 0

As you have fallen one full Rank, half of the points you allocated and earned during that time will be removed. You may now begin to gain points for retaking those levels once more.

Woe be unto ye! You have reached your minimum level!

As your highest Rank achieved is: 1 your current lowest level is also: 1

You cannot fall below this level without Divine Will driving the action.

You will no longer lose experience after this level, until you have gained experience to lose once more.

The Gods Themselves have determined that you will return to life at the closest religious Altar in physical proximity to your location of death.

Rebirth is beginning

Zahn left the popup hanging in space as he stood, tapping graves in an effort to clear enough room to pace. Each one he removed granted him a single point of experience as if a joke, and the sheer number of them filling the small room made him wonder how many deaths sat in his log after all. When he’d cleared the room and avoided looking at the glowing square over the altar for a few minutes, the single digit braced himself and walked back to it, reading through the entry several more times.

“So, no exp means no penalty. And reaching ten means I’m stuck at one.” Trying to voice the positives out loud to give them presence did nothing to calm his nerves, and the small room seemed to shrink down around him even further. Dismissing the screen, he turned to the hall to exit and found only the first few feet covered by graves, ending as if out of range. Once the space cleared enough to walk he made his way towards the exit and eyed his clock, showing it was almost noon and for whatever reason his regularly scheduled torture was on some kind of hold.

With eyes glowing to see magic and steps confident on the sands, the nearly nude Player ran into the solid stone wall and crumpled into a heap. Blinking in surprise at the darkness, he tried to spit fire and see what happened to the exit. His small missile left a scorch mark thicker at the bottom before petering out, drawing a soot spoon shape on the otherwise smooth stone that filled the doorway. He ambled to his unsteady feet and slapped a palm against the rock wall, feeling no vibration and hearing nothing echo back at him.

Zahn turned and slumped against the sealed exit, staring at the darkness as he felt his stomach rumble. How the fuck am I gonna break through a stone wall? The small room’s air was getting hotter, and he could feel his panic rising in the darkness.

* * * * *

Sunlight streamed through the open eggshell curtains framing the wide window half-open perched high on the walls of the Temple of the Pantheon. The morning’s rays were generously scattered around the lavishly decorated bedroom of one Cleric of the Light as she stretched in her four-poster bed. Smiling at the familiar sight of her favorite room in the complex, the silk-wrapped holy woman scooted her delicate frame off the soft sheets to settle onto the cushioned bench that seated both her mirror and view of the city. Brushing long golden hair and humming her Lord’s morning prayers always uplifted the young Cleric’s spirits, and if the day’s glory was to be believed the light of her Lord would be shining brightly and warming her heart.

As Gracial turned away from her reflection and gazed out onto the rooftops of the city below she felt the sun’s light warm her bosom and she smiled again out at the world, leaning towards the public out the open window to share her cheer. “May His holy light warm you all, friends! Alucaen loves us!” Her bold declaration made the prioress feel like her Lord was indeed smiling on her directly as she dressed in the light of his glory.

Wrapping the final layer of her silk robes around her ample chest and gazing out the window to the people with a silent prayer of well-wishing, the Cleric spun to give her skirts a whirl before marching out the tall doors of her bedroom and through her sitting room to emerge in the hall. Sunlight glittered through the tall windows lining the hallways where the residents of the Temple had their private quarters, and she knew just where to find her favorite chef to get a breakfast this close to the noontide.

Gracial skipped and smiled her way down the tall hallway, bobbing her head and wishing well at each member of the order she met en route with her outfit dancing and twirling with her movements. The long gold-and-marble patterned silks she’d been awarded by the High Priest accented her slender shoulders well, and she felt the dress-like layered skirts flared cutely each time she bounced. Golden sunlight and bright happy faces greeted her all the way to the private kitchens where the embodiment of sunlight and good cheer sweetly begged a meal from a rather flustered young man who couldn’t stop his roving eyes.

Slipping out of the kitchens with a plate of eggs and a grin, the Cleric forked down her breakfast between nodding ‘good day’s at the various peers she met in the hall and the day’s start was just getting better. Sitting at an empty table near the bar, she found herself listening to a conversation in the common area of the apartments that held her attention longer than she was willing to admit.

The day’s bright gold lights seemed a bit more yellow and pale as she set down the fork on a clean plate, before the Cleric strode her way down the halls towards a specific door. With each step she went over the snippets she knew had been overhead correctly, but even with the scraps she had it was enough. There’s no way she’d return here. It’s not possible. Shaking her hair to clear the troubled thoughts, Gracial paused at a tall window and looked out over North District and towards the castle holding its foul king. Her eyes traced the roads leading from the capital across that dreadful crack and ultimately towards the Temple’s only rival reaching towards the sky. The tree in question stood proudly to the south, its wide ugly limbs holding thin spindles of delicate silver towers and squat stone bricks at their bases looking like icicles and rocks that got stuck up in branches. The unsettling blend of nature and construction even housed holes into the living trunk of the great green giant, letting out light as if to compete against her Lord’s sun.

Straightening her back with a smirk at the foolish Adventurer’s Guild up in their silly tree, Gracial took steps she considered to be calm and paced as she made her way towards the rooms that sat newly occupied. Her path led her past several other priests and holy men who got their due bob and greeting as she steered her way around the obstructions and made quick time towards the most northern halls in the apartments level.

The sun’s yellow light seemed dull and faded, as if reflected off a dirty iron mirror. As she rounded the bend she found a strange pair standing guard outside the closed door and a shadow she could almost feel hanging over the sealed portal. The man sat against the far wall staring at the ground as if in shock, and the girl knelt before the doors with her hands clasped in prayer.

Putting a smile back on her face, Gracial approached the duo on her clicking heels and gave greetings. “Hello and fair day, sister. Sir. What’s going on here?” She tried to keep her voice level, but trying to keep the gossip down was becoming an almost physical struggle.

The girl stood and showed herself to be Sister Hannua of the main ceremonies. “Our dear sister has been struck down by darkness, and we must seek to aid her. I’ve been praying all morning, and she’s finally gone to rest.” As the Priestess finished speaking, the shadows clinging to the hall seemed to shake and vibrate like a spider’s web, sending Gracial darting to the side in panic as a scream rose from behind the doors.

The wailing broke the dirty man’s stupor as his head snapped upwards to stare at the doors with tears in his eyes. “We can’t make it stop. We tried. Did everything.” His voice was weak and wavering, prompting Gracial to kneel at his side and pat him comfortingly.

“Tell me everything,” she tried leaning in towards him but his gaze didn’t flicker or stray. “I will grant you the blessings, and forgiveness, of our Lord. Confide in me, let me take in the sin.”

He seemed to respond to her usual rote, and finally turned from the doors to look past her with haunted eyes. “It started early morning, yesterday. She came back from a Raid, and her group split up. She was talking about putting together another group to handle other Dungeons. I wanted to join up and get out of South, but.” His eyes focused on her face, and he seemed to be asking for something. “I wanted to help. I wanted to get out, help her, make a name in another Dungeon somewhere. Nobody wants to be stuck at the first one they find, right?”

Gracial patted his head again, nodding and murmuring assurances he didn’t seem to hear. His story continued as he turned back to that damn door and spoke like the most beautiful woman in the building wasn’t at his side. “It was just one at first, she was talking then snapped her head round, almost bit her tongue. Said it was nothing, but. It kept happening.” He swallowed, letting his head fall back against the wall as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, “It just kept happening. I thought it was a fit, some kind of seizure. Then she opened her eyes,” he copied the action, letting tears fall as he stared blindly at the ceiling far above. “I’ve never seen a curse like that. Purple and black, like lightning and shadow had evil spawn and hex our healer! She grabbed my arm and whispered, she said, ‘help me’, and then just screamed.”

The man grabbed his head in both hands and bucked against the wall, oblivious to the hallway as he relived the memory. “She screamed and wailed, the whole room jumped to it. Guildmaster shat himself, Robie fetched the guards and Franci, she. She tried to dispel, to heal, to cure.” He shook his head like a dog, making Gracial step back. An incurable curse wasn’t something that she’d never heard of, but to fall on one of her own order? “The screaming never stopped, over and over again she spazzed on the floor! Broke stools, tables flying, everyone and their mother casting!” Slamming both hands against the floor he looked up at the Cleric from his prone position, tears falling freely. “I did everything I could! I promise! Nothing helped! We brought her here, we don’t know what to do! It just!” As if to echo his description, the shadows flickered again and another anguished wail burst from behind the door, prompting Hannua to shudder and grip her clasped hands harder.

Nodding to herself, Gracial placed a hand on the broken man’s head and murmured a Minor Healing spell, sending him to sleep with a pulse of golden light. She looked again at the dark doors before covering her mouth to hide another smirk. Serves you right for leaving, San Licht. Stepping lightly away from the scene, she called out to Sister Hannua over her shoulder. “Make sure that guild fetches their little Adventurer, there’s no reason for him to loiter about. Our dear sister is in good hands now that she’s come home.” Without waiting for a reply, the Cleric skipped her way back around the bend and into the halls well-lit with her Lord’s grace.

And I have to meet with the Head Priest about our new guest.

* * * * *

In the dark room, the light given off by the altar was the brightest thing to Zahn’s magic vision, but it wasn’t the only thing he could see. When he spent the ten seconds of time needed to charge it up to full power, his Mana Sight showed what he concluded to be the sun through the tarp-wrapped ceiling. Far above and away, a tiny little circle flickered its meager light down onto the struggling Player trapped under solid stone. Jumping at the canvas felt as foolish as it must have looked, but in the privacy of one’s own tomb he had room to embarrass himself. Standing on the three foot tall slab of rock that made up the altar gave him enough reach to grab at the thick cloths but only some dirt and sand pulled away with the scraps of tarp. Slapping and punching at it felt like hitting into rocks or wood beams, and Fire Spit illuminated next to nothing.

Sitting on the altar with his head in hands, Zahn tried to puzzle out how to open the rock wall. Something kept nagging at him, as if he’d missed something important, but the thoughts were slow to form. Holding his skull in one hand he slapped himself with the other, trying to prompt something to shake loose and give him an edge, a tool, a spell. A spell? Blinking at himself and his own sheer stupidity, he straightened up and summoned his Grimoire.

The magical floating book had been missing since his attempt to modify a spellform - something he now remembered he hadn’t bothered to try since - and it gave off its own light in the otherwise shrouded room. Glancing around the dim light with a measure of relief, the lowbie coughed on the hot dusty air and tried flipping through his pages to find anything he could use. Turning to the Mind Battle entry he tapped the psychic pages and imagined sending that idiot Burnato into a magical coma. He tried to picture using it on One but found the daydream interrupted with her evil silver scythe.

Turning the pages with a shudder, he flipped around the limited selection and swore to himself that he’d get more spells before he found an obvious answer and froze. The open page showed a chain of circles in a line, each with their own symbol nested at different angles of the circle and below the chain a single loop with seven symbols filling the inside.

“The door. The fucking door!” Jumping to his feet and running down the hall, Zahn slapped a hand against the rock and tried to draw. With his Mana Sight active at its highest potency he could easily see his body lit up with mana and his hands outlined in blue and white. Trying to trace on the stone did nothing, and he was cursing when he remembered that activating the door the first time took a mana donation. Pressing his finger with focus against the rock, the lowbie tried to send energy out the digit as he traced the path for a circle.

Frustratingly, the stone didn’t keep his mana in the same areas he’d marked and it sucked up the power like a dry sponge to spread the energy through itself like the altar had. He scowled as he watched the swirls of his own personal mana spread out left and right, diffusing into the rock. More aggravating still, he watched the colors expand well past the edges of his doorway and the magnitude of their crime against him became clear.

“They built an entire fucking wall over my door!”

Staring aghast at the evidence he’d been covered up and forgotten, Zahn heaved a breath to scream at the injustice when the air caught in his throat again. Coughing and hacking he fell to a knee and tried to breathe steadily, finding the heat and dust getting worse. If they sealed me in for real, there’d be no way to get fresh air. I’ll suffocate just to respawn here. The quest telling him how to leave had already clearly spelled out he’d need to join the ranks of the fighters and win but now he felt the pressure of being trapped forever in a small room weighing against him. “Nope. Nope. No way, not it. Not happening.”

Denying reality helped him steady his breaths but his racing mind wouldn’t calm so easily. Gotta mark the wall. Gotta write the shapes, mana power ‘em, then I get air. Gotta carve. Scrambling to his feet, he flipped the pages of his book to the fire section and turned the tome to try and find any tool in the room that was left. Searching by the dim light of his pages’ text, he scoured the room from corner to corner, scraping together a sliver of wood smaller than his finger and what looked like half a staple embedded into it. At some point since his arrival someone had cleaned out the various debris and cloth he’d once seen scattered around, but whoever had been stuck on cleaning duty had left him a fragment of hope.

Grasping the wall carefully, he pulled the thin metal along the rock in straight lines, trying to carve the first of the symbols that activated the opening magic. The shape was similar to a capital E if the lines were re-arranged by an art student who also murdered an F at some point. The straight lines of the shape looked the simplest to start with, and the air was getting thinner and hotter with each breath.

Dragging the tool down the rock had Zahn panting and pressing his face closer and closer to the art, before his nerves and adrenaline broke his writing tool. The snippet of wood cracked in two before snapping and fraying into useless wood fiber as he tried to forcefully grip the bits back together. Letting out an anguished yowl the Player slammed a hand against the rock, taking a deep breath before hollering his anger at the world. His psyched-up body had already filled him with enough mana to power the altar for days, and the tightening in his throat indicated something fiery was making itself known. Opening his squinted eyes Zahn saw by drawing out the Fire Spit attack he’d effectively learned how to breathe out fire, and was currently imitating a dragon all over the blocked exit scorching soot everywhere.

You have learned: Fire Breath!

You have unlocked the Ability: Augmentation!

While using Augmentation, you can modify any spell you already know with any spell modifier that applies to the relevant spellform! See your Tome for more details.

Blinking the popup away, Zahn coughed out a sigh as he realized spewing fire had likely burned up the bulk of his remaining air. He swiped at the stone, rubbing at his face before he tasted soot and spat, cursing himself and glaring at the filthy door. Covered in soot. Which my fingers drew lines in. Holy fuck how am I so stupid.

Standing in a rush, Zahn sucked in another breath before launching another Fire Breath attack against his exit, blackening a thick band from left to right near eye level. Shooting a stream of fire into a blocked corner wasn’t something he’d planned for, and the red and orange flames biting back at his eyes were scary enough even without the sounds of sparks and crackling air. Making two passes over the line he clamped his jaw shut and coughed at the smoke, waving a hand to clear the air. Trying to breathe was becoming more of a struggle than fighting the gladiators and he fell back to the ground.

Mercifully, the air near ankle level was almost cool by comparison and he could taste the stink of sweat instead of smoke. It fuckin stinks in here. What have I been putting up with? Sucking in the fresher air, he pulled his Grimoire close and turned back to the only page he had on Earth magic. Zahn traced the symbols with a finger in the book to judge the spacing before holding his breath to stand, facing his new canvas and starting his latest finger painting.