Sudden comprehension flooded his father’s face and his eyes began to light up. “You’re right, you know the future! You can bet on every game and make a ton of money! Then, we can invest it in stocks and become rich!”
While he was happy that his father approved of his scheme, he had to dissuade him from a few misconceptions. “I don’t remember any other sports games, and I definitely don’t know anything about stocks. Remember, it’s been ten years for me, and I was a teenager at the time. The only reason I even knew the final score was because it was the last Mega-bowl before Invasion day, and it was such an upset. Without any other entertainment, people talked about it for years.”
“But you ARE a teenager,” his mother protested.
Blake sighed. “Maybe physically, but not mentally.”
“Upset?” his father interrupted. “Does that mean Cincinnati finally won a Mega-bowl?”
Blake nodded. “Yeah, Miami was ahead for almost the entire game. Then, at the end of the fourth quarter, after Cincinnati scored a touchdown, they intercepted a pass and scored another. They were able to tie Miami, and the game went into overtime. At the end of overtime, the score was still tied, and they had to start another. But, Cincinnati was able to make a field goal and won the game.”
“That sounds like a great game.” Peter admitted. “But now you ruined it for me.”
Blake agreed. “It probably was. I only saw a bit of it while I waited tables. You were back in the kitchen.”
Peter sighed. “Of course I was. Did we do good business that night at least?”
“Stop getting distracted, honey.” His mother admonished her husband. She then turned back to Blake. “Now, how are you planning on placing a bet?”
“I remember there used to be online betting websites, right? Aren’t they legal?” he asked with a yawn.
Peter nodded. “Yeah, although I don’t know the rules.”
“Neither do I,” he admitted. “I was going to look them up tomorrow after I got some sleep.”
“That’s a good idea,” his mother added. “It’s already after midnight. Take a shower and go to bed. We can continue this conversation in the morning.”
He could see by their glances to each other, they still had questions but was glad they were going to give him time to rest.
Blake nodded. “What time do you have to leave in the morning? I don’t remember.”
“We open at eleven, so I usually get there thirty minutes before.”
Blake stood and stretched. “Okay, I’ll talk to you two again at breakfast. A hot shower sounds amazing right now.”
After another round of hugs, he took a long, luxurious shower to relax his sore muscles. Afterward, he collapsed into bed and fell asleep almost instantly.
----------------------------------------
The smell of bacon woke him from his slumber. For a moment he was unsure of where he was and sat up panicked, but then the events of the last day flooded into his brain, he calmed himself.
Blake rubbed his eyes and then stretched before he put on a new set of clothes. He stumbled downstairs to the kitchen, where he met his father behind the stove.
“Mornin’ sleepyhead.” Peter said, chipper.
Blake grunted and lifted the pot of fresh brewed coffee.
“You drink coffee now?” his dad asked. When Blake added nothing extra to the mug, his father observed. “AND you take it black.”
He only nodded his head once more, cradled the steaming cup in his hands, and stumbled to the nearby table. Blake took a hesitant sip and grimaced after he burned his lips. He enjoyed it regardless.
Real fresh coffee! My friends would have killed for this!
He glanced around the brightly lit kitchen. It remained as he remembered it, the round table pushed to the windowed corner, the creaky chair that Oliver broke, and the stained coffee carafe. His father insisted the stain added flavor to the brew.
“So,” His father interrupted his memories. “I couldn’t wait, so I looked up the rules online for betting. It looks like the max payout in Arizona for football is $1 million. No matter how many bets you make, you can’t receive more than that, and the payout varies wildly depending on the final score. What was it, by the way?”
“24-21” Blake mumbled.
Peter picked up his phone and noted the score. “Your mother and I talked. First, we want to assure you that we believe you. And we want to chip in as well. We have a couple thousand in the bank, and while it’s not much, it’ll help us reach that million dollar payout. Also, it takes a bit to transfer money from the bank to the website and get the account set up. Since you aren’t twenty-one, I’ll handle it.”
Blake nodded gratefully.
“But I guess you actually ARE older than twenty-one.” His father shook his head at the thought and continued. “Your mother will sell the chain for you as well. They require ID and with the police wanting you for questioning, we don’t think it's a good idea for you to show up there.”
He snorted. “They’ll probably think I stole it.”
“Who will think you’re a thief?” Donna asked as she walked into the room after missing the beginning of the conversation.
“Everybody.” Peter said sardonically.
Blake smiled. “Thanks for helping me out with all this stuff. Honestly, I was afraid I was going to have to handle everything myself. It really takes away a lot of stress now that I can just focus on completing scenarios.”
“We’re happy to help, son.” His father said as he flipped the bacon.
“I’m actually kind of surprised you two believed me so quickly.”
“Well, there’s that… creature… you summoned last night,” His mother explained. “But also… you carry yourself differently. It’s not just that, either. You talk differently and even sound different. You have far more confidence than I can ever remember, and your eyes… Well, you’ve obviously seen some things.” His mother gave him a hug. “Just… be careful, Blake. What you’re doing sounds dangerous.”
“Oh, it's very dangerous,” he agreed. “But, I’ve been doing it for ten years now, although I always had help. You don’t live that long if you aren’t careful.”
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Peter turned off the burner and carried the last of the food to the table, where he joined them to eat. After his father wolfed down some bacon, he asked, “These ‘goblins’ you’re killing, are they like machines, or a simulation the AI makes, like a computer game?”
Blake shook his head. After he finished chewing his food and swallowed it, he replied, “No, they’re real. The portals actually teleport you to another planet, as I mentioned last night.”
“They’re real?!” His mother blurted. “With how nonchalant you sounded about killing them, I just assumed the AI created them somehow. Are they evil or something?”
“I don’t know about evil, but when they come to Earth, they have no qualms with killing us.”
Donna’s eyes widened at the idea of goblins in the street, hunting people.
“That may be so, Blake, but that doesn’t make it right,” she said with a frown.
“Of course it isn’t right,” he agreed. “There’s nothing good or right about any of this. But, unless you want the entire human race to just die out or become slaves, it's the only choice we have. We have to grow strong enough to protect ourselves, and completing the scenarios is the only way to do that.”
“Are the goblins intelligent?” Peter asked.
“On average, they’re about as smart as a six-year-old. But, when you go against the higher level goblins, they can be pretty clever. They’re smart enough to lay traps or even try to distract you with diplomacy while they flank you.”
“Wait, they can talk!?” his mother exclaimed. “Like in English?”
Blake nodded as he chewed his eggs.
“How is that possible?” she asked as she pushed more eggs onto his plate.
He shrugged and swallowed. “I don’t know how the AI does half of what it does, but it translates all speech in real-time. I think it even alters our vision so it looks like they’re pronouncing English rather than whatever language they’re actually speaking.”
“Do you have to go fight goblins? Are there any portals to non-intelligent creatures? Didn’t you say monsters are going to invade?”
“Mom, I call anyone who tries to kill me a monster. Is the gang that killed you two any less monstrous because they looked like us?” She absently shook her head. “I know what you’re saying though, I went through it as well in the beginning. Almost everyone did. But, I had to get over the moral implications of the situation, or I would’ve died from the very creature I was unwilling to kill.”
“Self-defense is different,” his father pointed out.
“Okay, how about this then? Let’s say you go through a portal to their world and stand in the middle of a field peacefully. If they attack you, is it self-defense to fight back?”
“Of course,” he nodded.
“But, you knowingly went to their world, when you could’ve stayed on Earth and never been in that situation. Once you enter the portal, it becomes either you or them. Neither side can leave the area until the other dies. You went there knowing you would HAVE to fight, because there was no other option.”
Peter frowned. “Okay, then I guess it wouldn’t be self-defense. Can’t you wait until they show up on Earth and kill them here, then?”
Blake shook his head. “That’s what most people did. Unfortunately, because they waited, they were too weak and died. The only ones who lived were either lucky or had someone who WAS willing to kill protecting them.”
Silence fell on the table as they digested his reasoning. As in most important things, there was no easy or perfect solution. Donna suddenly stood and insisted he have toast with his breakfast. She busied herself with the bread.
After a bit, he decided to throw them a bone. “If it makes you feel any better, the two other portals nearby have dumb monsters which can’t speak.”
“Why don’t you fight them then?” His father asked.
“Because goblins are small, weak, and have weapons I can use. On the other hand, the Ursa are huge, hard to kill, and have six-inch claws.” He then added, “The Manders aren’t much better, and their caves suck.”
“Ursa aren’t bears, are they?” his mother murmured as she returned with hot crispy bread for his plate.
“Kind of. I’d say they’re bear-adjacent”, he explained, and then smiled as he saw his mother remembered how much he loved strawberry jelly on his toast.
“So, in the future, does everyone just fight the goblins and ignore the others?” his father interrupted.
Blake shook his head as he finished the first triangle of bread. “No. Once you increase your attributes and gain a class, the monsters actually become easier to kill than the goblins.”
Donna asked, “Why is that?”
“Those with singular classes gain one spell per level. A beginning spell usually has a cooldown of a few seconds to a few minutes. If you can dodge a goblin’s spell or block it, they become almost defenseless. But, when you’re fighting an entire group of goblins, it’s almost impossible to avoid taking damage. When you fight an Ursa though, it’s against a single monster. They’re stronger and deadlier, but only have a single ability. It’s much easier to avoid or wait out a single spell than ten or fifteen.”
“How long until you get a class?” his father asked, he finished his coffee and stood to brew another pot.
“Not for a long while,” Blake said solemnly. “I’m going to omni-class.”
“What’s that?”
Blake took a deep breath. While he was glad for their attention, he felt as if he was explaining elementary concepts to them. “To explain that, I have to go into a bit more detail. So, there are four types of magic, or energy if you prefer, that a class can give you access to. Chi is one of them, it’s what I used before. It allows you to alter your body, or through touch, someone else's.”
“Alter?” His mother interrupted. “In what way?”
“All kinds of ways. With chi, you can heal yourself or someone else, you can make yourself stronger or your enemy weaker. You can destroy their body, or harden your skin and bones so they become almost invulnerable.”
“That sounds pretty strong.” His father admitted.
“It is, but that’s just one of the four magic types. There’s also mana, which allows you to control the world around you. You can throw fireballs, strike with lightning, create a shield of hardened air, or turn the ground into quicksand. Unlike chi, it allows you to attack from a distance.”
“That sounds a lot safer.” Donna stated.
“It can be, but once your magic is expended, or interrupted, you're helpless.”
“Wouldn’t it be the same for chi?” Peter asked.
Once again, the aroma of fresh coffee filled the kitchen. Blake took a moment to breathe deeply, comforted by the familiar smell.
“Not really. People with chi almost always upgrade their physical attributes. They’re always stronger, faster, and harder to kill. Mana users, with some exceptions, generally focus on making their magic stronger. If they don’t, their spells aren’t potent enough to kill outright.”
Peter frowned. “Couldn’t a chi user just protect the mana user, so you have the best of both worlds?”
Blake smiled. “That’s exactly what happens. My job as a chi warrior was to protect my group while they attacked or disabled the enemy. Usually by putting myself between them and our target. I could hurt the enemy as well, but not nearly as fast as they could.”
“You don’t want to choose that again?” his mother asked, he could tell she was not happy when he mentioned the close combat.
“No, I want access to all four types of magic.” Before they could interrupt again, he raised his hand to stop them. “Let me finish first before you ask more questions. Chi and mana are the most popular forms of magic, but there’s two more: psionic energy and the aether. Psionic energy, or psi for short, allows you to affect your enemy mentally. You can stun them, control them, and confuse them. You can also move things with your mind, scout with remote viewing, and communicate with people telepathically.”
“Why isn’t that more popular?” Peter interrupted.
Blake ignored the question and continued. “The aether, on the other hand, allows you to control space and time. With it, you can teleport across the planet, control gravity, create force fields, illusions, or turn yourself and your group invisible.”
“That sounds incredibly powerful,” his father interrupted again. “Way more powerful than chi or mana.”
“It’s not.” Blake disagreed. “If you notice, I didn’t mention a single aether spell that would directly damage your enemy. Aether users are all about disrupting the battlefield and providing utility to your group. Every party wants one, but not many people want to go through a fight where they don’t directly contribute. For whatever reason, people who are willing to fight and kill don’t like filling a support position.”
“You said you want a class that can use all four energy types, right? Why doesn’t everyone just do that?” his mother asked.
“A few people do, but they’re always weaker than those who choose a class with access to only one.”
His father’s brows wrinkled as he poured himself a fresh cup of coffee and offered Blake and his wife some. “That doesn’t make any sense. You have all four types…”
Blake smiled but declined the drink. “Not just all four types, you also get four spells per level as well, not just one. But… there's a catch. It takes eight times longer to level.”