I had found the crabs. Some of them anyway. They had gathered in a small alcove only a short walking distance from the fisherman. Dozens of red, armored fiends roamed in the shadow of a large rock taking in the cold white sun.
I remembered eating these creatures when the iron chefs would make them, and I read about them in the tomes of the overworld but had never seen a living before. It came as no surprise that they resembled the ancient demonic apparition known as a crustaceofax, a despicable beast that could snap a shield in half with its giant pincers. These red monsters, however, came barely up to my knees and though I clasped no weapon, I was certain it would take little effort to slay them on the fisherman’s behalf.
The crabs seemed skittish, so I simply walked up to the first and stomped on it using some, but not all my force. By demonic trickery alone the slippery beast skittered away with a crack in its armor. This angered me greatly. Even more so because as it crawled away so suddenly, my stomping foot slid away and with it, I tripped. In a heartbeat, I landed with my back on the fine white sand.
A travesty it was. Compounded by a sense of shame that I hadn’t felt since the first and with that, the last time I dropped my shield as a fledgling warrior.
To add even more humiliation on top, the demon-possessed animal animated its brethren to swarm me. Within moments, my glorious body was covered in crabs of all sizes, pinching and cutting me mercilessly. I let out a battle cry and swung my arms shamefully like a spasming fool. If only my sons could see me now how little would they think of me?
I managed to slam my fist into one of the animals using all the force I could muster, but despite cracking its armor, the beast continued to live. And attack.
Another crab pinched my little toe so hard, I was afraid it was about to snap off.
“No!” I cried, terrified of this nightmarish new world. I was Shieldfather, the Bulwark in the Night, the Bastion’s own blood and meat, and here I was fighting for my life against… food.
“Know your place, hellish scum!” I commanded, flinging one against a rock. A loud crack echoed, and the insidious little beast dropped and remained seemingly unmoving.
YOU HAVE KILLED: CRAB
EXPERIENCE GAINED: +7
EXPERIENCE: 7/80
LEVEL: 1
I barely noticed the scribbling before my eyes as I was still locked into battle with several other crustacean hell spawns. As if they knew what I needed, the words vanished quickly and left another blinking spot next to the ‘level 1’.
“You will not defeat me!” I yelled, making it clear to the slaves of darkness surrounding me that they were in the presence of great fortitude and willpower.
Whether my words had any effect on their rotten souls was difficult to tell since I suffered more wounds, gashes, and cuts before I managed to stomp out two more crabs and, with tremendous difficulty, dismember a third.
During this righteous struggle against the fisherman’s menace, I noticed yet another message blurring my vision and stealing my focus.
HEALTH: 43/90
Apparently, as the wounds mounted, my meager health counter slid quickly away. I decided not to brood over the fact I once had a health bar in the thousands but simply accepted the curse the gods bestowed upon me, and continued my ascent toward a power I once knew.
As I willed my anger into violence, landing blow upon blow on the tenth crab and taking its life, a small chime rang inside my skull.
QUEST: CRUSTACEAN ANNIHILATION COMPLETE:
RETURN TO FISHERMAN GODFREY FOR YOUR REWARD.
“So be it, Godfrey,” I grunted in pain and stood victoriously above the dead crabs. A faint light came from within their bodies.
Many more still lived, but they slowly crawled back to the safety of the large rock behind them.
“Learn from your foolish brethren, creatures. Death awaits those who let their soul be consumed by Ta’neer’s hatred.”
The crabs, both terrified by the prospect of facing someone who just killed their numbers and the cautionary words I humbly offered, retreated ever deeper into the crevasses of the rocks. There they would consider their actions, surely, and perhaps learn from the mistakes for which their cursed kinsmen suffered a legendary death.
Remembering the words of the fisherman, I knelt next to the closest dead fiend and reached for its carcass. A dim white glow surrounded the creature and as my fingers touched its cracked shell, a small square appeared within my vision. I shook my head violently at first, but then told myself to practice patience rather than anger, allowing my eyes to scan this curious thing. The demons of Hell never dropped loot, but I was familiar enough with the workings of the Soulforge to know what it meant.
A message sat above the square with another question.
LOOT ALL?
YES/NO
I accepted, remembering Godfrey’s words for I might find a piece of clothing to hide that which was a tragedy to hide.
YOU LOOT: 18X CRAB LEGS, 3X CRAB PINCERS, 4X CRAB SHELLS.
I heard a soft sound that reminded me of the clank of iron against wood and another square appeared that said ‘INVENTORY’. There I could see small images resembling the crab parts. I focused on the crab shell for a brief moment until I realized I could carry the carcass of this dead fiend as a shield.
“How low will I stoop?“ I demanded but no wisdom came from the crashing of the waves or the rustling of the palm leaves. I equipped the crab shell, scanning it carefully. A protrusion on the inside allowed me to grab it like a small shield. A sense of calm washed over me for a moment. This was no shield, but yet, in this fever dream of a world, it could be. For now.
I curled my fingers around the handle-like piece of crab armor and more words sprung into my mind.
CRAB SHELL
TYPE: SHIELD
DEFENSE: 1
DESCRIPTION: It’s a crab shell. Really, just keep looking.
“Curious,” I muttered, “Keep looking for what, demon whispers? Huh? Is there more I should know?”
No other words appeared so I decided to return to the fisherman and see what answers the old man could provide.
“You did it,” he said excitedly, looking me up and down. “Helva save us, you’re pretty beat up.”
“I have suffered many wounds, but I carry them with pride. Your crabs have proven to be decent adversaries, old man. It is no wonder considering the demonic incursion that took hold upon their souls.”
“The what? Are you sure?”
What an insolent question by a pitiful creature.
“You question my insight, fisherman Godfrey? I have slain more demons than there are grains of sand on this beach. You speak in ignorance so I forgive you, but know not to question a Shieldfather when he speaks of demons.”
“I will… know not to, umm, Shieldfather,” the man replied and then cleared his throat. “So, no clothes from the crabs, is it?”
“No.”
Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.
“Oh boy, alright. Let’s finish up with them quest and take it from there, I guess. There might be more words and flashing things so please don’t hurt me. It’s no demon magic, I promise.”
“I will be the judge of that,” I said, but seeing the fear in Godfrey’s eyes, my heart softened and I decided to promise no violence until I was absolutely certain of demonic influence. A new list of words dirtied my vision.
QUEST COMPLETE!
REWARD: 20 EXPERIENCE POINTS.
Just as I read those words, a powerful surge of vitality erupted from within my bronze stature. The sensation was like no other and my whole body shook in unfathomable pleasure. The many wounds I had suffered disappeared and my health seemed to have replenished instantly. The feeling wasn't new, on the contrary, I felt it many, many times before, 98 times to be precise. Yet I had reached my level cap so long ago that I had forgotten the joy of leveling up.
“Shieldfather, sir, please take this,” the fisherman said covering his eyes and handing me a torn piece of cloth.
“Why do you cover your eyes, old man? Has something about me changed?”
“No, well, you leveled up, and that has… you’ve enjoyed it a bit too much.”
Only then did I notice my bronze spear pointing up at the fisherman.
“Yes, Godfrey. I see. It troubles you to comprehend it in all of its magnificence. I can understand that. Many an eye was blinded by the sheer sight. You are smart to cover yours.”
“Uh-huh, please take the cloth,” the fisherman urged him once more.
I did as asked and then covered my manhood to the dismay of this world and its gods.
“Now, isn’t that better, eh?” Godfrey said. “And that feeling you’ve just experienced is a level-up, my good man. You’re now a level 2 and you’ll be able to see your stat sheet now and, what’s more, you’ll get to pick a class.”
“Your words are a twisting storm of meaningless sounds to me, Godfrey. But alas, I know what it is to reach a new level. I’ve reached many before. But as the rattlewyrm rattles and the mudgorger gorges, old days may yet be new.”
The fisherman looked me up with tired eyes. A rude gesture by an impatient old man. I could have offered such an insult in return but knew better of it.
“You, umm, ye can select the blinking things in yer head now and all. I dunno how it’s properly done, but yer a smart man, I wager.”
“I have spent every morning embellishing my mind with books of the overworld, Godfrey, while the greatest Steelspeakers of Tartarus brought clarity and wisdom to my studies.”
Godfrey offered me a tight-lipped smile then repeated his words about the blinking things. I decided to indulge him. Though many things in this nightmare had proven strange and fickle, Godfrey so far hadn’t lied to me, yet I still felt I had to tread carefully, nonetheless. A demon would gladly extend its foul hand to a drowning man if that meant it could snatch him away from a quick death and replace that with lavish torture.
YOU ARE NOW LEVEL 2! CONGRATULATIONS!
YOU CAN NOW PICK A CLASS:
1. WARRIOR
2. PALADIN
3. MONK
4. BARBARIAN
5. HUNTER
I scoffed at those choices. I was a warrior already, there was no doubt about it. I was a paladin, stalwart in his defense and respect for the elders. I was a monk, a creature of martial and intellectual prowess. I was no barbarian, that was an insult steeped in ignorance and yes, I was a hunter, a hunter of demon heads.
There was but one path in my previous life. That of a Cohort Ascendant, a Shieldson, and Shieldfather, and yet here the gods found it amusing to take that choice from me and offer a myriad of insulting titles.
“I am many things,” I explained to Godfrey. “What does this choice offer me, truly?”
“I knew this wouldn’t go over easy,” the old fisherman said, combing his oily grey hair back. “In this world, you can only pick one of these classes. The Spiritvine, that is the system we have—”
“The Soulforge, Godfrey. That is its name.”
“Aye, sure, Shieldfather. Some may call it that, others call it the Overtruth, in the north they call it the Frostwhisper. Me wife calls it my missed opportunity…”
Godfrey shook his head and continued.
“That said, this thing will only let you pick yer class based on yer race which… is?”
“My race? I am Shieldfater.”
“Yes, my big bronze fellow, but you’re not a human, right? You’re not an elf or a dwarf or an orc or a troll, yes?”
What madness to even consider such thoughts.
“I am Shieldfather, Godfrey.”
“What are your people called, Shieldfather?” Godfrey asked, sounding ever more exhausted.
“There are many names,” I said as a sudden sorrow washed over me.
I gazed at a flock of birds gathered above the great sea. In hell, only the demons took to the skies and there was no serenity in such a sight.
“Just… any name, Shieldfather.”
“We are the children of Ra’een, the Prime Protector, brother to the Angel Arbiter, curse his name. We are the disciples of the First Father Oomer, the Bastion’s Redeemer,” I said and clasped my hands above my head, thanking Great Oomer for his blessings. “We are known as the Vainar, the Oomerian Cohort, the Vok’ta of Hemenbreight, the Steel Bastion’s Thorns, and—”
“Vainar, eh?” Godfrey said. “Never heard of it, but what do I know? I’m just an ol’ fisherman, ain’t I?”
“Hmm,” I muttered. “So you say.”
“Well, my Vainar friend, your race doesn’t seem all that magical to me so that’s why ye haven’t been offered a mage or druid class or anything like it.”
“Magic,” I hissed. “That is for the Steelspeakers. A Shieldfather does not dabble in the arcane arts.”
“Well… listen, let me just say this one thing, and then you can go wherever you want to. You call yourself Shieldfather, eh? So I guess you like shields, hmm?”
“Hmm.”
“Good. Then ye know ye should be a warrior. Them good men carry the heaviest weapons and… well, paladins do to but they have them magics and ye don’t want that now, do ye?”
“You treat me like a fledgling shieldboy,” I snapped, feeling anger rise within me again. “I’ve fought with spear, sword, mace, and polearm for longer than you and your forefathers have walked this strange land.”
“What? How old are you?”
“I’m 3,015 cycles old,” I said proudly.
“What’s that in years?”
“In years? You should ask me what it is in blood shed at the precipice of the unmaker’s realm. What it is in demon tides swarming the great chasm-ribbed walls like a blanket of thousandfold legs craving for the meat of your face.”
“Good Helva,” Godfrey gasped.
“A second in divine defense is a year to a Shieldfather. A year in which he hears his heart beat against the plate on his chest, his grip tightens around the virilian handle of his sword, the rotten breath of hell on his neck, iron! I must return,” I said bashing my teeth together.
This was unbearable. Why was I in this place? Where even was hell and could I return without becoming a demon myself?
When I finally tore my gaze from the inwardly and looked at poor Godfrey, the man was standing five feet away from me.
“You were just standing there gnashing your teeth. I—”
“Don’t apologize, Godfrey. I’ve been a difficult man for you. You said I should pick the warrior class? Will it get me to hell sooner?”
Godfrey seemed to ponder this for a short bit then nodded confidently.
“Nobody dies like a warrior.”
“I enjoy words of praise. Very well then.”
I had nothing to lose and if Godfrey’s words proved true, not much to gain either. I was a warrior already and trivial nomenclature wouldn’t change that. As I selected the warrior class, another string of words appeared.
CHOOSE YOUR SPECIALIZATION
IRON TOWER: Fight with a one-handed weapon and shield. TOWER warriors make great tanks, but can still do moderate damage to their opponents.
BLADE DANCER: Fight with two one-handed weapons. BLADEDANCER warriors excel offensively but offer little resistance and protection.
COMMANDER: Fight with a myriad of different weapons and styles. COMMANDER warriors excel in strategy, offering powerful buffs and crowd control at the expense of offensive and defensive abilities.
It didn’t take me long to decide on the specialization. I picked the Iron Tower and another image flashed in his mind.
CONGRATULATIONS, YOU ARE NOW AN IRON TOWER WARRIOR.
YOU HAVE GAINED ACCESS TO 2 BASIC ABILITIES,
SHIELD SLAM: slam your shield into an enemy, stunning it for 2 seconds and causing minor damage [10 seconds cooldown].
TAUNT: Taunt up to 2 enemies to attack you for 6 seconds [1 Minute Cooldown]
I groaned at those words. A pathetic array of basic abilities locked behind senseless cooldowns. I was once again reminded of my standing in this world and it was at the very, very bottom where no Shieldfather should ever find himself. With the power of my iron will, I mustered on through the boresome words of the Soulforge.
YOU CAN SELECT 1 UNIQUE ABILITY
IRON TOWER INCARNATE: Reduce all incoming damage by 50% for 20 seconds [5 Minute Cooldown].
RAGE AGAINST DEATH: Increase all damage dealt by 200% when below 20% health [Passive].
THORNS OF IRON: Reflect 50% damage for 10 seconds [5 Minute Cooldown].
I pondered this choice for a bit. If the words were true, any of these so-called abilities would offer me a great advantage in battle, so much was true, but two of the three seemed rather insulting. A Shieldfather was a master of shields and defense, having additional protection seemed to be betting against my own prowess.
Perhaps this world was yet again mocking me.
The fact the third ability dared to carry the name ‘Thorns of Iron’ only reinforced my choice. Shieldfathers were the Thorns of the Bastion, it was us who reflected damage by stabbing, slashing, and cutting the Demon Tides. What advantage would there be to let them die against our shields without drawing our weapon?
An abominable thought.
I chose the ability known as Rage Against Death, only because it offended me the least.
“There,” I said. “I have chosen—”
Before I finished my words to Godfrey, a list of words and numbers appeared, so I shut my mouth and went through the list.
STAT SCREEN
NAME: SHIELDFATHER
RACE: VAINAR
CLASS: IRON TOWER WARRIOR
LEVEL: 2
HEALTH: 100
DEFENSE: 6 [+1 from equipment]
ATTACK: 1
STRENGTH: 8 [+3 from race modifier]
CONSTITUTION: 10 [+5 from race modifier]
AGILITY: 5
INTELLECT: 3
FIRE RESISTANCE: +60
COLD RESISTANCE: -60
I found many of these stats to be troublesome, but there was one I found insulting beyond anything else.
“What does this mean, Godfrey? What insult is this?”
“What… what is going on?” the fisherman squealed.
“Intellect three? Are you calling me an idiot? Is this what our newfound friendship has come to, you skeevy little rat? You dishonor yourself, Godfrey.”
“It’s the system, Shieldfather! I have nothing to do with it.”
“Then what does it mean? Why would it call me a fool? I’m no fool, Godfrey. I’ve studied under the greatest scholars of Tartarus!”
“No, I know… you’re very knowledgeable, sir! It’s just that intellect isn’t… it affects yer spells, not your smarts.”
“I use no spells,” I said in a softer tone.
“Exactly! That’s why intellect shouldn’t bother you.”
“I have read the First Father’s Roster Demonicum and learned the name of every demon by heart. That feat alone gifted me with 10 points of intellect. How is it that I have lost it all? I still have the knowledge and yet in this world, it counts for nothing! Is it to dabble in the arcane that makes a man smart or is it the wisdom he had gathered in a lifetime?”
“I don’t… I don’t understand this question.”
“I understand nothing,” I said in desperation.
Another salty breeze washed over us as we stood there in silence for a short time. It was cold. The heat of battle made me forget about it briefly but as I now stood there on the pier again, I felt the shakes slowly take over. At least that piece of cloth between my legs offered some respite from the wind. Perhaps the people of this land weren’t so strange after all.
I glanced at the trail leading toward Godfrey’s village. I needed to move. The beach suddenly felt like a prison, a vault of madness created to torture me. The trees didn’t look inviting, though. Despite what I had read and Godfrey’s assuring words, I had to wrestle a sense of discomfort within my heart that bordered on fear.
“They’re just trees,” I muttered.
“Huh?”
“Forget it, Godfrey. I will now take this path you’ve shown me and find your priest. There’s much to understand about the overworld, but my destiny is to return to Hell above all things. I wish you luck, fisherman, may you find a good war to die in.”
Godfrey let out a long tired breath and then finally nodded.
“And Shieldfather,” Godfrey said as I already faced the forest path. “Don’t remove the loincloth, please. Promise.”
“You have my word,” I said and Godfrey smiled.
“Thank you. Well… I hope you find your way back to Hell.”