If one were to ask Frank if he’d had a good life, he would have smiled wide, said that absolutely, it had been a wonderful life, and then, when alone, he would have sat down and wondered what his real answer would have been.

It wouldn’t have been a ‘yes’. That was a fact. But he couldn’t say it had been all bad either.

At his age, the list of regrets and choices he would have changed were endless. Even though he had learned to live with the memories, they had recently weighed more and more on him.

Whenever he’d been able to maintain a coherent train of thought, that was.

That was the sort of thoughts that floated through his mind as his lungs struggled to process the air being pumped into him.

His family that he didn’t get to say goodbye to. Friends that were gone too soon. Rivals and colleagues he should have taken a drink with and gotten to know more. Moments where he should have shown mercy. Others where he should have shown none.

There was a lot of time to reflect and ponder when one’s mind was the only thing still working as it should while everything else in his body failed, bit by bit.

The days had been long in the Restful Village Retirement Home, and knowing this day might be the last filled Frank with equal amounts of trepidation and relief.

The machine beeped. It seemed to be getting louder.

Tendrils of darkness creeped in from the edges of his already blurry vision. His thoughts were slow. Lethargic.

For the longest time, Frank assumed he might feel fear when his time came. When the reaper came for him.

But all he could feel at this time was nostalgia. Some regrets. And mild surprise.

As darkness closed in on him, he wasn’t alone. Like he’d always thought he would be.

He could hear her saying something. A warm hand holding his own. He wanted to tell her to not cry for an old codger like himself. To get out there and live and love and celebrate. He wanted to thank her for all her patience and all the care she took of him. For chatting with him and telling him stories about her school and friends and family.

For holding his hand and shedding tears for him.

But he couldn’t speak. His strength and consciousness were fading. The noise and beeping of the machine slowly receded in the background. He gently tightened his grip for a second. At least, he tried to, before sleep took him.

----------------------------------------

Boots that were both too big and too tight around his ankles. A duffel bag at his feet as he hugged his mother. His older sister hugged him second, expression somewhat stoic but still worried, followed by his younger brother and crying sister. His father hadn’t been there. A short and terse telegram from his father sat on the living room table. The most they’d heard from him in weeks.

Frank had told them he’d be back.

----------------------------------------

Being called in the middle of that fateful night into the Major’s tent, along with another handful of soldiers. And being informed of the new unit he was now part of.

----------------------------------------

The sounds of sirens. The smell of burnt rubber from the wheels of his commandeered car.

The plume of smoke rising from the wreckage of his home.

Why hadn’t he told them he was alive? He had stayed away to protect them.

In the end, it didn't matter.

----------------------------------------

Faces.

Friends. Colleagues. Rivals.

Enemies.

Years blurring in an instant. First filled with rage. With vengeance and blood. Then with a cause. Did he make a difference? He hoped he did. But he still remembered the tiredness that would make him walk away from it all.

----------------------------------------

“Professor? I think my plant is sick.”

Frank strolled through the rows of raised beds, careful not to disturb the other handfuls of elementary-school students who chose–or were ordered by their parents–to take botany.

The student, Ellie–if he remembered right–was wearing thick gloves that were slightly too big. And she had already managed to get dirt on her face while her apron was still spotless.

She stopped wringing her hands when she saw his smile. He couldn’t help it. The smell of freshly turned soil. The chorus of the dozens of birds that liked to perch in the neighboring oak tree. The peace and quiet of this new identity. Of this new job.

How long has it been since he’d felt this calm? This… content?

The plant in question was succulent. And seeing its translucent and browning engorged lower leaves, he knew what the problem was. Still, the poor kid was worried. She kept nervously looking at it, clasping her hands together.

“It’s okay, we can fix it. Now, what do you think the problem is?”

Ellie looked at the plant, looked at him, then down to her feet. Frank heard gravel being scuffed, followed by a quiet mumble.

He’d been in such a good mood that he’d had to force himself not to chuckle. That would have been unprofessional. And it had only been a few months since he’d started.

“Could you repeat that Ellie please? I couldn’t hear you.”

She gulped. “I think I put too much water in.”

Frank nodded. “I think so too. And what did we say about succulents?”

She refused to look at him. She glanced at the watering can then back toward her feet. “Every other week?”

“You got it. So. Let’s see how we can fix this one, okay?”

Ellie looked up, relieved that he didn’t reprimand her for her mistake–as if he would ever do such a thing–then they got to work.

----------------------------------------

Frank watched his memories flash in front of him. And they were getting longer. Clearer.

Is this what death is like?

He remembered being in his bed. At the hospice. He listened… but he couldn’t hear the ventilator anymore.

He couldn’t hear anything.

----------------------------------------

His eyes shot open, and he immediately had to shut them again with a groan.

Frank squinted while raising his hand to his brows, hoping to protect his eyes from the blinding light, and he felt the contact of his smooth skin.

Too smooth.

And the movement had been… too easy.

Frank squinted up at his hand as his eyes slowly adapted to the daylight, then touched his face. No tubes were coming out of his mouth. His throat was clear, and air was moving in and out of his mouth unimpeded.

And considering the hard shapes digging into his back, he also wasn’t in his bed. Unless someone stuffed his mattress full of sand and clumps of dirt. Up above him he could see a sparse canopy that gently swayed with the wind, and to his right he saw grass.

Grass?

He took a deep breath. Fresh, clean air filled his lungs and he couldn’t stop himself from holding it in and enjoying it. He could breathe.

It felt like he’d been in his bed only moments ago.

Was it only moments? He remembered seeing… his old memories.

It felt like he’d been in that odd state for a while… but now that he was trying to remember the details, he found his thoughts hazy. As if he was trying to catch smoke with his hands.

Was it a dream? Is this a dream?

A clear blue sky hung above him, partially shaded by lush treetops.

Is this what the afterlife’s like? Was he just high on something?

He gently tried to turn to get up. He reached with his left hand, putting it under him to push himself up and his mind reeled.

His body was obeying him. And his limbs had enough strength to do as he wanted.

Frank marveled at the strength in his arms and legs as he gingerly stood up. He slowly straightened his back, and he discovered that he could.

“What is… this?”

He looked around and saw nothing familiar.

He was in a shaded clearing, surrounded by nothing but trees and grass. Some bushes here and there, but nothing else. No other patients.

“Olivia?”

No one answered him.

Frank frowned.

First test. With his right hand, he gripped a bit of skin between the knuckles of his thumb and index and slowly pinched. He focused on the pain, feeling it increase until he had to wince and let go.

Nothing abnormal there. The increase and decrease of pain made sense.

He ran a few other tests, from recalling his most recent and oldest memories, studying his environment, the soil, the leaves. The bitterness of the grass–that he quickly spat out. He counted to a minute, and methodically paid attention to himself, trying to catch any lapse of attention. There were none.

It all felt normal. It all felt real.

Frank looked down at his hands. All the veins, the brown spots, the scars, the swollen joints, were gone. His hands looked like they belonged to some twenty-year-old kid. Further down, he saw both of his feet. And the ground seemed further away than he was used to. He was taller.

He was wearing his usual outfit from the nursing home. Beige pants and blue cardigan over a white shirt that felt a bit tight, with comfortable white sneakers. He felt cold metal against his left forearm and pulled his sleeve up.

A flash of metal greeted him. The sun reflected on a brownish, wide metallic bracelet that wrapped tightly around his forearm, like a bracer. He examined it and couldn’t see a latch or any way of removing it.

“What is… this? Copper?”

No… probably not copper. Not pure copper, at least. The surface was tightly engraved with a swarm of symbols and shapes he couldn’t make sense of. He tried to pull on it, but nothing happened. He pulled harder–

A white box popped into his vision so fast it made him start. A moment later, once the surprise passed, he noticed the text. It was written in plain English.

Removing the Deck is not possible at this moment.

“What the–”

He must really be dreaming. He watched the box fade away, revealing the piece of jewelry still on his arm. Why are they calling it a deck? Frank stared at it, brows furrowed, then dropped his arm to his side and looked around. Now’s not the time for this. It was only a piece of jewelry. He’d look into removing it later.

He touched his face again. His skin was so smooth. No wrinkles. No stretchy neck skin. His hair was all there too! Though, it was a bit longer than he’d like.

“Where am I?”

“Prepare for transmission from Lady Angelia of House Hermes.”

An androgynous voice answered him, and as it did another white box popped in front of him. It placed itself in the bottom half of his vision; for a moment it had shown a script he didn’t recognize, but almost immediately the letters morphed into English.

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“Welcome to your new life, Champion,” said a female voice in his head, while the letters read, “You are not dreaming. And you most certainly are not dead. And so, you must have a lot of questions.”

“I do,” Frank nodded, looking around bewildered. “What—”

“Hold on to them. This is a recorded message.”

Frank frowned, his mouth still open, but the female voice went on.

“You have passed away. And then you were chosen to take part in the Celestial Trials.

“The Celestial Trials is a glorious competition that takes place every decade, organized and watched by the gods themselves. Doing well, honoring the gods, and triumphing over the challenges will see you rewarded beyond your wildest dreams.

“The event will start in five days. A day prior, in four days, the challenge you’ll face will be revealed. In the meantime you are advised to get to safety, learn about your new abilities, and wait for further announcements.

“Find the Hall of Champions, rest, and most importantly, prepare yourself. The Trials will be a crucible where your very soul shall be pushed to its limit. You will need strength to push through every obstacle. Resilience to weather the whims and misfortune that will befall you, as well as a keen and clear mind to see through the glamors and to discern the safe path upward.

“Good luck, Champion. May the gods grant you favor.”

Frank’s mouth hung open. He looked around and saw nobody.

“My mind’s going,” he mumbled to himself, then frowned. At the edge of his vision, there was a small white square that he was almost sure hadn't been there before. He focused on it, and something huge hurtled toward his face.

Frank flinched, shielding his face with his hand, and when nothing hit him he opened his eyes.

The right side of his vision was covered with another white translucent box. Like those pop-ups he’d get whenever he used his tablet. This one had nothing to do with singles or casinos, though, and it had a few options.

“Get it together, Frank,” he mumbled to himself. He couldn’t be flailing around like that. Even the kids from his old class would have laughed at him for it.

He paused. I wonder how long it has been since I’ve last seen them. I hope they’re doing well.

He turned his thoughts back to the display he was seeing, focusing on the first button at the top. The display was reacting to his attention when it was interrupted again. The side box disappeared, and a new one–the same as had happened earlier–filled the bottom half of his vision.

“Prepare for transmission from Kethi, First of Toth.”

Same as before, the androgynous voice announced the transmission, then another voice popped into his head. This one was male, and it sounded like an annoyed lawyer’s voice. Cranky, and somehow sharp. And it was definitely not in English. Though, it seemed he was getting subtitles at least. Curiously, he found himself understanding the words.

How is that even possible?

“[Welcome to the Great Realm of Theos, Frank.]”

The odd emphasis on his name made him tense up.

“[I am Khethi, and I, along with other messengers, will take over the day-to-day communication with Champions, while Lady Angelia, daughter of Lord Hermes, will lead the important broadcasts.]”

That must be the earlier announcer.

The box that Frank had been looking at only a moment ago, the right-side one, popped back up.

“[What you are seeing right now is your menu for the Celestial Trials. From here, you’ll be able to monitor your status, your communications, and get access to everything you need for the Trials. You should find a guide or an Agent if you reach a city; they will explain the intricacies better.]

“[In this world, Champions have access to the Deck of Fates. The Deck of Fates has been created and woven by the Great Automaton itself, then empowered by gods and magics from many realms. It is a tool to be learned, used, and perfected throughout your journey. Collect new cards, master them, test your tactics and strategy against the challenges that will litter your path, and achieve what only a few had ever been able to.]

“[Through Quests, Class levels, and many other means, you will collect new cards. Adding them to the Deck of Fates will give you new abilities and weapons to triumph over your enemies. You should make yourself comfortable quickly with the Deck, with how the cards work, and with the limitation of each and every card. The gods wish to see Champions surpass themselves, and your future will most certainly depend on it.]”

Was this really happening? Cards, gods, decks… Frank was trying to make sense of all this when the announcer's voice suddenly changed in tone. A tone similar to how he had emphasized Frank’s name. As if he was done reading from a script.

“[Unfortunately for you],” Kethi said, voice suddenly filled with contempt, “[you have been standing there by yourself, in the open wilderness, without a care in the world. You have not been paying much attention to your environment, have you, Frank? Did you not pride yourself on your good judgment? Where’s that situational awareness you preached about so much? Out of practice, are we?]”

The words pelted him, striking too many old memories that this stranger should know nothing about. Frank had no trouble recollecting them, especially when compared to the fog he had been ambling through the last few years. But he didn’t respond. He didn’t focus on the taunts that this messenger was needling him with. God knows what ruffled his feathers.

No, Frank focused on what the voice was implying. He scanned his surroundings, and as he did he heard them before he saw them. A mix of chirping, barking, and yowling in the distance.

“[In any case, this is a great opportunity to introduce you to one of the most important concepts for your future in the Trials, whether your future is—hmm—minutes, days, or maybe even months. And that is Quests!]”

A notification popped in the right side of the interface, and it automatically reduced itself to the top right corner.

“[I am sure you’re about to be quite busy in a moment, but you should definitely take some time to read the quest details. There might be tips in there that could help you. And you’ll learn about the rewards that you might get. Make sure to read it. And, as a welcome gift, here’s a Starter pack.]”

A small square popped again to the left, and reduced itself. Frank couldn’t look into the new message. He had to narrow down which direction the noise was coming from. He listened intently, nodded to himself when he figured out where the danger was coming from, and put his back to it.

“[Inside you will find cards that might help you survive what’s coming. I would wish you luck, but I don’t believe you deserve it.]”

Frank ran. Well, screw you too, buster.

He jogged gingerly for a few steps, and when his knees didn’t give he pumped his legs harder.

As he ran, he took in his surroundings.

He was now in a forest, but there was a path further away.

A dozen seconds later, he was on it. The road was thankfully well-maintained. Ten feet wide, with its edges cleared.

It meant there should be people around. A city or a town nearby.

Frank pumped his legs even harder. Wind rushed through his hair, and the sensation would have been glorious if it wasn’t for the barking that kept getting louder.

They were getting close. And he wouldn’t make it to whichever town or village was at the end of the road. Hell, he wasn’t sure if this direction was the closest to one. As far as he knew, the closest settlement could be behind him.

Worries for later.

He scanned the trees all around, veering left when he saw what he was looking for.

A massive tree that he would have assumed to be some sort of pine, if it wasn’t for the lighter green foliage and the numerous thick branches that grew out of the pillar-like trunk. It should allow him to climb up quickly.

Not even a minute went by, with Frank huffing and puffing his way up the tree, before the beasts arrived. Already a good twenty feet up, he stole a glance down and cursed.

Higher. I need to get higher.

Below him, the first of the… things had jumped out from behind the brush, quickly followed by its brethren. They weren’t really dogs. Definitely not coyotes either.

They were much larger than a coyote.

“Why couldn’t they have been goats? Angry territorial goats. I could deal with that,” he mumbled as he studied the beasts. He caught his breath and tried to not get distracted by the fact that he just climbed a tree with his bare hands. “What even are those?”

Mustard-yellow fur. Black stripes that ran from their short, oversized snouts through a wide and muscular neck that seemed to make up half of their frame, all the way to a long and bushy tail. And they would not stop chirping and barking, their eyes wild and large. They were snapping at each other, some shaking their heads and bodies like a dog who’d just had a bucket of water dropped on them.

They looked like someone had merged a hyena, an African wild dog, and a yellowjacket.

Frank made sure his footing was stable before he tore his gaze away from the weird dogs. He had to try and make sense of what was going on.

Remembering the message about the quest, Frank focused on the side area of his interface where the messages had been sent to, and a box popped into his vision. It looked like a list of emails. He focused on the one that had the word ‘quest’ in its title.

Difficulty: Silver-rank

As soon as you woke up in a new world and a new body, a pack of Wild Climbers showed up. Unfortunately for you, they’re pretty hungry, and you seem like an easy prey.

I mean. There’s one of you, and what? Fifteen of them? Twenty? It certainly is a bit of a difficult first quest.

Some might even say this whole situation is karma. A comeuppance.

A chicken-coming-home-to-roost situation.

But cheer up. If anyone can survive this, it’s you. And for the sake of fairness, you will get a good reward.

If you survive.

— Kethi, First of Toth

Penalty for failure: Guess.

Reward:

- 5 gold coins

- 1x Silver-pack

- 2 AP

Frank’s eyes went up and down the wall of text. Rewards? Difficulty? And what was the AP stuff?

As soon as he focused on it, the wording changed. Achievement Points, it now said.

Frank sighed as he went back to the Quest description. They knew. Kethi, or whatever his name was, knew about his past. But something was bugging him, and he looked over the text again while the chittering of the things got louder. What were they called again? Wild Climb—

His breath caught, and he looked down.

It took him a couple of seconds to make sense of what he was seeing. When he did, Frank tightened his grip on the branch he held onto for support and readied himself to get higher up the tree.

One of the Wild Climbers had—somehow—unhinged its jaw and bit into the trunk of the wide tree sideways. Another climbed over it, using the first one’s head and neck as a step-ladder. It then attached itself to the trunk as well, creating another step for the beasts behind it. Four of them had already nailed themselves to the trunk, like a weird, furry, spiral staircase, and most were getting ready to do the same. A few others were twirling and sprinting around the tree, their tongues lolling out of their maws.

Their eyes rarely left Frank.

Frank gingerly climbed higher. He’d thought he was safe. What kind of dog could climb trees? Well, this kind apparently. He needed something. Didn’t the announcer say something about cards? Yeah… he was supposed to have gotten a pack of cards. Would that help?

Frank grinned nervously and shook his head. That sounds crazy. He took a deep breath and looked up at the path ahead, then down at what he would eventually have to deal with.

Well. Hopefully the cards were the right kind of crazy.

His heart hammered in his chest, and he still had the vague impression that none of this was real. He’d been dying… and that felt like it had been only moments ago.

Frank looked down to make sure the dogs were still far, and focused on the top right of his vision. The inbox showed back up. Thankfully it wasn’t obscuring his vision. It stayed on the right side, keeping things in front of him clear. He took another look down. More dogs were arriving, and Frank felt a lump in his throat. His eyes landed on the starter pack in his inbox. He willed it to open, and it did.

Neat, he thought as he climbed further away from the Wild Climbers, panting. A grin stretched on his lips. How long had it been since he’d had his life on the line like this?

At the bottom of his screen a new box showed up; it had five cards displayed. As soon as he started examining the cards, he saw another silent message arrive in the Inbox. He mentally clicked on it.

Who knew? Maybe this new message would give him some tips to get out of this pickle.

You opened your first pack.

Your first step toward unimaginable power. Or an early grave. But let’s not be pessimistic.

Things look dire, but if you live through this, the reward will be even sweeter. I’ll make sure of it!

— Sylverfur, First of Sylverfur.

Frank skimmed the message and was glad the Kethi fellow wasn’t around. Or at least, wasn’t the only one around. Still, Frank wasn’t very up-to-date on mythologies, but wasn’t Toth from the Egyptian pantheon? And now that he thought of it, the first message he’d received had mentioned Hermes in some fashion.

Those were just fancy titles… right? Were the mythological gods actually around? He needed to come back to all that later.

He dismissed the message and focused on his predicament. This fellow seems friendly enough at least, he thought to himself as he looked at the cards floating near the bottom corner of his vision, still checking on the climbing beasts every few seconds.

The first thing he noticed–and quickly looked past–was the variety of colors. There were pictures of bottles on three black cards, a hand axe on a red one—which made Frank grimace. He didn’t like axes much. And it would definitely not be his first weapon pick if he had to survive a pack of beasts. But it would have to do.

The last card seemed more useful, but also made him again question if he was dreaming or if this was real. As he focused on it, a light blue card with a picture of a comet-like projectile, a small prompt popped up.

Do you wish to add [Force Missile] to your hand?

Frank’s brows went up. “Yes. Please?”

[Force Missile] has been added to your Hand. 4 cards remain in the Deck of Fates.

Frank felt the cold metal of the bracelet warm up against his skin, and he looked down. The odd engravings he’d noticed earlier were now glowing. Frank was about to try and remove the strange item from his arm again when he felt a pulse come out of it. The pulse flowed up, like a soft electrifying breeze up his arm and into his chest, and Frank felt like a balloon that was being softly inflated.

After a couple of seconds, the odd feeling faded away, and the bracelet stopped glowing. In his vision, Frank saw the [Force Missile] card floating up in the center bottom area of his interface. Bigger than it had been previously among the other cards. And it seemed… realer. Somehow.

Nervously, Frank repeated the operation with the hand axe card.

The same thing happened. But while the sensation of adding the first card had been odd and unnerving toward the end, the second was merely uncomfortable.

The discomfort lasted only for a few seconds, then the cards showed up at the bottom of his vision.

He had so many questions. Later, though.

Frank studied the hand axe card. The edge of the card glowed white, as if a light was hitting the card from the back. The card looked almost real. As if it was floating in front of him.

He tried to touch it, but as soon as his right hand moved something clicked in place between his mind and the card. Like when his thoughts connected to the menu of the interface. And he felt a question float up from the card. It wasn’t a prompt or anything. He just felt it. An intent coming from the card itself.

Do you want to use this card?

Frank looked at the card, and wondered if it was just a normal axe. As soon as the question floated in his mind, a small overlay showed up over it.

[ Hand Axe ]

Rarity: Common

Type: Equipment

Description: A mundane, sharp hand axe.

Fair enough.

With the connection to the card still visible in his mind, he triggered it.

The card instantly dissolved in motes of light, and a breath later that same light seemed to materialize in front of him. It coalesced for a second, then an axe appeared. The weapon hovered in the air in front of him, waiting to be grasped.

Frank grabbed the weapon and looked back down. The good news was that even though he was reaching the limits of how high he could climb, so were the dogs. The bad news was that two of them were getting close, and Frank was pretty sure they were within jumping distance. If the Wild Climbers happened to be suicidal. Unless…

“Please tell me they aren’t like cats.”

It would be so incredibly unfair if they could survive such a fall.

Looking upwards, he gritted his teeth. He couldn’t climb any higher. Even though it was an enormous tree–he was having trouble identifying it–the branches were getting a bit too thin for him to stand on. Any higher, the branches might snap under his weight.

He gripped the axe harder, swinging it in the air to get a feel for its weight. The glow of the axe had faded away already, but the weapon wasn’t any worse. It felt good in his hand. Light enough to be easy to handle, and heavy enough to do some real damage. He took a deep breath and focused.

After readying himself by making sure he had stable footing under and around himself, and verifying he had a solid grip on both a support branch and his weapon, he took another look down to see how close the beasts had gotten.

As he watched the two beasts climb up the last few steps, he realized something as an old, cold logic resurfaced. He was lucky.

This was a choke-point, and the beasts got themselves stuck by latching on to the trunk. He couldn’t ask for a better position to defend himself from their number.

Besides not waking up in the dang wilderness.

Frank inhaled. As long as he dealt with the couple that were coming toward him without falling to his death, he should be okay. Once that was done, the rest of the pack was sitting ducks.

“No other way, old boy,” he said to himself, his voice barely audible over the wind that was whipping around him.

The first crazed beast arrived at the top of their artificial staircase‌ and, without hesitation, lunged at him. A wide maw of sharp teeth that could easily bite his whole head off flew at him, and Frank’s axe whistled.