Ethan opened his eyes, stretching, casting off the last remnants of sleep.
Today is going to be a good day. You are a good father. Your family loves you. You aren’t going to disappoint them.
Positive self-affirmations, the newest method Rebecca wanted him to try. Did make much sense to him, but he made a promise to make an effort. She had his best interest at heart, he felt he should make an effort. Standing up he looked around, darkness was everywhere.
[System Notice]
Welcome to the
[Grand Experiment],
you have been selected for testing.
Your goal is to survive.
[Time until reconstruction is completed: 00:01:59:48]
After reconstruction, your body will be transported to the tutorial where you will be tested.
The Subsequent test will result in an evaluation.
There is no failing the test. Only Survival, or Death.
Either way, run. Run as hard, and as fast as you can.
The further you get the better the cheese at the end of the maze.
Huh? Mental break? Brain tumor?
In the darkness that enveloped Ethan he moved around he felt great. Checking himself all over he realized he was naked.
“What the hell? Where are my clothes? Oh… did I die? I thought you got a flowy white robe when you died? Damn, did I not get in the good place? Is this where I meet the broken robo angel who decides my fate?”
“You didn’t die.”
Whipping around Ethan saw a thing. Resembling living smoke, but thicker, more dense, sitting in a high back red leather chair resting on a carpet that now stretched out into the darkness. Looking around there was now the skeleton of what looked like an office. Book shelves, two leather chairs, a reading podium, even on of those full moon globes that lifted up to reveal a fully stocked bar.
Damn, I have always wanted one of those.
“Your species has been chosen. Your people have reached the minimum requirements for [Integration].”
Why did integration feel… heavier?
“I didn’t die. Well that’s bullshit.” Ethan mused to himself chuckling at a joke he was sure only he thought was funny. Already annoyed, today was not going how he had planned at all.
“I am sure you have plenty of questions, I am here to facilitate your assimilation into the [Grand Experiment]. How may I be of service?”
There it is again.
The thing spoke with a somewhat robotic voice, but there was a warmth to it. The weight of some words was off putting.
“I’m good, thanks.” Ethan said offhandedly, looking around, trying to figure out where he was exactly.
“You have no questions for me?”
“Oh no, I have a ton of questions, I am just taking a minute to adjust.”
Looking closer, Ethan realized this is exactly how he would have decorated his office if he had the time. The floor to ceiling bookshelves, even if the ceiling was missing now, lead off into oblivion he guessed. Rows upon rows of leather-bound books, all the same size, all the same thickness. Even the leather was dyed the same color, with identical gold flaked lettering. Most read “[empty]”, odd choice, but who was he to question how the humanoid cloud person thing chose to decorate his office, I mean he had pretty good taste in everything else. The Moon globe bar was even stocked with some good stuff, he couldn’t judge anyone too harshly if they kept Hibiki Suntory Whiskey for guests. Walking around the other high leather chair, across from…
What am I supposed to call him?
“I do not have a name. I am a construct of the [SYSTEM]. If you so wish you can designation a moniker of your choosing. Many of your species have chosen ‘Bob’, you may do so as well.”
Oookay, I can add mind reader to the list of weird shit this guy can do. More heavy words.
Sitting down Ethan felt it was time to figure out what was going on.
“So, if you say I didn’t die and you can read my mind, what’s to stop me from assuming you are figment of my imagination, or some psychotic break? My therapist is gonna shit herself when she hears this.”
“You can assume what you wish, but I assure I am not a figment of anyone's imagination, and Brenda is a charming woman. She is trying to come to terms with what has happened as well.”
Weird, he knows the name of my therapist, but okay.
“So you have access to my memories, thoughts, and steal clothes. Other than being all smokey, and appear like the IRS on April 16th, what are you exactly, not sure I am buying this whole construct thing?” Ethan asked, getting weirded out more as time went on with his new companion.
“Many of your species have described me as that. Interesting. I am a construct of the [SYSTEM]. No more, no less.”
“What is that, that weight? It only happens with certain words you say. Like 'System', how are you doing that?”
Ethan could feel eyes on him, but the being in front of him had no features. If he was forced to describe this thing to the cops, he knew for a fact he’d be arrested for public drunkenness or something similar.
“The pressure you are feeling is the power of the [SYSTEM] imposing itself upon your soul. Rewriting your very being, reforging your body, and lastly remaking your world.” The voice was warm, but the featureless face was again unnerving.
“Ok, let’s say I believe you, wouldn’t that mean I am dead? Since you know, without a body, I am dead? Oh, and for the record Bob is a terrible name for you. You don’t even look like a Bob, if anything you look like a Smokey Joe cause…” Ethan waved his had indicating the obvious.
How had no one seen that? It is so obvious.
“As you wish. Since we are going on the record, 3% of your species has chosen the same moniker. You are not the only one. As for your question, death does not occur when the body is destroyed, but is in fact when the soul is destroyed. There are many beings who either no longer, or have never had a physical body making your assumption incorrect.”
“So like a Liberated Skeleton?”
“No, I do not believe so from what I can gather of your world’s lore. They still possess a body, albeit one of bone sans flesh. I am refering to beings who have fused their souls with their bodies in effect making them one in the same, or beings whose bodies are gaseous clouds.”
Ethan had heard enough. He had read enough litrpgs to know where this was going. Even if there was still a lingering doubt this wasn’t all just a brain tumor.
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
“I am not saying I believe you, ‘cause you still haven’t given me any evidence. But since you’re here can we start with where we are, what is this place?”
I hope I’m not stuck here forever, but this should be my…
“You are correct, this is your soul space. We are –“
“Let me guess, we're waiting for something to happen, most likely some sort of world changing event to make it more receptive of magic?”
Yep, this is totally mental break. Gawd I hope it isn’t a tumor, that is gonna suck. Please be a mental break.
“You are not having a mental break. If you require proof, does this suffice?” With a wave of his phantom hand, looking more like tentacle of mist, a window appeared.
Name: Ethan Soxe
Age: 34
Race: Human (Sub Variant - Earth)
Level: 0
Soul: Personal Realm
Body: [Under construction]
Stats
Body: 8
Mind: 12
Control: 44
Charisma: 3
Magic: 8
Soul Arts: 2
Titles: [None]
Achievements: [None]
Skills: [Myriad Tongues][Identify]
Talents: [None]
[REDACTED]
Lineage: [Redacted]
Hmm, cliché. What is up with redacted? Oof, that stat spread? What’s next, a skill selection?
“You can select a skill if you wish, but if I may?”
Oh, this is different, usually these guides are secrets, and ‘I cAn’T tElL yOu ThAt’.
Deciding to play along, Ethan figured if Ol’ Smokey was gonna talk, he’d let him cook.
“Sure, lemme hear it.”
“You seem to be actively denying your new reality. Up to this point no other Human has done that, in fact you are in the last 6% of your species to choose a skill. While I am unable to chose for you, or make suggestions…”
There it is, I was waiting for that, next he’ll say it ‘would negatively effect my path’, come on say it…
“Your path? One moment…” Joe said, as the smoke around him seemed to shrink almost, gaining a solidness it didn’t have before. Almost like someone pressed pause on him.
“This is the weirdest mental break I have ever had.” Ethan said as he got up to browse the books.
It was interesting how the bookshelves, his books shelves, had titles with dates, some having events as titles. He picked out one of the books that was titled, Day 328, shit, shit, shit show of a day. Turn it over in his hands, it felt real. He could even smell the leather. Gently untying the leather strap that bound the book, he opened the book.
There were no words. Only blackness. Darker than the shadow world he found himself in, like a perfect square was cut out of reality. Then images began to form, and he instantly recognized what he was watching. It was in fact THE shit, shit, shit show of a day. As sounds and smells began to accompany the visuals, he was back in that damn valley. Instinctively he tried to push the taste of sand out of his mouth as the boom of artillery fire assaulted him. He felt sweat run down his forehead and tried to wipe it away only to find his forehead was dry.
What the fuck?
The longer he watched the more real it became. Concussion from his rifle washed over his hands. The gritty sand chaffed his legs. Even the memory of the sweat in his boots was getting to him.
These are memories…
Rebecca is going to be so disappointed. I relapsed. Fuck. This is flashback.
Snapping the book closed. He was shocked, his heart wasn’t racing out of control. His hands, they didn’t hurt. He felt completely detached from that memory. That was the day Philips died. That was the day Rycher lost his arm. They were pushed back, out of the valley, and lost half the platoon. It took him years to tell Rebecca about that day. But now he was fine. He felt the emotional pain, but there was no physical reaction. Usually when he’d had a flashback his entire body felt pulled and pushed, his muscles felt ridged, like he’d been using them all day doing hard labor. His hands didn’t ache like he’d been holding his rifle too hard for too long. His breathing was… normal?
I’m… I’m not breathing?
Reaching down to pinch himself left him stunned.
Actually, I am not in any pain, what-so-ever. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Is this real?”
Ethan’s mind raced. He was calm up til now because he believed this to be in his head. But his mind was always tortured by his memories. That wasn’t the case right now. If he wasn’t dead. If he wasn’t in a mental break. If he wasn’t in pain. If his memories didn't hurt him...
“Where the fuck is my family?”
As if on cue, Smokey Joe reanimated.
“Ah I found the reference you made. But sadly, no, the reason I can’t say is that you had yet to accept this reality. But it appears that has since changed. We can regularly give advice for ‘Paths’ as you put it, if the [SYSTEM] deems a repeat is necessary, and a newly initiated fits the prerequisites for said experiment.”
“Where the fuck is my family?”
“Maternal figures with young-lings are gathered in training facilities. The [SYSTEM] has no desire for species to die out do to under breeding and suitable studs to die off.” Joe’s warm robotic tone grated at Ethan’s control of his emotions.
His world was spinning out of control. Self-control was what kept him together. Made sense it was his highest stat now that he thought about it. It was the one thing he prided himself on. Self-control was what allowed him to conquer his demons, and now he was losing it.
“If you harm them, I will fuck you up. I will burn you to the ground. I will find anyone you have ever known and make them pay for what you have done. Give me back my family, NOW!” Spittle spraying out as he yelled at Joe. Panic and anger fought within Ethan. Seething, he knew he was powerless in this situation. He knew he just spit in the face of emotionless smoke, but it didn’t matter to them. He had found happiness again, and no one and nothing was going to take that from him. Ever again.
“I have not taken them. The [SYSTEM] has deemed it viable for biological birthing units, with young to be protected. And I have only ever known you. I came to be, as you awoke. And will cease to be after our time is over.” Emotionless as usual, Joe made no effort to calm Ethan.
How do you kill smoke?
“I assure you, I can not be killed. It is a futile endeavor. The [SYSTEM] will not allow it.”
Bullshit.
“System this, system that. Give me back my family, release me from this prison, or I am coming for you. YOU HEAR ME [SYSTEM]!!!
Shock flashed on Ethan’s face. He felt that weight again. Not on him. But IN him. That feeling was instantly written in his nerves. Like a ripple has spread from his heart to the very tips of fingers written on his very being. Pushing whatever that was again, Ethan felt it ripple outwards.
“Fascinating” Joe said, ignored by Ethan.
Wave after wave of weighted pressure rode over and under Ethan’s skin. His nerves drank up the pressure like thirsty animals on the Sahara. He could feel the weight lessen as the pressure increase. It was an odd sensation. It no longer bared down on him, instead it wanted out. The space around him began to tremble, and shake.
Unfazed, Joe remained seated. Everything around him vibrating, shifting, changing.
“Your souls is reacting. Interesting. I will have to report this that so your family unit is retrieved and studied. A possible bloodline ability? Negative. The subject’s body is not done being constructed. Possible innate trait? Negative. User has not connected to the [SYSTEM] yet, traits should be unavailable. Awakening? Possibility, non-zero.”
At the mention of Rebecca and his children being “studied”, images of what humans had done to each other in their pursuit of knowledge swam through his mind. Rage boiled over, his world had been taken. His happiness had been taken. He was going to have none of that.
If you want to take everything away from me, I will burn you to ground. I will cleanse the world of you and yours!
The temperature in his soul space began to skyrocket. The shadowy void beyond began to grow brighter. The darkness was being pushed back. Visible ripples of light pushed the darkness back, expanding the room Ethan had found himself trapped within. With each step forward Ethan saw the waves of pressure echo out shifting his surroundings more into the abstract, less recognizable. He did make a note of how the books remained untouched. Though the shelves, chairs, and even the globe were shattering, and being pulled into the shrinking void.
All that remained was Smokey Joe, sitting casually as if the chair never crumbled under him.
“It may be required to force breed this subject, and his mate. Annotating report. Suggesting immediate retrieval of mated pair’s offspring.”
Fuck that. And FUCK YOU, YOU SMOKE PIECE OF SHIT!!!!
Cracks formed on Ethan’s skin, like his flesh had become to brittle to house his rage. Light poured out as rage fought to be released.
“Subject's souls is shattering. Request change in procedure… Odd. I was denied.”
Ethan exploded with rage. Charging Smokey Joe, who did not move to stop him, thinking himself invulnerable, protected by the system. As fragments of Ethan’s flesh shot out like a fiery shotgun blast in all directions, more cracks formed on the few remaining patches, leading some shards of flesh to fall and crumble as he reached Joe.
Reaching out Ethan’s hands passed right through the object of his rage. Undeterred Ethan clawed like a wild animal in the thralls of madness. Tears of light ran down his face, carving more cracks as more and more flesh fell away, to be replaced with light pouring out.
“It seems the subject has become feral. More of a danger to themselves. Request reset of simulation; 381,426 possible alternatives submitted for introduction to the [SYSTEM]-”
With the last wave of pressure washing over him from Joe and the system, everything snapped into place. The remnants of flesh left sunk into Ethan, no longer disappearing. Everything froze, even Joe’s smoke like body stopped swirling. Reaching out Ethan finally grabbed hold of Joe. He felt the smoke, like grabbing hard air and he squeezed. Joe gave no hint he noticed, in fact he didn’t react at all, to anything. His warm robotic voice no longer rang out.
Reacting purely on instinct Ethan puled Joe up, visible tears in reality formed as Joe was shifted up still in a seated position. Rage boiled over, as Ethan opened his mouth, and ate Joe. Breathing him in like the last meal of a death row inmate.
Fire consumed the soul realm of Ethan Soxe.