The walk to the waiting area felt like a march to the unknown, each step heavier with anticipation. As I entered, my eyes were immediately drawn to a pack laid out alongside a selection of weapons. The announcer's voice, ever-present, echoed through the space, "Your inventory will be disabled, but you'll find a small waterskin and rations in the pouch."
Alarm bells rang in my head. The need for provisions implied a long, grueling challenge ahead. I barely had time to process this information before I needed to make my next crucial decision – selecting a weapon.
Before me lay a longsword, a spear, a flail, and a massive mace, clearly meant for two-handed use. I considered each weapon carefully. None were quite like my favored battle axe, but adaptability was key. After a moment's deliberation, I chose the longsword. I had used it in Salve, the VR fighting game I specialized in on Earth, and its grip felt the most familiar to my axe, even if the cutting technique differed.
With the longsword in hand, I approached the door leading to the arena. As I stepped through, a last-second shimmer caught my eye, but it was too late to react. Suddenly, everything went black.
I found myself in an expanse of nothingness, a void that seemed to stretch endlessly. A screen materialized before me with the words PREPARE YOURSELF. In the darkness, a whirlwind of questions stormed through my mind. How am I supposed to prepare myself? Was this some sort of mental test, or was I about to be thrust into a physical challenge? Were the other participants going to be there? If so, how many? Would there be a break before any combat? Or would there be a participant waiting for me on the other end? The uncertainty was maddening.
As the announcer's voice echoed in the void, declaring the start of the final stage, everything around me flashed blindingly white. In an instant, the darkness was replaced by the vivid reality of a vibrant forest. Just then the announcer's words boomed: "Welcome to quadrant 1. Combat will begin in 5 minutes. Combat will end when only 1 participant remains in each quadrant. Prepare yourself."
Jag Roneo: Quadrant 1, folks! This ain’t just a fight—it’s a survival challenge. Everett’s gotta use his wits here. Let’s see if he’s up to it.
Bill Ruggles: Aye, Jag, it’s a right scramble. You gotta be quick on yer feet and quicker in yer head. Everett’s gotta keep his wits about him if he wants to come out on top.
The sudden transition was disorienting. As I gathered myself, I focused on my surroundings. Towering trees, probably centuries old, stretched towards the sky, their branches interwoven into a natural cathedral that dimmed the sunlight into soft patterns on the ground.
The air was thick with the scents of pine and earth. I tread carefully, navigating the dense underbrush that concealed both beauty and peril in its depths. The distant calls of birds and the rustling of animals both small and large were clear; this place was more alive than the arena ever had been.
As I ventured deeper into the forest, I followed the clear, meandering stream that cut through the dense thicket. Its banks were flanked by lush greenery, and wildflowers scattered among the foliage that added bursts of color to the verdant landscape. The gentle babbling of the water was a calming presence; I found it relaxing. Which is strange to think about given my situation, I would love to come back to this stream someday, if it even exists in the real world.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Jag Roneo: Looks like Everett’s takin’ a stroll through nature’s backyard. Better keep his head in the game though—there’s danger around every corner in these quadrants.
Bill Ruggles: Aye, it’s like takin' a nap in the lion’s den, Jag. Lovely scenery, but you can bet there’s somethin' lurkin' just outta sight, waitin' for the right moment.
While tracing the stream's path, my attention was drawn to a striking feature amidst the natural surroundings – overgrown ruins. The remnants of ancient structures, their stone walls and arches smothered in ivy and moss, beckoned me. Intrigued, I veered off the stream's path to explore. The ruins, with their broken pillars and half-collapsed archways, made me think that this may be a real place, or was a real place that had been reclaimed by nature. I couldn't help but wonder about the people who built these structures, about their lives and their eventual disappearance.
Lost in my thoughts, I was abruptly pulled back to the present by a sound – an unmistakable rustling not far from my position. My hand instinctively reached for the hilt of my longsword, gripping it tightly as my senses heightened. The sound could be anything – an animal, the wind, or another contestant. I continued more cautiously through the forest, each step measured, I reached out with my senses and felt something... unusual. At first, it was a mere whisper, an echo in the back of my mind. But as I ventured further and concentrated harder, it grew more potent, more tangible. It was a feeling of rage, raw and powerful, pulsating through the very air around me.
I stopped in my tracks, trying to understand this new sensation. It was unlike anything I had experienced before. It wasn't my anger; it was coming from somewhere else, somewhere beyond my line of sight. It felt like a torrent of emotion, resonating through the forest, reaching out to me.
This sudden awareness was disconcerting. It reminded me of that moment with Elyria, how my frustration seemed to have influenced her. But this was different, more intense. It was as if I was tapping into emotions of someone or something else, but feeling them as if they were my own.
I tried to focus, to locate the source of this anger. How was I sensing this? Was it a new ability emerging, a new facet of the tournament or had I finally cracked and my mind was playing tricks on me?
Jag Roneo: Somethins’ got the Drifter spooked Bill. We know what it is, There is a big challenge ahead, I can see that there is a Blook Orc near by. He’s as good as dead Bill. I don’t care how popular he is!
Bill Ruggles: Aye, there’s a rager in the woods, Jag. Like a storm brewin' in a teacup. Everett’s gotta be on high alert—he has no idea what’s comin’.
As I stood there, immersed in this newfound sensitivity, the rage's presence became clearer. It wasn’t so much a trail, but I could feel it getting stronger the closer I came.
The sensation led me deeper into the forest, the foliage becoming denser, the shadows longer. And then, through a break in the trees, I saw him – a hulking figure, his movements fueled by a palpable fury. It was an Orc, his skin nearly black, his muscles rippling beneath as he wielded a massive two-handed mace. He was the embodiment of the rage I had felt, a living, breathing source of fury.
My grip on the longsword tightened. This Orc was clearly a formidable opponent; he looked like a giant tower of strength and aggression. I took a deep breath, steadying my nerves. The knowledge of his rage gave me an unexpected edge, a glimpse into his mental state. But it also raised questions. Was I evolving, gaining new abilities in this strange world? Or was this just a fluke, a one-time connection?
Jag Roneo: Oh, here we go! There’s the Blood Ork! This guy’s got the rage, the fury—he’s ready for battle. Everett’s in for the fight of his life, Bill!
Bill Ruggles: Aye, Jag, this Ork’s like a steam engine on a rampage. Everett’s gotta be quick and clever to get outta this one in one piece.
There was no time to ponder these questions further. The Orc stilled, perhaps sensing my presence. He quickly turned my way and his eyes locked onto mine with a fierce intensity. The battle was inevitable.