A great pyre burned ahead of me. I felt two hands on my feet, and my back sliding over bumps of a cobbled road as I was being dragged to the fire. I stirred, kicked back to free myself. The two men pulling me along recoiled at my sudden movement. They cursed aloud, and let my feet drop to the ground.
“He’s bloody alive?!” one said.
I looked up. “I’m not dead.”
I should have been though. Not here – wherever this was – but in New York. I stood up and looked from side to side, but couldn’t recognize the place. The two blokes were decked out in outfits that looked like they'd been dug up from a museum. They had that ancient vibe, much like the architecture of this joint, giving off serious old-city-in-Europe vibes.
One of the men looked disappointed. He frowned and walked off to grab another body, to a corpse unlike any I’d ever seen. Claws, tentacles, twisted muzzles full of fangs.
Demons?
Was this hell? Because, it sure didn’t look like no paradise. More of the same grotesque monsters were piled up against the pyre. It crackled and radiated heat, taking away the chill of the night. Smoke rose up high into the star filled sky. The stench of burning flesh choked the breathing air. I lifted my hand to cover my mouth and was shocked at what I saw, or didn’t see – my left hand. Instead it was a hook with a dulled point. What the-? Have I lost my mind? Panic started to seep in.
“Well, at least your sister will be happy,” the first man said and walked off to help the other.
“Sister?” I asked, but they ignored me. I didn’t have any sister.
I touched my face and it felt foreign. Dried blood flaked away from my skin, and more blood coated my hair, sticky and wet. I didn’t feel any injury on my scalp to explain it, nor felt any pain.
Someone ran up to me, grabbed my arm. “Thank the gods you’re alive!”
The young lady wore a gray dress that touched the ground. A wool cloak was draped over her shoulders and wrapped around her body. She had a cap over her braided, black hair.
“Thanks?” I said.
She threw her arms around me into a hug. “I thought ... I thought-” She was on the verge of tears. “Are you okay?”
I shook my head, pointed a finger between the two of us. “I hate to ask, but. Do we, uhm … do we know each other?”
“Of course.” She laughed nervously, wiped a stray tear from her brown eyes. “Oh my. You got hit in the head something bad.”
She reached out to touch my head covered in blood, but I caught her hand, took it aside.
“I’m fine.”
I had to think fast. Something nasty had happened here, monsters arrived and people died. Shock and disbelief could come later, but right now I needed to keep my cool. I had no idea about where, or when. Hell, I didn’t even know who I was. I didn’t want to reveal anything about myself – who knows what sort of trouble that could lead to. I needed to lay low, and gather information before doing anything. And what she said gave me a great idea.
“I’m having trouble remembering,” I said.
“Remembering what?”
I winced. “Everything. You, me … this place. What’s it called? Where am I?”
Her eyes took on a shade of panic. “Kladmont?”
“I think I lost my memories.” I tapped the side of my head. “From a head injury.”
“Oh.” She flinched back, touched the base of her neck. “You don’t know who I am? I-I’m your sister … Maggie.”
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
I almost caught myself saying ‘nice to meet you’ – that would have been weird.
“And what’s my name?” I knew myself as Jack for some thirty years, but apparently things have changed. Very much so. It all felt crazy. Surreal.
She looked distraught. “P-Percy.”
“Percy?” I didn’t like that name very much. “What happened here?”
She pulled at my arm and turned to leave. “Come on, I’ll tell you on the way home.”
I didn’t think twice about following her. I could sense goodness in her from the start. She appeared like a warm and caring individual. Normally, I could smell a scoundrel from a mile away.
Around the pyre and the city square, groups of soldiers stood around talking loud. Most of them wore chainmail armor and carried swords, spears and axes. Was this medieval Europe?
An older man with a gray beard turned in our direction. Unlike the rest, he wore a breastplate and his gauntlets gleamed with the light from the pyre.
“Past your bedtime already, Percy?” The older man said with a mocking tone. “You can go, we don’t need no cripples here. Just leave your sister with us. We’ll take good care of her.”
Others laughed and whistled. Maggie picked up pace. I turned to say something, but she pulled me along.
“Pay them no mind, they ain’t worth it,” she said.
Heat welled up inside of me – they were pissing me off. Hardly a minute in a new place and the assholes come out like cockroaches. I made sure to remember his face.
As we walked away from the pyre, the noise died off and the streets turned dark. Lanterns hung next to shop signs gave off a dim light. Yellow candlelight flickered in the windows. We passed row houses and brownstones. The streets smelled like piss. People slept tucked away in corners, scrunched up under dirty blankets and rags. And there were more of them the further we went.
We talked and she answered a few questions. She said the bells had tolled and people came out to fight the demons that had managed to get over the city walls. The monsters were from the Maze to the south. A place of twisted passages chock full of danger, but also treasure. It only got bad during the Spring season.
I asked, but ‘we’ didn’t have any other family alive. It felt so weird to ask, and to have a sister. I never had one before. I expected to wake up at any moment and realize that it was all a dream.
A short walk later we arrived at a rough looking row house, three stories high and made of brick. It had a wrought iron fence, railings and window grates to keep thieves away. At one end hung a ‘Nailmaker’ sign next to a flight of steps and the door to a half-basement flat.
Past a creaking door, we walked into the damp and cold interior. She lit a candle, and it illuminated a humble dwelling. A single room with a single table, two chairs and two beds. One side of the room had tools hung up along the wall, a workbench and what looked like a modest smithy.
Out of nowhere, bright messages flickered in my sight. They came with pain like an ice pick to the head. I nearly lost my footing. I gritted my teeth as additional messages appeared with bursts of stabs to the head. I could barely make out what Maggie said in a worried tone.
[New Entity Found. Evaluating past experience. Please wait.]
[Error >> Class ‘C-17 Cargo Plane Loadmaster’ not found.]
[Error >> Class ‘Taxi Driver’ not found.]
[Error >> Class ‘Machinist’ not found.]
[Creating new abilities and passives.]
[Class added. Profession added.]
[Status screen available.]
New messages finally stopped, but left me dizzy, gasping for breath and covered in sweat.
“Are you okay? What happened?” Maggie asked.
“I-I don’t know. I saw some … text?” I read it and was surprised to see my past jobs listed one by one. I got to the last messages and saw the familiar terminology of RPGs and video games.
Status screen?
I thought of it and a blue screen popped up in my vision.
* Name: Jack Driver; Race: Human
* Age: 23; Height: 188cm; Weight: 75kg
* Level: 0; Experience: -|--------
* HP: 450/450
* MP: 520/520
* MP Regen: 5.2/min [Base: 1% / min]
* Str: 41 (base: 82)
* Agi: 51 (base: 102)
* Con: 45 (base: 90)
* Per: 48 (base: 96)
* Wil: 52 (base: 104)
* Profession: Reaper [0]
* Class: Outworlder #179
* Spells: Animate Iron, Void Locker, Time Dilation
* Passives: Iron Domain, Call of the Void