12. The Portal That Hates Me

Look, I think we’ve established that I’m a fairly average young male with average athleticism.

My mom’s a five-foot-nothing chemist and my dad’s a pot-bellied schoolteacher. Ain’t no Anthony Edwards popping out of those genes. I play the occasional pick-up basketball with friends, and sure, I’m strong, mobile, and nimble enough to not be an absolute disaster at most physically demanding tasks.

Within reason. This shit, though? This shit is unreasonable to the max, yo. Like, these Stormtrooper drones might look like basketballs, but ain’t none of my Earthling sporting skills translating to this arena.

You see, as soon as I sprint past the first drone, two more show up in short order, one from either side of the corridor. And while this new pair starts blasting, the one I’d just dodged keeps shooting me in the back. Successfully at that.

My next try isn’t that much better. I dodge three shots, then just manage to squeeze past the duo, before a fourth shot nicks me just above the ankle. That counts, apparently (and also hurts!). Just one touch and you’re out.

The result is I’m still on square one and already out of breath after just three ‘deaths’. My ‘best run’ only got me as far as a third of the corridor, and I shudder to think how the difficulty’s going to ramp up beyond that.

Then I shudder some more as a truly disturbing thought hits me.

What happens if I just… never make it? Does time in here run parallel with the outside world, or is this one of those hyperbolic time chamber type situations? Could I actually die in here—from starvation or exhaustion if not from laser beams?

With my anger at Leto Iriden renewed, I force myself to snap out of my funk. Only three tries so far. Way too early to be thinking about a failure state that may or may not eventuate. No, my energy’s better spent on thinking up solutions.

I have enough familiarity with at least the concept of obstacle courses to know that there’s always a pattern to these things: a ‘safe’ route that would allow me to dodge all the bullshit. The problem is trying to figure that out through trial and error without tiring myself to death, especially as I lug around the weight of this fucking clay—

But of course! How could I forget about my fucking claymore?

For a minute there, I was so caught up in the idea of an obstacle course that I forgot the why of it all. Remember, I’m inside a magical portal. Trying to convince it that I’m worthy of using its services or something to that effect. Why would the magical portal be interested in my ability to run around like an idiot when I’m perfectly capable of magic of my own?

Armed with this new realization, I take my time with the fourth run.

The first basketball is easy. It goes down to [Glock Strike] without even getting a shot off, disintegrating into a bunch of blue bubbles that get sucked back into the wall. So, [Glock Strike]’s weak-spot-homing ability works against these alien drones. Very good to know.

The next pair requires a bit of planning and caution. First, I stand still and let both of them fire, sidestepping toward the right-hand wall as I do.

Then [Glock Strike] to pop the basketball on the right, quickly followed by a backstep to dodge another shot. In a feat of athleticism that frankly amazes myself, I manage to raise the STSG overhead simultaneously with my backstep, which then allows me to swing it down for a second [Glock Strike] in one smooth motion. The basketball on the left disintegrates, clearing the way for me to proceed past the first third of the corridor.

At this point, the pendulum has already swung wildly, and I’m in something of a self-congratulatory mood. Which… only makes falling back down to earth all the more painful.

I’d expected the difficulty to ramp up, but you know, within reason. This shit, though, is unreasonable to the max. For this middle third of the obstacle course, the magic portal just decides to chuck everything at me, as if to say: “random bullshit, go!”

Three drones, all blasting at the same time. Horizontal laser beams that run through the length of the corridor, forcing me to jump or limbo to stay alive, on top of dealing with the drones. As if that still weren’t enough, the walls start shooting out cannonballs that hit me from the side when I least suspect it.

These cannonballs are the fucking worst. I’m basically getting hit by medicine balls shot out of a cannon. Thank fucking god none of this is ‘real’, otherwise I’d have no bones left in my body after nine failed runs of this shit.

And Run #10 is finally when everything clicks into place.

[Glock Strike] the rightmost drone first, before it can get a shot off. Sidestep to dodge the remaining drones’ attacks. [Glock Parry] to stop a cannonball in its tracks. Jump to avoid a horizontal beam, and in the same motion, swing the STSG sideways to activate [Spin to Glock], taking out the middle and leftmost drones all in one go.

“Yesss! Let’s gooooo!”

Holy shit, I’ve done it. The dopamine flood is nothing like I’ve ever felt before. Not even beating pre-nerf Balteus in Armored Core 6 felt nearly as good as overcoming a real-life bullet hell with my own brains, brawn, and magic.

Of course, there’s still the final third of the corridor to go.

The jubilation is painfully brief, to be quickly replaced by fear. I’m legit scared to take the next step, knowing whatever awaits will be even worse than what I’ve just endured. And to think that if I die here, I’d have to start over from the beginning!

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Not like I’ve got any choice, though. I move forward with trembling trepidation, with STSG held up over my shoulder, ready to respond with [Glock Strike] to the first thing that pops up.

And boy does the thing pop up. Except I can’t respond with [Glock Strike]. Not to this. Not when it’s not just one, two, or even three things for me to track all at once.

The Portal at the end of the corridor—the goal of this exercise in bullshittery—disappears from view. In its stead, I’m left staring at a new wall, one that just popped out of nowhere to fill the entire hallway and block my progress. A wall… made up entirely of basketball drones.

There’s gotta be, what, 20? 30? Does it really matter?

Suffice to say there’s a shit-ton of shooty drones and they’re all pointing their limp dick laser pistols at me, ready to—ahem. You know what, in my anger, I was about to draw an analogy that would probably get me demonetized. Let’s dial it back and say the wall of drones is ready to turn me into laser-singed swiss cheese.

And at this point, I am angry. Fucking livid.

Like, what the hell is this? You use the first two obstacles to teach me certain mechanics and get me dancing to a certain rhythm, then you throw all that out the window and hit me with this? What kind of nutjob designed this Magical Portal Trial Realm?

In my wrath, I don’t even care if it’s the right move. I’m so over it, and I just wanna burn this whole place down.

[Flamethrower]. Reverse-grip into matchstick Adam’s apple, and I have my first ‘field test’ of my imitation Dragon. Have a taste of this Novellen Nadira Apados!

To my surprise (and savage satisfaction), the fire comes out much bigger than when I tested it against the straw dummy. Big enough to form a wall of my own—a wall of fire that engulfs the whole platoon of basketball drones, left to right and top to bottom.

And even as I burn down my enemies and recoil from the heat of my own spell, I retain the presence of mind to analyze what just happened.

The size and intensity of [Flamethrower] is variable, probably in response to just how angry I am in the moment. That… certainly opens up possibilities, but it’s also a finicky limitation of sorts. How do I consistently make myself angry enough to take full advantage? Is such a thing practicable or even possible?

All that is for future Mars to worry about, though. Present Mars is busy incinerating a corridor full of basketball-shaped Stormtroopers and is doing a good job of it too. By the time I ‘run of fuel’ and double over in utter exhaustion, the hallway is cleared of all bad guys, leaving only the shiny Portal before me.

Surely, all the bullshit is over and done with? I limp over to the thing, with my hands tightly wrapped around the STSG’s hilt, still not fully trusting that there isn’t one last surprise waiting for me.

The only surprise, in this case, is the new sensation as I stick my hand into the Portal screen. You see, I had every reason to expect another turn with the hydraulic press, getting squished then maybe spat back out in the ancient forest where a waiting Leto would smile and make me instantly forgive her indiscretions.

What I don’t expect is for me to go only forearm-deep before the screen lights up, showing that same image of the castle room from earlier. My feet are still firmly planted in the sci-fi corridor, and I can still move my hand freely, in and out of the Portal as I wish.

Huh. This must mean I ‘passed’, and now I’m allowed to use this world’s magical portals like the big boys and girls.

Whatever the case may be, this particular Portal seems to be set to one destination, and there’s nothing for me to do other than step forward and throw my whole body into the screen.

Ah, there it is again. The hydraulic press. By now, I’ve gotten so used to it that I’m even able to brace myself for the landing.

I complete the teleportation, and find myself crouched on polished marble floor. No more face-planting or falling on my ass. Ha, take that, Portal!

It’s in this state of exhaustion and self-congratulation that I straighten, ready and eager to inspect my new environment. But the first sight that catches my eye is a comfortingly familiar one.

“Felistos!”

Leto Iriden is already here, and she greets me with a big dimply smile and the local word that means something like “happy days”.

And yeah, I forgive her instantly. So what? Did you really expect anything different? If you did, my friend, you have a much higher opinion of me than I deserve.

For the next little while, I forget all about my new location and instead engage in a bit of light-hearted debrief with my Elf Senpai. With lots of pantomimes and repetition, I’m able to communicate to her the gist of how I overcame my obstacles. She in turn listens attentively and offers more smiles and words of affirmation… until we get to the third obstacle.

“Koranos?” Confusion. Uncertainty. Disbelief.

“You know… it was the one where the drones fill up the whole corridor,” I say unhelpfully in English. It takes me quite a bit more frantic gesturing to get Leto to understand and accept what I experienced.

“Nur aloàs sahin.” This isn’t right. As she says this, Leto’s brow furrows with genuine concern. “Ras mafanos.”

This is a problem.

So… Leto seems convinced that something went horribly wrong with the third phase of my obstacle course. Something that shouldn’t have been in the script, so to speak.

Strangely enough, I receive this unexpected news with equal parts unease and relief. On the one hand, the fact that my first brush with a magical alien entity went so aggressively awry bodes ill for the rest of my Isekai adventure.

On the other hand, I’m glad to learn that the bullshit mechanic was a bug and not a feature.