When he awoke, Jasper was relieved to find that his hands, while still a bit sore, had mostly recovered while he slept. Grabbing some stones, he headed back out into the courtyard, racing over the still tolerable sands, towards the sealed building. Having never really used a sling before, he decided some target practice was overdue, and he knew just the place.
For the next few hours, Jasper practiced hitting the statutes of the giants that adorned the ruined building until he felt like he was at least vaguely competent. They are 20-foot giants after all; it shouldn’t be that hard to hit them. Easy as hitting the broadside of a barn, right? Reassuring himself that his plan would work, he set about the rather tedious task of collecting stones in the courtyard and carting them into the pyramid to amass the arsenal he would need to take down the giants. The sun hung high in the sky when he finally decided he had amassed enough ammo to enact his plan. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. No point in putting it off.
Jasper strode back down the stairs with as much confidence as he could muster, only stopping once he hit the midway platform. Taking careful aim, he launched the makeshift projectile into the air. The stone hung in the air for a second before slamming into the giant’s head with an audible smack. Sadly, the giant didn’t promptly crumple - that would be too easy - but the sudden bellow of pain reassured him that the attack had done some damage.
Still, his progress was anything but swift. He pelted the giant with stone after stone, some falling harmlessly to the floor, with only the occasional grunts of pain to reassure him that his efforts were doing something. He had nearly reached the point of giving up when he was finally rewarded for his persistence. With a thunderous crash, the winged giant collapsed on the ground, billows of dust rising up from the force of the impact.
Jasper watched with savage satisfaction, but his victory had come at a price. With a grimace, he massaged his aching shoulder and elbow, the pain racing up and down his arm like electric shocks. I’m going to give myself pitcher’s elbow in a day. When the pain finally subsided to a manageable level, he readied himself for the next attack.
The next few hours passed in a haze of pain, his arm screaming in protest as he hurled one rock after another into the sunken platform. But his strategy was working. The second giant followed the first to its death, and in time giants #3, 4, 5, and 6 also succumbed to the unending hail of rocks.
But that was when his brilliant plan to avoid real combat hit a snag. Although the sling had a surprisingly long range - he was able to hit, with varying levels of accuracy, targets from almost 300 feet - the hall was almost twice that length. After the sixth giant fell, Jasper was forced to admit that, no matter how much strength his battered arm put into the throw, the remaining giants were simply too far away to hit from the safety of the stairs. He would either have to leave the stairs and try to lure the giants closer to him - without getting caught - or find another way to defeat the rest. He decided on the second option. I’m not really keen on testing the range of those urumi again. I just about got a fatal haircut the last time.
With a sigh, Jasper retreated back up the stairs. He paced back and forth in the upper hall, massaging his right arm until his fingers grew numb, as he tried to come up with another way to approach the problem. Yet as night fell, he was no closer to a solution than before. Gently rolling his shoulder, he decided to call it a night. Sometimes problems are best solved by sleeping on it. He curled up as best as he could near the entrance of the tomb, dragging some palm leaves over to provide a modicum of relief from the hard stone floor. But the troubles weighing on his mind were no match for sheer exhaustion. Within moments, he was out.
The faint rays of the rising sun reached through the entrance and fell on his face, rousing him from his slumber. He lay still for a moment, basking in the pleasant morning warmth, as his still naked body lay sprawled on the cold stone. As his eyes idly wandered the ceiling, he suddenly noticed a strange shape lurking in the murky heights. He squinted, trying to pierce through the darkness. Even with glasses, his eyesight had never been the best, but the longer he gazed up the more he became convinced that the strange structure in the ceiling was a platform.
He sat up abruptly, rubbing his eyes. There’s a bloody catwalk up there. What if instead of going down through the hall, I can just go over it? After a careful search of the platform above the stairs, Jasper found what he was looking for. In a dark corner, a small recess hidden from sight contained a stone ladder carved into the wall.
The climb up was easy enough, but as Jasper pulled himself up onto the “catwalk,” he was dismayed to find that it was both very narrow and far too short to take him across the hall. The walk itself was little more than a foot wide, with no railings on the side, and after about 20 feet it came to stop. Instead of a single walkway, there were many beams scattered above the hall. It looked like there was a possible passageway across, but he was going to have to jump. So there are at least two ways to get across the hall. Maybe a test of agility and a test of combat? He wondered if there were perhaps other ways as well - a test of magic seemed logical, but he had no magic to use anyways. Looking down at the undead giants still guarding the hall, the choice was easy. The test of agility it is.
Crouching down, he eased his way across the platform. He hesitated at its edge and eyed the nearest beam. If he had to guess, the next platform was only six or seven feet away. It was a do-able jump, a jump that he wouldn’t think twice about if he was on the ground. But he was very much not on the ground. With a gulp, he glanced down. The floor was far below, so far that the giants below looked small and insignificant. If I fall, I’m going to be doing a really good impression of a pancake.
Steeling his nerves, he readied himself on the edge. As a kid, he had taken gymnastics until, as the only boy in the class, he had finally quit rather than be teased. Truthfully, he barely remembered those classes, but he pushed his doubts to the side as best as he could, drawing on the wisps of those memories. It’s just a balance beam. Just a simple jump.
Jasper sprung towards the beam in front of them. The years had not been kind to his skills, and he almost missed the platform. As it was, he landed poorly, smashing his ribs into the hard edges of the platform with a painful crunch, as he desperately hung on for dear life. The next thirty minutes were some of the most harrowing of his life, as he made one death-defying leap after another, each impact a bit more painful than the last. It was like he was getting beat up in slow motion by an opponent he couldn’t defend against. As the blows multiplied, his body quickly turned black and blue. But, with shaky legs and trembling arms, he finally pulled himself up on the final beam. The adrenaline coursed through him, and despite the pain, he found himself almost having fun - almost being the key word there.
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Holding onto the narrow ledge, he carefully peered over the edge, struggling to make out the details of the hall below. He had successfully crossed the sunken tombs of the giants, and below him rose another platform, like the one at the entrance of the pyramid. The platform was dominated by a colossal statue sitting on a golden throne. Much larger than the undead giants below, the seated figure nonetheless resembled them closely. Two great wings swept up above its throne, with two more resting at his side, and another two covering its feet. The throne itself was covered in writing, small portions of which still seemed to have a faint bluish glow to them.
After carefully examining the platform, he decided that there were no obvious threats. The possibility of traps lingered in his mind, but ultimately he had to take the risk. Without weapons or a class, he would be trapped in these godforsaken ruins. He eyed the platform stairs, which led down into the hall. The remaining giants, who had been out of reach of the sling, were clustered near the platform. He could only hope that these stairs had the same protections as those on the opposite side of the hall. When he had finally caught his breath, and the shaking in his arms and legs had somewhat subsided, he eased himself down the ladder. Here goes nothing.
Jasper cautiously approached the seated figure, scanning the ground for any sign of traps. Truthfully, he had no idea what to look for, but it would be a shame to die within reach of the prize. He side-stepped a few suspicious-looking tiles, which seemed to be ever so slightly lower than the others, not daring to test them out, while he kept a cautious eye on the statue. It was silly, of course, but he found himself half expecting the enthroned giant to suddenly rise from its seat and begin a boss battle. Fortunately, nothing happened. Instead, as he drew near to the statue the floating words returned.
You have found the inheritance of High Lord Ishka. Prostrate yourself before him to receive his blessing.
With a little grunt of pain, he knelt before the statue. Nothing happened at first. Jasper lay there, sucking in a few deep breaths, his battered ribs screaming in protest with each gulp of air. Did I come all this way for nothing? He couldn’t face the thought of crossing the hall again, not yet anyways. He lay on the cold stone pavement, sheer exhaustion preventing him from pushing himself back up.
And then it happened. In an instant, his patchwork of bruises and aching ribs were forgotten as he writhed in agony. His hands exploded in ominous blue flames, which slowly spread across his body as searing pain flooded through his senses until he passed out.
He awoke with a gasp. He was lying outstretched on the ground, his nose uncomfortably pressed against the stone floor. Waving his hand in front of his face, he was surprised to see that they weren’t burnt to a crisp - thank god. He frowned, examining his hands closer. In fact, they weren’t quite the same as before. Holding his hands up in the dim light of the hall, he could see faint traces of blue lines wrapping around his fingers, like an almost imperceptible tattoo. The lines were nowhere else on his body, just his hands, but their meaning escaped him. He waved his hands trying to activate a spell. “Fireball.” Nothing happened. Crap.
He pushed himself to his feet, and as he leapt up, he realized it didn’t hurt. Patting himself down, he was relieved to see that his many bruises were fully healed. Taking a deep breath, he forcefully exhaled, taking pleasure in the lack of pain. Still don’t have some damn clothes, though. As he turned to face the statue, the words appeared again.
Lord Ishka has judged you worthy. You have received the Djinn heritage and unlocked the class Flame Guardian Acolyte.
The words froze, then warped and twisted into a crackling static. Suddenly, he was back in the dark void, standing once again before the goddess, as she ripped his heart out and gave him a tender kiss. The moment of agony lasted only a second before her image faded away revealing the hall. Staggering back, gasping from the phantom pain in his chest, Jasper saw the message had changed.
Lord Ishka has judged you worthy. You have received the Great Djinn heritage and unlocked the class Acolyte of the Secret Flame.
Whelp. I guess that makes it crystal clear. I definitely have a contract with the creepy lady in black. He wracked his brain, trying to remember the myriads gods and goddesses of the previous game, but he couldn’t place her. And, lurking at the edges of his mind, he couldn’t shake that terrible fear. Am I dead, just a ghost in the machine? Please, please, please just be a glitch.
Turning back to survey the hall, Jasper saw that the remaining six giants who he hadn’t slain were now lying in their sarcophagi. Did receiving the inheritance put them to rest? He eyed the platforms above, wincing at the thought of traversing them again, and decided to risk walking through the hall. I was judged worthy, so surely I can walk through the hall, right? His guess was correct. The giants (djinn?) remained in their slumber as he dashed past them, casting a furtive glance over his shoulder just in case they awoke again.
As he clambered back up the stairs, his calves burned with the stress, and he paused at the top, gasping for air. Guess I shouldn’t have skipped leg day at the gym so often. Catching his breath, Jasper cautiously walked out into the sunny courtyard. The doors on the building were now flung wide open. He almost wept in relief. Looks like I’ve found my way out.
But he wasn’t ready to explore the building just yet. He frowned. I killed six of those giants and gained a class and heritage, but I still can’t view my status. There’s got to be a way to level up. Again, he tried to summon a status screen, but nothing worked. Pushing away the frustration, he racked his brain for a solution.
He finally, begrudgingly, arrived at a conclusion. If - and he was still not quite willing to acknowledge the truth of this conclusion - but if he was longer in a game, then perhaps he needed to level up like an NPC. If there was a system to level up NPCs in the game, he had never cared enough to learn about it. But, in addition to the game, there were several series of books. It was, after all, one of the most popular games of all time.
In the books, the game-like elements were significantly reduced, and the religious framework of the magic was more heavily emphasized. Instead of having access to a character screen at all times, the protagonists had to sink into a deep meditation. When they meditated, they were transported to the realm of their personal deity. It was only there, in the realm of the gods, that they could level up.
Jasper wanted to reject the idea offhand, but the more he thought about it, the more he become convinced that he had to at least try it out. But it was the last thing he wanted to do. If, as he feared, the dark lady was his personal deity, then he would have to return to the void to level up. The mere thought of returning there, to that endless wasteland of frozen horror filled him with a cold dread, his stomach turning sour. A few minutes later, after having thoroughly vacated his already empty stomach of its contents, little more than gobs of acid and spit, he was forced to face the truth. As much as he dreaded returning to her realm, he had to be able to level up and use his class if he wanted to survive. Improvised slingshots weren’t going to get him far when he faced an enemy that he couldn’t snipe from a safe zone.
With a sigh, he sat down on the ground. Closing his eyes, and took deep, measured breaths. In real life, he had never had the patience to meditate; he was just another kid with ADHD, who couldn’t sit still and do nothing if you paid him. But, he had suffered from occasional bouts of panic, and over the years had developed a mental image and mantra he used to calm himself down. Pushing the panicked feelings to the edges of his mind, Jasper focused on the image of a mountain stream. The water poured down the gentle slopes, splashing around the rocks, while stately trees rose around, forming a haven of peace. I am the river: I flow around all things. I am the rock: all things flow around me. His breath slowed, his mind calmed, and with a sudden POP he found himself again in the void.