Pete tried to look in the direction of the scream, but the prompts blocked his vision. It was like staring into a blaring sun through smudged glass. He couldn’t make out any detail.
Instead, he saw a shadow. So far as he could tell, the dark outline was human. It boasted a torso with two arms, two legs, and a small, round head. Each leg beat against the ground in a furious, panicked rhythm. Whoever it was, they were running.
He couldn’t distinguish if they were running to something or away from something. If something was chasing them, it wasn’t big enough to create a shadow that he could see through the prompts. What if it was invisible?
Did this world have invisible monsters? Pete wondered what other kinds of creatures he might encounter in the world. Were there Dragons?
The running figure screamed again, followed by pleas, “Help! It’s gaining on me!” The voice possessed a definite feminine quality. Yet, the shrillness created by her panic made it difficult for Pete to determine an age.
Good thing the guard is nearby, Pete thought. Then he reconsidered. Was the guard nearby? Pete’d been slapping himself and examining his menus for a few minutes. Had the guard strayed too far away? What if no one else could help the woman? What if Pete was in danger? The thing could eat the woman, then it could come for him. Unable to see, he’d have no way to defend himself.
He tried to look left and right, hoping to see around the prompts…and it worked. Well, it kind of worked. He realized that when he glanced out of the side of his eye, He could see around the edges of the menu screens. It didn’t give him a comprehensive view of what happened, like looking through the crack between a door and its frame.
His eyes followed the woman as she fled. With the wind blowing against her, her black pigtails and the skirt of her dress trailed her. Pigtails shifted back and forth like hungry snakes; her dress rippled like angry waves.
Behind her, he could finally see her assailant. It was short, no taller than her chest. Green vines formed its body, thicker near its core, branching into a thin pair of arms and legs. Dagger shaped leaves stuck out of the vines, hiding much of its shape, including its head.
When Pete focused on the creature, he saw a name appear above its head. Nightshade Terror LVL 1. The letters were white with a black outline, making them easy to read against the green mounds and skyline.
“Well, son,” he heard the guard’s voice approaching to his right. “This is no good.”
“No, it’s not.” Pete agreed. Instead of turning to the guard, he kept his narrow field of vision on the girl. “Are you going to help her?”
“Grmmm…” Did the guard growl?
When there was no further response, Pete insisted, “you should go help her. Isn’t that your job?”
“No,” The guard sounded annoyed. The tone reminded Pete of a math teacher explaining a basic concept to a student, a concept that the student should already know. “It isn’t my job. The city limit ends at the field. My job is to guard the city. I am a city guard.”
Pete thought about the words. He felt annoyed at the guard’s reluctance to help. “She needs someone to save her, and you worry about jurisdiction?”
“Grmmm…” the guard grumbled again, waiting a few seconds before adding. “I don’t know what you think my sub job is, son, but I’m not a gardener. In fact, our town hasn’t had a gardener since the nightshade plants ate our last one. As it stands, no one has the qualifications to save her.”
Qualified? Ate the last one? What kind of nonsense was that? “Are you saying,” Pete asked, “that a level ten guard is afraid of fighting a level one plant?”
“Listen,” The guard raised his voice. “I am a level ten guard, one of the few in the region. If I had permission, I could tear that monster to pieces with my bare hands and wear its remains as a necklace.”
“So why don’t you?” Pete egged on the guard, hoping it might provide the extra motivation to push him into action.
Instead, Pete received another, “grmmm.” This one was louder and angrier than the previous grumbles. It was enough for Pete to turn his head and fix his limited field of vision on the guard. The guard’s face was bright red; even his mustache looked angry. It made Pete feel uneasy, so he spun his vision back to the woman.
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“Well,” Pete inhaled a deep breath. “If you aren’t going to do anything, I am.”
“Wait,” Pete heard the guard say as Pete began to run toward the woman.
It didn’t take Pete long to realize he might have made a mistake. For one, the monster was the same level as him, and he didn’t have a weapon with which to fight it. And without peripheral vision, he had to keep his head sideways as he ran, eyes to the side. Looking at everything that way was starting to give him a headache. Not to mention, running like that looked silly.
Even so, the woman needed help; he couldn’t let her down. Instead of worry about the things that counted against him, he decided to recognize one thing that went in his favor. What was that thing? At least, it wasn’t a raccoon monster. That fact gave him a fighting chance. If it were a raccoon monster, the woman would have been on her own. He hoped this new world didn’t have raccoon monsters. He also hoped it didn’t have raccoons.
His seven agility points helped him close the distance between himself and the monster and the girl. A flawless running technique also helped. He’d learned it from his high school track coach.
A prompt chimed. He let his eyes stray to it for a second, and it informed him he’d gained one point of proficiency in running. The ominous voice accompanied the prompt. His eyes went to the side again.
From his position, he was running at an angle to the woman. He tried to time it so he would breach the space between her and the monster. If he could accomplish that, he hoped he could draw the creature's attention away from her.
At twenty paces from the monster, he saw the monster’s mouth for the first time. It was a gaping red maw with triangular teeth. It reminded him of an irate jack-o-lantern. Small black dots formed its beady eyes. “Over here,” Pete shouted, not sure if he was yelling at the woman or at the nightshade plant. Either one would work.
Both ignored him.
With ten paces between them, he shouted again.
They continued to ignore him, but he could see the nightshade with greater detail. Hollow holes formed its ears. Leaves formed a collar around its neck. Hardened vine curled pointed fingers on each hand. With those hands, it reached for the woman, and it was gaining on her.
Pete willed himself forward, knowing he needed to reach them before it caught her.
At five long steps away, he made a last-second decision. He realized the space between the monster and the girl wasn’t enough for him to get between them. Instead, he’d have to take on a new approach.
At one stride away, he lunged and slammed into the center of the monster: wrapping his arms around it, pulling it to the ground, and rolling to a stop. It was a tackle that would have earned him a spot as a varsity middle linebacker.
He received a new prompt chime but didn’t take the time to read it. He guessed it related to tackling proficiency or something like that. Instead, he released the monster—he was confident he’d gained its attention—and rolled to his feet.
Then something remarkable happened; all his prompts closed. It allowed him to see straight ahead. Though, a new, transparent box appeared in the bottom left of his vision. It read:
You used tackle attack on Nightshade Terror. You caused 3 damage.
It is a battle log, he realized, recognizing it from the MMO's he’d played. A green health bar and purplish-pink mana bar appeared above the battle log. Transposed over the respective bars were the numbers 32/34 and 4/4.
As the monster stood, a slightly depleted red health bar appeared beneath its name. No numbers accompanied the bar. He could only guess at its HP.
Before he could process it all, the creature somersaulted toward him. As it closed the gap between them, it swiped.
The attack cut his exposed forearm, and the battle log read:
Nightshade Terror used slashing tendrils. You received 7 damage.
He flinched back, in part from reflex, in part from pain. The cuts burned, but they weren’t too deep. At that moment, Pete’s health bar went down; the corresponding number flashed from 32/34 to 25/34. When he saw this, his heart beat fast and heavy in his chest. His breathing accelerated. A bead of sweat formed on his brow. He didn’t know what would happen if that twenty-five became a zero. At best, he’d fall unconscious. At worst, he’d die. If he died, something told him he wouldn’t get to go back to earth.
“You’ll pay for that,” righteous indignation swelled within him as he glared at the monster in front of him. Then Pete did the only thing he could think to do. He’d played video games his whole life, and if there was one thing he learned from video games, it was to play to strengths. Pete only knew about one strength, so he decided to give it a try. He lifted his arm high over his head, palm open, and he slapped.
It wasn’t a half slap like the ones he’d been doing on himself. He infused his attack with all the strength he could muster, and it connected with a loud whacking sound. It reminded him of the one time he had belly-flopped from the high dive.
After he’d carried out the attack, his eyes widened as he read the battle log:
You attacked. You caused 127 damage. You defeated the Nightshade Terror.
Across from him, the plant fell in a slump, forming a tangled mound of vines on the ground. At that moment, all the prompts from before returned: the status screen, the proficiency bonuses, the experience notification from the fly.
A few new prompts came to the forefront:
You defeated the Nightshade Terror! You gained 59 experience points.
You received two tomatoes.
You gained 2 slapping proficiency.
You gained .5 slashing defense.
Before he could read anything else, he heard the guard’s voice behind him. “You’ve done it now, son.” Did the guard sound angry? “I’m going to have to take you into custody.” He did sound angry. “We can do this the hard way or the easy way.”