Chapter 3
Those Who Harken Death
The stage boss, or whatever it was in truth, resembled a spider as well, though it was at least five times larger than others, coated in the sheen of thunderous blue, its twelve eyes shimmering with arcs of lightning in a constant loop. It moved ever so slightly faster than the smaller spiders, heading straight towards Asher.
The latter wrung himself out of the stupor; Qyne was gone, and the world was unpaused. He began to move backward, keeping the staff steady, and pointed at the massive behemoth. Another 'thing' appeared on what he'd come to call his 'peripheral UI', at the very top: the boss' health bar. Each time the fireball struck, it chipped away at it ever so slightly, with the number '3' popping up above the monster's head.
However, considering that the boss had 300 HP, Asher would have to land at least a hundred fireballs in order to kill it. As such, he began to ‘aim’ ever so slightly to the boss’ side, trying to clean up the remaining fifteen smaller spiders. Every time he’d kill one, it would explode into tiny, bursting shards of fire that spread out in a full circle, damaging both the massive monster as well as the other smaller spiders nearby.
Just as he fell into the comfortable routine and wondered why Qyne had him choose Dash over more offensive firepower, the world darkened. Asher paused and looked up where he saw the golden sun vanish, replaced by black-as-dye clouds that hung stationary right above his head. At their center, he saw a blue dot coalescing, growing, and pulsating. By instinct, he knew that it was an attack aimed at him.
He began to 'rush' out of the circle that seemed to cover roughly ten yards in diameter, but because of how slow he was, he'd only crossed half that distance before the booming sound of thunder blew out his eardrums. Without a thought, he used Dash and rushed out of the circle of death, appearing five yards outside its horizon.
The bolt of thunder slammed into the ground and cranked out a massive storm of dirt and debris, shaking the entire arena. Without a doubt, Asher realized as cold sweat began to stream down his back, if he had stayed in there... he would have been obliterated. At least, now, he understood: had he picked Wild Thunder, he would have died. And he suspected that many people had picked it--unless their fairies, too, intervened in the choice.
Shaking his head to wake himself up, he faced the staff toward the pack of monsters once again and began to 'guide' them to the edges of the arena so that he could kite them in a circle. He feared for a moment that the massive attack had a lower cooldown than Dash but, luckily, the bolt of thunder appeared every fifteen seconds or so, while Dash only had ten seconds long cooldown. Add one or two seconds while he moved slightly out of the center of the radius, and it was more than enough time to have Dash up for every instance of what Asher assumed was the boss’ version of Wild Thunder spell.
"Woho, keep running, dumbass!" at some point, Qyne appeared once again and started flying by his side, occasionally doing rounds around his head, never stopping with the insults.
“Can’t you run any faster?! Oh, how could you--you got the shortest legs I’ve ever seen!”
“Hop, hop, hop, you weird, hairless monkey!”
“Wow, this is beyond pathetic. Why is it taking you so long to kill that shit-stirring pest? Maybe I should have just let you die... this can’t be worse than that.”
“...”
In the end, Asher tuned her out; he was rather good at doing precisely that, letting the hurling debris of down-talking flurry through one ear and out the other. One by one, the tiny spiders disappeared, and only the biggest one was left. It continued to slowly move toward Asher, occasionally unleashing the Wild Thunder. Even though he’d dodged it quite a few times, he couldn’t help but flinch and shiver each time the thigh-thick bolt crescendoed into the ground, uprooting it.
By now, there were over a dozen craters around the arena, though quite a few had ‘healed up’ as it were, terraformed back into their neutral state.
Some six-seven minutes later, the massive spider drew its last breath, its many legs giving out as it crashed down onto the ground, dissipating in the flutter of glowing embers soon after.
“Tsk,” Qyne landed on his shoulder, legs crossed. “I forgot how boring this shit can be at first.”
“That was... boring?” Asher asked, crashing down onto the ground. Whatever held him together--unicorn dust and magic tapes--had run out and the reality of what he just lived through set in. “I... how...”
“It’s the magic of the place,” she shrugged indifferently. “Most lesser species like humans psychologically fell apart when they just got tossed in here. Though it was fun watching them all be splattered into the shower of blood and gore, it was less fun when nobody could pass the damn stages. So, at the start and during the map runs, your psyche is strengthened. Anyway, rot-level garbage survived, huh? To be honest, even with a hint, I wholly expected you to slip or something and just crack your skull."
Asher ignored her, breathing in threes once again. He didn't have much of a chance, however, as the searing pain returned for a brief moment, coiling through him.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
When he opened his eyes, he was neither in the black void nor in his cabin--but in a rather spacious plaza surrounded by the same mist as the arena before. There were eight buildings spread out in the ring, the center of the plaza hoisting a beautiful, golden statue of a young woman. The statue was odd, in part because body proportions were all way off, but doubly so because the woman had six heads, each of which bore different emotions: apathy, sadness, depression, anguish, horror, and lust.
Strangely, from the sea of people from before... there were only six, him not included--two women and four men. Two of the four men seemed to be in their fifties, one was a teenager, and the other was... ambiguous. Both women seemed to be in their mid to late twenties. As it were before, however, he could neither speak nor more--and that seemed to be the case for them as well. They could only eye each other uncomfortably for a few seconds before the eagle showed up.
"Alas, 'tis a dreary scene," it spoke in a gallant voice. "Even with how scant was my trust in humanity, for only seven to endure the trial... we may as well dispatch thee as well and commence anew." It hung the pause for a moment, its eyes gleaming with the sheen of mirth. "I jest... mostly. Worry not, but cheer not either; thou hast neither triumphed nor been vanquished as yet. We shall summon one hundred and ninety-three more to replenish our ranks. Through toil and experimentation, we shall find enough of thee to render these contests somewhat diverting. Until then, welcome to the Prisoner Plaza. Thou shalt be transported hither for one hour each day wherein thou mayest engage in thy banal discourse. Thou mayest also patronize three establishments present here: the Furniture Shop, the Tavern, and the Upgrade Shop. Ye have all performed wretchedly, and art unworthy of any reward. Thus, at the very least, endeavor to fashion the ensuing map with more merriment? Perchance then, one of the Lords may deign to bless thee, thou lesser beings."
The eagle vanished, though before they were able to move, a few windows appeared seemingly in front of everyone as their attention was diverted forward, directly in front of them. Asher was no exception.
Completed: Grassy Lowlands [1]
Rewarded: 10 Souls, 1 Divine Gem, Beginner’s Shop Unlocked [Furniture / Upgrade stores]
Performance Rating: 3/100
Evaluation: Abysmal
Time Until Next Map: 23:59:33
Time unfroze and chains came undone--Asher was able to move, as was everyone else. And yet... nobody did. There was dreary silence between them, apt horror at their current circumstances.
“H-hey,” the first one to break the silence was one of the older men; he was bald, short, and stout, wearing brown, drab robes just like everyone else. “So... anyone know what’s going on?”
“...” nobody replied, as nobody knew. They could all venture a faint guess and throw out assumptions, but the truth was that their circumstances were ails of the stories, and now they were living them.
“Right,” the man chuckled awkwardly. “Well, my name is Richard. Uh, on Earth, I owed a small accounting firm. I was--”
“Nobody gives a shit, old man,” the voice cracked, teetering the line between childish and not, and everyone looked at the source: the teen boy who had, at some point, started leaning against the statue, arms crossed. “None of you matter, okay? This entire thing was clearly written and created for me, to turn me into a godly being that will save their world. So, save your pathetic introductions, your desperate attempts to reel me in to help you, and just wash your necks nicely for me, m’kay? If you want me to save you, it’s best if you start giving me everything you can right away. I may show mercy on you and take you along with me later on.”
"..." Everyone stared at the boy with widened eyes--Asher included. The boy, however, seemed entirely unperturbed. He remained standing, his gaze affixed to the sky, jaw angled ever so slightly to the right. If nothing else, the boy knew how to strike a pose.
One of the two women shook her head, turning away and focusing on the rest of the group.
“Did you all face the same challenge? Hundred smaller spiders, and the big one?” she asked. Her voice was rather soft and melodic, like a morning dew, in complete contrast to her appearance--she was tall, bulky, and seemed capable of lifting Asher above her head and tossing him some twenty yards in every which direction.
“Yup.”
“That the one.”
“...” a few people confirmed, though Asher, the other woman, and the boy remained silent. The latter seemed quite confused that he was being ignored.
“I’m guessing most of the people chose the attack spell and not Dash,” the woman said, nodding knowingly. “Full disclosure: I misclicked.”
“... you, you misclicked?” the other woman asked. She barely cracked four feet by Asher’s estimates.
“Yup. I wanted to choose Hurl Boulder ‘cause, well, it’s self-explanatory, no? But I got so excited that my hand shook and I clicked Dash.”
"You don't have to click, though?" the man of the 'ambiguous' age said. "You just make a choice in your head and, well... that's it?"
“Wow. Really? Huh,” the woman exclaimed. “Yeah, that makes sense. Ah, don’t be surprised. I am quite stupid, after all.”
“...”
“Yup. I know that I may look quite smart,” Nobody thought that--Asher, and seemingly everyone else, had the exact same collective thought at that moment. “But I am quite a dummy. I was one of those pity passes, you know? By the time I graduated high school, I was fully employed at my local lumberyard for four years! Thanks for the tip!” She’s the only one who chose the sword, isn’t she?
Everyone seemed to be rather in sync, glancing around, while the woman seemed quite happy with the newly obtained knowledge.
“My name is Mira, but you can call me Zelda.”
“... why?” the other woman asked.
“Why what?”
“Why would we call you Zelda?”
“Ah, ‘cause of my dad. My mom and he had a big fight about my name, so my full name is Mira Chaucer Zelda Wayne Retkinson. Ah, but don’t call me Chaucer. Or Wayne. Ugh.”
Whether she wanted to or not--likely not--Mira, or Zelda, entirely obliterated the heavy and awkward atmosphere. It was as though everyone's minds got thoroughly cleansed and, if only for a moment, forgot the reality of everything, namely that they were kidnapped from their homes and taken here to partake in some cosmic tournament of survival. Why? They weren't told, as it seemed there was only enough room to insult them rather than inform them.
So much so, in fact, that Asher laughed, and his laughter prompted others to join. Only Mira, who looked around in confusion, and the teenage boy didn't join. In even the dreariest of realities, Asher learned quite some time ago, that people had the capacity for joy. It was remarkable and terrifying, how unwilling the mind was to break and fold. It sought anything, the tiniest trace of wonder and hope, and latched onto it. Even now, when he knew he should be panicking, he was disarmed. The day was young, though, and he knew that as soon as he returned to the cabin and was alone... the joy would be vanquished by the anxiety. But until then, he decided to enjoy it. The brief respite from reality.