by Ivan Kal
Morgan nodded—he was starting to get excited about the prospect of starting his new life. “All right, send me in, then. I am ready.”
CHAPTER THREE
He wasn’t ready.
One moment Morgan was looking at Sabila in his PSS, and then he was inside a forest surrounded by trees. He had a simple wooden bow in one hand and a quiver filled with fifteen arrows fastened to his hip. He was wearing a brown and dark green cloth outfit with a hood that looked as if it had just been used on the set of some medieval movie.
It took Morgan a few seconds for his brain to catch up to his eyes. The sensations had overwhelmed him for a moment. He hadn’t really noticed before, but there had been no sensations inside the tunnel nor in his PSS; not real ones, anyway. Now he could feel the air around him, and his lungs took their first breath since his heart stopped on the street back on Earth. All around him was life.
God, how did I not notice before? Morgan could feel tears gather up in his eyes, his situation finally hitting him fully. He had died, and now he was living again. And for the first time in his life, he came to a decision. He was going to live life to its fullest—he was going to make something of himself. He would gain enough power and strength so that death never caught up to him again. He was not going to go to that dark and cold tunnel illuminated by a harsh light ever again. Feeling his resolution settle in the core of who Morgan was, he smiled.
And that was when he heard the scream.
Morgan whipped around to the direction of the noise, and now that he paid attention he could hear more: sounds of metal clashing, yelling, and grunting. He took a step toward the noise, and then stopped. What am I doing? Morgan asked himself. He had just arrived to this new world and already he was about to run toward danger. He wanted to live, and usually that meant avoiding danger; he knew nothing about what he would find if he ran toward the noise. He could be going to his own death.
But then he remembered what he had decided, his resolution. To live, to make something out of his life. He grimaced, he knew nothing about this world, but he could just go and check things out. He didn’t need to engage. Right, just go and see what is happening. Morgan took a deep breath and then set out running toward the sounds of battle.
He ran through the forest, jumping over rocks and roots as the sounds ahead grew louder. And then he finally reached a small clearing in front of a cave. He stopped and took cover behind a tree looking ahead.
In the clearing were several short green things with large fangs in their mouths with bile and spit leaking from their mouths down their chins. They were dirty and the smell reached even to Morgan, nearly making him throw up. He recognized what they were immediately as they looked fairly similar to what he had encountered in games before; but, unbidden, knowledge came to the forefront of his mind, and Morgan knew that it came from one of his skills.
The creatures were goblins, regarded in the World as incredibly dangerous tribal humanoids. They had intelligence, but were not considered as smart as most other sentient races. They feasted on everything that they managed to catch and butcher, including others of their own kind.
And there were about a dozen of them in the clearing. Armed with bone and wooden weapons and wearing simple fur garments, they were growling and waving their weapons in the air. One of them was on the ground, blood spurting from a wound on its neck as it gurgled and spit bloody bile. A moment later it stilled, and then its body collapsed, turning into gray dust that slowly dissipated and disappeared.
Stunned, Morgan had no chance to contemplate what that meant as another scream turned his attention to a large boulder and the three people standing in front of it with their backs against it facing the goblins. A man—the source of the screaming—who was dressed in some kind of a robe, was on the ground leaning against the boulder and crying as he held his bloodied hand close to his chest. His eyes darted from goblin to goblin, and terror was clearly evident on his face.
In front of him stood two people, a man and a woman. The woman had shoulder-length red hair and was wearing leather armor with metal disks attached across her torso. In one hand she held a sword and in the other a round wooden shield covered with leather. She had blood leaking over one half of her face and a helmet lay close to her feet. The man had the same type of armor and in his hands he carried a two-handed sword that dripped with blood. Morgan noticed the man was favoring one of his legs, and blood was leaking through a hole in his trousers.
A goblin yelled out and jumped forward at the man but was intercepted by the woman, who slammed her shield into the goblin and threw him to the side just as the man swung his sword and decapitated it.
For a moment Morgan was relieved as he saw them take care of the goblin. It looks like they don’t need my help after all, he thought to himself—just as the man’s leg gave out and he dropped to one knee. Two goblins took advantage and moved to attack. The man raised his sword and blocked an attack from one of them while the woman intercepted the other one. She exchanged a few blows with the shorter goblin, and then another goblin joined in. She tried to move back, but her foot caught on something on the ground and she fell on her back.
Fuck me sideways! Morgan cursed and stepped out of his cover. He grabbed an arrow from his quiver and in a practiced maneuver that he was doing for the first time he nocked and released the arrow. It flew true and slammed in the back of the head of the goblin who had his club raised over the woman. It fell down on her and Morgan released a cheer.
“Fuck yeah! How do you like that?! Never been easier!”
Every goblin in the clearing turned to look at him, and Morgan paled. Crap.
He reached into his quiver and nocked another arrow, firing at the goblin that had started running at him. He knew exactly where to shoot—thanks to his ability Pinning Shot—in order to pin the goblin to the ground. He released the shot.
And missed.
“Damn,” Morgan whispered as he watched three goblins running toward him, gaining ground far faster than Morgan thought possible. Seeing no other course of action, Morgan did the only sane thing possible—he turned around and started running back into the forest. While running, he reached into his quiver and tried to pull another arrow as he glanced behind him. The goblins were far closer than he thought they were going to be, the roots, rocks, and uneven forest floor seemingly not a problem for the short green monsters.
Morgan stumbled, nearly falling, but managed to catch himself on his hands, losing the arrow in the process. He righted himself and pulled another three arrows from his quiver. Thanks to his Scatter Shot ability he nocked them together and turned while running, firing them with very little aiming in the general direction of the goblins. A scream of pain told him that he managed to hit something. Morgan jumped over a root and, pulling another arrow, stopped and turned. Two of the goblins were rushing at him, barely ten paces away from him. He aimed and fired at one of them, hitting the goblin in the chest and making him stagger and fall to the ground. The second one didn’t even slow, and Morgan rushed to nock another arrow. He aimed and fired.
The goblin ducked and Morgan’s arrow flew over the goblin’s head. Morgan’s eyes widened as the goblin reached him and swung its wooden club at him. Morgan sidestepped and raised his bow to protect himself, but it wasn’t enough. The club struck his bow, sending it flying from Morgan’s hand. And then the goblin swung again, slamming his club into Morgan’s shoulder. Pain assaulted Morgan as he felt something crack, and he screamed.
The goblin swung again, and as Morgan stepped back, his legs caught on a rock and he fell to the ground, the club passing just above his head. He fell on his shoulder and the pain threatened to overwhelm him. The sound around him became stifled and his vision darkened as he nearly lost consciousness. No! I can’t die again! Morgan gritted his teeth and, fighting the pain, he rolled to his back just in time to see the goblin swinging the club from above at his head.
He rolled again, evading the club, and then rolled back over the goblin’
s weapon, ripping it out of the creature’s hands and pinning it behind him. The goblin threw himself at Morgan, its clawed hands going for his throat. Morgan’s reach was longer, and he put his good arm in the way as he tried to get a knee between them. The goblin was relentless, its mouth opening and closing, releasing spit and growling sounds that made Morgan’s ears hurt. Then the goblin managed to grab Morgan’s hurt shoulder and its claws sunk in, making Morgan scream out in pain again.
Morgan tried to put his fingers into the monster’s eyes, to do anything to get it to stop hurting him, but he just couldn’t reach them. Then he finally managed to wedge one leg between them, and he pushed, throwing the goblin away. He wanted to crawl, to try and escape, but he knew that that was the worst thing he could try to do. He was hurt, and the goblin was fast. Instead he stood up and pulled an arrow from his quiver, then charged at the goblin, who had just gotten back to his feet.
Morgan threw himself at the goblin, and the look of disbelief on the monster’s face showed that he had taken it by surprise. He stabbed his arrow point into the thing’s chest and fell on it with his entire weight, breaking the shaft and taking them both to the ground. The goblin squirmed and screamed, his claws grabbing at Morgan’s hands and stabbing inside, trying to get the arrow out, but Morgan kept up the pressure. The goblin bit Morgan’s shoulder, but Morgan didn’t let up—instead, with the last of his strength, he pushed the broken arrow deeper and twisted.
The goblin released one last scream, and then stilled and died. Morgan rolled away just as the goblin started turning to dust and disappearing, leaving several glowing crystals on the ground behind alongside its garments. Morgan was breathing heavily, his shoulder was killing him, and he felt lightheaded. Then he heard a noise and turned around only to see another goblin walking toward him, one arrow sticking out of his leg—the one I hit with the Scatter Arrow, Morgan realized. It was limping, but its bone-tipped spear was turned toward Morgan.
Trying to summon any of his remaining strength proved useless, and Morgan could only watch as the goblin approached. The monster grinned and raised its spear overhead, preparing to impale him.
The next thing Morgan saw was the goblin’s head flying away as the goblin’s body fell onto him, blood splattering everywhere. Above him stood a redheaded goddess, breathing heavily, her sword dripping blood.
“Well, fuck me sideways,” Morgan said, and then promptly lost consciousness.
CHAPTER FOUR
Morgan found himself in a familiar place, surrounded by gray with an animated character floating in front of him.
“The hell? Please tell me that I didn’t die,” Morgan said. “I knew it, I shouldn’t have tried to help, I’m such an idiot!”
“You are not dead, master. Your body has lost consciousness, but as you have reached the required exp points for advancement to the second level, I have taken the initiative and transferred you here. I hope that you don’t object; seeing as you are unconscious, it was easier for me to bring your mind here,” Sabila said.
“Great.” Morgan sighed in relief—he had really thought that he had died again. “So what is happening outside? Am I safe or what?” The last thing Morgan remembered was the woman he had saved saving him in return.
“I can tell you nothing more than that you are safe for the moment.”
Morgan nodded, at least he wasn’t dead again. He shivered, he had been stupid. He never should’ve tried to help, not without any understanding of the World he now lived in.
“I must say, master, I am very impressed that you managed to survive, and even more that you managed to ascend to the second level in such a short period of time. It is rare for the chosen to survive their first encounter with the World’s monsters.”
“Huh? The chosen?”
“Those like you, who have been taken from other worlds and granted a life in the World by the Great Lord, are referred to as ‘chosen’ by the those born in the World. Only about ten percent of those who had been brought here manage to survive and reach the higher levels. Most of them just shut down when they realize that they are in a truly different world, however, and once they encounter things they had never before seen. But judging from your actions I see that you have no such problems, master.”
Morgan glared at Sabila with an open mouth. “That is information that would’ve been useful before I went into the World!” Morgan yelled out. He had almost died because he didn’t know how to judge a situation in this place. The goblins were far stronger than he had thought they would be for what he thought were low-level mobs. Just this one encounter had shown him clearly that this world was far more brutal than anything he had expected. If that woman hadn’t saved him, he most certainly would’ve now been dead. Morgan realized that he needed to be far more careful in the future. This world might have advantages for him, but it was still very much real.
“I cannot share everything, and you didn’t ask.”
“It doesn’t matter now. How do I level up?” Morgan asked.
Suddenly, screens appeared in front of him.
EXP GAINED!
3x Goblin Scouts killed = 30 exp
1x Goblin Scout wounded = 5 exp
G.F. bonus—aided strangers = 15 exp
Morgan Newton LVL 1 — EXP 50/50 (ascension possible)
“Uh… Sabila? What is G.F.?” Morgan asked.
“G.F. is the Guiding Force, the entity that guides the World in the Great Lord’s stead. It sees everything that happens in the World, and decides how much experience any one action is worth.”
“Huh, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool,” Morgan muttered under his breath. And now there is another god-that-is-not-a-god type of thing meddling in my life, because why not? Morgan thought. It wasn’t that he was ungrateful, he just didn’t like to think about beings capable of doing the things like creating their own universes.
“So what now?”
“Now you may ascend, or in other words gain a level,” Sabila said, and Morgan noticed a button beside his name.
He pressed it and a new screen appeared along with the tables. He had three attribute points to spend and one skill point and one ability point. Looking through his skills and abilities he saw that his two abilities required two points to upgrade, so he decided to keep the ability point for later. For the skills he could upgrade his level-one skills; his Archery II required two points to upgrade, but he decided to save that for later.
The attribute points he spent by putting one in Agility, bringing it up to 16, another in his Constitution, bringing it up to 14, and the last one in his Luck, bringing it up to 10. A part of him wondered if he was just being paranoid, but his luck had not been all that great so far, and he would rather not risk it. With that, he was finished.
“What now?”
“Usually you would be awake during this process, and after you made your choices I would make the changes to your body and mind and you would simply open your eyes. But seeing as you are currently unconscious, the ascension will wake you up as it repairs your body.”
“What? You are making changes to my body?” Morgan asked, horrified. He hadn’t given much thought to how all this was going to work, but now he cursed himself for not asking more questions.
“Of course. I am an artificial being crafted from a piece of your soul and integrated with your new body. My purpose is to shape your body and mind based on your choices as you ascend up the levels. Each time you add a point to your attribute, I strengthen the corresponding part of your body or mind. When you choose a skill, I transfer the knowledge to your brain; when you learn a new ability, I teach your muscles how to perform the action.”
“Holy shit,” Morgan whispered. “So you are like an implant of some kind.”
“Based on your knowledge, that analogy is close. I am nothing like what you imagine with your artificial constructs. I am a soul construct, gifted with power by the Great Lord.”
“Well, thanks, I guess?” Morgan didn’t know what to say; it was all a bit overwh
elming, especially since he had just almost died. “So what, I just wake up now?”
“Yes. As I said, your body will be repaired. The ascension will heal any non-lethal injury, as well as cure any low-level diseases or poisons.”
“That is very useful,” Morgan said, relieved. He had not been looking forward to waking up to a mangled shoulder.
“Are you ready, master?”
“Yeah, send me out.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Morgan woke up slowly, and to the sounds of arguing.
“No, I will not stay here! You are both insane. I have no idea how you convinced me to come with you. This was folly—I almost died! I should’ve never left the village!” a high-pitched and trembling voice yelled out.
“Titus, wait! You can’t go back now, it will be night soon!” another deep voice added.
“I’d rather risk the dark than stay here where I will meet certain death!” the high-pitched voice said, and Morgan could tell that it was moving away.
He opened his eyes and started getting up. In front of him he saw two people: the woman that had saved his life, and the burly man that had fought by her side. The robed man walking away was the one that had been cowering by the rock when the goblins were attacking. In fact, Morgan realized that they were inside a cave with a small fire going just in front of him, and that he had been leaned against the wall—and that he was without his tunic.
