by Konrad Ryan
“Who I am, was, is not important. My name was Athnllpd. But that was another time. Next question. Please, the pain.” His name alone sounded like gibberish. Maybe it didn’t have a direct translation, so Tad heard the words in the creature’s native tongue. It surprised Tad that a word could sound gooey. Its name was a slug that had crawled inside his ears and left trails of slime.
“Is there any way to save you?” Tad didn’t want to kill a sentient being that had no ill-intent toward him. It was also chained with no way to protect itself. Killing it seemed cruel and unnecessary, cowardly, even.
“Death. Death will be my slumber. My salvation.”
Tad closed his eyes for a moment. It wanted to die. Every moment seemed to cause the creature great pain, was Tad really willing to use that pain to further his own agenda? Tad had promised himself he would be hard, harder than Gruff, hard enough to make the tough choices, but he didn’t want to become another Zero. There was a fine line, but he would walk it. He let his determination wash over him, his resolve solidifying. He would not let this chance go without some answers, but he had so many questions he wasn’t sure where to start.
“What… am I?”
“You? You are null. You are void. But you are also infinite.” The creature paused for a second and then shook its head before correcting himself. “Not infinity, but the opposite side of the same coin. All-consuming. At least… you have the potential to be. Few who make it this far can press much further. Please, the pain is so severe.”
“What others? How long has it been since the previous… null?”
“Eternities, but also a few moments. Time flows differently in this accursed prison.” The creature’s face contorted in pain. It sagged against its chains, breath ragged. “Please. My pain is unending. But the time of rest has come. It is time. Do as you promised.” Even talking seemed to cause the pitiful creature incredible pain.
No. Not yet. Tad hadn’t truly learned anything he hadn’t known yet. He hardened his resolve once more. He wouldn’t free the creature from his pain, not yet.
“Just a while longer, please. Are there any nulls still alive?”
“Null? There is no null. Voids are many, Zero is singular. One void has progressed to Zero… but he has been… tested.” A small, knowing smile swept across the creature’s face for just a moment before it winced once more in pain. “Yet the corruption of his prison spreads, still absorbs in unending hunger. Unlike you, Zero was not… kind. Zero made me suffer.” The creature’s eyes winced, distant in memory.
This story was familiar. It was the same one that the demented void in his dagger had told. Surely the creature was talking about Titan.
“You met Zero?”
The creature only nodded, but the slight motion caused its entire body to writhe in pain, the writhing begat more writhing, until its entire body shook from unseen torment. Its pain seemed to grow every second. Tad questioned his resolve. Zero had made the creature suffer, isn’t that exactly what he was doing? Somehow, he had to balance being resolute enough to make the hard choices, but not becoming merciless like Zero. He didn’t want to emulate that monster. It was time to give the creature his rest.
“Last question. I promise.” Tad said. Desperate hope filled the creature’s eyes, its mouth now dripped with yellow froth. “How high does this tower go?” Wait, no! A better question popped into Tad’s mind. “Can Zero be killed?”
The creature’s eyes narrowed, suspicion swept across its face at the sudden contradiction. After a moment the creature shrugged, so casually it caught Tad off guard.
“That was not one question… but both I will answer. To the first, how high might you climb? Even Zero found a ceiling. Not the ceiling, since for a void there is none, but his ceiling he found. To the second. Yes, Zero can die. He has become like the creators, even those from beyond the beginning, time no longer touches him. If he were not Zero, were not a void, he could join those in the eternal, claim the empty seat. Like them, he is stronger than time. Please. My end is here. You can climb no higher while I live.”
Tad tried to catalogue the creature’s words away for another time. Most of them sounded like nonsense, but one thing was for sure. Zero wouldn’t just keel over from old age. There went one option.
He studied the bound creature. It looked pathetic. Killing it would be an act of mercy. He wasn’t even sure he was actually killing it, since it would return to the tower… eventually. He steeled his resolve further. He would kill the creature to get stronger. To move up the tower.
“Thank you for answering my questions. May your rest be long.” Tad said.
For the first time, the creature’s lips parted in a smile. “I hope this void goes far. For your kindness, I leave you with a blessing and a warning. Do not enter Titan. There is no escape. The council asked me to design Titan to contain, made from the void itself, it is impossible to break. Nothing can shatter Titan’s chains, nor escape. Not even the alpha creators themselves could escape its hold. Titan’s might swells to match even Zero.” The same smirk from before appeared on the creature’s face.
“Had Zero been kind to me, I would have warned him the same. His cruelty was his folly. It became his demise.”
Tad’s eyes widened in shock. This creature had designed Titan. That information seemed worth more than anything he had said yet. Beyond that, this weak, sick, chained creature had bested Zero. He beat and trapped Zero within Titan’s gates. The creature seemed to take pleasure in the deed. A wide self-pleased smile stretched across its sore-ridden face, almost reading Tad’s mind.
“Damn right I beat him.”
Tad smiled back. He felt strangely proud of it. Despite being pitifully weak and bound to a wall covered in weeping sores, the creature had laid a trap and defeated the ultimate opponent.
With a newfound respect, Tad’s daggers pierced the chained creature’s chest. Death was instant. Just as he had promised. In death, the creature’s face shone with relief and gratitude.
Once again, Tad stood back in the class tower, on the first step of an enclosed spiral staircase. The black mist had disappeared without a trace. The texture of the stairs were rough, even through his shoes. He shook his head to clear the fog, all this teleporting was jarring. One second he was in a cave with an obese crab, the next he was in a crypt where its undying resident had toppled giants.
He climbed the stairs to where a red-red-brown, three-tiered pedestal stood. Just as he had expected. But… wait. If it changed colors each time, didn’t that mean it could only go up eighteen floors until he reached creator level classes? The creature had said that the tower had no ceiling. And from the outside, the tower went up much higher than eighteen floors. Tad pursed his lips. There was no point in speculating with such limited knowledge, but if the tower contained hidden secrets, he would search them out. For now, however, he had no intention of stopping his climb. Not until it got dangerous.
On top of the table where the fat crab walked, a new figure joined it. A miniature creature with raptor legs stalked the crab, chains gone. Huge, painful lumps and sores still covered its body, but its face looked content. Tad touched the creature.
*Do you wish to change your class to Plaguebearer?*
*Plaguebearer: You can enter any dungeon weaker than your rank. You receive the plague.*
Yep. That seemed about right. This class was useless too. No, this one was even more useless than the last class. At least ‘fat crab’ had a bonus to constitution. This one just gave him the plague. That seemed pleasant. Although, he hadn’t expected anything amazing since there hadn’t even been a battle.
But… that wasn’t completely true. There had been a battle, it just wasn’t a physical one. It had been a test of morality, of character. According to the colors of the pedestal, the ‘plaguebearer’ encounter was more difficult than the crab fight. Maybe the colors didn’t reflect difficulty, but danger. For Zero, it was probably the most dangerous encounter of the whole tower, leading directly to his impri
soning. It just wasn’t immediately dangerous.
Shivers climbed Tad’s spine at the realization. This tower was a lot more dangerous than it seemed. Not only were there battles where you put your life on the line, but the tower also measured things like your character with hidden ticking time bombs if you failed. The worst part was that you wouldn’t even know if you failed.
There had been many other ways to fail that encounter. Had he been too kind and put the creature out of its misery immediately, he would have missed the warning. Or if he hadn’t tried to talk to it, expecting it to attack him. Maybe even if he had asked the wrong questions, the creature might not have warned him. There were so many ways he could have failed. In hindsight, maybe he should have tried to converse with the crab…
Great. Now he was going to doubt himself every step of the way. Thanks tower full of maniacal mind games! So glad to be here!
Despite himself, a grin spread across his face. He was glad to be here. At least a little. Exploring this tower, floor by floor, with promises of strength, made the hair on his arms stand in excitement. What other tests would he have? What monsters would he defeat? But what excited him most were the tower’s incessant taunts; the glowing pedestal prodded, and black mist beckoned across the steps, each asking: ‘just how high can you climb?’
Tad rejected the plague bearer class. He grasped the key, still in the pedestal, and twisted. He was ready for the next challenge. It shot upward and Tad strode through the mist.
He screamed.
The floor disappeared beneath his feet. He rushed downward, faster and faster, a black chill surrounded him. His skin was ice and the air paper thin. He fell toward a globe far below, a planet growing larger by the second. In his freefall, he tried to orient himself. Besides the blinding light of the sun, just beginning to peek around the planet, the darkness of space met him everywhere else he looked. Besides the sun, there were no stars. In fact, there were no planets, or moons, or anything. Just pitch black. How high up was he? Tad looked down. The planet grew larger below him with each passing moment.
Suddenly Tad missed the dank darkness of earthen caves. His previous request for a dungeon in the sky had been granted, and it was much, much worse than he had thought. It was a time trial, with a crushing death at the end.
Tad forced his eyes open, his lashes iced over immediately, but he squinted and looked for whatever he was supposed to fight.
Sharp claws raked across Tad’s back, sending him into a violent spin. *-20 health.* Tad spun out of control. *-19 health* A third sharp sting, *-20 health,* this time to his leg. He didn’t have time to worry about what was attacking him. He couldn’t even figure out how to control his descent. His cloak flapped furiously in the wind. It wrapped around his face and fought him every step of the way. Tad mentally unequipped the cloak and glanced at his health.
*Health: 341/400*
Without the wind resistance of the cloak, Tad’s enhanced dexterity quickly kicked in. He flipped right side up, feet pointing down toward the gleaming golden planet below. Pulling his arms closer, he spun to see what was around him. A giant falcon-like bird, with a beak shaped like a jagged knife, sliced right through the side of his torso and flew past in a blur. *-21 health.*
How on earth could it dive faster than he was falling? Could birds even do that? Tad summoned his daggers to his hands. Immediately the silver dagger flew from his fingers, perhaps caught by the air resistance. Raekast’s Fang painfully froze to already icy fingers. The darkness of space was colder than any place Tad had ever been. He imagined it was only his constitution that kept him from freezing to death.
The planet below now covered the entire horizon. If he had to guess, he was halfway to the planet’s surface from where he had started. The planet was growing too fast. Death approached. Tad forced the thought from his mind, refocusing on the task at hand. The bird dove from above. He was ready. He wouldn’t try to dodge. It was only 20 points of damage. He could absorb that.
The bird flashed past, *-18 health,* he spun out of control as his dagger sliced through the bird. He regained his composure, but the bird hit him a second time, *-22 health,* sending him careening once more.
The air warmed slightly the further Tad fell through the stratosphere. It lost its icy bite. His limbs pulsed painfully at the sudden change of temperature.
Tad finally got eyes on the bird. It was bleeding profusely from a wound he had landed near its neck. Its health bar was two-thirds full. Tad glanced once more at the planet rising below him. Distant mountain ranges were almost at his eye level. He needed to end this now. The bird was fast, but it wasn’t very durable. He braced for impact as the giant falcon broke into a full dive, its knife beak gleamed in the sunlight. Tad strained his eyes, pushing his dexterity to the limit. The bird seemed to slow just as it got within striking range. Tad flung out his limbs and flipped above the dive-bombing bird. He caught the feathers with his free hand. He flipped himself onto the back of the bird and stabbed his obsidian dagger into the bird’s back. A second thrust to the side of the bird’s neck dropped its health bar, dangerously low. Tad stabbed a third time, a deep slice across the length of its back. Its health bar disappeared completely.
Tad clung to the dead bird to slow his fall, but he didn’t return to the white marble room. Instead, his plunge toward the surface of the planet continued.
Death’s jaws opened below.
Chapter 3
The falcon was dead, but Tad still fell. He grasped the bird’s limp wings and spread them out, the two tumbled through the air. Rivers, lakes, and mountains close. Panic erupted in his chest. He killed it! He had beaten the encounter! What else was he supposed to do? His hands were ice, joints swollen from the pervasive cold from higher altitudes. Tad looked down toward his certain demise.
But wait… something was happening. Tad was slowing. It was hard to tell at first, but the roar of the wind against his face wasn’t so loud, instead of violence, the wind now caressed. Finally, Tad stopped completely. There he was, floating in the air, only thousands of feet above the planet below.
Tad let out a relieved breath, and released the bird he had used as a parachute. It plunged downward and hit the earth twenty seconds later. He seemed to be out of danger for the time being. He enjoyed the view, truly seeing it for the first time, at least the first time not stained by the fear of death. Tad had thought the view from the mountaintop had been breathtaking, but it was nothing compared to this. Lush green vegetation covered the planet, rivers cut through the forests and plains alike. A mountain soared to one side of him, surely its peak was about how high he floated. Suddenly he was glad for the aim of whoever tossed him here. Had he been unlucky, he could have been crushed on the top of the mountain, instead of floating in the air. How high up had he been? How high were the tallest mountains? There were so many things Tad was going to look up once he got home.
Finally, he stood on the rough brown steps in the class tower. The air was thin, even here, but felt like pancake batter compared to how thin it had been in the upper reaches of the planet’s atmosphere. He breathed in big gulps, the tips of his fingers were a deep, wounded red color. It might even be beautiful, if he didn’t know what it meant. Frostbite. The first stage, at least. Tad had gotten frostbite before, in one especially cold winter.
“Stats,”
*Tad Harrington
Rank: Soldier
Level: 30
Health: 236/400
Mana: 42/42
Str: 15
Dex: 28
Con: 30
Mag: 21
Cou: 10
Cha: 1
Debuffs: Frostbite stage 1
Points to allocate: 35*
164 health was missing. Had the knife-falcon damaged him that much? It seemed like too much. Perhaps his constitution hadn’t completely protected him from the cold damage, his frostbitten hands were proof.
Tad pulled up the information on his new debuff.
*Frostbite stage 1: Re
ceive 1 damage every second you remain in below freezing temperatures.*
Well, that explained where his missing health had gone.
“Heal.”
Tad reread the spell’s description, feeling a pang of loss for his healer set.
*Heal: Recover 5 health. Costs 1 mana.*
Warmth and pain surged through Tad’s body as his wounds stitched together, healing instantly. His fingers pulsed with warmth, but also with the pain of a thousand pins pressing out from his fingertips. Finally, the color returned to normal. Despite what the champion healer lady said, healing hurt. At least Tad’s healing hurt. He tried to envision the healing with warmth, with a soothing touch, painless, but pain always wracked him when repairing ripped flesh and broken bones. It was painful, but better than the alternative, best done quick, like ripping off a bandage. Odd tightness usually followed, the wounds rapidly scabbed over, pulling skin and stretching flesh in odd directions. But the result was always the same, new pink skin covering the old wounds, but at a cost. This time the cost was 33 mana.
There had to be a secret to painless healing, or maybe it just required practice. Tad was determined to find out, no matter how long it took.
Tad shot up the stairs, excited to see the class that awaited him. This time the creature he fought had been formidable. Fast as lightning, even if its attacks and defenses weren’t anything to brag about. A foot above the fat crab and the plaguebearer, a falcon soared, wings outstretched, knife beak glistening in some ray of invisible sunlight. Tad touched the soaring fowl.
*Do you wish to change your class to Blade Falcon?*
*Blade Falcon: Dexterity increased by 50%. Constitution and strength reduced by 25%. You transform into Falcon Form.*
Tad had to hold back from accepting the class, blade falcon sounded way cooler than knife falcon. But falcon form, what was that! He tapped on the word as a new dialogue box popped up in front of him.
*Falcon Form: Your arms morph into the wings of a giant falcon. You gain access to the hidden passive skill ‘Flight.’
