《Cursed Trainee》 Chapter One I hate my nightmares, but sometimes I hate the therapy sessions more. Oh, I¡¯m doing them hoping they will help me get rid of the nasty dreams. So far, they haven¡¯t helped one iota. Deep down, I still hope that this time I managed to unlock something inside me and I can go home and into bed. My constant hope is that I will get a few hours of decent sleep without waking up all sweaty and screaming. ¡°Doc, I don¡¯t think these sessions are helping,¡± I tell my therapist while I¡¯m looking at the buildings, trees, and traffic in the distance. Without paying attention to what¡¯s happening outside, my mind focused on how I dread going to sleep. I even hate sitting on the couch for the required hour, so here I am now, standing near the window. Given that I spend my workdays at a desk at the call center talking with clients, I need to give my body a break. The rustle of pen on paper stops as soon as the words are out. I turn toward doc Morrison and, for a few seconds, I catch a glimpse of bewilderment on his face as he stares back at me. He doesn¡¯t say anything for so long I start to believe I¡¯ve rendered him speechless. Seconds tick by until I can¡¯t stand the silence any longer. ¡°So, what do you think?¡± After so many sessions, I ask him the same question he¡¯s been asking me¡ªI swear he¡¯s done it just to annoy me. He shrugs and then taps the pen on the notebook he¡¯s holding. ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking the same thing. We¡¯re not getting anywhere closer to help you understand your nightmares or get rid of them.¡± If anything, they¡¯ve become even worse in the last few weeks. ¡°There¡¯s a treatment you could try. It¡¯s called IRT¡ªimagery rehearsal therapy¡ªand it¡¯s used for people with PTSD. It might help you too. Even if you never get rid of the nightmares, at least you could train your mind, so the dreams are less intense and not as frequent as they are now.¡± Yeah, I have never heard of IRT until now. There¡¯s no traumatic experience in my past. I keep dreaming of something that came straight out of horror movies. At this point, I¡¯m willing to try almost anything if it helps. Doc rummages through his coat pockets and then holds out a business card for me. ¡°The doctor is a friend of mine. He¡¯ll see you if you give him a call.¡± I leave the comfortable spot at the window to get the card. Smiling ruefully, I grab the laminated paper he¡¯s holding and tuck it in my wallet. ¡°I guess this is our last session.¡± He nods, a silent admission he couldn¡¯t help me. I see no reason to continue our weekly sessions. Still, I get the feeling I¡¯m going to miss the cranky old man. He gets up from his chair and comes to shake my hand. ¡°It was a pleasure working with you,¡± he says, squeezing my fingers in an enthusiastic grip. ¡°Though I wasn¡¯t able to help you, what you experience every time you sleep makes for an interesting case. If you don¡¯t mind, I¡¯d like to publish an article based on the scenario you¡¯re experiencing in an academic journal.¡± I shrug. ¡°Knock yourself out.¡± I don¡¯t care if he wants to use my nightmares for some reverse psychology shit. I¡¯m glad I no longer have to answer any more questions about how it makes me feel. ¡°I want that in writing,¡± he calls after me as I head out of his office. ¡°Give me a call when you have a daft available,¡± I shout over my shoulder without turning back. When I get outside of the building, I check my watch. I still have a few hours until I have to get to work in the afternoon shift. Before that, I should grab a coffee and some lunch. A fifteen-minute walk takes me to Mission District. My favorite restaurant, where they pack a mean burrito, is there. As for the coffee, I guess I¡¯ll have to grab one on the go. I pay for the food, and then I take a seat at one of the tables and enjoy every bite of my burrito. While I eat, I try not to think about tonight and that I should get some shut-eye. People around me are coming and going, but I don¡¯t pay them any heed. I reflect on why I don¡¯t have any flashbacks about last night¡¯s nightmare. Today must be my lucky day. Once I finish the burrito, I go back to my car and head to work. When I enter the office and sit down at my desk, I realize I forgot to grab a coffee. Without caffeine, I¡¯m so going to be in a surly mood all day. A lengthy list of tasks waits for me. Placing it next to my keyboard, I grab the phone and start making calls. The day passes by in a blur of calls. I explain to existing and potential customers about our products and services. Yeah, selling beauty products via phone isn¡¯t the manliest job ever, but I make do, and it pays the bills. By the end of the day, I can¡¯t wait to get home and relax. Hours later, when I finally open the door to enter the apartment building, my neighbor, Mrs. Gallagher, is spying on me again. Sometimes I swear it¡¯s all she does. Her door is ajar, and she¡¯s standing behind it. Does she believe I don¡¯t see her in the dim light? I can make out part of her lips and nose, and one eye watching me like a hawk. She¡¯s hiding the rest of her wrinkled face in the darkness of her apartment. For a brief second, an icy-cold shiver runs down my spine when I look at her. My body shakes, struggling against the fear creeping up on me. I take a few slow breaths and study her. She reminds me of the crone saying the incantation in my nightmares, somehow bringing them to life even when I¡¯m wide-awake.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Late of you to come home, ain¡¯t it?¡± she caws. That¡¯s how she usually talks. Every time she opens her mouth and words come out, I get the impression that she must have been a crow in another life. For a few seconds, I want to tell her to keep her nose out of my business. I bite the tip of my tongue instead and keep my mouth shut. Ever since I moved into this apartment complex, she¡¯s only been nice to me. She brought me cookies last Sunday, and in my book, that has to be worth something. I shrug. ¡°Good evening to you too, Mrs. Gallagher,¡± I say, aware she did not utter any salutation. I swear I heard her snicker. ¡°That¡¯s my work schedule. I don¡¯t have a choice to come and go as I please.¡± A crazy laugh escapes her mouth. ¡°You need another job. Something to give you all the liberties you need.¡± She¡¯s right to a certain degree. I could always go up the ladder. If the rumors are true, there¡¯s an opening as a sales manager in our company. I could apply for that job. God knows I¡¯ve worked my ass off, and I know the ins and outs of the sales process. Yet, I doubt it would make any significant difference to my working schedule. Most likely, I would have to put in extra hours of work. I mutter under my breath at the thought. I¡¯m only twenty-five. I like my freedom the way it is, thank you. ¡°Yeah¡­about that¡­I don¡¯t think it¡¯s going to happen very soon,¡± I reply to Mrs. Gallagher. Another crazy laugh escapes her lips. ¡°It might be sooner than you think, Arius.¡± I¡¯m a meaningless insect in her eyes, and when she says my name, I cringe. I can¡¯t do anything about it, though, nor do I get the chance. Without uttering another word, she slams the door shut and leaves me dumbfounded. There goes that. I close my eyes for a few seconds, fighting against the uneasiness assaulting me. Tired after work, I stop dilly-dallying and go home. The empty apartment welcomes me as I leave behind me everything that has happened today. I don¡¯t know what to do now to relax. My stomach takes the decision away from me, rumbling its displeasure at being empty. I ransack the fridge until I find the leftover pizza from yesterday. I like having something to drink while I eat, so I grab a can of soda. I take the food into the bedroom. I have a desk there where I keep my PC. I turn on the unit and wait for the monitor to come alive with the countless icons I have on the screen. While I have my late dinner, I access some videos to laugh my ass off at how stupid people can be. Halfway through my dinner, my head starts buzzing with the beginning of a headache. I can either sleep it off or make my mind think of something else and ignore the pain. Sleeping is out of the question. I decide to play a few matches in one of my favorite online games. I choose my champion and stare at the loading screen until my other teammates select theirs. I have the worst day ever because the enemy team slays my allies, and I keep losing match after match. Can anyone say noob? I have to win at least one game, so I play another one. And another. And another. When I glance at the clock, it¡¯s three AM. My eyelids are heavy, and my body is slumping forward as if embracing sleep. The sudden movement jerks me awake for a couple of seconds, and then I start all over again. I battle the fatigue and the drowsiness until I can no longer keep my head up. The keyboard looks like a cozy pillow, and I rest my head on it for a couple of minutes. I promise I won¡¯t fall asleep. I can¡¯t. I find myself again in the worst place where I could be. I¡¯m in a room¡ªI don¡¯t have a clue where, but it¡¯s not my bedroom¡ªand it¡¯s so dark I can¡¯t see a thing. A moldy smell invades my nostrils, and I fight against gagging. Humidity permeates the air, making it difficult to breathe. This place reminds me of the basement in my grandmother¡¯s house, an image I¡¯d rather forget. I try to turn right and left without much success. My feet seem glued to the floor, and I struggle against invisible restraints. My heart is beating frantically in my chest while I fight back a cry of fear. The silence is deafening until someone talks, words I never wish to hear again. ¡°Here you are, oh, the prophesied one. Not much of you, is it?¡± A woman mocks me with those words. I don¡¯t see her yet, but her voice clues me in that she¡¯s old. Who are you and what do you want from me? I try saying the words aloud¡ªnothing comes out of my mouth. Why can¡¯t I say anything? She speaks again as if reading my mind. That¡¯s impossible, isn¡¯t it? ¡°It¡¯s not time for you to speak. Listen now.¡± I don¡¯t want to listen. I want to be back in the safety of my room with all that¡¯s happening here forgotten. All this time, something nags at the back of my mind, something important I can¡¯t seem to recall. I know what it is as soon as the old hag starts chanting. ¡°Goddesses and Gods listen to my prayer. Make this man a knight in the land of Ledmer. Have him burn alive, have him burn in flames, Until he has worshiped all your worthy names. Let him know no rest, let him know no peace, Until he has vanquished all your enemies. Be my words true, be my words his bind Else peacefulness he will never find.¡± As soon as the words are out of her mouth, tiny jolts of electricity start dancing across my skin. In the beginning, it¡¯s as if I¡¯m taking a warm shower. Soon, instead of tiny jolts, lightning breaks into thousands of pieces. It starts pinching and hurting from head to toe. The intensity increases more, becoming unbearable. I open my mouth to scream, but no sound comes out. I light out the room like a Christmas tree. Flames join the lightning, adding a hot burning pressure through my veins. I¡¯m burning, and I¡¯m not at the same time. I can¡¯t tell how long the torment lasts. Unable to withstand the pain anymore, I fall to my knees. With my mind wrapped up in agony, I catch a glimpse of the woman who cursed me. Before I can take a better look, a purple smoke invades my mouth and nostrils. I choke on the sour odor and cough. I can¡¯t breathe, and the onslaught on my senses seems to last forever. The more I fight the sensations, the more havoc they wreak. My brain focuses on one thought alone. I can¡¯t breathe. This is the end. This is where I die. I can¡¯t breathe. Darkness engulfs me, and I collapse on the floor in blissful oblivion. Chapter Two I wake up with a jolt and grunt in pain when something hard hits my stomach a few times in rapid succession. The pain is unmistakable, the same I have endured almost daily during high school. ¡°What the fuck?¡± I shout, opening eyes the size of saucers. I scowl at the man standing above me. ¡°Did you just kick me?¡± A warm smile and a pair of curious eyes greet me. The man seems completely ignorant he¡¯s done something wrong when his foot rearranged my insides. ¡°Stranger, are you alive?¡± ¡°Barely,¡± I mutter under my breath, the urge to retaliate still strong. I count to ten to calm down and assess my injuries. What hurts the most is my stomach, where the meager fellow hit me. For someone so thin, he sure has some strong kicks. My skin tingles all over, but it¡¯s uncomfortable, not painful. I¡¯m feeling groggy. A shadow of a headache pulsates at both temples. Did I forget to eat again? I get on my feet. My brain registers different things at the same time. They¡¯re related to the state I¡¯m in, the place where I¡¯m standing, and the weird clothing the man who woke me up is wearing. It¡¯s almost dark, but I can still see that my clothes are close to nonexistent. What¡¯s left of my pants is everything I own. I have no shoes whatsoever and no blouse. The burnt hand-sized sleeve doesn¡¯t count as clothing. Nor do the pants, since they reach one leg to the knee and the other only mid-thigh. Covered in grime and ash, I¡¯m unrecognizable and in serious need of a bath. I look left and then right, still hoping to be near my apartment. Hell, I¡¯d appreciate being anywhere near modern bathing facilities. I sigh when I realize I have no such luck. I must be in a rural area because all I see around me are wooden sheds worn down by time. A square stone structure is in front of me. In the open air, the complex has four massive pillars that support burning torches. Before I can take a better look, the man waves a hand in front of my eyes. My focus turns to him. ¡°Where are you at?¡± he asks. His hands go on his hips as if he¡¯s striking a pose. If this is the indignant look on him, he still has some work to do. My fourth-grade friend, Melanie, had more class when she did it. ¡°I¡¯m still here, you know?¡± he huffs and puffs. His attitude leaves me cold while his clothing turns my blood into ice. He¡¯s dressed in black, the tunic covering his shoulders and the upper part of his chest. There are more holes in that clothing item than I have ever seen in my life. The bottom half of his ensemble is a shocker. Is he wearing a skirt? Yep, it¡¯s a skirt. Two grey snakes decorate the front of the knee-length material. When my gaze falls on the forked tongues of the snakes, I notice he¡¯s wearing a thick rope bound around his midsection, supporting an item. I cock my head to the right and see a worn-out iron sword. Fingerless gloves that have seen better days cover his hands. His toes are wiggling at me from a pair of sandals. Is this some sort of joke that I don¡¯t get? ¡°Where the fuck am I?¡± I ask aloud, completely ignoring his questions. He chuckles. ¡°You¡¯re in the land of Ledmer, you dullard.¡± ¡°And that is¡­¡± I prompt him. Probably in the middle of nowhere. He sighs when I don¡¯t give any sign of recognizing the name. ¡°You¡¯re in the village of Ankbigets, near the town of Iddyn, and closer to the Iddyn castle. If you head east, you should reach the castle by sundown.¡± Yeah, it doesn¡¯t ring a bell. A sudden thought crosses my mind. ¡°What year is it?¡± The man looks at me as if I have lost my mind. ¡°It¡¯s the year of our lord protector one thousand five hundred twenty-three.¡± I gawk at him for a few long seconds, then I blink, but the fog that seems to have settled over my brain doesn¡¯t dissipate. I take it all in¡ªmy clothes, the surroundings, and the man¡¯s costume¡ªwhile I try to understand where and when I have landed. I need as much information as possible to get the hell out of here and back in my cozy apartment. Whatever details he¡¯s been providing me are not very helpful. ¡°Okay,¡± I finally say. ¡°Can you point me in the direction of a person who can answer my questions and help me get out of here?¡± The man nods and turns to point to a building behind him. ¡°If you look for Raglin, he¡¯ll help you out. He¡¯s usually patrolling in front of the inn.¡± ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll do that. Thanks, mate.¡± I lean forward to take a better look at the building the man indicated. That¡¯s when bold white letters display in front of my eyes. Congratulations! You have now accepted a quest. You may access the system menu. I stand frozen for a few two seconds, my eyes locked on the message. I blink with the hope that I¡¯m not hallucinating things and the phrases will disappear. After they¡¯re gone, I notice three straight horizontal parallel lines on my right side, close to my hand. I try to brush them away as if they¡¯re some bothersome tiny bug. When my hand hovers over them, other icons with names show up in a list. I quickly read everything¡ªstatus, inventory, quests, and skills. What the fuck is this? I ponder the possibilities. If this is a dream, it¡¯s a great one. If it¡¯s not, then I¡¯m doomed. I don¡¯t think that pinching myself like in the movies would enlighten me more. I should try it. When I put pressure on my flesh, it hurts. Does that mean this is real? This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. I raise my eyes heavenward as if I would receive an answer from there. When I do that, I notice a man close to one of the buildings¡ªit must be the inn¡ªwith a tiny rolled papyrus scroll above his head. He can be the one to enlighten me, not like the obnoxious fellow who woke me up. Speaking of that man, he seems to have vanished. Unfortunately, he dropped his sword. Guess who won¡¯t be going hunting anytime soon. Well, either that or whatever he was doing with the sword. I bend to pick it up, and as soon as I grab the handle, another message flickers in front of me. Item acquired [Rusty Sword] ¨C one-handed. [Rusty Sword] equipped. That¡¯s brilliant information, genius. As if I didn¡¯t know I have a sword, and it¡¯s rusty. Unsure whether I should keep it or not, I finally decide to carry it with me. I don¡¯t have a clue where I am. Having a weapon in my possession in these circumstances is vital, no matter its condition. I head toward the man with the papyrus above his head. He is with his back toward me, and he¡¯s gesturing as if he¡¯s talking to someone, but I don¡¯t see another living soul nearby. Is everyone around here a runaway from the loony bin? When I¡¯m close enough, I raise my arm and tap him with my forefinger on the shoulder. He jumps before turning as if I¡¯ve startled him. When he looks at me, the frown on his face evaporates, and then he smiles as if he¡¯s just seen an old friend. ¡°Hi. Are you Raglin?¡± Please let him be the one who can help me get back home. He nods. ¡°I sure am.¡± I wait a few seconds for him to add something else. He glares at me and doesn¡¯t utter another word. Still waiting, I raise my eyebrows. He ignores my gesture completely. Silence surrounds us. At this rate, I¡¯m going to be old and gray before I find out anything useful from him. I sigh. ¡°Can you answer a few questions for me?¡± ¡°Ask away, adventurer.¡± Raglin¡¯s choice of words strikes me as odd. I don¡¯t ask him why he wanted to address me like that. I don¡¯t need explanations on why he called me an adventurer. Right now, I want answers on how to get back home. ¡°Okay. I would like to know a few things. First, where am I? Second, what year is it? Third, what do I need to do to get out of here and go home?¡± He smirks at me. ¡°You¡¯re in the land of Ledmer during the year of our lord protector one thousand five hundred and twenty-three.¡± He recites the same bullshit that I have heard before. I grab the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger, close my eyes tight, and fight to stifle a sigh. ¡°As for how to get back home,¡± he continues, oblivious to my reaction, ¡°that is a path you must find on your own. If you are here now, the fates have ordained it so.¡± Absentmindedly, I nod. ¡°Since you joined us, wouldn¡¯t it be better if you stopped hiding what you are and try to reach your full potential?¡± ¡°Huh, full potential¡­. What do you mean by that?¡± He shrugs. ¡°Learn to accept your new life and live it the way we do here. Grasp the meaning of your true power and wield it to your advantage.¡± I rub one hand on my head and sigh again. I hear the words he¡¯s saying. They muddle my head. My brain picks up certain parts only of what he said, and I don¡¯t get the full meaning. ¡°Yeah, yeah¡­I get it,¡± I snap. ¡°How do I get out of here?¡± ¡°Hit the wooden dummy over there a few times,¡± he says, pointing toward his right, ¡°and I¡¯ll tell you.¡± I huff. Fine, I¡¯d do anything to get out of here. I tighten my grip on the handle of the sword and head in the direction he pointed. I hit the dummy with all I have. I need six well-placed strikes to shatter it. I stand next to the wooden pieces panting like I do after I finish running a few miles. I must have gotten out of practice when it comes to staying fit with my daily gym routine. I turn toward Raglin and tilt my head to the side. ¡°Satisfied now?¡± ¡°You did all right. But¡­¡± I cringe on the inside, and I still nod, waiting for him to continue. ¡°You lack finesse.¡± He grins. ¡°You need to shape up your fighting skills. How about you do some more training?¡± I nod like the fool I am. As soon as I do that, a notification flickers in front of me. My focus switches for a few seconds to the message. Congratulations! You have now accepted a quest. For crying out loud! Why do I keep seeing these messages, and how do I get rid of them? Another message flickers in front of me. Would you like to continue accessing the menu and displaying system information? What menu are we talking about here? I don¡¯t pay too much attention to it. With the risk of sounding like a two-year-old throwing a temper tantrum, the answer is a big fat no. I don¡¯t want anything. I just want to go back home. There goes another message. Preferences saved. I don¡¯t even know what this is all about, so whatever. ¡°Good,¡± Raglin says. ¡°Fighting wooden dummies won¡¯t help you become a true knight. You need real opponents to become better.¡± That draws my attention back to him. His grin widens, and he¡¯s rubbing his hands together. ¡°There are some creatures at the outskirts of the village. They¡¯re wreaking havoc for the travelers. How about you kill twelve of them, bring me the necklaces they¡¯re wearing as proof, and I¡¯ll give you a little reward?¡± I need twenty seconds to process the information. The results are not in my favor. If I didn¡¯t know any better, I¡¯d swear I was playing a game with a quest ending and another one starting. Raglin is sending me on a wild goose chase without giving me the smallest hint on how to get back home. There¡¯s no one else around here to ask how I could do that. Until I meet other people, I might as well do what Raglin asked. Besides, I have to kill some creatures. How hard can it be? Without uttering another word, I turn my back to Raglin and start walking. I have no clue where the creatures are, so walking away was a bad idea. I sigh, then take a deep breath, and finally turn my head toward him again. His smile is wide when he points toward the village gates¡ªexactly where I was going. No one speaks with me while I head out. The guards at the gates glare at me, and that¡¯s all. I go down the steep stairs praying I won¡¯t fall and break my neck. Built on a hilltop as the castles were during the Middle Ages, the village most likely had its strategic purpose. I take three steps when the sun rays pierce my eyes, making me blink fast. I stop to watch as the sun goes down. Its last rays sneak between the few grey and white clouds, giving an eerie sight to the landscape ahead. The leafless trees look as if someone sifted ashes over them. The place seems deserted. I shiver involuntarily. I¡¯m waiting for the creepy music to start playing in the next few seconds like in the horror movies. If it does, then I¡¯m going to tuck my tails between my legs and run back inside the village. I calm down after a couple of minutes of waiting and continue my way down the stairs. As I get closer to the ground, more and more details unfold. When I finally see the creatures, I want to shriek. I bite my tongue until it almost bleeds to keep the scream in. Wait. Wait a damn minute. Are those skeletons? Someone, please tell me I am not supposed to kill skeletons! Chapter Three Skeletons dressed in ragged clothes cover the field everywhere. Some of them have bows, while others are holding maces. I don¡¯t want to startle the creatures; if I do, I can start the countdown for the minutes I have to live. I get closer to them at a slow pace, all the while my heart beating a wild rhythm in my chest. The creatures move from one place to another, completely ignoring me. I expect them to make the first move, but that doesn¡¯t happen. I contemplate hitting one of them without having any sign that I¡¯m in the proximity of the beings I have to slay. If I¡¯m in a game-like world or a dream, then I will be killing a monster. It¡¯s no harm, no foul. I get close to one of the skeletons holding a mace to hit it with all my strength. As soon as I attack, the creature starts hitting me back. Each blow feels like a direct hit to my chest. Nothing stops me from landing my strokes. I keep going until my breathing becomes erratic, and my lungs feel as if they¡¯re about to explode. I get close to calling it quits, but I land one more blow. The creature falls to the ground, only to vanish into thin air shortly after. It¡¯s as if it has never been there. In front of my very eyes, another skeleton takes shape. Surprisingly, I feel invigorated and powerful, so I raise my sword to attack another creature. This time, I choose one holding a bow. As soon as I hit it, the creature raises its bow to shoot an arrow. I hit the skeleton twice before the projectile reaches me. Pain flourishes in my shoulder. I don¡¯t have time to check the damage as I land the final blow to kill the archer before it can shoot at me again. I collapse to the ground to catch my breath. The pain in my shoulder dissipates. Until it disappears completely, I have time to analyze the situation. The way I see it, it¡¯s faster and almost effortless to kill creatures that are holding a bow rather than those with a mace. There¡¯s one drawback to that, though. The pain inflicted by the arrow is ten times more intense than any hit I¡¯ve received with the head of the mace. If I find a way of coping with that, I will finish faster by killing archers. I jump back to my feet and choose the next creature to attack. I see one with its back turned, and I start hitting it. Three strikes later, the archer is dead, and it didn¡¯t even turn back toward me to counterattack. If what I¡¯m guessing is true, then I¡¯ll complete the task in no time. I run to the next skeleton and position myself behind it. Four strikes later, the creature falls to the ground, and I didn¡¯t sustain any hits. I do a bit of running between my targets to get the position I can take advantage of and kill them one by one. I should have collected the necklaces as proof, but I realize that a little too late. The sun has long set. With its pale glow, the moon now provides enough light to let me search for what I need. I¡¯ve been hunting pretty much in the same area, so I start looking for the required necklaces. I find them with a little effort, align them one by one on my arm, and then head back to the village. I find the strength to run up the stairs. When I reach the guards, I¡¯m panting and trying to catch my breath. They¡¯re in the same spot, so I guess they haven¡¯t moved. They don¡¯t even blink as I walk in. There¡¯s no light in the village, except for the torches still burning on the pillars. I guess there¡¯s enough light for me to make my way to Raglin. When I get there, the place is empty. Damn. I¡¯ve worked for nothing. I sigh and turn around. I have to find a place to stay for the night. If I don¡¯t, then I could sleep in the village square, under the sky. I turn toward the inn. When I reach for the door to open it, I don¡¯t get the chance to touch the doorknob. The door opens from the inside, but an older man blocks my path. I can¡¯t tell his age, but he sure seems like he managed to survive a few centuries in this world. He¡¯s frowning at me, his face dark and full of wrinkles. I expect him to grumble. He manages to surprise me when he says. ¡°You must be the boy Raglin sent on an errand. Come on in.¡± He makes a gesture with his head as if to invite me in. Then he moves aside so I can enter the inn. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. I take a step. ¡°How do you know?¡± He shrugs. ¡°We don¡¯t get many new people around here.¡± I slip past him and go inside. I don¡¯t know what to expect, so the empty room leaves me dumbfounded. There are only two people here. The old man is guarding the door and the woman standing behind the wooden counter. She ignores me, focused on rubbing the plate with a cloth. The rustic room illuminated by torches and candles has several tables and chairs scattered around. I head to the nearest chair and crash on it. I let my head back until the top rail touches me. I close my eyes and sigh as I finally get the chance to relax for a few seconds. I can almost feel the weariness seeping through my pores. When I open my eyes, the old man is standing beside me. I must be exhausted since I didn¡¯t even hear him step toward me. ¡°Where¡¯s my reward?¡± Without saying a word, he throws a worn-out pouch on the table in front of me. I grab it, pull at the strings, and without looking inside, I empty it on the table. Five minuscule items land on wood. Minutes go by as I stare at them. Hysterical laughter bubbles up until it resonates in the room. I wipe away tears of mirth and then look at the old man. ¡°Are you serious? I have to kill monsters, and Raglin is giving me trinkets as a reward?¡± Two rings, two earrings, and a necklace made from a material I¡¯m unable to identify gleam weakly in the dim light. They look frail to break if I handle them too roughly. The old man gives me a feeble smile and a shrug. ¡°It¡¯s what Raglin said to give you.¡± He pulls a chair and sits down on the other side of the table, then mutters: ¡°Ungrateful younglings these days...¡± Part of me doesn¡¯t want to disappoint the old coot. ¡°I guess I¡¯ll keep them.¡± I don¡¯t tell him that it¡¯s only for a while, most likely until I find out if they¡¯re worth any coin. If they are, then I could get something useful instead. He nods. ¡°Good. Good. If you¡¯re up to it, I can send you on an errand also. I¡¯ll make sure to give you a small reward when you complete it.¡± I open my mouth to refuse the offer. No, thank you. I¡¯ve had more than enough. Words don¡¯t get the chance to come out, as the old man rushes to add, ¡°It¡¯ll help you get stronger in mind and body.¡± Something he said or the way he said it makes me quirk my eyebrows. ¡°What would I have to do?¡± ¡°Kill some creatures, nothing more.¡± Of course. Why did I expect anything else? ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll do it in the morning. I¡¯m dead beat.¡± He nods, then rummages through his pockets, only to come up with a small piece of papyrus. ¡°Read the incantation on this to get you straight to the creatures. Otherwise, it¡¯s a long road to get there.¡± He puts the scroll on the table. ¡°Thanks,¡± I say. ¡°Is there anywhere I could crash for the night?¡± I don¡¯t want to get my hopes up, but a bed would be nice. As weary as I am, I could sleep anywhere. ¡°It¡¯s an inn. There are beds here. I¡¯m sure Greta can show you to a room.¡± I shake my head in refusal. ¡°Though I¡¯m overwhelmed by your generous offer, I have no means to pay you.¡± I almost miss the shrug coming from the old man as if it doesn¡¯t matter whether I pay or not. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. You¡¯re not imposing. As I said, there are plenty of rooms.¡± I make a mental note to repay him and Greta for their generosity any way I can. Throughout the day, I start believing that my current situation is my nightmare. What I used to dream every night pales in comparison with the harsh reality. Stranded in this God-forsaken village, almost naked and without any means to obtain food, water, and shelter, I¡¯m on the verge of giving up. The generosity of these people makes everything bearable. ¡°Follow me,¡± Greta says in a melodious voice. I pick up the scroll and the trinkets from the table. I walk behind her as she shows me to my room. The only source of light in the dark halls comes from the two candles she¡¯s holding. I wait near the door while she places a candle on the nightstand. She takes the other with her when she leaves. In the dim light, I can barely distinguish what¡¯s in the room. The bed grabs my attention. I ignore how sticky my skin feels and how dirty I am and lie on the bed. I hide under the heavy covers. Soon, warmth starts engulfing me. I hadn¡¯t even realized until now that I was feeling cold. I become warmer still, my eyelids are heavier, and I drift off to sleep. My last conscious thought is that I will wake up in my apartment in my bed. Chapter Four Warmth is spreading from my chest to my entire body, making me tingle all over. The intensity of the heat increases in meager increments until it becomes unbearable. Already screaming, I open my eyes. The room is ablaze. A vivid fire is spreading at an alarming rate, consuming furniture, cloth, and walls. Frozen in place, I stare at the flames for a few seconds. In the next instant, I throw the covers aside. I jump out of bed and make a run for the door. There¡¯s nowhere to hide, no escape. Not only are the flames following me, but it also seems that I¡¯m their source. From within, my body¡¯s burning. The flames are a part of me. It tingles, it hurts, and at the same time, it doesn¡¯t. When I open my mouth to scream, more flames burst through like an enraged dragon¡¯s breath. I drop to the floor. I roll from one side to the other in a futile attempt to put out the fire. It doesn¡¯t do any good. I shriek again, in outrage and desperation, until my throat feels raw. The agony ends with a few raspy words. ¡°Rest easy, child. This is your path, your destiny.¡± I recognize the voice of the old hag who cursed me. I gather all my willpower to scream at her¡ª Then I wake up. My chest is heaving as I struggle with the rapid breaths I¡¯m taking. I clench my fists so hard my knuckles turn white. Sweat coats my entire body, and¡ªby God¡ªI reek. I¡¯m all alone in the room¡ªnot my bedroom¡ªand pale rays of sunlight glimmer on the walls. The door opens. The woman I saw at the counter last night walks in with a tray. I breathe in the heady aroma of baked bread. My stomach growls in protest. A timid smile marks her lips when she sets the tray next to me. I notice a small bowl filled with what looks like strawberry jam. My mother used to make a fresh batch of strawberry jam every year for me, and it looked exactly like that. ¡°Thank you,¡± I whisper, my throat still raw. The first thing I grab is the water pitcher to gulp down the refreshing liquid. Plain water never tasted so fine. The woman nods, turns, and then walks away. She¡¯s not even out the door when I start wolfing down the food. I guess I was hungrier than I realized. Warm bread and strawberry jam¡ªI must have landed in my private heaven. After I finish eating, I grab my sword. I look everywhere for the scroll to read the incantation and get on with the mission I received last night. No matter how much I look, I can¡¯t find it anywhere. I call it quits and head downstairs. Holding a tray of hot beverages, Greta is heading toward one of the tables. I grab her arm to stop her. ¡°Do you know by any chance how I can get to the place for my next mission?¡± ¡°Use the scroll Tharn gave you.¡± I blink the confusion away. Then I realize that Tharn is the old man who gave me the reward items and then sent me on another fool¡¯s errand. ¡°I can¡¯t find it anymore. It¡¯s as if it vanished. Is there any other way I could get there?¡± I ask, a trace of hope lingering in my question. She nods. ¡°Use the gates located on the west side of the village. It will get you close enough to see the hunting grounds.¡± She jerks free and walks away. ¡°Thanks, Greta. You¡¯re a sweetheart,¡± I shout after her. Is that a blush on her cheeks? I embarrassed her, and the cuteness of the involuntary gesture makes me smile. When I walk out the door, the rays of the sun hit me like a thousand needles. I squint against the intense light. I study the sun¡¯s current location for a few moments. Since it¡¯s morning now, and the sun is toward the east, I need to head in the opposite direction. I start walking, minutes ticking by. I don¡¯t see the gates at first, but the more I walk, the closer I get until they come into view. They look nothing like the other ones. No one is guarding them. On both sides of the gates, two torches are burning in broad daylight. These people sure do have some odd ways of doing things. I walk past the torches, heading toward the stairs. I take them two at a time, anxious to complete my mission. When I get to the top, I freeze. The field is crawling with countless skeletons. They¡¯re scarier-looking than the ones I had to slay before. Some of the skeletons are archers, each holding a bow in one hand. Instead of having a few arrows, they have a quiver of arrows fully packed on their backs. Their clothing is not as ragged as the skeletons from the previous mission were wearing. They stand up straighter and move without taking a break as if they¡¯re alive and breathing. The equipment they¡¯re holding doesn¡¯t scare me. Their teeth do. They look like tiny saws that are protruding from their mouth instead of pearly whites. The other skeletons are holding some kind of long shield with a pointy edge that resembles a sword. These look as if someone braided bones onto their skulls. Movement in my peripheral vision on the left draws my attention. I turn as fast as I can. There¡¯s a man in the field of monsters. A transparent blue animal that looks more like a pony than it does a horse accompanies him. A strange light blooms in the palm of his hand until it reaches the size of a wizard¡¯s orb. He throws the ball of light toward the creature closest to him, dealing a killing blow. ¡°Hey!¡± I yell and wave at him. Given that he¡¯s wearing a suit, I¡¯m inclined to believe he¡¯s from my world and can help me get back. If not, then he can at least give me a crash course in what living here means. By the time I gather my wits to call for him again, some sort of bright portal opens beneath his feet. He starts glimmering and then completely vanishes. Hell. I blew my chance at speaking with him. I drop my head and stare at the ground. I take a few deep breaths to calm down. When I accept that fact, my attention gets back to the skeletons moving around. They look like they¡¯re biding their time waiting for prey to fall into their clutches. An involuntary shiver runs through my body, raising goosebumps on my skin. I walk behind an archer, the least scary creature, to attack it. I killed the other archers by hiding behind them, so the same strategy should work again, right? As soon as I land my first hit, I realize how wrong I¡¯ve been. The skeleton takes a few quick steps back. It turns toward me. Its stance changes as it gets into a shooting position and then pulls the string to let the arrow loose. I rush after it to land another hit with my sword. I don¡¯t get to it because the arrow embeds in my shoulder. It vanishes in a couple of seconds. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s the heat of the moment, but I am numb. A trickle of blood changes the color of my tunic where the arrow used to be. When I finally get close to the skeleton and swing my sword trying to kill it, I have to bite back a cry of pain. No other creature comes to its aid as we exchange blows. I¡¯m using the sword to fight the skeleton. The sack of bones keeps shooting arrows at me. The fight lasts longer than I anticipated. As minutes go by, I become weaker. I¡¯m now full of tiny wounds. They start closing as the fight continues. The pace they¡¯re healing at is not fast enough to keep me at full strength. I hit the skeleton wherever I can, hoping it would give up and die already. I finally land the killing blow. I¡¯m struggling for each breath. My body is a mass of aches and pains, and I collapse to the ground. While I rest, I try to count the number of hits I needed to kill the creature. Were they twenty or thirty? I¡¯m inclined to believe it was closer to thirty. I¡¯d better stay away from archers for a while. My other option is the other creature prowling the field. I raise my sword to attack one of those. The skeleton strikes back as the archer did in the previous fight. That¡¯s when I figure out that what I thought to be a shield is a crossbow. The impact of the bolts pushes me back each time they hit me. I use my sword relentlessly, dealing blow after blow, until I fall to my knees from exhaustion, panting heavily. My body is a mass of sores and pain¡ªI don¡¯t know how many bolts pierced my flesh. The skeleton raises its left hand, holding the crossbow. A flash of panic makes me think I¡¯m taking my last breath. When the creature reaches with its right hand to shoot the projectile, I see an opening. With the last of my strength, I raise my sword with both hands and plunge it deep between the creature¡¯s ribs. My opponent vanishes. I collapse to the ground again and curl into a fetal position. I wait to recover while my hand is still clenching around the hilt of my sword. I can¡¯t stop thinking that the skeleton with the crossbow was much harder to kill than the one with the bow. I guess I¡¯m going to have to stick to killing archers.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Once I recover, I get back on my feet and attack the next archer. I have to rest after each fight. I do this like a typical routine: kill a creature, sit down, rest, stand up, and start again. I realize how fast time has passed when I notice the field getting a reddish hue as the sun is setting. I slay one more creature and then stop for the day. After a well-deserved rest, I get up and go back to the village. The torches are still burning bright at the gates. My destination is the inn, to talk with Greta and Tharn. On my way there, I can¡¯t stop thinking that I haven¡¯t collected any kind of token to have as proof for the number of creatures killed. I hope that I won¡¯t need it. I haven¡¯t even noticed whether the creatures had any items or not. If I have to go back to the field, I¡¯m going to have a fit. The inn is as deserted as ever. Greta is not there. Tharn is sitting in a rocking chair with his eyes closed. The floor squeaks under my bare, frozen feet, and he lazily opens one eye to look at me. ¡°Welcome back. Did you kill all the monsters?¡± I shrug. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Twin eyebrows rise almost to touching his white hair. ¡°The exact number was written on the scroll.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have it anymore. I couldn¡¯t find it this morning.¡± ¡°There¡¯s only one way to find out,¡± he mutters under his breath. My questions die in my throat. From his pocket, he pulls out a pile of scrolls, a few conical flask bottles filled with a red liquid, and some pieces of black ore. He puts all the items on the table. ¡°Take them. If you killed all the monsters you had to, then you¡¯ll be able to obtain them,¡± he explains. Using both hands, I grab the scrolls first. After a few seconds of holding them, they fade away into nothingness, and I¡¯m left empty-handed. I take the bottles next, and then black ore pieces. The same happens to them. Why did I not notice this phenomenon happening last night with the jewelry and the scroll? I raise inquisitive eyes at Tharn. A wide grin spreads across his face. ¡°It seems that you killed enough creatures,¡± he comments. He crosses his arms on his chest, leans backward, and puts the rocking chair in motion. I get that I¡¯m supposed to understand something important, but the information doesn¡¯t click with me. I stare at the old man long enough until he chooses to enlighten me. ¡°You still had the scroll with you.¡± I¡¯m still staring at him. ¡°Do I need to spell it for you?¡± He huffs. ¡°The system menu does not display the information, so you do not see the items you have in inventory.¡± ¡°Oh¡­¡± I whisper meekly. The realization hits me square in the face. ¡°Oh!¡± ¡°Yeah¡­oh! Younglings these days¡­¡± he says, shaking his head. If there¡¯s a system menu, then this world is more like a game than I thought. There are so many details I don¡¯t have, so much information missing. What level am I? Do I have skills? What do I have in my inventory? What are the available options in the system menu? I have one pressing question that I say aloud. ¡°How do I activate the system menu?¡± Tharn gets up from the chair, goes to the counter, and grabs a glass. He fills it with water, I think, and then turns toward me. ¡°Don¡¯t know. Don¡¯t care. You¡¯ll need to find someone who has that kind of information.¡± He takes a sip. ¡°Now, tell me. Are you ready to change your destiny and become stronger still?¡± Something clues me in that I¡¯m about to receive another quest. ¡°I sure am.¡± After all, what do I have to lose? ¡°Good. You¡¯ve trained well for a novice adventurer. To become more, go to Captain Bastien in the town of Lugdo. He¡¯s the one who entrusted me with training new adventurers, and you¡¯ve aced all the tests. I¡¯m sure he¡¯d be delighted to meet you.¡± ¡°I get it. Is there anything else I should do?¡± ¡°How about another hunt before you get there?¡± I chuckle. Another quest, I saw this one coming. ¡°Let¡¯s say I¡¯m interested. What do I have to do?¡± ¡°Speak with Elayna, Greta¡¯s sister, in Lugdo. She will tell you exactly where to go and what to do.¡± I wait for him to tell me how to get to Lugdo, give me a scroll or something, or at least tell me what direction I should take. He keeps quiet and takes another sip from his glass. When he turns his back to me, I realize he does not intend to say anything. I hurry after him, place one hand on his shoulder, and turn his toward me. ¡°Old man, how do I get where I¡¯m going?¡± He snorts. ¡°Just take the northern road. Walk until you hit the crossroads and when you do, go left. Keep walking until you reach the town.¡± I nod. ¡°Thanks.¡± A grin spreads across my face. Then, referring to the extra information he had provided, I comment teasingly, ¡°That wasn¡¯t so hard, was it?¡± ¡°Go on your way and leave me alone,¡± he grumbles, but I see a trace of a smile on his lips. The old coot is having fun. I leave him be and walk out the door. I go straight toward the gates on the west side of the village because I already know where they are. I¡¯m not sure the information I recall is correct, but one of the fields with creatures had a dirt road at its very edge. Keeping a steady pace, I run past the skeletons. I leave behind the broken fence and the field without grass. With the sun already set, the moon is my only source of light, but it¡¯s enough to see my surroundings. On both sides of the path, thick pillars are the last indication that I¡¯m leaving the village. I reach the crossroads faster than expected. Several leafless trees mark the intersection. On my right side, there are two roads. One goes uphill, and the other gets lost downward, I¡¯m assuming in a valley somewhere. On the left, hills and trees flank the only visible road. Tharn said I should take a left, so I turn in that direction and break into a run. Keeping a steady pace, I end up close to a road sign marking another intersection. Three wooden arrows with markings on them show the way. I try reading the inscription, but I can¡¯t understand or recognize the language. That gets me nowhere. Going back is out of the question. Tharn didn¡¯t mention anything about going right, so the other option that¡¯s left is to walk straight ahead. Large boulders, surrounded by trees and grass, decorate the hill on my left. If I look up, I can see the night sky dotted with stars. I run again for a while until exhaustion is creeping in. Luckily, I see a house ahead. In front of the house, a wooden structure with a modest roof is visible. By the looks of it, it¡¯s a well. My mouth is suddenly as dry as the desert. I see no light coming through the windows, so I pick up speed to get there faster. The wooden fence looks ready to collapse. I find a way inside the yard and rush to the well. I doubt anyone would mind if I drink some water. I use the rope to pull out the bucket. The water looks clear¡ªI can see the moon reflected on its surface. I drink greedily from the bucket without any second thoughts. Germs and impurities can be damned. I¡¯m too thirsty to care. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and then look one more time at the house. The structure looks ready to collapse. The outer layer of paint has holes in too many places. The three front stairs are in serious need of repair, and straws are the best choice for a roof. They work for emergencies, but in the end, they¡¯re not worth the effort. I try to open the front door, but it wouldn¡¯t budge. At least something is sturdy here. Next to the well, there¡¯s an open-air shed, I suspect for animals, currently empty. On the other side, a few barrels mark the front of the house, along with a thick tree log with an ax embedded in it. ¡°Anyone home?¡± I yell. The sound echoes into the quiet night, but I get no answer whatsoever. I shrug, ready to go on my merry way. Before leaving, I want to test a little theory I concocted. I grab the handle of the ax and remove it from the log. I watch it as it slowly disappears from my hand. If Tharn is correct, then the ax should now be in my inventory. I can¡¯t wait to find out whether it¡¯s there or not. Back on the road, I walk at a slower pace. Fatigue settles in my body, making me feel as I¡¯ve run to the moon and back. I can¡¯t keep a fast pace anymore. My feet feel wobbly, the muscles in my neck and shoulders tense. I can¡¯t begin to describe how tempted I am to lie down and get some sleep. I know what dozing off does to me, and I¡¯d rather not face the nightmares yet. I take slow breaths and keep on walking. After a while, I end up at yet another crossroads. This one is unmarked. On the left, I can see the tile rooftops of several houses and thin streams of grayish smoke rising toward the sky, a clear indication someone is living there. Straight ahead, the road continues, hidden between the hills on the right and the trees on the left. I don¡¯t recall Tharn having said anything about taking a left turn, so I keep walking forward. The susurration of the water is music to my ears. I reach the river and look at the gentle waves reflecting the pale moonlight. I close my eyes to inhale the fresh scent. A few seconds of respite feel so good. I can¡¯t afford any delays. The longer I stay here, the more time I¡¯ll need to find a way out of here and back to my old life. I sigh and go on my way. The river shoreline is steep near the hills, and the road does not have any kind of railing. I have to be extra careful on the path and stay close to the slope of the hill. Night becomes day, as the sun casts pale rays from between the clouds. Given that it¡¯s been a long time since I started walking, I want to keep asking the same question the way kids do. Am I there yet? I come to an old wooden bridge and cross the river without any issues. From there the road makes a right and finally, I see a town in the distance. Twin towers made of rock dominate the landscape, a clear indication that I¡¯m close to my destination. Like an athlete, I try to give my best at the end of the race and find the strength to pick up speed again. I stop at roughly sixty feet away from the guards, staring at them and the stronghold in front of me. I need answers to a few questions, including whether I¡¯m in the right place or not. While trying to determine who is more approachable, I sense someone creeping up on me. I don¡¯t get the chance to turn and face the other person. Something wickedly sharp¡ªa knife most likely¡ªpierces my back. I choke on saliva and cough and sputter. With whatever determination I have left, I try to face my attacker. Another plunge of the wicked blade close to my spinal cord leaves me incapacitated. I let out a groan of pain, and I fall to the ground. I¡¯m as good as dead.