《My Life Two Timing Reality》


 A New Life ARC - Chapter 1

    I introduce myself, lose some teeth, and greet a brick wall face-first.


    Before we begin, I would like to state for all the theorists out there that I am not dead.


    I didn¡¯t get hit by a truck, incurring thousands in damages. I didn¡¯t hit my head or die in my sleep. Most of all, I was not murdered by three guys in a dark alley.


    Despite it being very reasonable if I was.


    My name is Shun. Technically it was Shane, but my mother applied for the change when I was a kid. The name fit, so everyone went with it. Shun Mi, ¡®an appropriate name for a failure¡¯ everyone said. Even me.


    Hey, as my Grandpa used to say, ¡®If you can''t beat them, join them.¡¯


    I suppose that my situation needs explaining. My mother is the type of person that makes you question the validity of Mother''s Day. My father was some kind of killer gorgeous B-list actor who ¡®swept her off her feet in a whirlwind romance¡¯. Everyone knows that my dearest mother married him for ¡®the picture-perfect family¡¯. Especially since they divorced the moment I was born.


    Basically, I came out ugly and BAM*! Divorce and a game of custody hot potato. (My mother lost.) All because mother forgot to check father''s plastic surgery record. To be honest, she should have figured it out from how many times he flew to South Korea.


    *[Technically, it had taken them five hours to start blaming each other. Due to circumstances, they were both over an hour late to my birth.]


    It was a comically bad childhood. If I wasn''t so ugly, Mother might have used me as a garden gnome. Suffice it to say, on the off chance that I was ¡®dropped¡¯ as a baby, I was probably thrown face-first against a wall.


    I look like it too, a horribly deformed monster with {sniffs dramatically} enough weight to waddle in a fat pride parade. If I made friends with a balloon people would be confused as to who was who. If I jumped in a pool then the pool would try to get out of the way. If I fought a platypus, people would simp over the teal half-duck.


    Only my Grandfather ever cared for me, and he died years ago. {Violin plays, tragic flashback, etc.} Yes, yes. Very sad. I try to stay on the positive side of things. At least I wasn''t raised in Drusselstein.


    Anyway, as I was saying. I¡¯m not dead.


    There are cool ways to die. Saving someone from a runaway train, jumping in front of a random assassination attempt, or trying to stop a truck with your face. But my grandfather instilled a true appreciation for the cool ways to live. Even for someone like me, so down in the dumps that people unload trash on my face.


    I never want to die, even in some kind of heroic sacrifice. Although¡­if it would make a real difference¡­then I might consider it. Saving a child, a friend, a lov- hah. As if.


    Somehow, providence saw fit to give me that choice. To be a hero on that fateful day. There¡¯s always a fateful day, even in hindsight. However, this one was more¡­direct.


    You see, it was the evening before my Eighteenth birthday. I was freshly beaten from the graduation ceremony, my bullies wanting a last swing behind the bleachers. And yet I was feeling optimistic, nearly giddy as I walked to work.


    Don¡¯t get me wrong, the pain sucked and I had a loose tooth. But if I let that stop me I would have met ¡®Truck-kun¡¯ years ago. It¡¯s like my Grandpa always said: Bones break easier than Spirits, but nothing breaks as easily as a Heart. I have no idea the purpose of this saying. I would suggest deleting this paragraph?


    Usually, after a beating like this, I¡¯d be angrily considering ways to insult my bullies. A little ¡®I wish I had said this¡¯ habit that kept my mind busy. But I was too happy today and gave a fat little skip end here, the rest is too much and takes too much distraction to imagine plus makes it a more unpleasant story, like an obese dog with three legs.


    Only one more school year left! One more year until I could move on with my life. I was even becoming an adult tomorrow, the best birthday gift I¡¯d had since my Grandfather died.


    I wasn¡¯t even late for my job, despite the prolonged beating. My manager was¡­well, I worked beneath the golden arches. They had made it quite clear that getting the snot beat out of you was to be taken from your personal time.


    I quote: ¡°If you get the snot beat out of you then that should stop your bulbous nose from dripping all over my store!¡±


    I spat some blood onto the street, laughing at the absurdity. I really needed to post about my manager on Reddit. Maybe the story would make someone else laugh. Make them feel a little bit better.


    I smiled and thought of looked for ways to describe my manager.


    ¡°Unfit for any place but hell,¡± I quoted Shakespeare to myself, thinking through the insults, ¡°No¡­they''re like toilet paper-¡±


    Then I heard the girl scream.


    Now, I will be the first to say that a girl¡¯s scream is not something you¡¯re supposed to dream about. But this one? It was perfect. The plaintive cry for help, the press of life-threatening danger that only you could save her from.


    My blood suited up in shining armor as it rushed to my head. Horns blew a call to battle in my lungs. Every ounce of what made me a man sallied forth from the castle walls of self-preservation. Pain forgotten, risk no more than a trailing banner, I charged towards the scream. Very nice paragraph


    My terror was one step behind my slovenly pace. I knew that I had to act before it caught me. This was my chance to make a real impact on the world. I¡¯d handle the consequences later. Great paragraphThis tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Unfortunately, terror has a way of catching up right before the cliff. My fears slammed into my jiggling back just after I rounded the corner. Right after I saw the threat. Ha ha


    There were three guys, all six-footers. They were laughing at a girl they had cornered against the wall. My brain went into hyperdrive.


    Rope. Sack. Jar. Cloth. Gloves on everyone. Car still running with an open trunk. I picked out too many terrifying details that shot straight down my spine and pulled on the brakes. Great paragraph


    But stopping does not come easily to a 300+ pound man. I skidded, trying not to twist my ankle as I almost stopped in time. Almost, give or take 6 inches. I can see this in my mind


    Those 6 inches careened, jelly stomach fat first, into the man with the jar&cloth. Like an apologetic wrecking ball, I sent him stumbling into his friend with the rope.


    Oh, plague sores. I thought. I jumped in a Dubai pool.*


    *[It should be noted that some phrases are unrealistic and obscure.]


    My once-in-a-lifetime chance had come. Someone genuinely needed my help. And that genuine need came with three tattooed towers of genuine trouble.


    ¡°Who the *&^% are you *(&%^,¡± The rope guy said, putting his friend on his feet. ¡°Cop that *(&^% ate the &*^% donut shop?¡±


    I glanced between them then at the girl, who met my eyes with tears-filled hope. Cute, brown, hopeful eyes. Like a wet kitten.


    For the love of catastrophe tickling fustilarians! I thought. All right. Do something. Distraction? Check. Will I survive? Meh. Worth it.


    The guy with the sack was the thug cutting off the girl¡¯s escape. All I had to do was distract that last guy so she could run. Besides, I was already pretty beat up. What¡¯s a bit more?


    Oh, I don¡¯t know, the snide voice inside me said, a few teeth at the best. Perhaps a delightful grievous injury. Maybe being a paralyzed fat *(&^* will give me a brighter future.


    Not helpful. But the counterargument was easy.


    If I die and don¡¯t defend this girl, I thought. Even in fifty years, I will never be able to look my grandpa in the face again.


    I guess I was all in. Bottle-guy approached, menacingly.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I said, spitting blood on Bottle-guy¡¯s white shoes while looking into his eyes as my legs trembled, ¡°I-I couldn¡¯t stop myself. You¡¯re so bald I assumed you must be a bowling pin.¡±


    ¡°What did you say to me?¡± The Bottle-guy cleaned his ear and leaned over me, forcing me to crane my neck to keep eye contact, ¡°We have a hero here! The amazing Blob! Freshly beaten from his last bout of stupidity. Got a mouth on him too. Let me help with that.¡±


    WHAM!


    The world spun and I stumbled against the wall, scraping my arm against rough red brick. I sucked in and coughed, barely keeping myself from inhaling my now-free tooth. Sorry, teeth. I lost two of them.


    I guess it works. I thought. My greatest skill. The ability to make people mad at me.


    All in.


    ¡°Woooow!¡± I said, putting my back against the wall and spitting teeth in a bloody spray at Bottle-guy, ¡°Nice comeback! Did your dad teach you that one? How about your friends. Are they as clever as you?¡±


    The men seemed stunned. A disfigured Michelin Tire boy had just lost two teeth and was still insulting them. The Sack-guy, the one blocking the girl¡¯s exit, was grinning and focused on me. Making progress.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see,¡± I pushed off the wall and walked around Bottle-gut, ¡°You. Rope dude. You must have the highest IQ of the group since you¡¯re trusted with tying the knots.¡±


    I paused. What could I insult Rope-guy with? He had a full head of hair so the girls- Aha! A tattoo across his neck gave him away.


    I chuckled and said ¡°Can''t be that good at knots, though. You stink of women trouble. You can¡¯t tell me you¡¯ve tied the knot when you have ¡®Rachel¡¯ tattooed across your neck. I¡¯m sure leaving you was the best thing she''d ever done-¡±


    Wham!


    Rope-guy kicked my knees in and sent me buckling to the ground. Him and Bottle-guy got a few good kicks in, and I was about ready to play dead. Surely that was enough.


    But, between shielding my face and recoiling in agony, I could see that I had more to do. Sack-guy hadn¡¯t moved yet. The girl¡¯s feet, with cute little tye-died and sketched-on shoes, were pointed towards escape. So close.


    All that remained was to draw the ire of the fat one left holding the bag.


    Piece of cake.


    I rose to my knees after the kicks slowed and said, ¡°Wow. Not even a response.¡±


    I pushed myself up and said ¡°I hope that Sack-guy is a bit better at this. But, then again, he¡¯s obviously the most unreliable of the group.¡±


    I stepped around the Rope-guy, saying, ¡°You have chloroform man, and if he doesn¡¯t work then you have rope man. But sack man?¡±


    I looked up into Sack-guy¡¯s eyes as I said, ¡°What good are you supposed to be? When she¡¯s unconscious and tied up in the trunk? Be honest, did they just want to include you? Is it your first time kidnapping someone? You''re probably hoping to get some ice cream after this initiation.¡±


    The other two snorted and I gave a little laugh.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Sack-guy stomped toward me, ¡°You¡¯re asking for death, shrimp.¡±


    Success! I thought.


    ¡°Excuse me!¡± I said, looking offended through swollen eyes, ¡°I am a hunchback, not a shrimp. If I wasn¡¯t deformed, I¡¯d probably be taller than you.¡±


    What next?


    I said, ¡°I¡¯d be taller, but not as strong. Odor wise. And that¡¯s really saying something. The girls must gag when you go in to kiss them. I bet youYou must have the Tic Tac regional manager on speed dial. But let me tell you this. Tic Tacs do have calories, and boy do they show on your tubby trash. Did you break the scale when you stood on it?¡±


    Sack-guy looked a bit confused and said ¡°I- you¡¯re way fatter than I am! How does that insult make sense?¡±


    I¡¯ll be honest, I was quoting my mother for a good chunk of that one. I glanced past Sack-guy and smirked. The girl was booking it as discreetly as she could.


    ¡°It¡¯s not true because I''m saying it,¡± I thumbed towards his friends, ¡°It¡¯s true because they¡¯re thinking it. Let¡¯s be honest. The only reason you¡¯re here is so that they can run faster than you when the cops come.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡± Sack-guy said, turning to the others, ¡°No! You guys wouldn¡¯t leave me behind, would you?¡±


    Bottle-guy said ¡°Of course not. You¡¯re our brother. We¡¯d never-¡±


    I laughed and said ¡°Brother? What, did you pinky promise? Or did you make a blood oath? Brothers were made to betray each other. Ever since Cain and Abel. And trust me, Sack-guy. You¡¯re not the one that lives.¡±


    I¡¯ll be honest, I was having fun up until this point. The girl had made her escape, and I could have run. Not that I could outpace these guys. But for some reason, I didn''t want to.


    It felt like years of comebacks and insults were lining up on my tongue. Jumping off like paratroopers on D-day. I was going to be beaten to a pulp, heck I might die! So why not get a bit of the abuse piled on my shoulders off my chest and onto theirs.


    But then the fun was over.


    ¡°You¡¯re a little *&(%^ who doesn¡¯t know what he¡¯s talking about,¡± an enormous hand dropped on my shoulders from an unseen threat, ¡°But you¡¯re lucky. We didn¡¯t bring our murder kits today. Boys, let¡¯s show this *&%^ why you don¡¯t cross us.¡±


    Then I was picked up, all 300+ pounds, and thrown face-first against the wall.


    Wham!


    Ah, I thought as I curled into a defensive ball, how nostalgic.


    Again, I would like to emphasize that I am not dead. Despite death being a very reasonable conclusion.

 Chapter 2

    In which I arrive where my heart is, talk to Grandpa, and time splits in half.


    Needless to say, I survived. The girl had gotten away at some point in between me losing half my teeth and the sweet release of flashing red and blue. The police came, the thugs sped away in the car while arguing who had forgotten to actually kidnap the girl, and I was allowed to go home.


    It was late, darkening my already limited vision and bringing the peace of knowing that fewer people would see me. After hours with the cops, I was getting tired of turning down ambulances. (Who can afford that these days?)


    One of the officers kept asking me questions, trying to get me to go to the hospital. The cop even noticed the Picasso of old bruises that covered where the fresh still blossomed. He got hung up about my age, but let it go when I said that I¡¯d be eighteen in a few hours. Just had to give him my name, address, and contact info for my broken phone.


    My limping, lumbering walk through the yard was accompanied by the soft rattle of my teeth in a bag the police had given me. That cop had even been ¡®nice¡¯ enough to drop me off at home. Probably just wanted to confirm my address. He stood by his car at the street as I fished for my keys in the darkness.


    The porch light was broken, the work of my brother no doubt, and I could smell the faint remains of grafeti spray paint.


    Again? I thought, rattling my key into the lock, This has got to be his hobby at this point. Guess I''ll get the rubbing alcohol out tomorrow.


    I waved to the cop and stepped inside, taking a breath of musky home. Mildew. The recent humidity combined with a leaky kitchen faucet made for a pungent aroma to go with my own. At least I¡¯d cleaned out the food scraps the other day so I wasn''t plagued by flies.


    I¡¯ll finally be able to get to the sink. I thought. Then the laundry and the- never mind. Too much to think about right now.


    I suppose I should explain why I was in ¡®My¡¯ house.


    My grandfather left this house to me, which quite irritated my mother. She¡¯d been looking forward to selling it for the downpayment on a new yacht. Or maybe a new yacht boy. Either way, this was mine now. Grandpa had put it under my stewardship. It was rather large for one morbidly obese boy to take care of after school and work, but I wouldn''t trade it for the world.


    This was home. Every holiday and every crisis lhad been was weathered in this home and in my Grandfather¡¯s arms. With My memories to maintained, this was a little fort of happiness that I needed to keep clean. This place mattered so much to my Grandpa. And i


    Home, where my heart was.


    Thankfully, Grandpa left me some amount of monthly income when he died. Just enough for the house bills and to buy some beans and rice. But he¡¯d been a hard man and wanted me to live mostly on my own merits. To prove myself.


    (He never seemed to grasp the concept of inflation. Still, I was making due.


    Grandpa had gone from a poverty-stricken childhood to being a wealthy recluse in this house. He used to tell me that, if he could do it, then so could I. (He never seemed to grasp the concept of inflation. Still, I was making due.)


    I kicked my shoes off onto the pile of shoes that were too worn out to wear but not worn enough to throw away. I peeled off my socks, wincing at the smell and pinching them with two fingers. I threw them into the pile beneath the perpetually open window in the laundry room, then made my way down to the basement.


    It was time.


    The house was made back when they actually finished the basement but came with the associated quirks. The plugs had two prongs, the fluorescent lights flickered nauseatingly, and I probably needed to check for asbestos.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    But this had been was Grandpa¡¯s beloved basement. He¡¯d spend hours, sometimes days down here. And it was mine now.


    I opened the basement door into a A hallway of cramped with boxed memories shoved into a belly-brushing path. Pictures of joy hung on every wall, from my life to the shockingly innocent childhood of my mother. The foreboding oak door at the end of the hall still towered above my curve backed measly height. It had seemed big as the world when I was a child. and I still felt a pang of guilt as I touched the door handle.


    I wasn¡¯t allowed in Grandpa¡¯s study without Grandpa. But of course, he was in there. It was the only place for Grandpa now.


    Click.


    Flipping the light on, I limped into the room. This mess hadn¡¯t changed since Grandpa died, but I could hardly be blamed for that. My grandfather was a terrible piler (even a hoarder) and seemed to have enjoyed the mess. Despite him havingFor spentding so much time in this room it hardly felt like a room at all. More like a shed.


    I wove around boxes of trinkets from his travels to distant lands. Some were still glowing from batteries that should have died long ago. None of this was cheap, but all of it was memories for him. For me. I¡¯d promised him that no one but me would ever enter this room, so it didn''t feel right to pillage this room for a financial leg up.


    At the end of the room, just past the enormous clock, Grandpa¡¯s stately desk bore his urn. Carved of some fancy rock, the urn stood among the dozens of photos I¡¯d grabbed from the funeral as well as the few haphazard candles I¡¯d collected.


    It felt futile at the time. I remember stuffing the pictures into an old shopping bag, terrified that I couldn''t bring Grandpa¡¯s pictures through foster care. My mother swore that the house was hers, bragging about it at the funeral. But my grandpa had been shockingly prepared for her.


    The best lawyer in the city had cost more than the house did, flexing that wealth that Grandpa kept locked away. My mother quickly gave up fighting the inevitable loss of her expectations. That didn''t stop her from going on about how I stole her childhood home. I think she was offended that my grandpa picked me. Heck, I¡¯d probably be dead if she was listed as the next beneficiary.


    I sighed, plopping into the office chair and getting blood and dirt on the old suede. Grandpa''s chair wasn¡¯t in the best shape, but I still felt guilty about getting it dirty. It couldn¡¯t be helped, I was too tired for a shower. Besides, I was almost out of time.


    Pushing that guilt down, I turned to the urn and photos of my grandpa. I lit the candles and angled the photos just right. I smiled, wincing as I tongued at the tender holes where my teeth had been.


    ¡°Sorry, Grandpa.¡± I said to the urn, ¡°I was going to grab a cake after work. Guess I''m fired now. But, I can get some music on at le-¡±


    I pulled out my phone from my dirty pocket and saw the destroyed screen. Groaning, I put the phone down beside Grandpa and looked at his photos. His mischievous smirk made me smile again.


    ¡°I guess I should get to the big news,¡± I plopped my bag of teeth on the desk, ¡°I was a hero today, Grandpa. A real hero. You¡¯d be proud. This girl was about to be kidnapped and I saved her! I lost some teeth and broke a few ribs, but she got away. She was pretty cute too, with tie-dyed shoes and brown hair. I hope she does well. OH! I insulted some thugs. That was awesome! Not my best insults, but I got them out. Pretty cool¡­¡±


    I found my gaze roving to the clock. It was enormous, at least twice the size of a normal granddaughter clock. It was carved from a rich black wood with intricate designs, inlaid with silver and gems. There were no weights or springs visible, just a solid piece of wood with a baroque design. Topped with a graceful black and silver clock, it conveyed wealth and an unplaceable style of construction.


    As a kid, Grandpa would bring me in here occasionally. I would stare at that clock for hours. The patterns felt infinite.


    Now all I focused on wasdo is look at the time. We were a minute away, and the second hand ticked along fatefully. Another year was completed. Another year to go.


    I sagged, feeling my throat choke up. No one saw me cry anymore. Just Grandpa. Tears spilled as I choked out what meaningful pleas I could.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can do this,¡± my words were lost among burbling tears, ¡°I don¡¯t know if I want to, Grandpa. This is so¡­hard! I lost my teeth, my job, even my phone. You always said that you started from zero but never-¡±


    I hiccuped and felt trembling weakness rip through my Spirit, nearly collapsing me from the chair. The silence was filled by the ticking of the clock, never a second off. I breathed.


    ¡°You were strong,¡± I choked out, bitterness and guilt swirling in me, ¡°And tall. Handsome, even in low resolution. You had it easy. People liked you.¡±


    I rubbed my nose, wiping snot and dried blood across my crusted sleeve as I said ¡°I¡¯m short. Fat. Ugly. @#$& deformed. And I stink. I don¡¯t know how I stink but I do. It won''t stop! You never stunk of anything but Bengay. Though That¡­that was pretty bad on some days.¡±


    I smiled briefly, then said, ¡°People loved to laugh with you. All they do is laugh at me. I¡¯m not you, Grandpa. I may not be starting from zero, but I feel like each step keeps getting wider. Taller. I can''t make the next step Grandpa. W-what do I do now Grandpa?¡±


    Thirty seconds to midnight.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have anywhere to go,¡± I coughed, spitting blood into the trash can, ¡°No future worth fighting for. I failed a grade when you died, Grandpa. But-¡±


    I hissed through my teeth, slamming my hand on the desk and knocking a photo flat onto the desk. I reached over and picked it up, pulling it towards myself. Me and Grandpa when I was eight. We were camping in the backyard of the house, and I was covered in a melted smore. He had the most mischievous smile and wink in every photo.


    ¡°Have a sense of humor,¡± Grandpa would say, ¡°And even if you die, you¡¯ll go out with a grin.¡±


    The clock struck twelve, dolorous bells toning the passing of the day. Of the era.


    I grinned forcefully, pulling hard to injecting positivity from my reserves. I had to smile for Grandpa. He¡¯d get worried if I didn¡¯t.


    I spat blood, grinning ear to ear as I said, ¡°Happy birthday Shun Mi. Happy birthday to me.¡±


    Then the clock split in half.

 Chapter 3

    In which I enter a door in the wood, begin symptomatic expression for schizophrenia, and find some Food for thought.


    __________________________________________________________________________________________________________


    I blinked, coming to the understandable conclusion that I was hallucinating from head trauma. I did that sometimes. It was like drugs, with the painful hangover and everything.


    The clock cabinet split vertically down the middle, bright light sending god rays across the room. I squinted as the clock continued to split vertically, the separate halves rotating freely like doors. I stood from the chair and leaned on the desk, tentatively calling out.


    ¡°Hello?¡± I said, ¡°Is this real?¡±


    No answer, just my eyes adjusting to the light.


    I waddled out from behind the desk, wincing as I made my way over to the clock. The clock face stood on top of the opening, unbroken. The second hand was still ticking, which was comforting. Time had not stopped. Although, that did little to distract me from what I was seeing.


    Light streamed through the opening and with that, a knowledge of the room beyond. For there was a room within the clock, with a dusty wooden floor bearing a red armchair. Beyond that, two windows stood overflowing with daylight, providing lumens to spare. At midnight.


    ¡°What in Narnia?¡± I said, waving a hand through the opening, ¡°This hallucination is sticking around for a while¡­¡±


    Though Today i might have born an exceptional beating, but this was too much. I couldn¡¯t stop my heart from leaping as I looked back at Grandpa¡¯s urn. He¡¯d always said that he had a surprise for my 18th birthday.


    Now all I had to do was go in and claim it.


    Unfortunately, there was a problem. I eyed the opening, turning sideways. The opening was still the face of a grandfather clock, albeit one bigger than normal. And¡­well I had done a lot of overeating after grandpa died. I don¡¯t think he anticipated me not being able to fit.


    ¡°All right,¡± I said, stepping in and squeezing my broken ribs into the gap, ¡°I-er- let¡¯s- owowowowowowow!¡±


    I pulled back out, knocking over a case of trinkets in my rush. They didn¡¯t shatter, but little wooden figures spilled across the floor. Great, more mess to clean.


    ¡°Great,¡± I said, sagging, ¡°I¡¯m ¡®too fatto¡¯ to fit through this door.¡±


    Wait a moment, I thought, I did fit. It wasn¡¯t as tight as I thought. Just more painful.


    It had hurt but I had managed to squish at least halfway through the door. I could turn around now, but then life would go on as it had before. I would die with my greatest moment being beaten so a girl could run away. That¡¯s not a finish, it¡¯s a beginning.


    ¡°Screw it,¡± I slapped my face, sending shocks of pain across everything, ¡°I¡¯m going for it!¡±


    I lunged, sideways and headfirst into the opening. Agony played screamo on the strings of my body. I grabbed the other side of the opening, beaten fingers clawing. Crying and screaming I pulled, feeling my fat wedge in the opening. I sucked in my stomach, exhaling to carve as much weight away as possible. I had to keep moving. To get through before the agony caught up.


    POP!


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    With a final heave, I found myself tumbling out into the sun and the unknown, like a cork from a lackluster bottle of champagne. I coughed, rolling onto my back and pumping my fist.


    ¡°Victory!¡± I wheezed, then buckled in for the bill.


    Once the throbbing went down, I was able to move. Eventually. It helped when I caught my breath and wasn¡¯t pumping at the bellows of my broken ribs. Once I could stand it, I managed to roll to my knees and crawl. I made painful progress to a chair and pulled myself up onto it, collapsing in a puff of dust.


    The armchair wasn¡¯t really made for someone my size, so I was wedged pretty tightly. The day weighed heavily, but I was too curious to sleep quite yet. I looked around.


    I was in a simple cabin. There were two doors on the left, leading to more rooms, and a handful of furniture pieces scattered across the cabin. I could make out the beginning of the kitchen to my right, but my position in the chair kept me from seeing any further. A fireplace stood majestically between the outdated windows before me, empty of flame but bearing the marks of many fires.


    Still, the sunlight was warm on my skin and the day weighed heavily on me. I felt my eyes obey the gravity that commanded the rest of me with an iron fist. I fell fast asleep.


    It had been a long day.


    ****


    I don¡¯t know how long I was asleep, but I found myself being woken up by a rather pleasant, if robotic, female voice.


    ¡°Long rest completed,¡± it (she?) said, ¡°Inheritance progress: five percent completed.¡±


    ¡°Wha?¡± I felt groggily at my mouth and reflexively spat blood to the side. It splattered on wooden flooring rather than my blood bucket in Grandpa¡¯s study. Right.


    I idly reexamined my surroundings as I tentatively felt where my teeth had been. I¡¯d been able to take care of them for so long, without getting a single cavity! Not that I¡¯d been able to go to the dent-


    ¡°HOLY @#$%^!¡± My head swam as I struggled to sit up in the chair, ¡°It wasn¡¯t a dream!¡±


    My heart fluttered in excitement as I performed my ritual struggle against gravity. I was inside the clock! Some kind of Narnia experience. A disembodied voice was weird though. Maybe it was more like an Isekai than Narnia. My grandpa was Japanese, after all.


    And I will not think of the implications. I thought firmly. Religious or scientific.


    Then, my struggle to get up revealed itself to be due to friction rather than gravity. I was stuck in the chair, wedged between its unwilling arms.


    ¡°Oh crap,¡± I panicked, trapped, ¡°come on!¡±


    I flung myself forward and landed on my feet. Unfortunately, the seat came with me. I looked like a rather fat snail balancing on the tip of its tail.


    It wasn¡¯t optimal, but I felt rather impressed with myself. I could barely feel the weight of the chair at all, and could even waddle around in relative agony. I really needed to get this off of me.


    ¡°Come on!¡± I said, wiggling my butt in an attempt to shake it off. My stomach growled. Hadn¡¯t I seen a kitchen?


    I craned my neck, the fat folds digging into each other as I looked around the cabin. Sure enough, there was a kitchen to my right. A table, counters, sink, and fridge.


    Hobbling over to the fridge, the chair still on my butt, I pulled open the door in hopeful eagerness.


    Nothing but a couple pieces of paper. It wasn¡¯t even cold in there. My heart sank as I grabbed the papers, then I leaned backward to sit on the chair as I read.


    To my dearest grandson Shane,


    I knew that this would be the first place you looked, so I put my letter in here hoping you¡¯d find it early. I have no way of knowing how the Inheritance process will go for you, but I keyed it to your blood so it should bond to you at your first bloody nose.


    I grinned broadly. Grandpa had never gotten it into his head that I had stopped getting bloody noses when I was fifteen. Of course, now I get them every time I get punched in the face. So I suppose he was right this time as well.


    You should know a few things.


    First, consider this place your Greatest Inheritance. I spent many decades here, although it has changed from the old paper stuff I used to use.


    Second, the second sheet of paper is a list of basic abilities that should help you. I didn¡¯t really need to say that here, but I couldn¡¯t help making the second thing about the second sheet. Besides, it adds this list up to a nice round 5.


    Third, you will have to defend this land from an occasional attack from large man-eating monsters. Sometimes man killing and decorating. The presence of blood here should have them stirred up again, and they will scent it on the breeze. You will find the True Spear in the umbrella stand. I advise starting with that weapon. Bullets don¡¯t work very well against the bigger monsters, but there¡¯s an unlicensed  M249 SAW machine gun hanging from the coat rack if you need it.


    Fourth, I have left more instructions on various things around the house. They¡¯re written in the languages from here, so you¡¯ll have to activate your auto-translate ability to read them. I  decided to make it more interesting for you than it was for me. You¡¯ll thank me later.


    Fifth, my philosophy applies here. I want you to be independent, strong, and not spoiled rotten like your mother was.  This will be hard. Go ahead and quit if you¡¯re unwilling to keep going, just know that the Clock may never open for you again. I don¡¯t know how it will behave with you. As my heir, it should open at will. But there is the risk that it will close forever once you¡¯re gone.


    P.S.


    If you¡¯re hungry then there should be something growing around the property. I left a bunch of vegetables and things growing, and I know that there are a few fruit trees. If you¡¯re gonna stay a while, there¡¯s a bunch of seeds and stuff in a chest outside. I probably should have stored cans of food, but you¡¯ve always been a chubby boy. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll do fine.


    ¡°Not bad,¡± I said, chewing my lip as I looked over the list again, ¡°I should probably- wait.¡±


    Number three suddenly leaped out at me and rammed a stick of terror through my gut up my butt. Blood? Monsters! Bloodthirsty man-eating monsters?!


    BOOOM!!!

 Chapter 4

    In which I rely on a Spear and Shield, my Terror has been shoved, and I invest in Raising Stakes


    Apparently, my bladder had refilled since my last beating and I squelched warmly to the door, the chair still on my back. I cracked open the door and looked around.


    The sun was near setting, the land stretched for a generous distance, but I didn¡¯t see anything. Nothing but tall trees past a fence a couple blocks away. Was the monster around the back of the house?


    It was at this point that I saw the trees move, another tree rising above the treeline. A tree was lifting another tree? What-


    BOOM!


    The tree fell, wielded by a shadow in the distance, and crashed into something. A rippling shield of iridescent fractals glimmered around the attack, taking the force of the blow as a scream filled the air. My scream.


    I fell backward and landed on the chair, my knees giving out. In the evening light, what I had thought were trees turned out to be a humanoid figure. The figure in the distance raised the tree (a club!) again. I began to pick out the monster¡¯s details. Mottled gray skin, with tufts of hair and a loincloth as its only clothing. It stood equal to the towering pines and raised its gristled arm to swing. Its eyes found me and it snarled, showing tombstone-sized teeth that- that-


    ¡°Oh, unfair!¡± I said, snapping back to reality, ¡°Your teeth are straighter than mine! Whiter too, if I ignore the blood around the edges.¡±


    How? That ticked me off. Here I was, having just lost my teeth after a lifetime of care, yet this hideous giant had better teeth than I ever did? Sure, they were stained red with blood and I doubted that mint plants grew that big, but really?! This was some magic fantasy bullcrap.


    I closed the door and glanced around. A coat rack hung full of coats and a heavy-looking machine gun. A freaking real machine gun! But¡­the bullets looked too small for a giant. And if my time watching Anime had taught me anything, then it was that a sword beat a gun any day.


    There was a hiking staff in the umbrella stand and- wait. No. The hiking staff was, in fact, a spear. It was huge, with a wickedly glinting tip and wide crossguard behind the spearhead. Grandpa had seemed to think that this would be more useful than a gun¡­which didn¡¯t make much sense.


    What the heck, I thought as I grabbed the spear, This place obviously doesn¡¯t follow the same rules. I¡¯ll give the giant a few pokes from within the shield.


    Nothing popped up when I grabbed the spear, no useful display of statistics like in anime. Just the voice so far. Was this going to be an audio-only system?


    I was proven wrong the second I stepped out of the house. A screen of holographic blue blossomed beside me, giving me a bit of relief. Thank goodness, there was an interface system. I would have hated trying to use a voice recognition system.


    Base Shield Health 998745/1,000,000 Heavy Attack


    I blinked and said, ¡°What?¡±


    BOOM!


    Base Shield Health 998083/1,000,000 Heavy Attack


    ¡°All right,¡± my butt clenched around the fear, ¡°this is fine. Only about-¡±


    BOOM!


    Base Shield Health 9977329/1,000,000 Heavy Attack


    I stared, doing the mental estimates. I wasn¡¯t good at math but¡­


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said, leaning the spear against the outside wall, ¡°Less than a thousand.¡±


    Some of my gaming experience was coming back to me. I counted under my breath as I tried to shake the chair off again.


    BOOM!The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Base Shield Health 998182/1,000,000 Heavy Attack


    ¡°Just over two seconds per hit,¡± I said, ¡°which should do ten thousand every ten to twenty seconds-¡±


    BOOM!!!!


    A bright red lens flare flashed and the shield health box shook with a buzz


    Base Shield Health 994098/1,000,000 Heavy Attack - Critical Hit


    ¡°Plague sores!¡± I said, ¡°Oh, that¡¯s a LOT faster. Okay-¡±


    The giant raised its club to the sky and roared. The sky churned into a storm right above the giant and lightning rumbled in the distance. The giant was growling something, staring up at its club. A hum filled the air.


    ¡°Wow,¡± I said, dropping back on the chair as I nearly reached for some popcorn, ¡°WOW! Magic. Real Magic! This is straight up, just an isekai. Sick!¡±


    Wait a second, I thought, that¡¯s gotta do a lot of damage. I should go out and do somethin-


    VBOOOOOOORMMM!


    I rocked back in the chair, reeling from the explosion. I was out of pee but my body still tried to lighten the load with its second choice. I managed to clench in time, avoiding the worst of it.


    Base Shield Health 944211/1,000,000 Special Attack - Critical Hit


    ¡°@#$%^!¡± I screamed, thrashing as I stood, chair attached, ¡°GRANDPA!!! A little too much tough love here!¡±


    Waddling inside, I stepped in a puddle I had left earlier. I slipped and fell, I tried to catch myself but my hands slipped and I landed face-first into it. It hurt, my battered face protesting as I felt the holes where my teeth were open up. I scrambled to the clock and frantically pressed and pulled, trying to open my escape.


    Yellow shame dripped from my face as I cried and begged the clock to open. After a few seconds, I fell back. Falling through the holographic display in front of the door. I pushed myself up to see the message on the door.


    Are you sure you want to leave?


    Yes/No


    I stopped, blood and pee-covered finger hovering above the button. I was running to what? It was hell on the other side of these doors. This was grandpa¡¯s house and grandpa¡¯s land. It mattered enough for him to gift it to me. Like my home on the other side of this clock.


    He used to spend hours in here, I thought. Days, sometimes. This place must have meant a lot to him.


    I couldn¡¯t just abandon one of Grandpa¡¯s treasures.


    ¡°You better work,¡± I said to the spear as I picked it up from where I¡¯d dropped it, ¡°And I¡¯m sorry chair, you¡¯ve got to go.¡±


    I waddled out the door and leaned the spear against the outside of the house. Then I grabbed both arms of the chair and took a breath.


    ¡°Heave HO!¡± I shouted as I pushed as hard as I could.


    VRKSHTIOLAHFOEHNBHWIO!


    I thank you for your patience with my descriptions of sounds. I¡¯m doing my best, and so far I don¡¯t think that I¡¯ve done very badly. But I am frankly at a loss for this one. How do you describe the sound of a chair exploding into a million pieces behind you? While your fat voluminously expands to its preferred shape? The ripple sound my belly made is indescribable by itself, and I don¡¯t think that there are enough letters to cover the shotgun blast of sofa.


    ¡°Right,¡± I said, straightening my back for the first time in hours and rubbing my scoliosis hunch, ¡°Did not know that I could do that.¡±


    A small sound dinged in my mind, and I paused. But nothing followed it, no robotic lady telling me something useful. Ah, well.


    I grabbed the spear and started across the yard. I had a giant to slay. Or, at least, deter it with a monstrous case of hangnail.


    I was in too much shock to consider how easy it was to move. Somehow, I felt lighter. Still, experience dictated caution when you¡¯re over 300 pounds. I could just see myself tripping and rolling through the fence at high speeds. Right beneath the giant¡¯s foot.


    Slow and steady, I thought, the best way to live.


    As I got closer, I picked out a necklace of trophies around the giant¡¯s neck. The trophies were more weapons than body parts. It made sense, swords hung on a necklace better than things which could rot. There were a couple large skulls that looked monstrous in nature, but nothing human that I could see.


    That¡¯s nice, I thought, a refreshingly low gruesomosity for a man-eating monster. It probably eats people whole, like anchovies.


    The giant loomed above me, but I was used to craning my neck to look at people. You eventually just focus on their feet. The feet in question were car-sized, the toes having whole bushes stuck between them. Like those foam things that go between toes for a pedicure.


    Then a foot on rose, trailing dirt and crushed plants. I stepped back, readying the spear. I¡¯d be fine. The shield was in place.


    BOOM!


    The ground shook, throwing me from my feet. I let go of the spear as I reached out to catch myself. I winced, preparing to throw out my shoulder again. I dug my fingers into the soil and caught myself easily. Too easily, since even my elbows didn¡¯t hurt.


    ¡°Woah,¡± I said, getting onto one knee, ¡°Woah!¡±


    I pushed myself easily to my feet for the first time in years. What-


    BOOM!


    The ground shook again and I pinwheeled my arms, managing to maintain my balance.


    Right. I thought. I¡¯m fighting for my life.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I said, picking the spear back up, ¡°I got distracted by a dream.¡±


    Before I could start stabbing the giant¡¯s toes, I needed to avoid tripping from its stomp. I watched the foot as the giant raised it again. I needed to get this timing right.


    BOOM!


    I jumped as hard as I could the moment that the foot landed. The shockwave passed beneath me, and I should have found myself landing deftly in victory. I would then have proceeded to stab the giant¡¯s toes, a careful game of high-stakes jump rope.


    Unfortunately, I jumped too hard. A concept that I was entirely unfamiliar with. I found myself rising far past my ability as a child. Then I rose past the world record. Then out of the top of the shield with a soft pop as the protective bubble released me without a protest.


    ^%$&, I thought on so many levels.


    I rose higher and higher, the man-eating giant¡¯s chest framed by an impenetrable dark forest. I emerged into the final rays of sunset, their warmth contrasting the icy shock as I approached the head.


    ¡°Welcome to the Greater Demon Woods, Shane Mi.¡± The female voice said in my head, ¡°The Level recommended for this area is a minimum of two hundred. You are fifteen feet from a Greater Monster, ¡®A¡¯ Class. Are you sure that whatever you¡¯re doing is worth it?¡±


    I stopped about level with the giant¡¯s head, the bloodshot inhuman eyes focusing on me.


    I squeaked, ¡°Nope!¡±

 Chapter 5

    The harder I rise, The harder I fall, a Sink with extra effort.


    As I understand it, whenever an eye is bigger than a beach ball it has the ability to rotate shockingly quickly and focus on the bug in front of it. This comes only a moment after the person arrives at their perilous location, leaving room for the target to hold their breath at the zenith of their arc.


    ¡°Nononono,¡± I squeaked, then froze while holding my breath. The sound of a bass played in my mind as I rose level with the bloodshot eyes. A part of me hoped that, if I held still, it wouldn¡¯t see me.


    I screamed anyway, and the orbs swiveled with unerring precision onto me.


    The giant roared, spittle and flecks of uneaten things splattering me as it stepped back. At first, I was hopeful until I saw it swinging its club up at me from the left as it prepared to turn me into bird food- Carion edition. The club bounced and rippled along the shield, rising toward me with deceptive slowness.


    ¡°EEEEK!¡± I clutched onto the spear at the oncoming club, which was practically below me. I ended up holding the spear between my legs, feet on the long bits of metal sticking out below the head. As if the spear were a Pogo stick.


    I was about to die, so I didn¡¯t feel like letting go to die in a more heroic stance.


    WHAM!


    Somehow, I didn¡¯t die instantly. Despite being on an express trip to heaven. I didn¡¯t think about this fact at the time since every ounce of my body was slammed back as I was violently propelled upwards. My fat pulled and rippled like a slow-motion water balloon, pulling my cheeks back and forcing my eyelids open.


    ¡°AaAaAaH!¡± I screamed as the air was forced from my lungs and I clung as tightly as I could. That was probably my best Tarzan impression to date.


    Suddenly, the force changed and I was ripped the other way. I felt my knuckle scream and pop as I barely held onto the spear, swinging around like New Year''s Noise-maker. When the world stopped spinning, I hung from a now horizontal spear, dangling as I tried to orient myself.


    To my left, the spear was embedded into the end of the club. The spear was sagging down from my weight, waiting for a couple of jolts to send me plummeting. In front of me, the sun was setting beyond an enormous forest as a distant storm turned the air into a rich vermilion sunset. I heard a soft ding.


    And below me, the giant squinted upwards and grinned.


    Oh, scurvy! I thought, Human on a stick.


    The club moved slowly, a stark difference from the murderous attack before, and the giant opened its mouth. It was a man-eating monster then, rather than the type which viciously disembowels and leaves the corpse. Just lowering me to its mouth as if I was a bundle of grapes.


    It seemed¡­lazy. Confident in its meal. The idea of me fighting back did not occur to him at all, knowing that I could never win. I was too weak, ugly, and stupid to ever succeed against it.


    To be fair, I don¡¯t know if it thought I was ugly. But still, the entitled attitude of a forty-foot giant kinda ticked me off.


    ¡°I look like a tasty meal don¡¯t I?!¡± I screamed, feeling helpless tears well up as I spat back, ¡°At least me being fat will be good for something. I hope you get a heart attack from this deep-fried butt.¡±


    I never could fight with anything but my words, I thought.


    Despair swelled as I was lowered towards the monster¡¯s near-perfect teeth. The smell drifting up curled my nose hairs and made me gag. I had endured years of insults, beatings, and being the skimmed waste that floated sickeningly to the top of the barrel.


    My only mark on the world was that I made people happy that they weren¡¯t me. My siblings hated me, my mother had only looked twice out of horror, and I¡¯d never had a friend last longer than a week. My last memory in life would be a funeral since the tabloids would definitely notice a superstar¡¯s Quasimodo kid disappearing. Too bad that would take a few years. Maybe they¡¯d put AI pictures up for my funeral since I knew my mom didn¡¯t have any.


    I had some online acquaintances that would probably remember me for a few months. Then there was that girl I saved. She would probably remember me, as a three hundred pound man getting beaten by thugs isn¡¯t something you forget. She might even be grateful, and I could live on in a story to her children. Maybe grandchildren. But no more.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    Not a single thing more would remain of me in either world.


    I wasn¡¯t going to die with a single soul to mourn me, a single deed to my name. Without a single, true IRL friend.


    ¡°I may not have been good for anything in my life,¡± I said, wiggling the spear side to side and feeling it slip further out, ¡°Grandpa had such big dreams for me, and I¡¯ve let him down. I might have failed a grade and averaged a D-, but I still know one thing. I know how to obey the law of gravity, and I know how much damage three hundred pounds can do.¡±


    And if I¡¯m going to die, I thought, I want to go out with a bit of flair.


    The spear slipped free and I whipped it around as I fell, putting it back into the pogo position.


    I screamed with all my breath, ¡°DEAD WEIGHT DROP!¡±


    Golden light erupted from the spear and I managed to hold on as a roar filled my ears. Then everything went wet, and I gasped. Something foul filled my mouth and lungs and I tried to cough it out before-


    Wham!


    The spear hit something, and this time the forces tore me from the spear and sent me rolling. I tumbled like a rolling water balloon before I crashed into a tree. The world spun for a couple of seconds before I was able to get my hands under me.


    I pushed my trembling frame to my knees and coughed violently, expelling foul liquid. For a second, I thought my ears were ringing. But it was that soft dinging that I had heard before, except it rang probably twenty times before I was able to wipe my eyes. Like a group chat that everyone mutes.


    I looked around, seeing dark forest as black rain fell. There was a clang to my left, and I startled away. Squinting I saw that it was a massive sword, then flinched as a large skull shattered to my right. Below me was a growing pool of a stick foul black liquid.


    Forward lay the fence and the barrier. Behind me lay the unprotected Greater Demon Forrest and the path the giant¡¯s footsteps had carved through the trees. Finally, I looked up and saw the giant. As well as sunlight shining through the hole I¡¯d carved in it.


    The giant teetered and started to fall.


    ¡°Oh crap,¡± I said, scrambling and slipping to my feet as the blood-covered ground churned to mud beneath my weight, ¡°Oh plague sores and loathsome toads-¡±


    It rained trophies as the giant started to almost crumple, the remains of battles fought cluttering my way to shield. I hauled myself along, moving how I had always dreamed. Everything felt so much easier! I was vaulting sun-bleached skulls and dodging falling greatswords, rolling back to my feet whenever I tripped. I built up speed as I kept my eyes fixed on the safety of the fence. Praying that it would let me back in.


    With one final vault I launched myself headfirst into the barrier and felt the barrier bend, pressing into me like a trampoline. Just as I thought that it was going to shoot me back out, it plopped me out gently on the other side. Then, a second later, the dinging finally stopped.


    Panting, I rolled over and tried to wipe my eyes again but got something in my right eye. I fumbled, half-blind, back into the kitchen and tried to work the levers of the sink. Unfortunately no water came out.


    Rooting hogs! I thought. I guess that the water bill hasn¡¯t been paid here for two years.


    But grandpa had said something about a garden and I made my way back outside. The darkness of twilight was setting in when I turned the corner and saw a pump beside a bucket of water. I rushed over and pumped it but nothing came out and a voice sounded in my head.


    ¡°The pump needs to be primed,¡± the lady¡¯s voice said, ¡°you must give water to get water, Shun Mi.¡±


    I looked at the bucket, a layer of algae growing on top of what had to have been water. In any other circumstance, I would have rather not bathed than touch that. But I was one hundred percent covered in giant guts, with my only blessing that it had also plugged my nose.


    The bar for cleanliness was six feet under.


    I scooped the slime out in great, squelchy handfuls, before lifting the bucket. Then I poured some water into the bowl-like depression at the top of the pump. I quickly set the bucket down as water ran out of the pump and I seized the handle. I pumped furiously, my newfound strength churning at the metal lever like a machine. The raspy sound of the pump turned watery and became fractionally harder to move. Then it exploded with sweet, clear, clean H2O.


    I would like to say that I bathed rationally. That I found the wooden tub leaning against the house and hauled it over to have a truly thorough bath. The truth is, I didn¡¯t even think to look for one.


    Washing in a sink with extra effort, I did my best to scrub hours of grime from myself. It may have been an outside shower, but since no one was around I was able to clean without shame. But still, it was an affair reminiscent of Shrek.


    My wet clothes clung to my body as I shivered, trying to light the fire. My grandpa had taught me how to years before, but the wavering sparks didn¡¯t want to catch the kindling. They sputtered and danced away from the fluffy firestarter, determined to make me work for it. I had finally got the sparks to catch, accompanied by another ¡®ding¡¯, when I heard a sharp cracking sound in the distance.


    I blew on the fire, quickly feeding it more kindling before I pushed myself to my feet. I rushed to the door and squeezed through, something I was pretty sure hadn¡¯t happened before. Was I getting fatter? How?


    There were several monsters gathered around where the giant had been. Some of them were hitting the shield while the rest were rummaging through the refuse of the giant, torches in hand. The health display for the Shield wasn¡¯t dropping as fast as when the giant was attacking, but it was constant.


    I thought, Probably best I find a way to deal with these foul deformities.


    In the back of the group, one of the biggest monsters picked up an enormous sword from among the giant¡¯s trophies. The monster swung, and the Shield health dropped by a hundred points. A lot more significant, although the monster was now staggering away from the impact of it.


    I went back in and looked at the umbrella stand. Somehow, I had thought that the spear would have returned there. But the stand stood empty (except for umbrellas). Did I leave it out there? I turned to the coat rack and grabbed the gun, surprised when it wasn¡¯t as heavy as I anticipated. Nothing had been as heavy as it should have been, including me.


    ¡°This should work,¡± I said, looking at the gun, then the magazines of rounds, ¡°Now how does this work?¡±


    Squinting in the dim light of moon and fire, I carefully examined the workings of the unloaded gun. With how many video games I played, I recognized most of the components if not the name. Still, it was an awkward minute or two fiddling with it before I got the pieces together right. I managed to load it by copying the reloading movements from countless video games and sighed when it clicked into place.


    ¡°All right,¡± I said, turning back to the monsters, ¡°who¡¯s ready to di- oh skainsmates!¡±


    Several monsters were wailing uselessly against the shield, but a few were clustered around a blood-soaked spear. Grandpa''s spear. The one that had killed a giant in a single blow.


    I stretched a hand out to it and shouted ¡°Spear to me!¡±


    Nothing.


    So I said, ¡°Come back spear! Return to your master! Who¡¯s a good boy?!¡±


    My voice died as a particularly weak-looking goblin pulled it out of the ground. That spear had one-shot a giant. This shield wouldn¡¯t stand a chance.

 Chapter 6

    Shooting gallery, the Terror on the edge of the Pool, Fatty Olympics.


    ¡°All right,¡± I put the gun to my shoulder, holding up the iron sights as I aimed, ¡°This is a problem.¡±


    The small monster, a goblin, started to swing the spear around. It laughed and the other goblins turned green eyes to the first. Then they started to kill each other.


    Like murderous nesting dolls, a slightly bigger goblin stabbed, slashed, or crushed the last one holding the Spear as the Spear floated on a river of blood toward the biggest Goblin. I watched in shock as the bigger ones that were attacking the shield turned, each falling in frenzied lust. Finally, there was a rather large goblin that picked it up and was threatening the final and biggest one, who was circling from a safe distance.


    They barked and growled in some kind of chittering language before the one with Grandpa''s spear lunged. The enormous one put out his hand, catching the spear tip with his own flesh and stopping the other monster dead in terror. Then, with the sword in the other hand, the largest goblin claimed his prize.


    Dropping the sword, the monster turned to me with the spear raised and grinned evilly with a mouth full of rotten teeth.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I said, lining up my sights with his heart, ¡°those teeth are more like it.¡±


    BA-BA-BANG!


    Three rounds exploded in a burst, at least one of them hitting his chest and another hitting his head as the recoil pulled the muzzle off. The monster staggered, and I wrestled the gun back on target to let off another burst of death. The monster, the biggest of all the goblins, fell unceremoniously to the ground, twitching as I heard another ding.


    ¡°Ah shoot,¡± I said, watching Grandpa''s spear fall with the goblin half a football field away, ¡°I should have waited for him to get closer.¡±


    I waited and scanned the environment, trying to see if I had missed any goblins. But there wasn¡¯t any movement. So I put the gun down, and carefully approached the fence. Only sparse slots of moonlight filtered through the trees, and the slippery carnage was not good for my heart. Three or four metric tons of viscera in the moonlight had a way of turning the fear organs.


    Grabbing onto the fence, I listened to an entirely quiet forest. No crickets, no birds. Just a void of sound. This would be my first time leaving the shield on purpose, and all to get Grandpa''s spear.


    Something moved in the corner of my vision. A twisting shadow with just enough glinting malice to strike me in the trembling bowels.


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    ¡°Nope!¡± I turned away, heart thundering, ¡°Nope nope nope!¡±


    Surely, the spear wouldn¡¯t be that powerful if another goblin picked it up. But who knew what was out there? That was the problem though. I knew what was out there, and it was death.


    ¡°Ahhh,¡± I said, turning back, ¡°Grandpa! Why couldn¡¯t you give me a spear that came back?!¡±


    The fence was low, only a couple of feet high, and I swung my leg on it as my head swiveled for danger. Then, still holding tight to the fence, I swung the other leg over. No change accompanied this, the movement I thought I saw before didn¡¯t reappear. But a lifetime of bullying had honed my instincts. I knew that, at that moment, something cruel was smiling at me.


    ¡°NOPE!¡± I hissed loudly, feeling the depth of that distance before me. I was well acquainted with bait. The bullies would use it all the time. Clothes, books, food. A spear was new for me, but it was still bait.


    ¡°I need that,¡± I hissed,  ¡°It¡¯s my grandpa¡¯s.¡±


    A fake friend had stolen things from my grandpa when I was young. A piece of one of Grandpa¡¯s treasures. I¡¯d punched the ¡®friend¡¯, taking it back. Everything my grandpa treasured was my treasure. And he¡¯d left this spear, this land, and this home to me. For me to treasure.


    I trembled, feeling the malicious grin in the darkness. I bunched up my legs, pressing my feet against the fence, and remembered my swimming lessons. The deep end of the pool was terrifying, but if you push off hard enough and fight to keep going, you can make it to the other side.


    ¡°HAH!¡± I screamed and exploded outward, newfound strength blurring the forest as I hurdled the corpses. I was doing it. I was faster than an Olympic runner. I was strong enough to-


    And then I slipped.


    The ground had a solid inch of blood on it, and I fell face-first. But this time, I locked my arms in front of me and skidded along on my belly. I was hydroplaning on blood.


    It wasn¡¯t fast enough. I could feel the jeering grin falling on me as a falcon in the dive, and I desperately paddled, pushing off with my arms and using my legs to steer. Still, I felt the shadow¡¯s pleasure. I hadn¡¯t changed course, still beelining for the spear..


    At the last second, I kicked off one of the fallen trophy skulls and knocked myself to the side, missing the spear as a shadow descended. I managed to spin, putting my legs up as I collided with a tree. I didn¡¯t even look as I launched off. I couldn¡¯t stop now.


    Analyzing my course, i spotted the giant sword that the enormous goblin had wielded driven into the mud.  I pushed myself up to my knees, using my belly as a stabilizing third leg and managed to catch the giant sword in both hands. Using it to pull myself to my feet, I braced my weight and pulled myself out of the mud.


    I turned to face the shadow. Its details remained obscure, save for the bone-white smile with absolutely perfect teeth. It curled a long and delicate hand and grasped the spear as it grinned at me. Why didn¡¯t it pick the spear up?


    I charged forward, my lumbering form bulky and slow again. The corpse of the enormous goblin lay beside the spear, blocking off my route back home. That was fine. I could use that obstacle.


    I swung early, about five feet further than the blade could reach. The shadow¡¯s smile seemed to grow, creeping into giddy disbelief. Then I let go, the giant blade flying through the air and hitting the shocked shadow as it tried to twist out of the way. The sword made a sickening crunch as it hit, and the weight flung the creature away.


    I managed to grab the Spear in time to see the shadow skitter back toward me, undaunted with a limp. I grabbed the enormous Goblin by his belt and steadied myself. The monster lunged for my throat, disregarding the spear entirely.


    I grunted and leaped, hauling on the loincloth as I pulled myself up into the air. Twisting midair, I pushed the goblin¡¯s corpse as hard as I could toward the shadowy grin.


    I felt the smile disappear, although the presence still persisted.


    Skidding on the blood, I scrambled and slipped back to the fence. Back to safety. Once again I lunged head-first into the shield, but just before I burst into the shield I felt a sharp pain in my right leg.  A searing agony cut across my right leg. Then I plopped safely into my grandpa¡¯s yard.


    Missing one foot.

 Chapter 7

    I get my feet under me, skills, and the ability to chew.


    I said ¡°AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH¡­¡± and several other words I don''t make a habit of saying. You get the idea. It was the worst pain I¡¯d felt in my battered life, which is really saying something.


    I crawled desperately towards the house, feeling myself bleed out. Every jolt and roll sent electric knives skating on burning ice, and I nearly blacked out.


    A display flashed in the corner of my eye, and I read it through hazy eyes.


    Shun Mi ¡ª Health 7/15 _ Normal Attack. Bleed status -1 hp every five seconds.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I hissed, ¡°Very helpful.¡±


    But the bleed status effect had me thinking, and I pulled off my belt. My pants immediately sagged, even lying down, but most would call that an inconvenience at this point.


    I pulled my leg around and set the tourniquet, pulling with all my strength. It didn¡¯t feel much tighter than if I had done it back Home, but the bleed status disappeared.


    ¡°Five hit points left,¡± I said hoarsely, chuckling as my head spun, ¡°Too close. Way, way, way too close.¡±


    Still, I needed to heal myself quickly. There was probably some kind of healing potion in the cupboards of the house, but I significantly doubted that I could find it in my state. Maybe there was more to this interface?


    I took a desperate guess and said ¡°Open Status.¡±


    A holographic screen opened in front of me, displaying a variety of stats.


    ¡°Oh good,¡± I sighed, ¡°I should have tried that earlier. Um¡­wow. I have no frame of reference for these numbers. Is this- yes! Skills.¡±


    A surprisingly long list of skills scrolled before me. One in particular stood out at the top of the list.


    Skill ¡ª Analyze Properties- Level 1:  Deactivated.


    I groaned, the pain flaring as I reached my hand out, ¡°Why wasn¡¯t this turned on from the start?¡±


    Another holographic window popped up and I pressed ¡®activate¡¯. The window closed and I clenched my teeth, closing Status and looking at it again. Then I looked around, waiting for some sort of informational text to pop up.


    Nothing.


    ¡°What?¡± I opened my skills back up and checked it.


    Deactivated.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I said, trying to stay calm, ¡°I probably just clicked outside the window.¡±


    I activated it again, but the skill still read Deactivated. I closed the window and opened it back up. I activated it again. There was no way to power it off and on again for a hard restart. Yet trying two more times only led to failure.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°AAAAAAARRR!¡± I screamed in frustration, then whimpered as my stump of a leg throbbed with my rising blood pressure ¡°Why? Why does something this small not work?! It¡¯s basic. I can¡¯t do anything if it won¡¯t activate!! How does something like this break?! HOW!!!?¡±


    I grabbed some random plants and pulled up a clod of dirt, throwing it at the screen as I kept screaming threats.


    After a solid minute of lost control, my panic was interrupted by a ding.


    A window popped up and I focused on it.


    New skill acquired ¡ª Rage Technician Level 1. You have a 3.1% chance to use Intimidation to fix a malfunctioning Device by threatening it, hitting said Device, or hitting other things in the vicinity of said Device.


    That simplifies things, I thought.


    I really was in a true fantasy world. I laughed with desperate irony.  The greatest dream of all mankind had come true. I could fix the world by punching it. I pressed ¡®Activate¡¯ one last time as I stared at my raw leg stump


    Skill - Analyze Properties - Level 1: Activated.


    The world sparkled before me, information windows layering in front of my view. Pushing through the notifications, I desperately searched for something that would help. Nothing convenient lay nearby, and I forced myself to crawl back towards the house, painfully using my bleeding stump. My pants almost falling down as they dragged against my every move.


    ¡°The spear was by the door,¡± I said, forcing myself to focus on hope as I hauled myself over the threshold. ¡°Maybe Grandpa left some healing potions or something?¡±


    There was one of those cabinets that goes by the door. The type that held a bowl for keys on top and was jam-packed with unused shoes underneath. It had a mirror on top, and the cabinet door beckoned to me. I rolled closer and pulled it open.


    ¡°Beautiful,¡± I sighed gratefully, ¡°Good thinking, Grandpa.¡±


    They were in canning jars, reminding me more of Fortnite than potions. But the labels were clear with small print beneath. I couldn''t read the language on them, but their purposes were clear. Various symbols adorned each label and lid.


    ¡°Thank goodness,¡± I said as I grabbed a jar with a green cross on the lid. The Analyze skill opened a window.


    Full: High Restoration Healing Potion


    ¡°Fantastic,¡± I said, hope flaring against the pain, ¡°Now, how do I use this?¡±


    I twisted, removing the canning ring before I dug my fingernails under the rim of the sealed lid. It made a satisfying pop and a bit of the liquid sloshed onto my damaged hand.


    The bruising and cuts on my hand didn''t close miraculously, so it wasn¡¯t a topical potion. I raised the jar tentatively to my lips. Surely it couldn''t have gone bad? But the smell¡­well it wasn''t rancid. Extremely ¡®plants¡¯, but not bad.


    I sipped it and barely stopped myself from spitting it out. So sour!!! The sourest thing I''d ever tasted. But i had to try! I swallowed.  My face constricted painfully, performing a grand pucker before the sensation passed.


    And my leg didn''t hurt!!


    I looked on in wonder at A bit of pink flesh sticking out of the amputation, forming a nub. Tentatively I pulled the tourniquet off and waited. Nothing but relief.


    ¡°All right,¡± I said, feeling at my still-sore gums and broken ribs, ¡°Let¡¯s see what this can do!¡±


    I drank again, pushing the liquidback hard, in a vain attempt to escape the flavor. The sour shock trapped some on my tongue as I forced the rest down.


    As I stared, my ankle developed from the pink nub and I felt a massive thrill of joy.


    It was working!


    Four sips later, I quit. It didn¡¯t seem like I needed to drink the whole bottle. I got my foot back with the third sip! On the fourth sip, as if my returning foot was done draining all the healing power, the entire rest of my body felt better. Healed.


    Relief encompassed my entire body. Not feel even a bruise hurt for the first time since¡­I couldn¡¯t remember how long. Maybe not since my grandpa was alive.


    Beyond all that, I had my teeth back! I felt them with my tongue, giddy as a clam. Straighter too, don¡¯t ask me how that worked. I felt amazing: No bruises, scratches, or burns. Just me. Clean and new.


    Well, not ¡®clean¡¯.


    I looked at my blood-covered mess, and then the mess covering the house. The fire was dying out, the pee had mixed with blood, and thick dust lay over everything. The place was a real disaster.


    I was tempted to say that I''d clean it tomorrow, that it was already dark outside and time for bed.


    It had been a day of exhausting extremes.


    But I''d already slept for hours before my misadventure and the healing potion had rested me. I really could not continue being in this level of mess.


    First, I at least needed to build the fire back up. The night air was perfectly warm by itself, but I¡¯d be chilled from the well water as I cleaned.


    I was going to clean this place from the ground up.


    I got the fire blazing, then went outside to clean off the worst of it from my body When I came back I looked through Grandpa¡¯s usual places for cleaning supplies. There were rags beneath the broken sink, where Grandpa always kept them. There was also another bucket and some Pine Sol. I got water from the well and set to work, shivering as the fire built up to a roar.


    It wasn¡¯t spotless by the time I trudged into the bedroom hours later, but it was as good as I was going to get it. I could move surprisingly easily now, so I was able to accomplish so much more than I ever had before. An amazing feeling of contentment cushioned me as I collapsed into the bed I had freshly made.


    A job well done.

 Chapter 8 - End of A New Life Arc

    Chapter 8


    I experience Growth, Liars, and terrible load times.


    During my time cleaning, I realized three things.


    First: blood, mud, and pee weren''t that hard to clean. They didn''t even soak into the wood, which practically repelled any gunk that tried to hold onto the grains. Grandpa always knew quality.


    Second: the remains of the monster''s bodies outside dissolved into fractals of light. I noticed this during my repetitive trips to the pump. The monsters didn¡¯t dissolve instantly, but the bodies were mostly gone by my third trip.


    Third: I was getting fatter.


    Now, on my notoriously heavy body, this is usually hard to tell. My overall size is large enough that an extra twenty pounds just disappears into the circumference. Usually, I measure by how tight my pants are (since I stopped being able to see the scale years ago). But it seemed that my pants had stretched as well. I really started to notice when the sides of my stomach were brushing the edges of the doorframe.


    But I was exhausted, so I decided to investigate this latest phenomenon at a better time. Tomorrow, for instance.


    The next morning, I stood in the bedroom doorframe, the clean floor sparkling behind me as I said ¡°Actually, I think the house might be getting smaller.¡±


    I reached up, grasping the top of the doorframe and all the dust that came with it.  It seemed to be closer than before. I had stopped measuring my height against things years ago since all my growth seemed horizontally inclined at the time. I was short, with a hump and severe scoliosis. Life had literally bent me double, and so everything was taller than me. I had never touched the top of a doorframe, yet now it felt firmly filthy beneath my fingers.


    And it was only a few inches above my head.


    ¡°That¡¯s strange,¡± I said, grinning and giddy with disbelief, ¡°Could I be growing?¡±


    What  a ridiculous idea. There was no way that I would be growing that quickly. But the idea of the house shrinking¡­


    I never had claustrophobia before, but now the threat of the house shrinking was making my chest feel tight.


    ¡°This is fouled up,¡± I said, ¡°This is some Alice in Wonderland crap. There¡¯s got to be a potion that shrinks me back down.¡±


    Unfortunately, a quick and panic-awakening search revealed that the other potions were mostly boosts. Speed boosts seemed to be the most common. Though I wasn¡¯t actively inventorying it,  I got the sense that there were over twenty boost bottles in the small space. Finally, I found a bottle that looked promising.


    -Escape Potion- Lets you change shape.-


    ¡°All right,¡± I said, ¡°This is probably enough. I wish I had something to carry it in, though.¡±


    Eventually, I decided to put the potion bottle just inside the door. That way if I got stuck outside or inside I would be able to get where I needed to be. And I would be able to use it to fit into the portal again in an emergency.


    Now fully awake and hitting my second (or 50th) wind, I realized that I was beyond hungry. It wasn¡¯t time for sleep!  My stomach started to twist painfully, and I went hunting for something edible. The property was the size of a couple of football fields, and most of it was around the back of the house. The Land sprawled within a white-picket fence, acres of ground covered in a practical jungle of overgrowth. The significantly bigger brother of the backyard back home.


    ¡°Well then,¡± I said, ¡°I¡¯m definitely not in a desert. Probably nothing edible, though.¡±


    However, I was finally pleasantly surprised. My Analyze Skill was constantly identifying the plants as edible, even ones that looked like weeds. I ended up pulling something large and rough out of the ground, hoping for a potato.


    -Root Vegetable Cassava - Edible*-


    ¡°I wonder what that asterisk is about?¡± I said, then tried to poke the asterisk. The screen buzzed and an error window popped up.


    -Analyze skill must be Level Two for information regarding the Cassava Root.-


    ¡°Not going to make this easy, eh Grandpa?¡± I said, looking around the screen for links or other texts, ¡°How do I level the skill up?¡±


    My skill list didn¡¯t have any other information, and neither did the Analyze Skill itself. However, as I scrolled through the list of skills I found several with a flashing ¡®NEW¡¯ box over where the text should be. I tapped one and the ¡®NEW¡¯ box flashed and faded to reveal the skill.


    -Mobility Skill - Slip and Slide: Level 1-


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    ¡°What the-¡± I opened the description, ¡°Allows for improved control while sliding on slippery surfaces- Did I earn this? Just now? When I was sliding around to get Grandpa¡¯s spear? I¡­what a weird way to earn skills.¡±


    That skill had been useful, although I doubted that I¡¯d use it again.


    What about this one-?¡±


    I pressed another skill and the flashing ¡®NEW¡¯ box disappeared.


    Mobility Skill - Interception Ride: Level 1


    I opened the description and said ¡°¡®Allows the user to ride on the attack of a Huge or larger creature without taking damage-¡¯ So basically jumping on swinging swords and stuff? Did I- yes. It must be how I survived getting hit by that Giant¡¯s club. Let¡¯s see¡­ ¡®The chance of success improves with more levels-¡¯ what did it mean by ¡®chance of success¡¯?! How am I supposed to level that up ¡®through experiences¡¯ when I might die in the process?! And it won¡¯t even tell me the odds!¡±


    I rubbed my eyes and looked around the wild growths for somewhere to sit, which there wasn¡¯t. Not without finding an errant thorn in a hard place to reach. Sighing, I grabbed the Cassava and a few other plants I had found and brought them back to the house. I could explore the rest after dinner.


    ****


    Grandpa had left me several rolls of aluminum foil. No cans of food, but a lot of aluminum foil. I used it to wrap the washed Cassava and put it into the fire to cook with the other vegetables. I found salt and pepper in the cupboard, and some plates and utensils in the drawers. This root couldn¡¯t be that bad. It looked¡­potato-ish. Maybe I should have spiced it before sticking in the fire to cook.


    After about thirty minutes I stabbed the Cassava and found that it was still hard. An hour more in the fire and I gave up waiting for it to be soft. The skin came off with the foil, revealing the stiff white flesh beneath. Relishing my new teeth, I tore into it.


    ¡°Ugh,¡± I said, spitting out my bite, ¡°It¡¯s bitter.¡±


    Still, my stomach was roaring from the previous day¡¯s excessive exercise and fasting. Bitter was good for you, wasn¡¯t it? I salted it and opened my skill menu, scrolling through the new abilities as I ate.


    Some were exciting but basic, Super Jumps and Super Speed stuff. Although, those were called Terror Jump and Terror Speed so it wasn¡¯t as cool sounding. Then there were some odd ones.


    -Special Ability - Chair Destruction: Level 1-


    -Increased chance to Crit. during escape attempts by destroying the chair while restrained.-


    ¡°That¡¯s too specific!¡± I said around a mouthful of vile bitterness, a headache starting to form, ¡°And the chair was stuck, not restraining me.¡±


    I sat back and rubbed my forehead. Maybe I was having trouble adjusting to things here, but my stomach was getting nauseated. A headache was forming. My abdomen was starting to hurt as well.


    Plague sores, I thought, I should drink some water. I¡¯m getting dehydrated.


    I closed the skill window and saw that another window had opened. A window which had been hiding behind my skills menu.


    I said, ¡°Wha-¡±


    -Shun Mi ¡ª Health 14/15 _ Poisoned Status -1 hp every minute.-


    ¡°Are you kidding me!?¡± I stared at the poisoned condition, ¡°What? How?¡±


    I looked down at my food and Analyzed it.


    -Mysterious Mash - Inedible. Poisonous.-


    ¡°It was you?!¡± I spat my mouthful back and pushed the plate away. It skidded across the table and fell to the ground as I stood up horrified. A different-sounding ding rang in my head.


    The healing potion! I scrambled to the cabinet, watching another HP tick away as I unscrewed the lid. My face puckered involuntarily and I just managed to swallow. My health refilled.


    ¡°All right,¡± I said, standing, ¡°That sucked. I wonder why? It said it was edible!  What kind of analyzer was this??¡±


    The half of the cassava root I didn¡¯t eat lay guilty on the counter when I returned from emptying my tortured gut. I glared balefully at its innocent, potato-like coloring. Liar.


    ¡°Analyze it properly this time,¡± I said, ¡°Or I frickin¡¯ swear that I wi-¡±


    The pop-up menu had added text. Below the description of Cassava was a paragraph starting with an asterisk in small text. I moved the screen close to my face and squinted.


    ¡°Warning,¡± I read, ¡°Wild Cassava must be boiled thoroughly and the water discarded before it is ready to eat. Do this at least twice for safe consum- YOU COULD HAVE SAID THIS EARLIER!¡±


    I frowned. Didn¡¯t the Analyze skill need to be Level 2 for more information on Cassava?


    ¡°Let¡¯s see if I got anything out of this.¡± I said, irritated, ¡°It better have- oh thank goodness!¡±


    -Skill - Analyze Properties - Level 2: Activated-


    ¡°Oh yes!¡± I sagged to my knees, empty belly touching the ground, ¡°Woot! It went up.¡±


    I got up, exhausted and starving. What little I had kept down churned uncertainly in my stomach. It shouldn¡¯t keep poisoning me, right? Or¡­did healing potions actually stop poison? That wouldn¡¯t make sense if it did. I checked my status again.


    -Shun Mi ¡ª Health 14/15 _ Poisoned Status -1 hp every minute.-


    ¡°I figured,¡± I sighed, ¡°Okay. Let me see if I can find anything.¡±


    I went through the jars again and found one I had seen earlier. Analyze said it was an antidote. Did antidotes work like that? It wasn¡¯t like I had another choice. It was either try this or ride the rest of this misery out.


    It tasted like ash, bitter and dry despite being a liquid. The poisoned condition disappeared and I sighed in relief, then eyed my health.


    -Shun Mi ¡ª Health 13/15-


    ¡°Close enough,¡± I said, still starving despite my tender stomach ¡°Now, what am I going to eat?¡±


    The Clock loomed, tempting. It had become a door before. Could I just peek my head out through it? I probably couldn¡¯t get through the door anyway, not with as big as I was growing. Still, Grandpa liked to keep MREs and other instant foods in his study and there might be some by the door. Now that I thought about that, it was probably as food backup for this world.


    I¡¯ll just pop my head through, I thought, What harm could it do?


    -Are You Sure You Want To Leave? Y/N-


    ¡°Just for a tiny bit,¡± I said, finger hovering, ¡°I¡¯m not going all the way through so you don¡¯t shut on me.¡±


    I pressed yes, feeling my heart beat with the treachery. I was determined not to leave, but I wanted to see if there was any food on the other side. Just to make it easier on myself.


    There was a deep ding and a buzz, then another window appeared in front of me.


    -Error. Cannot open worlds_door_5 without completing the Inheritance file transfer. Please check the transfer status.-


    ¡°What?¡± I said, ¡°Inheritance? Check transfer status?¡±


    Another window popped up with a loading bar and that woman¡¯s voice sounded in my ear.


    It said, ¡°Transfer status ongoing: nine percent complete.¡±


    I stared at the loading bar. To compare its progress to a candy bar, this one was less than ¡®fun-size¡¯. A disappointing amount, and nothing compared to the ¡®king-size¡¯ I¡¯d been hoping for.


    My stomach growled again.


    ¡°All right,¡± I said, closing the window and placing a hand on the clock, ¡°I get what you¡¯re saying, Grandpa.¡±


    I groaned and grinned and wished for a picture of my Grandpa so I could look him in the eyes as I said, ¡°I gotta work hard to get back to ¡®easy modern life¡¯ as you loved to call it. I need to fully ¡®inherit¡¯ everything you left for me here. Here, where the going is tough. This really won¡¯t be easy, will it?¡±


    I laughed, a bit manically, and turned my back on the easy way out. For the first time in my life, there was nothing else I could do. No food to stress eat, no one to push me down and kick me in the teeth, not a cutting word to sap my energy for the day. No well-meaning excuses to keep me from going the distance. Nothing to hold me back. I had three months before school started again, if I was going back to school at all.


    So I grinned with my fresh new teeth and laughed, pounding my fists together as I felt goosebumps race down my arms. This was the chance of a thousand lifetimes.


    ¡°Challenge accepted Grandpa! I¡¯m going to do it! Even if it kills me!¡±


    END of A New Life ARC

 Chapter 9 --- Small World Arc

    In which my routine is broken by deadly rain, the prospect of humanity, and I stop fence-sitting.


    The sun beat down with near-tangible force and extremely tangible heat. What areas of me faced it head on crisped, and what areas hid beneath too-thin fabric baked like a Japanese jiggle cake.


    The first few days of farming had been difficult, even with small sips of the healing potion at the end of the day. But now that I had been clearing the land for a month, I was able to ignore the pain. Skin cancer isn¡¯t a thing when you can regrow limbs with a sip of sour juice.


    I hope.


    But the work needed doing and the crops I already had weren¡¯t going to cut it for long. Long, weedy things with diminutive edibility. Already, the first plot was getting close to blooming. Things in this world seemed to grow extraordinarily fast. I focused on planting potatoes (thanking the people at Food Theory for the grocery store episode) and was now clearing more land for potatoes.


    Crack!


    The small boulder split apart, crumbling after my third swing. That was another thing I had noticed. Everything in this world was weak.  Things broke like plastic left too long in the sun, the sun took hours to burn me when it usually rotisseried me in minutes, and even gravity itself seemed to have a tenuous grasp on this reality. I¡¯d pick up enormous branches and launch them into the wood pile from an acre away. Life would almost be on easy mode if it wasn¡¯t for-


    Base Shield Health 999968/1,000,000 Light Attack


    There was no sound, just the Shield Health popping up. Time to handle the pests.


    It was goblins again, almost twice my size and viciously snarling as they attacked the shield. There was nothing to distract them, so they had nothing to do but attack. I had long gotten over whether Goblins were sentient or not, chittered language or no. I wasn¡¯t going to eat them, and that¡¯s all their intelligence status mattered for when they were trying to kill me.


    ¡°First ones of the day,¡± I said, jogging up to the house and leaning the pickaxe against it, then grabbing the spear, ¡°Who wants to die first?¡±


    There was no answer, and part of me twinged in sadness about that. I hadn¡¯t seen anyone for a month. Even though I was usually alone in my other world, this was pushing it. Heck, I was nearly off the edge. But the Inheritance process was a long way from finished, and the forest was full of monsters.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± I said, walking up to the goblins, ¡°I know I¡¯m ugly. You¡¯re not much of a looker yourself. I don¡¯t have the hump anymore though. Pretty cool, right?¡±


    ¡°AeURRga!¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think so,¡± I sighed, then lunged with the spear. ¡°Of course, I also haven¡¯t seen a mirror in a month and a half.¡±


    The goblin slumped on the end of my spear, weakly grasping at the crossguard. I ripped the spear away, catching a hand and tearing it off. Like plastic left in the sun.


    ¡°What do you think?¡± I said, turning to the next one, ¡°You¡¯ve noticed how much weight I¡¯ve lost, right? I¡¯m almost back to how I was when I came here. Still don¡¯t know how that worked. I might fit through the portal soon. Get back to civilization.¡±


    Another thrust, another sigh, ¡°Ah, well. I really wish that I could speed up this inheritance thing. I may be spending summer break here, but I¡¯m worried about the house being foreclosed. It¡¯s not like I have the money to pay the bills, but the water leak must have rotted the kitchen by now. That sink will need immediate attention. I¡¯ll have to remodel. What do you think? I¡¯ve been thinking of painting it white¡­¡±


    I kept talking as I dispatched them, feeling villainous but refreshed. I needed to find some people, even if they attacked me as well.


    There was a ding as I finished the last goblin off, and I felt a thrill as I opened my menu. This ¡°ding¡± was the sound of a new skill being acquired, and I hadn¡¯t gotten one in ages. The last skill I got was ¡®Bane of Stones¡¯, which gave me extra damage while hitting rocks smaller than me for ten minutes.


    ¡°Huh,¡± I said as I scrolled through my skills, ¡°I don¡¯t see it¡­¡±


    I checked again and frowned. Had I been hearing things? That wasn¡¯t uncommon these days. Maybe there were skills somewhere else?


    ¡°That can¡¯t be right,¡± I said, navigating through the familiar menu. There were a few dead ends in the menu that I couldn¡¯t get through, but there was nothing else to do. I¡¯d spent hours navigating as I tried to fall asleep. Was I missing something?


    ¡°Wait a second,¡± I said, looking at my spear, ¡°I don¡¯t have any skills regarding you besides my basic attacks for any weapon. That¡­I¡¯m talking to my spear.¡±


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    I held up the spear in front of my face and said, ¡°Spear status? Analyze properties?¡±


    The familiar text box opened, showing that I was (drumroll) holding a spear! Very useful. Even at ¡°Analyze Level 4¡±, it hadn¡¯t cracked the asterisk for this spear.


    ¡°Figures,¡± I sighed, closing the Analyze window, ¡°Let¡¯s see. Analyz- no. Show Spear Properties?¡±


    Still nothing.


    ¡°What the heck?¡± I said, looking at the spear, ¡°Is there really nothing here? I¡¯m focusing on it, you¡¯d think that the system would know- oh! Of course. How is the system supposed to know what I¡¯m specifically talking about if I don¡¯t name it? I won¡¯t always be looking directly at it.¡±


    I held the spear up as I said, ¡°Name Spear!¡±


    The text window that showed up was just a floating keyboard and a place to name it.


    ¡°Awesome,¡± I said, reaching for the keyboard, ¡°what do I call you?¡±


    I plucked out several names on the keyboard, toying with the name. I might be able to change it later, but I might not. This should mean something to me.


    ¡°Deathbringer and that kind of stuff is too meaningless,¡± I mused, ¡°Too corny. It¡¯s my spear, though¡­but this is from my grandpa. I¡¯ll name other weapons cool names. This needs¡­meaning.¡±


    What did I want to be? A hero? Not really. I wanted friends as well, but I couldn¡¯t envision myself wielding the power of friendship. How about¡­yes.


    ¡°There we go,¡± I said as I plugged the name in.


    I looked around, embarrassed, and raised the spear to the sky and said, ¡°I dub thee ¡®Champion¡¯!¡±


    Then I pressed accept on the name box, and it vanished.


    ¡°All right,¡± I said, ¡°Open Champion¡¯s properties.¡±


    A new screen flashed, metallic rather than blue. A whole slew of new information boxes and pictures of the locked icon assaulted me. I walked away from the fence and settled in some shade to read it, taking a sip from my healing potion for my sunburn.


    Champion - LV 240


    Type: Comfortable Spear


    Description: Although there are many more powerful spears in the world, they all require change and sacrifice on the part of the wielder. A Comfortable Spear is a weapon that adapts to its user only, although others can use it for normal and heavy attacks. The Comfortable Spear creates special moves according to their wielder¡¯s fighting style and adapts them intelligently, creating names when none are provided.


    ¡°WOAH!¡± I said, staring at the level, ¡°That must have been from grandpa. This must be part of the inheritance process. It didn¡¯t inherit the name though. Maybe grandpa removed his data and just left the power. How would you remove levels anyways?¡±


    I opened the special skills category and saw only two flashing ¡®New¡¯ items. So it didn¡¯t gain skills as quickly as I did. Good, I could barely keep track of my own. I pressed the first one.


    Special UltraHeavy Attack - Level 1 - Dead-Weight Drop: Once per day, the Wielder may position themselves above an enemy and perform an S Class piercing attack. Can crit on a 1.2% chance, or if the wielder hits a sensitive target like a head or eye. Crit Chance and Damage go up with levels.


    ¡°Hah!¡± I said, ¡°So I did get a skill from that! Can I change the name? Something like ¡®Fallen Angel¡¯?¡±


    Nothing happened when I tried, and I sighed. Stuck with ¡®dead-weight drop¡¯. On an S-ranked attack as well. I backed out and clicked the second skill.


    Special Light Attack - Level 1 - Jibe Jab: The wielder can perform a light attack with doubled crit chances if the wielder speaks to the target first. Understanding is not necessary, but full insults will be required for higher-level abilities.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I said, looking at the disintegrating goblin bodies, ¡°I get how this one developed. But why now? The first one only took one time. Is it the amount of damage needed to be dealt by the move? But I didn¡¯t have the move yet, so does the damage from my attacks become moves when they¡¯re not just normal?¡±


    I sighed. Sometimes I wished for a fraction of an explanation. I couldn¡¯t game a system I didn¡¯t understand. Did other people in this world have to deal with this? I wanted to ask someone anything. Anyone something.


    People. Conversation. Contact.


    I looked longingly towards the forest. If only I had some armor¡­but I didn¡¯t. I had a gun and a spear that wouldn¡¯t come back. I could heal, but¡­


    I rubbed my leg where that smiling shadow had snatched my leg clean off. I hadn¡¯t found my leg when I thought to check, and now that the monster had a taste of me¡­I couldn¡¯t risk it. I couldn¡¯t drink a potion without a head. It wasn¡¯t worth it-


    Then I heard the scream.


    It wasn¡¯t a human sound, no damsel in distress. Shame. I could have really gone for some ¡®damsel in distress¡¯ shenanigans.


    It was a sound I was familiar with. A goblin death scream. But this time it was coming from above me.


    I looked up to see a goblin falling through the air, frantically clawing at the air as it fell. It hit the top of the shield, which bent and softened the fall. Then the goblin slid slowly down the side before plopping on the ground.


    I jogged up and called, ¡°What ho? What news?¡±


    No reply, of course. It looked at me with disoriented rage and lashed out, hitting the shield. I sighed. I could test out Jibe Jab now at least-


    The goblin¡¯s eyes cleared, and it howled a familiar war cry. Then it ran away.


    That¡¯s new.


    ¡°Hello?¡± I said, ¡°I thought that they couldn¡¯t stop themselves from attacking. Unless there¡¯s something else it was in the middle of fight- The goblin was fighting someone. Someone who threw the goblin to land here!¡±


    (I will admit, this was a bit of a leap in logic. But a month and a half in solitary freedom did things to a man.)


    I stood, frozen. There was someone else in this forest. A person?! And they were close.


    ¡°Open Status,¡± I said, watching the menu open before me.


    I had ¡®leveled up¡¯ repeatedly since coming to this world. Back then, I was level 1 with only fifteen health that drained alarmingly fast. I still didn¡¯t understand how these numbers worked, but I was now level twelve.


    With an HP of 180, I could theoretically tank twelve times more damage. Most of that was XP was from killing the giant, but I didn¡¯t know how to use it yet. In the system I was working with, once I gained XP it was stored rather than automatically increasing my level. Like Skyrim.


    My stats like strength and speed increased with levels at a flat rate as well, but I could tell that there was more to the system. Portions of my leveling menu that weren¡¯t loading right, probably due to the Inheritance process being unfinished.


    I can¡¯t keep talking to my spear, I thought, This is the closest anyone has been in a month and a half. I¡¯ve seen how far this forest goes. There¡¯s no one closer. It might be¡­forever.


    I gripped my spear and said, ¡°I won¡¯t get killed in one hit anymore. Not by goblins at least. That shadow doesn¡¯t seem to be around, and these folks might need my help-¡±


    Another goblin screamed and fell nearby, missing the shield and splatting.


    ¡°Or they may not,¡± I said, feeling my gut churn, ¡°They seem to have things under control. I could just stay in here. Safe. Alone.¡±


    My courage had grown in the past month, but the thought of leaving shook me. I could die out there. But I could die any day, especially with my cholesterol. I doubted that the healing potion stripped the fat from my veins.


    I was mortal. This wasn¡¯t a game. And because it was real, I would be missing out on much more if I didn¡¯t try. Because it was real, I would have to live with the regret.


    I looked at my spear. Champion.


    ¡°All right, Grandpa,¡± I looked to the house, ¡°You put me up to this. You better watch over me as I do this.¡±