《Backwoods Dungeon (STUBBED)》


 Chapter One – A Sudden Fight

    Chapter One


    A Sudden Fight


    <hr>


    I dodged to the left moments before a bloody hatchet would¡¯ve taken my arm off. Instead, the rusty axe skidded on the rocky ground below, casting sparks into the air.


    The creature was off balance. I finally took the opportunity. I¡¯d already missed half a dozen just getting over the shock of being attacked in my own backyard.


    My shovel came down in a heavy overhand swing before smashing into the surprised goblin.


    I didn¡¯t know what else to call it. It looked like a goblin. It was red-skinned and thinner than the Tolkien-brand goblins in my head. Four feet tall, wielding a rusted-ass hatchet and talking gibberish at me.


    Goblins. In my backyard! Mythical creature or not, the same thing happened to it that would happen to just about any human hit in the head with a shovel.


    It crumpled to the ground in a red heap.


    I didn¡¯t have any time to celebrate, though. There were at least four more of them. I¡¯d been running from them for¡­ god, four hours? It was probably only a few minutes, but panic was doing strange things to my head. I was breathing hard, winded. The rocky terrain wasn¡¯t familiar to me even though I owned it, and I was pretty sure I¡¯d ruined one of my tennis shoes on the sharp rocks of my mountain.


    Two more were climbing up the mountainside, chasing me. The cliff''s steep grade was becoming a problem. Hell, the only reason I¡¯d made it this far back up the slope was the multitude of wiry, thin trees serving as handholds.


    I couldn''t go much further, though. The slope was getting steeper. There were parts of the mountain that were damn near vertical, and these little fuckers were herding me right towards them, either hoping to catch me with nowhere to go or send me tumbling to the bottom.


    I spared a glance back as I stopped between handholds. The goblin had rolled about ten feet down the slope before it caught a particularly thick bush. To my horror, it wasn¡¯t dead.


    ¡®I hit that thing as hard as I could! An elk couldn¡¯t have gotten up from that!¡¯ I thought fearfully as I watched the goblin fail to pick itself back up.


    Another goblin stopped long enough to kick the injured one in the face again before taking its hatchet.


    I blinked, surprised at the lack of camaraderie.


    I turned away from the climbing goblins and took a few steps further up the slope, grabbing hold of a sturdier tree. They weren¡¯t going to stop chasing me, whatever they were, and I was starting to get angry.


    My home had contracted a goblin infestation. My home. What the hell was I doing? Running? These things were the size of kids!


    ''Kids with stupidly sharp knives,'' I thought. The long gash along my arm and the burning, coppery feeling of dirt in the wound could attest to that. I thought it was a joke at first. Just some kids playing a prank right up until that dagger drew blood.


    I had a shovel, but I hadn¡¯t actually intended to use it when I¡¯d first come out here. I wished I¡¯d been smart enough to pick up the first goblin¡¯s hatchet, but a shovel was still a shovel. I had a longer range than any goblin.


    I was sweating through my t-shirt, and I suddenly noticed that I''d bled all over it. It was one of my favorites. It had a Final Fantasy VII logo on it. I got it from Gencon last year¡­ For that absolutely asinine reason, I suddenly exploded in anger.


    After this shit heap of a week, on top of a shit heap of a year, now my favorite shirt was ruined.


    The next goblin had almost reached me, its friend close behind. Two more at the bottom of the slope were just waiting for me to fall, leering up like vipers. Neither were aware of the drastic change in my temperament.


    Rather than wait for the lead goblin to attack, I left the safety of my tree to add both arms to the power of my swing.


    It blanched, shocked that I¡¯d suddenly started to fight back. It raised its dagger in time to parry the blow, but its spindly little arms were nothing next to the weight of my swing, backed up by two hundred and eighty pounds of body fat.


    The dagger spun off into the woods as my shovel slammed down onto the goblin''s head even harder than the first one. I heard a sickening crunch that had been absent from my first swing. That one wouldn¡¯t be getting back up.


    Its ally quickly capitalized on my reckless swing as it darted up a little higher on the hill and sliced at my shoulder with the hatchet.


    Shocked, I fell back, and with nothing to grab, I tumbled down the steep cliffside. The hatchet didn¡¯t hit me, but I screamed as my back hit the rocky ground before tumbling end over end. Pain lanced through my wounded arm as I rolled over underbrush that was too flimsy to stop me. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    Ten feet further down, I crashed onto a large tree with a howl.


    ¡°Fuck, fuck, fuck!¡± I screamed. Sweat was burning my eyes, my shoulder felt like it had been hit by a truck, and my arm would hurt less if it were literally on fire, but I had to get back up.


    Easier said than done. I wasn¡¯t in shape anymore. Hadn¡¯t been for a long time. I had made half-assed efforts towards jogging now and then, but nothing near the intensity of fleeing for my life!


    I wasn''t sure if I was going to even be able to get back on my feet, but I found new motivation when the goblin charged down the hill after me.


    ¡°I swear to god, I will work out every day if I survive this,¡± I swore as I painfully readied the shovel I still held somehow.


    I looked up, ready to meet the charging creature, when I realized it had made a mistake. It had underestimated the slope. I could see the moment it went from furious attack to wild careen, its feet moving faster than its brain.


    Rather than engage, I simply threw myself to the side as the goblin continued past me, screaming and shouting in its strange guttural language.


    It caught a thin stick of a tree halfway to the bottom of the ravine. Its smaller size allowed it to recover from a fall that would¡¯ve sent me all the way to the bottom, but now I had the high ground.


    The two goblins at the bottom of the slope stopped focusing on me, laughing at their fallen companion instead. Wild guffaws that seemed more at home in a cartoon than the actual life-and-death situation this was proving to be.


    The goblin got back to its feet faster than me, glaring up. Most of my fear had faded now, though. I was mad. My arm hurt, my shoulder hurt, I was sweaty and gross, and I couldn¡¯t imagine how much I was going to itch later from all the bushes I''d run through.


    All of that fell to the side in a moment of clarity. The thirty-acre slice of heaven my wife and I had bought had a damn goblin problem.


    Rather than wait for it to get its bearings, I began stalking toward it, the slope more forgiving now that I was closer to the bottom.


    ¡°What¡­ the fuck¡­ are you doing here!?¡± I shouted through ragged breaths.


    ¡°Burka Keddba!¡± it shouted back as it stood, bearing its dagger, drool leaking between its pointed teeth. It had apparently lost the hatchet in the fall.


    I took my time slowly descending to the goblin¡¯s level, and apparently, I cut a pretty impressive figure. My torn shirt, bleeding arm, and the shovel slung across my shoulder must¡¯ve looked pretty intimidating because the defiance seemed to seep right out of the goblin. The two further below also seemed suddenly hesitant. Good. I was coming for them next.


    I was three steps away. Two steps, my face a grim rictus of rage as I grasped the shovel with both hands, preparing to smash through the goblin''s flimsy dagger.


    The creature lost its nerve and took off down the slope again.


    Son of a bitch!


    At this point, I was so mad that I didn¡¯t care if I had to roll my pudgy ass down this mountain. My wariness from before forgotten, I took off after the cowardly monster, barely keeping my footing as I charged.


    They scurried like mice as I bellowed louder than my neighbor¡¯s cows.


    By the time I reached the bottom, all three goblins were fleeing in pure terror. The closest one found a small ditch and ducked behind it as the land leveled out. I leaped over the ditch and spun, intending to smash it, but instead of solid ground, I found that the ditch disguised the entrance of a small cave.


    I crashed to the floor, a full three feet lower than I was expecting, and screamed as I twisted my ankle on the unexpectedly low ground.


    The goblin hadn''t been surprised, already swinging for my face. Adrenaline coursing through me, I reached out and caught the goblin¡¯s wrist, but the blade still managed to slice a shallow cut in my forearm.


    Shocked, the goblin met my eyes before I twisted. Its tiny little wrist broke under my grip, surprising me almost as much as the goblin. How flimsy were these things?


    The red-skinned creature yowled, but I silenced that with a wild left punch. I didn¡¯t hit it very hard, but it was enough to stun the red-skinned little creature. Another punch, this one better aimed, sent the bastard sprawling to the steep ground.


    I had dropped my shovel to catch the goblin¡¯s wrist, and it tumbled further into the cave, but the Goblin¡¯s dagger was right there. I grabbed it and tried to rise but winced as the pain in my twisted ankle momentarily blinded me.


    I grit my teeth and dragged myself closer to the goblin with my good foot, knee scraping along the rocks.


    The goblin was still dazed, and I didn¡¯t give it time to recover, burying the dagger in its chest. Blue blood followed from the wound as I pulled it out and stabbed again.


    It screamed. Squawked as it grabbed vainly at the dagger buried inside it, but it was already weakening.


    ¡°Ebuukkarss¡­¡± it hissed at me, glaring to the last before its beady eyes darkened and it slumped.


    I heard a sudden sound in my head, like a mix between a snare drum and a gong. At the corner of my vision, I saw a small¡­ button. Two buttons. To my left, a green one, and to my right, a red. Both buttons had the same symbol. A plus.


    ¡°Wh-what¡­ what the hell?¡± I murmured as I caught my breath.


    There were still two goblins ¨C maybe three ¨C but I¡¯d seen how afraid they¡¯d become in those last minutes. They had bolted. If they¡¯d been close enough to hear their little friend die, I doubted they¡¯d be in a hurry to come down here.


    Down. Here. Where the hell was I?


    ¡®I would¡¯ve¡­ thought that a cave would¡¯ve been mentioned whenever we bought this place on the damn survey,¡¯ I thought. ¡®Thousand dollars down the drain.¡¯


    The adrenaline was fading, and with it, the pain of my excursion was returning with a vengeance.


    I had a twisted ankle, a bloody gash on my arm that was bound to get infected, a bruise on my shoulder the size of a whale, and now I was hallucinating buttons.


    ¡°I¡­ so need therapy,¡± I wheezed with a laugh.


    <hr>

 Chapter Two – A Very Confused Man

    <h3 style="text-align: center">Chapter Two


    A Very Confused Man


    <hr>


    A moment after the goblin died, there was a small jingle and a splash of what sounded like bubbles popping. Three or four little coins and a vial of some red liquid popped out of the air.


    I stared at the coins and the vial, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.


    I picked up one of the coins, and it disappeared in my hand. I turned my hand twice, wondering if I¡¯d dropped it. No. The coin was just gone.


    ¡°What in the hell?¡± I said aloud.


    I wearily scooted closer to the dead goblin and picked up another coin, only for it to disappear as well.


    I grabbed the vial and was surprised to see a small label on it. ¡°Health. Small.¡±


    I blinked, but the label didn¡¯t go away. Nor did the vial disappear like the two coins had.


    ¡°Okay. This¡­ is a bad dream. I¡¯m having a bad dream. I got fired. I passed out on the couch and imagined seeing those kids down at the tree line.¡±


    I wanted it to be true. In my head, I willed myself to wake up.


    ¡°My arm is killing me, I feel like I just ran a marathon, and I just killed something that could talk. This had damn well better be a dream,¡± I said as the pain refused to abate and the world refused to reorient itself.


    I was stuck in a cave in my backyard well outside of shouting range from my house with a twisted ankle and a dead body, and it did not appear to be a dream.


    ¡®Okay. First things first. How far did I actually get from the house?¡¯ I thought, staring out of the small mouth of the cave.


    It wasn¡¯t a steep slope. Well. It was, but there were plenty of places where the grade was climbable. If I could walk, it would be simple to pull myself out, but even the thought of stepping fully onto my twisted ankle sent shudders down my spine.


    ¡®Good god, this fucking hurts!¡¯ I thought.


    It seemed like there was a pretty obvious solution right in my hand, but I wasn¡¯t just going to drink some random potion that I got from killing an honest-to-god goblin in my backyard.


    I turned my eyes toward the cave and realized it appeared to descend much deeper than I¡¯d first thought. I¡¯d have been thrilled to show this to my wife in other circumstances. She was a bit braver than I was most of the time and loved hiking, especially if there were caves to look at. She¡¯d probably jump at the chance to go spelunking in our backyard.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    That was for later, though. For now¡­


    I tried to step up onto my leg but was stopped by agony. My ankle hadn¡¯t been twisted. It was broken. ¡°I¡­ can¡¯t walk.¡±


    The idea of pulling myself back to the house up the mountain by my hands was not pleasant, and at least two more goblins were still out there. I didn¡¯t think they¡¯d be all that intimidated by me anymore.


    ¡°Well¡­ crap,¡± I thought as my options began to dwindle. I couldn¡¯t go down, and I certainly couldn¡¯t go up. Shouting for help would be even worse. Rio wouldn¡¯t be home for two days, and worse, it might attract the damn goblins.


    I took another look at the vial. Potion? I was fighting goblins with daggers, and they dropped loot. This was already insane. I might as well call it a potion.


    I had two choices if I wanted to return to the house intact. I could call an ambulance, which would probably work, but it would mean I¡¯d be stuck here until someone could find me and drag me out.


    Or¡­


    I eyed the potion warily. Fantasy was intruding on my life, and I still wasn''t entirely certain if I was hallucinating this whole thing. What I knew was that my ankle really hurt, and red vials were always health potions.


    Would it fix a broken bone?


    Well. If it didn¡¯t, I¡¯d have to explain the red goblin carcass in the cave behind my house, and that was assuming the two goblins still out there didn¡¯t successfully kill my unsuspecting would-be rescuers.


    It was only luck that I wasn¡¯t dead in the first few minutes. Odds were that EMTs, or even cops in this backwoods community, wouldn¡¯t be so lucky.


    I decided to take a chance. I uncorked the vial ¨C it had an actual cork! ¨C and downed the potion.


    Surprisingly, it didn¡¯t taste all that bad. I had nothing to compare it to. No drink I¡¯d ever had tasted like this. The only way I could describe it was¡­ healthy salt. There was a hint of copper, like blood, but the savory salt flavor heavily muted it.


    I noticed the effect almost immediately. The bones in my leg started to realign. The pain in my shoulder eased, and the wound on my arm began to close. That one had actually worried me. I didn¡¯t think it had nicked an artery, but there had been a lot of blood. While it was surreal, seeing the wound seal itself was a welcome change.


    I couldn¡¯t really tell when it was done. It might¡¯ve still been working ten or fifteen seconds later, but when I felt well enough to move, I tried to put weight on my broken ankle.


    Sore. Almost unbearably sore, but to my joy, my foot could hold weight again.


    Okay. Goblins, gold coins, and potions were in a cave in my backyard. What¡­ exactly did I do with that?


    I wasn¡¯t going to be making any big decisions now. I pulled myself out of the small crack in the ground where reality had decided to unwind a few screws and took a second to get my bearings.


    The other goblin, whose skull I¡¯d caved in, lay motionless a little ways up the slope. My house was up that way somewhere, so I decided to see if it had dropped anything like the potion on my way back up.


    Images swam in my head of selling potions like that one for thousands, tens of thousands of dollars. I knew what I would pay to have a broken bone healed in a few minutes. How much would rich people pay? It was mind-boggling.


    Unfortunately, the other goblin hadn¡¯t dropped any potions. Instead, there was only a quiver with about thirty arrows in it.


    ¡®If it had arrows, why didn''t it try to shoot me with a bow? This makes no sense,¡¯ I thought wearily as I continued my achy trek back up to the house. As I walked, I began to ruminate on what had brought me down into the little valley in the first place.


    Goblins¡­ fucking¡­ goblins¡­


    <hr>

 Chapter Three – A Short Hike

    <h3 style="text-align: center">Chapter Three


    A Short Hike


    <hr>


    My home was pretty far from town. My wife and I didn¡¯t like people much, so seeing someone on my property had immediately offended me.


    In my defense, it had been a bad day. A bad year, really.


    I found out we couldn¡¯t have kids in January. Well. I couldn¡¯t have kids.


    There were solutions. Rio could¡¯ve gone to a sperm bank, or we could¡¯ve adopted. There were ways around it. Those methods stung my pride enough that I wasn¡¯t willing to commit to them, though.


    I was angry. It wasn¡¯t a loud anger. Not explosive. No. Instead, it was slow and insidious. Things that wouldn¡¯t have irritated me before left me stewing in resentment. I yelled at traffic more. Day trips to town annoyed me, and staying home did, too. I just¡­


    Rio was an angel about the whole thing. She was kind, supportive, and reasonable, even when I lost my temper and punched walls for no sensible reason.


    She was never afraid of me, no matter how angry I got. Even at my most furious, I¡¯d never even think to hurt her. Our kitchen cabinet had no such protection.


    She said all the right things. Reassured me that this wasn¡¯t my fault ¨C wasn¡¯t anyone¡¯s fault. ¡°Sometimes these things just happen,¡± she¡¯d say. Occasionally, she¡¯d follow that up with a quip about how god didn¡¯t want her to get pregnant or some other inane tidbit that I would¡¯ve laughed at only a few months ago but now found a bitter pill.


    Yesterday though¡­ Yesterday, I punched a wall at work. In retrospect, that was pretty stupid. I wasn¡¯t exactly swimming in job offers. Finding another job would take months, and I¡¯d probably have to drive into the city for a worse job than I¡¯d had in town.


    Fucking hell.


    I still hadn¡¯t told her. She wouldn¡¯t be home for a few days, gone at school for her master''s degree. I didn¡¯t know how I would tell her either, but I had a funny feeling that even if I shouted it in her face, she¡¯d still pity me.


    I almost wished she would get mad. Well. She certainly would when she found out I had no job¡­ Again. Even then, it would only be about the money and not the¡­ disappointment.


    Didn¡¯t she deserve to be angry? I¡¯d deprived her, hadn¡¯t I? She had every right to be pissed. The man she¡¯d chosen, spent years on, wanted to build a life and a family with¡­ couldn¡¯t provide that. Not properly, at least.


    It was stupid. No one disrespected adoption and I didn¡¯t feel like if we adopted ¨C which we likely would ¨C the kid would be any less my son or daughter.


    But just¡­ the crush of dreams unrealized. The loss of an anticipated joy. I didn¡¯t have the words to describe it. It just wasn¡¯t¡­ well. Not what I¡¯d wanted.


    So when I saw some kid, their skin painted red, laughing, sneaking around on my property, I was just angry enough to be willing to grab a shovel and give them a scare.


    It was stupid. I knew it was stupid as I walked outside, and it certainly wouldn¡¯t win me any favors with my neighbors, all of whom I liked.


    Anger isn¡¯t exactly rational, though.


    I was a city boy. Rio had convinced me to move to the country, and thus far, I hadn¡¯t regretted it. There was something wonderful about being the only two people for miles¡­ or well. Acres at least. So what if the movies were a twenty-minute drive? My wife sunbathes naked on our back deck.


    Hell yes.


    What this meant, though, was that despite living here for almost two years, I still hadn¡¯t spent much time exploring the woods we owned.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    I¡¯d poured a little gasoline on a paper towel and dabbed my wrists and the sides of my shoes with it. I¡¯d only had to walk through a chigger-infested forest once before learning how important tricks like that were. It wasn¡¯t exactly healthy, but better to have a little gas on your skin than itching for a month. Even now, after facing five goblins that were literally trying to kill me, I¡¯m still more afraid of stumbling across a chigger nest.


    After that, I¡¯d stormed off towards the tree line, quickly spotting one of the ¡®kids¡¯ giggling and snorting like a buffoon as it ran off into the woods.


    It led me on a merry chase down the mountain, revealing that there were at least a few of the little shits taunting me with words that didn¡¯t sound like any language I¡¯d ever heard. Like it was all some game.


    I didn¡¯t realize what they were until I finally caught up with them, and one of them was suddenly swinging a fucking dagger at me.


    I stopped to rest on my trek back to the house. We¡¯d gotten a lot further away than I¡¯d expected. Knowing you own thirty acres and actually walking them are two very different things. I was pretty sure I was still on my property. There were a couple of little ravines with creeks at the bottom between my property and the neighbor, Mr. Sawyer¡¯s cattle farm. Even so, he also had a good ten acres of wooded mountains between our property line and his cowpens.


    I liked maps and had taken a weird pride in staring down at the land plots from Google Earth. I knew the area well, on paper. Regardless of where I came out, I knew I¡¯d hit the road that led up the mountain sooner or later if I kept going east.


    I saw no sign of the other two little creatures as I walked. I kept a wary eye out for them, but either they had fled entirely or were far more stealthy than I¡¯d first thought. Still, I kept one of their daggers in my pocket, just in case.


    The day was still bright for late afternoon and it was easy to tell which direction that was. It wasn¡¯t even as far as I thought, but I was gasping for air when I reached the road. I wasn¡¯t at the top yet, either.


    I groaned, but the slope of the road was much easier than the rough mountainside, so I decided to be thankful.


    I suddenly heard a vehicle from further up the road. It was only a moment¡¯s warning before the truck turned round the corner and came into view. A white Chevy Cheyanne that was almost as old as me and definitely ran better.


    The driver was Jill Norta. A teacher in the local school. She had bright blond hair that curled down her shoulders. She wore a ratty salmon-colored tank top and had on a pair of sunglasses that she lowered as she approached.


    I thought she might drive by with a wave, but she stopped when she saw my sorry state.


    ¡°Theo? What in the world happened to you? Get in a fight with a paint bucket!?¡± she exclaimed with a laugh, rolling her window down as she pulled up beside me, gravel crunching under the tires.


    ¡°Yeah, Jill,¡± I said, unpanicked. ¡°Had a bit of a tumble, but I¡¯m alright. Looks worse than it is. As for the blue, I honestly don¡¯t know. Kids must¡¯ve been playing with paint or something.¡±


    I¡¯d always been a pretty good liar. There was blood on me, obviously, but the goblin¡¯s blood was blue. I was sure it stank to high heaven, but It looked like paint, which I was suddenly thankful for. My cuts were as red as a sunset, though. Now that they¡¯d healed, I didn¡¯t know what I looked like.


    Disheveled and covered in paint with blood spots on my shirt, I supposed.


    ¡°You sure?¡± She asked, eyeing my clothes dubiously. ¡°I¡¯ll give you a lift back up to your place if ya need it, but I admit, I¡¯d rather not.¡±


    ¡°Nah, don¡¯t worry about it. I¡¯ll get home just fine. Hurt my ankle a bit, but I didn¡¯t fully twist it, luckily,¡± I said with a chuckle. ¡°Cut the hell out of my arm, though.¡±


    Her eyes narrowed as she searched me for wounds. ¡°What were you doing out there, anyway? Tell me you weren¡¯t trying to hunt in that getup?¡±


    I had no idea how to hunt, not really. This whole situation felt surreal. Not a half hour ago, I¡¯d had a broken ankle and was lying next to a dead goblin, and now I was chatting with my neighbor like nothing had happened.


    The truth was right out. Instantly unbelievable.


    ¡°I was just exploring a bit. I¡¯ve been here for two years and barely even know my own woods. Didn¡¯t seem right,¡± I said easily. ¡°Listen though, Jill. You carry?¡±


    ¡°Not usually, why?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Saw something weird. Might¡¯ve just imagined it, but I swore I saw some strange people down in the ravine. Gave me the creeps. Just¡­ consider keeping a gun handy, okay?¡± I said.


    We didn¡¯t know each other very well, and I could tell the suggestion had confused her. Still, better she thought her neighbor was a weirdo than those goblins finding her defenseless.


    ¡°Huh. A¡¯ight, Will do,¡± she replied, her accent showcasing her Alabama roots.


    ¡°Like I said, probably nothing. Anyway, it was nice seeing you!¡± I said with a wave as I backed away from her window.


    She perked right up at that. ¡°Likewise! Tell Rio we should get together sometime! Have dinner!¡±


    I nodded at her and waved as she drove down the mountain towards the fork at the bottom and the sharp uphill curve that took her to her slice of the woods.


    I turned and continued my long and arduous argument with gravity, mildly wishing I¡¯d taken her up on that lift.


    Fucking mountain.


    <hr>

 Chapter Four – Physical Classes

    <h3 style="text-align: center">Chapter Four


    Physical Classes


    <hr>


    My dog was there to greet me as I reached my driveway, yapping up a storm. Her name was Genji because I am a complete nerd. We¡¯d gotten her because we wanted a good guard dog. Defense. She was our Genji Armor.


    I never told my wife about the reference. She just liked the name, so it was a win-win.


    ¡°Quiet down!¡± I hissed as I got closer, and, wonder of wonders, the dog actually did.


    The potion had done a fantastic job healing me, but I was still sore and achy. The last few steps up to the front porch were murder, and Genji followed me inside. The dog seemed to understand that I was in pain, and she fussed over me, whining as she licked at my pant leg.


    I stripped off my clothing and hopped into the shower before anything else. The hot water felt like a dream. Unfortunately, I¡¯d discovered that even closing my eyes did not eliminate the two buttons with the plus signs.


    They hovered in the corners of my vision, just waiting for me to push them.


    Safe in the confines of my home and locked in the bathroom as the dried blood washed off me and down the drain, I finally decided to open one. I arbitrarily picked the red one on the right.


    I reached out and tried to push the button with my finger, but I immediately felt like an idiot when nothing happened. My finger was just behind the button like I was wearing a heads-up display.


    ¡°Okay¡­ how do I click you?¡± I thought. In the stories I¡¯d read where games became reality, there was usually some form of mental guidance that the protagonist could use so I just mentally clicked it like I would a button on the computer.


    It beveled inward before a dialogue box covered my field of view.


    ¡°Status screen unavailable until a class is chosen.¡±


    ¡°Good lord, that is freaky,¡± I said as I mentally clicked the ¡°Okay¡± button below the dialogue. It seemed green needed to go first.


    I felt suddenly excited. A class? I got to pick a class!?


    Then I shook myself as reality set in. Even if I could pick a class, it wasn¡¯t like being a Wizard or a Warrior was actually very helpful in real life. How would being able to throw fireballs around help me with my taxes or pay bills?


    ¡­


    Actually, being a Rogue might be very useful for those things. Of course, that didn¡¯t mean it was a good idea for my literal job title to be a criminal.


    I sighed and clicked the green button. In for a penny, in for a pound. I was just rolling with it by this point. I was picking my class in the shower as I washed blood off my butt.


    Great.


    Sure enough, it was exactly what I¡¯d expected. Paladin, Barbarian, Cleric, Rogue, Wizard, Druid, Necromancer, Monk, and Bard.


    ¡®Right¡­ yesterday I lost my job¡­ today I¡¯m a D&D character,¡¯ I thought. I still wasn¡¯t quite believing what I was seeing and thought I¡¯d wake up in bed any minute. There¡¯d be no weird buttons, no evidence of fighting goblins, and everything would be normal.


    Evidently not. The screens stayed right there. Above them was a line of text that sent a chill down my spine.


    ¡°The seals are broken. The hells awaken. Take up arms, humanity. The ancient enemy comes once more.¡±


    I rolled my eyes. What middle school emo kid came up with that? Credit where credit was due. It certainly hit the right note for ominous.


    A drop of sweat trailed down my neck despite the shower.


    This whole thing was stupid. The¡­ the ¡°Hells?¡± Like, the literal hells? Weren¡¯t those just God''s punishment for Satan?


    I sighed. The sooner I got these damn buttons out of my field of view, the sooner the world could go back to normal.


    Still¡­ those goblins had been real as far as I could tell¡­ Perhaps I should pick the class I want to be, just in case.


    I was going to look at all of them before choosing. I almost clicked Necromancer to get it out of the way, but I hesitated. What if simply choosing was a final decision? Would I be stuck resurrecting dead bodies if I so much as accidentally clicked that option?


    For that reason, I opted to pick the Paladin first. Paladins, at least, didn¡¯t typically start to go pale and resemble the skeletons. I figured it was the safest bet if I was stuck with whatever I clicked first.


    I needn¡¯t have worried. It turned out to be a helpful little game screen in my head, as an image of me was shown. It wasn¡¯t me as I was, but it was an idealized version of me. Gone was the paunch of fat that I couldn¡¯t seem to get rid of. Gone were the flabby arms and double chin. Instead, I wore a resplendent plate mail armor and carried a wicked shield. A longsword was sheathed at my side, and I held onto a glistening helmet that looked like something out of Medieval Times. The theoretical Paladin me glowed with an unearthly and mildly unsettling light.


    Below the agonizingly sexy Paladin Theo was a description.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Paladins are holy warriors renowned for their unwavering dedication to righteousness, justice, and protecting the innocent.


    Physically stronger than most other classes, the Paladin relies on strength and wisdom for their abilities and holy spells. Their strength comes from their physical prowess and unshakable faith in their chosen deity or code of ethics.


    Their moral compass is uncompromising, and they hold themselves to the highest standards of conduct. They stand as beacons of hope and defenders against darkness, willing to sacrifice their own well-being for the greater good.


    Paladins are found on the frontline against the hordes of hell and, in times of peace, are arbiters between disputes. They inspire those around them with their bravery, righteousness, and unwavering dedication.


    Would you like to become a Paladin?


    Note: If you become a Paladin, the level-independent attribute ¡°Zeal¡± will be added to your status screen.


    Zeal¡­ so did that mean the depth of my belief in my cause would actually affect my overall abilities? That seemed like a huge glaring weakness.


    What if something made me doubt my conviction? Would I instantly lose all of my abilities?


    From there, I decided to read their descriptions in order from least likely to most. Frankly, even if it was useless, the idea of throwing fireballs still tickled some primordial lizard-brain part of me, so Wizard would obviously be last.


    Barbarians are gifted with a natural strength that far exceeds the common man. Ruled and strengthened by their emotions, the Barbarians fuel incredible feats of martial prowess with anger, rage, or even bloodlust.


    Strength and Charisma are their primary attributes. The Barbarian is a tactical genius on the battlefield. Intuitive leaps in logic happen instantaneously for Barbarians, allowing them to dodge strikes and even magical attacks without thought.


    Forgoing heavy armor, the Barbarian wears furs or leather to remain mobile. To a Barbarian, overwhelming offense is the best defense.


    In peace times, they are often found in gladiatorial arenas where competitions of strength and valor are admired.


    Barbarians are experts in channeling intense emotion into combat prowess, and their sheer presence can invigorate even common men and women to incredible feats of bravery, magic, and power.


    Would you like to become a Barbarian?


    Note: If you become a Barbarian, the level-independent attribute ¡°Fury¡± will be added to your status screen.


    I was actually a bit more impressed than I expected to be with the image of linebacker Theo. I originally had no intention of being a Barbarian since the dumb brute stereotype looked pretty spot on. Still, I¡¯d felt pretty fucking pissed when that goblin had sliced me. I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d have trouble bringing up rage or strong emotions during a fight.


    The idea of looking like a football player certainly didn¡¯t hurt. Putting all this body fat to use might actually be a solid choice.


    However, being not only on the frontlines of a fight with demons but doing so while wearing fur did not sit well with me. I didn¡¯t exactly like my first experience of being sliced with a knife and was quite hesitant to repeat it.


    I decided to pass for now¡­ damn though. I would love to see my wife¡¯s reaction if I walked in the door looking like that.


    The next one I chose to open was the Rogue, and I wasn¡¯t exactly surprised by the description.


    My Rogue self wore dark clothes that hung over an almost comically thin body. It didn¡¯t look unnatural, but after having been over two hundred pounds for years, seeing a thin version of myself was strange. Also a little insulting.


    He carried a longbow, which frankly seemed silly to me. If there were any chance this whole thing was real, I certainly wouldn¡¯t be taking a bow into a fight. I¡¯d be bringing a gun. Ideally, a lot of guns.


    I couldn¡¯t think of any particularly positive uses of a Rogue¡¯s skills in real life either. I didn¡¯t have anyone I particularly wanted to rob, and I certainly didn¡¯t like the idea of assassinating people.


    Rogues are blessed with uncanny speed and accuracy. Favoring Dexterity above all other attributes, the Rogue can get to almost anywhere and use their mobility, speed, and stealth to land powerful strikes before enemies even know there is danger.


    Rogues are also immensely perceptive, able to spot traps and hidden enemies that might catch other classes unaware.


    In times of peace, Rogues are often wanderers, gaining wisdom from other cultures to allow them to blend in better. They might become thief catchers or bandit hunters. They often take immense pleasure in uncovering secrets, blackmail, or swindling those not clever enough to catch them.


    They can become expert assassins, capable of eliminating heavily fortified enemies before they can become threats. Shadow skills, bombs, and deadly traps are all part of the Rogue¡¯s arsenal. They are also prone to finding more gold, weapons, and items from the bodies of demons.


    Would you like to become a Rogue?


    Note: If you become a Rogue, the drop-chance of items and gold when you kill creatures of hell is doubled. This ability is an aura that emanates to all party members.


    No, thank you. That last line intrigued me slightly, but not nearly enough to pick a class all about archery and knives when guns were a thing.


    Really, were any of these physical classes actually useful next to an assault rifle? Still, having a Rogue along would be useful, if only because there would be more loot.


    I moved on. Monk was the last of the purely physical classes, and I blinked when I opened it. God, I wish. Monk Theo looked like a movie star.


    Shirtless and traditionally strong, rather than a mountain of muscle like the Barbarian, the Monk version of me was tall, lithe, and powerful. Radiant light emanated from his fists as he stood meditatively before occasionally bursting into a kata. He wore loose pants, and with each punch he threw, small dragons exploded behind him in radiant light bursts.


    Monks are warriors of balance. They attune the harmony of their lives to that of nature and the arcane. From that harmony stems power.


    As a seeker of balance, Monks grow naturally faster in all areas than any other class. A jack of all trades but master of none, the Monk has self-healing abilities, great strength, incredible accuracy, natural regeneration, and can use lesser magics.


    An answer to any situation, the Monk flourishes in his versatility. Monks use no weapons but those they were born with, preferring the path of the pugilist.


    In peacetime, Monks are artists, sculptors, painters, and writers. They enjoy creation and can often become the builders and architects of great works.


    Monks are masters of creating their own perfect terrain, able to lay blessings of enhancement, strength, magic, and healing to their allies while hindering enemies before ever touching them.


    Would you like to become a Monk?


    Note: If you become a Monk, your status screen will no longer be interactive. Instead, all attribute values will increase by one each level.


    That¡­ sounded like it had the potential to be massively powerful at very high levels, but getting there would probably be a slog. Assuming I actually believed any of this crap I was seeing, which I still very much didn¡¯t.


    Self-healing though¡­


    As far as I was concerned, a punch would never hit as hard as a bullet. But¡­ what if¡­ what if a Monk could heal sterility? A Paladin or a Cleric, too maybe?


    I sighed. I was trying to use video game logic to deal with real-world problems. Maybe I really had gone round the bend. I couldn''t let the idea go, though.


    <hr>

 Chapter Five – Mental Classes

    <h3 style="text-align: center">Chapter Five


    Mental Classes


    <hr>


    The next classes were significantly less conventionally attractive. I figured I¡¯d get Necromancer out of the way first because there was no way I would become a Necromancer.


    I lived in the bible belt. We liked to think we were civilized, but if there was anywhere in America where the Salem Witch Trials might happen again, it was right here. Reviving the dead and using their skeletons to fight for you is cool in video games and movies, but in real life, it just sounded like a quick way to get burned at the stake.


    I was not at all surprised to see a pale, skeletally thin version of myself when I pulled up the class. Bones swirled around the model and made up most of the armor he wore. He cut a disgusting but admittedly intimidating figure.


    Necromancers harness the power of death to wield the bodies of the deceased. They are cruelty turned to a good purpose. Death wielded for the living.


    Necromancers embody the good intentions that pave the road to hell. Only those of the highest willpower and fortitude can hope to become a Necromancer without succumbing to the hells and becoming that which they hoped to destroy. The rewards for such a path are many, however. Domination, dominion, and conquest are the realm of the Necromancer, and dead or living, all can be enthralled by their might.


    The Necromancer wields enormous power that stems from their intelligence. A Necromancer can dominate almost any foe, be able to curse enemies from a distance, wield bones as armor or weapons telekinetically, or even sap the very life from their enemies to fuel their own. Their armies are legion, exceeded only by the pressure to turn entirely to the dark.


    There is no peacetime for Necromancers. There is only the enemy and the struggle for power.


    Would you like to become a Necromancer?


    Note: If you choose to become a Necromancer you will gain the level-independent attribute Corruption. The higher your corruption, the stronger your spells become, but the more difficult it will be to see the light.


    Wow. I wondered idly what kind of person would look at that description and think, ¡°Yeah! That sounds like me! I¡¯d love a good struggle to remember right from wrong!¡±


    Well. Actually, I could think of about five people off the top of my head who probably would. My boss, for one, the bitch.


    Er... my ex-boss. Shawna Sterick. God, it was going to be hard to get used to that. It still hadn¡¯t sunk in. I¡¯d worked as an IT Helpdesk Technician Level 1 for a company that made custom baseballs and basketballs for the past two years. The one constant in my life for that whole time was how livid I would get when she compared me to her kids. That micromanaging little shit would probably jump at the chance to summon demons and go graveyard diving.


    I knew I was being unfair. She wasn¡¯t evil. She just seemed that way to me. She was usually right about whatever she had chosen to micromanage that day, despite it rarely being anything more consequential than whether wires were visible or how imperfect a video tutorial I¡¯d created was.


    Punching a wall at work was apparently one step too far. Maybe she¡¯d have been more sympathetic if I¡¯d opened up about what had me so on edge lately. She had three kids and a fourth on the way, after all.


    But I didn¡¯t, and now I had to start hunting for another fucking job. And, of course, there was the new housekeeping task of culling the murderous goblin population in the backyard. On the plus side, at least I wouldn¡¯t have to deal with her micromanaging how well I¡¯d murdered goblins.


    Was there, like¡­ an exterminator I could call for this? The police? Animal control?


    I sighed before choosing the next class.


    Bards use the vibrations of the air to channel different abilities. Like the Warcries of the Barbarian, the Bard takes these simple effects to the next level. The Bard can disable, disorient, poison, and enfeeble enemies from anywhere sound might reach, and similarly, they can empower, enhance, regenerate, and rally allies and themselves within that same area. A skilled Bard can accomplish many of these tasks simultaneously.


    Powered by a mix of Charisma and Dexterity, the Bard can channel the effects of their music to all enemies at once. Whimsical and fey of attitude, the Bard is rarely content to remain in one location or group. Bards travel to see the world and gain insights to channel into their music.


    In peacetime, Bards are storytellers, often found in taverns and inns entertaining guests and patrons for supper. Bards are natural showmen who can draw in a crowd at a whim and excel in uplifting spirits or telling tall tales.


    Would you like to become a Bard?


    Note: If you choose to become a Bard, you will gain the level-independent attribute ¡°Inspiration,¡± which can determine the range of your song and how effective your songs can be.


    The Bard Theo was elfin. He looked like Link from the Zelda games, except he had a patchwork cloak, didn¡¯t wear the stupid hat, and carried a fucking lute. I¡¯d only ever seen a lute when googling one due to how often they appear in fantasy stories. They did admittedly look kinda cool. I wondered again why they went out of style. Were guitars just that much better?


    Thinking of things going out of style... I¡¯d been feeling like something was off for a while now. This felt like a game¡­ but made for players from a different time period. Taverns and Inns? When was the last time anyone went to a fucking Days Inn and asked to entertain the patrons for a room for the night?


    Well. There were a lot of poor people. The last time someone asked probably wasn¡¯t that long ago. The last time someone did that and successfully received a room? Probably at least a hundred years. Maybe two.


    Whatever angel or higher being that had instituted this weirdness really needed to get with the times. Would a patch be too much to ask for?


    Initially, I had thought that I would pick Wizard, hands down. Yes, it had no practical use, but¡­ well¡­ fireball. Fuck, maybe I could fake a Dragon Slave. ¡®Darkness beyond twilight, crimson beyond blood that flows,¡¯ goblin bitches! Sure, I¡¯d burn my mountain down, but it would be worth it!


    But in reality, the only classes that made real sense were those that could heal. Paladin, Monk, or Cleric. Maybe Druid. I wasn¡¯t sure about that one yet.


    Guns could fill the role of any fisticuffs or hack ''em slash ''em better and faster than any of the classes I¡¯d seen so far, baring perhaps Necromancer. But that was only because a Necromancer could give his minions Rugers.


    Actually, Necromancer might not be a bad idea¡­


    No. That would be stupid. Yes, I still didn¡¯t believe any of this was real, but if it was, I wasn¡¯t going to risk becoming a skeletal mummy of a man who literally had to struggle to tell right from wrong.


    What had really happened so far? A few unusual creatures that wanted to kill me and had a language of some sort. A level-up interface popped up in my head like the start of a video game the moment I¡¯d killed one. That¡¯s all. There was no reason to think some demonic apocalypse was brewing beneath our feet.


    The hairs on my arms stood on end when I thought about it. My lips went dry.


    ¡°The seals are broken. The hells awaken. Take up arms, humanity. The ancient battle comes.¡±


    It was still written at the top of the class selection screen.


    ¡°No reason at all!¡± I said to my shower wall.


    I opened the door and looked out the bathroom window. The backyard looked fine. Nothing strange about it at all. The wind blew the trees around a bit. The late afternoon was still sunny. It was Spring, but the weather hadn¡¯t decided if it wanted to be fully hot or cold yet, so it kept waffling back and forth.


    Today was hot enough for a T-shirt, but I might need three layers tomorrow. You could never really tell in April.


    Was this what the ¡°Hells Awakening¡± should look like?


    I shrugged off the wary feeling, but it lingered there in the back of my mind.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Druids are nomadic creatures. Prone to solitary lifestyles, they commune with nature and draw their powers from her. The Druid can summon beasts to aid him in battle and command the elements. No creatures of the wild would harm a Druid.


    Truly powerful Druids may hold complete dominion over the weather in a local area. Storms and cyclones obey them, as do the creatures of the land to an extent. Druids can also shapeshift, becoming animals which they are most familiar with.


    Powered by their Wisdom and Strength, Druids hold connections to the earth and are filled with life. Creatures of nature, including humans, can find themselves recovering from otherwise fatal wounds or sickness just by being in the presence of a Druid.


    In peacetime, Druids are often honored elders and wise men or women. They might also find their calling as village healers. Their long communion with the Earth has left them wise and capable of guiding younger generations. If they do not have strong bonds with friends or family, Druids might often take to the wilderness, preferring nature above human contact.


    Would you like to become a Druid?


    Note: If you choose to become a Druid, you will gain a special ability called ¡°Healing Aura¡± which drastically improves the recovery rate of all living beings not aligned with the hells within a radius around you. This aura can be manipulated by various Druid abilities to have different or more powerful effects.


    Wow. That was actually incredibly useful. I could heal people just by being near, turn into a bear to intimidate them, or become a mouse to spy on them. Thinking in terms of killing monsters like goblins still felt arbitrary to me. An aura of healing, though? Who wouldn¡¯t want that?


    My mom wasn¡¯t exactly getting younger. She¡¯d mentioned having a bit of skin cancer removed last year. She¡¯d played it off like no big deal, but¡­ well. Cancer.


    Fuck cancer.


    Only two classes left, but I doubted it was even a question. I wouldn¡¯t be prioritizing fireballs over potentially healing family.


    Wizards channel arcane energies through the ambient magic that saturates the world. Able to take raw mana from the elements, a Wizard is a superb long-range fighter and, with few exceptions, excels at dealing massive damage to enemies on a wide scale from a distance.


    Utilizing raw Intelligence to fuel their spells, the Wizard has honed their mind to be as sharp as their powers. Intense study and a deeper understanding of the mysteries of the earth and beyond lend strength to their already prodigious command of the elements.


    In times of peace, Wizards tend to gravitate to the learned arts. Creating great monuments and relics, mixing poultices, and studying the world to bring order from chaos are all favored pastimes of the Wizard. Many are motivated by this desire to improve or leave their mark on the world.


    Would you like to become a Wizard?


    Note: If you choose to become a Wizard, the level-independent attribute ¡°Understanding¡± will be added to your status screen.


    So, Wizards were scientists. Or the Middle Ages equivalent, at least. I was a computer scientist, but I didn¡¯t find much joy in learning for the sake of learning.


    Perhaps I should be more interested, but this wasn¡¯t the way to go for me. Increasing my understanding of the ¡°Earth and Beyond¡± sounded like I needed to know a little about everything.


    Someone with a working knowledge of everything should not have had nearly the same trouble with replacing a door I¡¯d had last month.


    I could imagine that ¡°Understanding¡± attribute sitting at a solid one for the rest of my life.


    The image of myself as a Wizard seemed filled with arcane power. A red glow suffused the area around him and his eyes were lit up with electricity. His robes were kingly, and his staff eldrich and menacing.


    He looked badass. If the world had suddenly ended, the apocalypse was nigh, and the sky was raining ash or something, this would almost certainly be the class for me.


    It hadn¡¯t, though. The sky was bright and sunny. The day didn¡¯t look any different from a thousand others. Jill was none the wiser to any Goblins and would probably think I was delusional if I tried to tell her. Rio probably would, too, now that I thought about it.


    I¡¯d finish playing around with this silly screen, and the world would return to normal. Soon enough, I¡¯d forget about the five red-skinned gremlins that had attacked me in the woods. I could see myself wondering if it had even happened or if I¡¯d just been severely dehydrated and a little manic the day after getting fired from my first well-paying job since I¡¯d left the military.


    There was only one class left. The Cleric.


    Clerics are the mercy and the soothing word. Holy healers who do good deeds in the name of their deity and the common good of all.


    The opposite side of the coin from their brothers, the Paladins, Clerics are capable of violence but do not excel at it. Instead, the Cleric focuses on the healing arts and bringing life and health to all who abhor the hells.


    Pure Wisdom determines the power of the Cleric¡¯s spells. Devout in whatever way that suits them, the Cleric may be found in plate-mail armor wielding a hammer or in the raiment of the priest, healing from afar that others may continue in their crusades well past their natural limits.


    In peacetime, the Clerics can be found in the world''s holy places, sanctifying the grounds against all who would harm others.


    Would you like to become a Cleric?


    Note: If you choose to become a Cleric, the level-independent attribute ¡°Faith¡± will be added to your status screen.


    Damn.


    The class was all about actually believing in something. True honest belief. I didn¡¯t¡­ I didn¡¯t think I could do that. It was the same problem as with ''Understanding'' and with the Paladin¡¯s ''Zeal.''


    I struggled with my faith daily, waffling between believing in god and wondering if religion as a whole was nothing more than a global pacification system that simply came in different flavors. If my theoretical class abilities¡¯ strength were based on my Faith, they would likely be weaker than my already flabby arms.


    I couldn¡¯t choose this class.


    So, what did that leave me?


    Necromancer was out, Cleric was out, Paladin was out. I wasn¡¯t going to be a Rogue. Sure, I didn¡¯t think I had enough zeal to be a Paladin, but I also wasn¡¯t going to start robbing people, even if the demonic loot drops sounded good. I didn¡¯t really want to assassinate people, either. Demons, maybe, but there were better choices for killing enemies if I chose my class based purely on that.


    Still¡­ Cleric. Healing myself. Healing my Mom¡­


    I¡¯d watched my Grandpa die of cancer. Even if I¡¯d never be a good, faithful Cleric, maybe it would be worth it to be focused on the healing arts.


    ¡­My gut told me it wouldn¡¯t be, though. Perhaps I would be a decent healer, and maybe I could even give my Mom an extra two decades. Maybe Rio and I could even have kids¡­ but I¡¯d never be great if Faith were the determining factor. I had great respect for those whose faith was unshakable. I envied them sometimes, having that rock.


    I was too jaded for that, though.


    What did that leave me with? Barbarian, Bard, Monk, Wizard, and Druid.


    Barbarian¡­ well, Rio always said she liked a big guy.


    I grinned goofily but decided not to pick that. Wizard and Monk, too, were out. Wizard because for all of its ¡°Understanding¡± it didn¡¯t seem to be capable of much other than destruction. Monk, because while it had self-healing, it couldn¡¯t heal others, as far as I could tell. Also¡­ after almost getting killed by a few goblins, I wasn¡¯t eager to devote myself to close-ranged combat with my fists.


    That left Bard and Druid.


    Neither class was my favorite to play in the various RPGs that featured them. Druids were usually a bit hokey, and Bards were rarely all that effective.


    I could read music pretty well, but even in high school, when I was first chair trumpet and the school''s best piano player, I knew I¡¯d never go to Julliard.


    Nature though¡­


    After all of that, it was the mosquitos that decided it.


    I grew up in a city. A big city. Until I moved to the country, I never for a minute imagined wanting to live elsewhere. Now though? The rocks and the trees. The hardy grass and weeds that could grow in such an environment and the tall oaks that covered every inch of the small mountains?


    I loved it.


    From afar, anyway. From the safety of my back deck overlooking the ravine that tumbled downward behind our house.


    The idea of going out into that wilderness and not worrying about itching? Hell, that was worth all the fireballs in the world.


    I chose Druid.


    ¡°Congratulations. You have become a Druid. You have been granted the passive skill ¡°Healing Aura.¡± You can turn this skill off at will. Note that this skill will deactivate if your mana is depleted. Turning this skill off restores passive mana generation.¡±


    I blinked as an explosion of smell like evergreens and wildflowers assaulted my senses. Rock and dirt. Bugs and birds. Suddenly, I was aware of all of them. I could feel the processed hardwood floors beneath my feet. The concrete holding up the houses¡¯ foundation. The metal of the fence outside.


    All of it came to me at once, a dim awareness of my surroundings that came with no filters. I couldn¡¯t orient myself with this or even tell where any of it was. Just that it was there.


    ¡­


    ¡°Wow, my house has a lot of bugs¡­¡± I thought, horrified. Of course, this newfound aura around me gave me no indication of whether all those bugs were safely outside my home. Just a general awareness that they were there.


    ''I¡¯ve made a terrible mistake¡­'' I thought with a laugh.


    On the upside, I could feel the aura around me healing everything within. My sore ankle felt instantly soothed as it began to heal faster.


    The screen blinked away before being replaced with a similar one, which I immediately recognized.


    ¡°It¡¯s a skill tree,¡± I thought, amused.


    The tree was sorted into five tabs labeled ¡°Nature,¡± ¡°Elements,¡± ¡°Shapeshifting,¡± ¡°Passives,¡± and ¡°Aura,¡± and each tab had a selection of different abilities I could choose from. A large green 1 was in the upper left of the screen.


    I supposed there would be one skill point per level. That was assuming the gong I¡¯d heard when I killed the goblin was a level-up sound. I hoped the levels came quickly, because there were a lot of options, and it didn¡¯t seem like any of them were barred to me.


    Skill tree wasn¡¯t the right word. There was a general progression that it appeared to want me to follow, but if I wanted to, I could skip right to the big abilities at the bottom. One of the options under the elements tab was Tornado. Just. Tornado. Right there. And I could select that as my first skill if I wanted to.


    I thought that was a bad idea. It wouldn¡¯t be laid out progressively if there wasn¡¯t some solid reason for me to first take the abilities at the top. The mana cost of summoning a tornado must be prohibitive or something like that.


    In the upper right, just opposite the skill number, was an ¡°X¡± that I mentally clicked.


    The screen closed, and that was it.


    I blanched, wondering if I could get it back, but I needn¡¯t have worried. I didn¡¯t have to think ¡°Skill tree,¡± or ¡°Class¡± or anything like that. It was even more straightforward than that. I just pictured the menu I wanted, and it returned. I could even continue viewing the other classes if I felt like it, all at the speed of thought.


    For now, I wouldn¡¯t choose any skills; if I did, I¡¯d probably make sure it was passive. This¡­


    This seemed to be real.


    I was a Druid, and I could heal, shapeshift, summon creatures, and apparently tornados.


    Awesome. It was¡­ awesome. Yet, for all that, none of these fancy new abilities would help me find a new job before Rio got home tomorrow.


    ¡­Fuck.


    <hr>

 Chapter One - Brittle Foundations

    <h2 style="text-align: center">Chapter One</h2>


    <h3 style="text-align: center">Brittle Foundations


    <hr>


    Rio


    I frowned, staring absently at the report and wondering what the hell was happening.


    ¡°It just¡­ fell?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Seems so. Happened in the middle of the night with no one the wiser. It¡¯s not a huge bridge, but¡­ well. It¡¯s a bridge. We¡¯re lucky there weren¡¯t any deaths,¡± said Samuel Walakis.


    The man was wearing a professional suit with a tie that had a bunch of rubber ducks all over it. Usually, I would have been amused, but I could tell he deeply regretted the choice now that something serious had come up. In his defense, it wasn¡¯t every day that a bridge collapsed.


    ¡°Was it just too old? Did it have an inspection? Get me the¨C!¡±


    ¡°Right here, Ma¡¯am,¡± he cut me off, holding up a manilla envelope. ¡°Before you ask, yes, it was inspected. It was fine seven months ago and is only nine years old. Damn thing should¡¯ve lasted a century. Especially considering what we paid for it. I was in on the meetings to build it. I¡¯m¡­ not saying it, but have the police found any evidence of sabotage?¡±


    ¡°No, but my guys aren¡¯t experts. No evidence of a bomb if that¡¯s what you¡¯re asking,¡± said a weary police chief. Mikaela Williamsford had once been a battleaxe of a woman, but her age was beginning to force her into a permanent desk job. I was up early, but she¡¯d been at the site since before dawn, which showed as she continued.


    ¡°Best we can tell, the metal just warped under the rig''s weight and collapsed,¡± she said.


    ¡°Could¡¯ve been a classer,¡± Paula chimed in. All eyes turned towards me, and I couldn¡¯t help the frown.


    ¡°What? If I¡¯m thinking it, you know other people are,¡± she said defensively. Paula was a media specialist who¡¯d been with me for most of my campaigning days. Her mind was constantly on public opinion.


    I sighed. ¡°Yes, there is a chance it could¡¯ve been a classer. Do we have any evidence of that? Handprints in the metal? Spikes shooting out of it where they shouldn¡¯t? Warping consistent with a Paladin¡¯s Bulwark?¡±


    The Paladin skill Bulwark had a habit of pulling in bits of metal from the surroundings to create patchwork shields or temporarily increase the size of an existing shield. There was a small but substantial possibility that a Paladin training under the bridge caused this. I doubted it, though.


    Paladin¡¯s were all about protecting people, and it would have to be a pretty dim Paladin indeed not to realize that siphoning metal off the struts under a bridge would be a bad idea.


    A lower-level Barbarian might be more likely. Theo was probably strong enough, and he was a Druid who¡¯d only marginally focused on strength during the outbreak. Any Barbarian who¡¯d put even a few points into strength would¡¯ve been able to damage the bridge¡­ I couldn¡¯t put my finger on it, but blaming it on a stray classer didn¡¯t feel right. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Of course, I was biased. I was, possibly, one of the highest leveled classers out there, and any bad publicity on them shined brightest on me.


    ¡°Any chance a classer could fix it back up?¡± the treasurer asked with a bleak hope.


    ¡°God, I wish. It¡¯s a few skills and abilities Manuella, not Harry Potter. Can¡¯t just wave a hand and repair a fallen bridge,¡± I said. ¡°Might be able to get Theo to hold some heavy stuff and speed it up a bit, but that won''t do much to make it cheaper. How many people will this keep from getting into town again?¡±


    ¡°Hundreds. For weeks. They¡¯ll have to go down to Red Eye and cross the creek there. Turns a twenty-minute commute into an hour. Kids will miss school, too.


    ¡°Uggghhh,¡± I moaned. Somehow, this was not what I¡¯d expected when I was elected.


    A sudden knock came at the door.


    I blinked. It was rare for someone to interrupt a meeting. Especially one like this.


    The door opened before any of us answered to admit an aide. One of Paula¡¯s. I¡­ thought she was an intern, but I didn¡¯t remember her name.


    ¡°Uh¡­ sorry to interrupt, but I thought it might be relevant. This bridge¡­ it¡¯s not the only one to collapse today,¡± the kid said. I frowned. I¡¯d just thought of a twenty-two-year-old as a kid.


    ¡°That¡¯s a nice coincidence, but I¡¯m not seeing the connection Miss¡­?¡± I trailed off, waiting for her name.


    ¡°Lafferty, Ma¡¯am. I¡¯m Penny Lafferty,¡± she said, flushing. ¡°Sorry. It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s easier to show you.¡±


    She circled the small table where the five of us had gathered and set her laptop down in front of me, showing a newscast. Below the video and the talking head, the headline read ¡°The Great Bridge Collapse.¡±


    ¡°There have been¡­ like over forty different bridge collapses today. Big ones. Not just our county either. The huge one crossing the lake down in Henderson? Gone. One of them from Springfield collapsed. There are at least four different bridges on Interstate Four down in Florida. A bunch of them are up in Montana and Indiana. It¡¯s¡­ also not just bridges. Water Towers, and a few buildings too,¡± she said as she continued cycling through tabs.


    Montana¡­ Florida¡­ Indiana¡­ and Missouri¡­


    I licked suddenly dry lips, remembering where all of my fellow victims down in the dungeon had come from as if it were only yesterday.


    ¡°Could¡­ you check and see if there have been any major bridge collapses in Honduras as well?¡± I asked.


    "Honduras? Like... the country? Central America?" she asked.


    I nodded.


    The gathered committee members eyed me curiously for the odd request, but Penny did as asked, opening a new tab and searching.


    It wasn¡¯t common knowledge that another breach had occurred in Honduras, though there had been plenty of classers from Central American countries. They were still incredibly rare, but a few had shown up in almost every major country in the world since the outbreak. That said, Honduras was the only other place I knew for sure had a breech.


    ¡°Uhhh¡­. Sure enough, yeah. At least, two bridges collapsed there today. How did you know, Ma¡¯am?¡± she asked.


    I turned to the tired police chief, ignoring the question. I¡¯d known this day would come. I¡¯d felt it in my bones.


    ¡°Mikaela, get with Manuella and start buying guns. And I mean all of them. Not just little ones, either. I want bazookas and cannons. Anything that goes boom, and people who know what they''re doing with them. We¡¯re getting a militia set up, too. As for the bridge¡­ I need to go down there.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got a meeting with the school board at ten to discuss E-Rate funding. The school was allotted funding based on the pre-influx population numbers, but Boyerton has doubled in size since you got elected. They¡¯re saying it¡¯s not enough.¡± Paula said.


    ¡°Postpone it. Or heck, just give them what they think they need. That¡¯s one use of tax dollars hardly anyone complains about. I need to head down the bridge personally. Chief, mind phoning ahead so they¡¯ll expect me?¡±


    Mikaela nodded, and I grinned.


    ¡°Wait, Mayor Tande don¨C!¡±


    I ignored Samuel as I activated Phase and fell right through the chair, and the floor.


    God, I hated meetings.


    <hr>

 Chapter Two – A Familiar Problem

    <h2 style="text-align: center">Chapter Two


    A Familiar Problem</h2>


    <hr>


    Rio


    Dexterity, as it turned out, was incredibly helpful with running speed. I could run to the fallen bridge with little difficulty. It might wreck my suit, which was a slightly bigger problem but not as much as it once might¡¯ve been.


    We¡¯d earned a lot of money from the dungeon.


    After the crisis had passed, it was deemed that all currency created by the demons would be treated as real. There was some speculation that it might¡¯ve hurt the economy, but overall, it had only been a drop in the bucket. Theo and I had been somewhat unique. Most people who descended hadn¡¯t picked up boatloads of gold like we¡¯d had.


    Much to our surprise, we weren¡¯t the highest-level classers out there. A homeless Wizard from Florida named Malcom stumbled out of the Dungeon in 2028 as a multimillionaire. He¡¯d been lost down there for three and a half years, eating the inner flesh of rock worms to survive.


    I winced in disgust at the thought. I¡¯d killed one of those things, and I could hardly imagine eating one.


    The imps had mostly been killed shortly after Cimigda¡¯s defeat. Too stupid to go into hiding and too bloodthirsty to want to, they tended to attack humans that they thought were poorly defended, only to get killed rather quickly, while rarely even injuring anyone.


    Either that or they killed themselves following Cimigda¡¯s last order to collect guns. There was more footage of imps killing themselves via accidental suicide than anyone could ever watch. Those still brave enough to venture into the depths had produced even more videos of the aftermath of rampant violence below. The imps were spiteful, vindictive, and perfectly happy to kill their own kind, which made me wonder how these creatures had ever been a threat to the likes of the Valam.


    That did still leave the other creatures from below, though. We¡¯d only encountered a few. The gorilla dogs, the skeletons, the demonic jailers, spiders, rockworms, and¡­ I thought that was it. Theo swore he¡¯d seen zombies, but I never had.


    I drummed my fingers on the wheel, wishing like hell that I could just abandon the vehicle and dash my way down to the bridge. As Paula had told me hundreds of times, the platform I ran on to get elected was dead and gone. Being a classer in politics was novel, unusual, and kinda cool four years ago. People had been interested, and intrigued by the idea of a mayor with powers.


    That was before that fucking asshat Druid in Tulsa made a tornado that took out a building and killed fifteen people. Never in all my life was I more happy that Theo hadn¡¯t been stupid enough to pick that ability.


    I rolled along the shoulder, a cop car in front of me escorting me to the site. Traffic was already lined up, but it looked like drivers were figuring out that they wouldn¡¯t be able to get through any time soon. Many of them were in the process of making u-turns and heading back the way they¡¯d come.


    Where there wasn¡¯t a shoulder, we rolled through the grass. Boyerton was small and many of the roads were only as big as they needed to be. I was lucky to be able to afford to not care too much. I could easily remember a time when every bump in the road would make me wince for fear of needing to replace something vital underneath.


    We pulled up to the bridge about a half hour after I¡¯d ditched my council, and I got out of the car to survey the damage.


    This bridge wasn¡¯t familiar to me up on the north end of town. It wouldn¡¯t impede my commute, but I could see a couple of people on the other side of the collapsed road, staring forlornly down into the small gully. Morbid fascination or genuine worry? Not being able to get to work could end the livelihoods of some of the people around here. I had to get this damn thing back up as fast as I could.


    ¡°Ma¡¯am,¡± the officer said as I got out of the car. Vasquez, I thought his name was, and a quick glance at his chest confirmed it. Fortunately, I remembered his first name a moment later. I¡¯d always had a talent for names.


    ¡°Officer Dariel. Thanks for the guide,¡± I said as I shook his hand.


    He brightened a little. ¡°Pleasure Ma¡¯am. Doubly so if you can get this bridge fixed. I live down that way.¡±


    I grimaced. ¡°I¡¯ll do what I can. For what it¡¯s worth, stay on your guard. I don¡¯t think this bridge collapse was natural.¡±


    He nodded, looking determined in a way I hadn¡¯t seen in a while. I was surrounded by people who were certain that I was being paranoid, but I knew what the Valam Luca had told me.


    We¡¯d failed. We¡¯d failed and Cimigda had destroyed the seal. Worse still, I wasn¡¯t even sure we¡¯d managed to kill him. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    The demons would come back. It wasn¡¯t a matter of ¡®if¡¯ it was when. All the politicians I was constantly surrounded with had grown used to my paranoia, but this officer still took the word of a classer seriously. It was a breath of fresh air.


    A few people spotted me and pointed as I wandered off to the edge of the small bridge. There was a tiny creek that ran beneath it that spent a good half of the year completely dry. Walking across it would¡¯ve been trivial, though the bank down to it was a bit steep.


    A solution immediately presented itself to me. Gravel. Enough of it could be laid to the right side of the bridge to make a temporary crossing. It might flood, and I¡¯d have to consult an engineer to make sure walling off that creek wouldn¡¯t cause massive problems somewhere down the line while the bridge was being repaired, but I thought it could work at first glance.


    The bridge itself was well and truly collapsed, though the creek wasn¡¯t deep enough that the three segments of road the bridge had crumbled into could fall free of the road proper. Instead, they hung there, crumbling ramps angling straight down into the creek bed. If left untouched, I could see kids bringing skateboards here to try their luck at getting themselves killed for a chance to show off to their friends.


    ¡°Well let¡¯s see what we¡¯ve got,¡± I said as I began to descend.


    ¡°Mrs. Tande, the ground isn¡¯t stable. If either side collapsed, it could¡­!¡±


    His warning was cut off when I flicked my Phase ability on momentarily. I knew how I looked. I¡¯d practiced it with Paula specifically for this sort of public interaction. A few gasps echoed out, though not as many as there once might¡¯ve been.


    ¡°I need to see what¡¯s down there, Officer Vasquez. I want to find out what could¡¯ve caused this while I still can, and I¡¯m in the unique position to be able to do so safely while preventing someone else from needless risk.¡±


    What I didn¡¯t say was that I was looking for entrances. New breaches. This place wasn¡¯t very close to either of the known Breaches in Boyerton, the first being my own woods, and the second beneath a concrete bridge over in the residential district. Taking the opportunity to create a little more goodwill toward classers was always a bonus.


    Making a mental note to check the other bridge after I finished here, I met Dariel¡¯s eyes until he nodded again. When he was assured of my safety, I let Phase flicker back off before I turned to slide further down the embankment. It wouldn¡¯t do to waste mana.


    God, I missed Greed¡¯s Reward. The skill had been vital during my time in the dungeon, but it had felt like a complete waste ever since. Restoring mana every time I picked up gold was only useful when the floor was littered with it, and getting one over on a political rival, sadly, provided no glittery currency.


    I made it to the bottom quickly and peeked at the precarious bridge. Confident that I could activate Phase before the bridge collapsed and killed me, I decided to venture under one of the sides to see if I could find anything.


    I was only a few steps in when I heard it.


    ¡°Burrr¡­¡±


    I stiffened, immediately on edge. There was¡­ an opening. Beneath the townside of the bridge there was a small hollow that didn¡¯t belong. It had been years since I¡¯d heard that sound, but there was no mistaking it.


    An imp.


    A small part of me was almost relieved. I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d be able to get reelected again in Boyerton, let alone move up to a higher position with the way attitudes towards classers had been shifting.


    I hadn¡¯t been wrong, though. This was an attack. It was happening.


    I could only hope my warnings hadn¡¯t fallen on deaf ears. At least here, they hadn¡¯t.


    I activated Phase immediately, but rather than confronting the demon, I flung a trap into the small entrance.


    ¡°Burr ark mak tooh!¡± came a sudden scream as the imp charged out of the cave, small dagger at the ready, just as I remembered.


    It didn¡¯t make it two steps before an ice bolt from my trap smashed into it. It was like a deadly snowball that crusted the imp''s body with a layer of ice. The bolt sent it tumbling to the ground while the second flash froze it, killing the little bastard.


    A gong sounded, and I blinked. A level up? All this time, I¡¯d been only one imp away from a level!?


    That was irritating.


    Unwilling to lose my advantage, I waited with bated breath for any more enemies to come charging out of the newest breach. Thankfully, there was only one imp, but the implications of the other bridge collapses had me on edge.


    Over forty collapses¡­


    I didn¡¯t think all of those collapses would be lucky enough to have an experienced classer on hand. I had to warn them.


    But first¡­ Trina.


    I dialed Theo. He picked up on the third ring.


    ¡°Honey! What¡¯s going on? Did you hear about the brid¨C!¡±


    ¡°Code Black,¡± I said, interrupting.


    He cut off with a silence that echoed down beneath the bridge.


    It was stupid, and we both knew it was. A silly code phrase we¡¯d made for a worst-case scenario. We¡¯d both joked about it, privately wishing it would never happen and secretly terrified it would.


    Now it had, and Theo gave it all the gravity it deserved.


    ¡°I¡¯m on my way home. I¡¯ll make sure Trina¡¯s safe. Taemi is armed, right?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Always,¡± I said. ¡°You need to call her and let her know she knows she might have to use it, though. The Mins, too. I¡¯ll be too busy.¡±


    ¡°Gotcha. Love you,¡± he said. ¡°Be safe.¡±


    ¡°Love you, too,¡± I whispered before hanging up. Then I turned to the grisly task of dragging the dead imp out from under the bridge.


    The demons had returned, and they¡¯d learned some new tricks. We had to be ready.


    <hr>

 Chapter Three – A Girl with a Bigass Gun

    <h2 style="text-align: center">Chapter Three


    A Girl with a Bigass Gun</h2>


    <hr>


    Theo


    Code Black.


    ¡°Did she say what I think she just said?¡± Dane asked, having heard Rio over the phone.


    I nodded. I was already getting up to leave the restaurant. The food hadn¡¯t come out yet, so I threw a hundred-dollar bill on the table and made a beeline for the door.


    It had become a regular thing for Dane and me to get lunch at Monroe¡¯s on Thursdays ever since we¡¯d become classers. Code Black though, didn¡¯t mean I needed to wait for the check. It meant ¡®get the fuck home. Now.¡¯


    ¡°Code Black. You couldn¡¯t have come up with something better?¡± Dane asked, struggling to keep up as I stormed out of the place.


    I glared at him, and he snickered.


    ¡°It¡¯s not like you needed context to get what¡¯s up, right? I gotta go. Could use you up there if something is happening,¡± I said.


    He pulled out a small handgun and pulled out the magazine while turning off the safety.


    ¡°Teleporting to your homepoint from here will take out most of my mana, but hopefully, I won¡¯t need more than this. I only ever got the one level, you know,¡± he said.


    ¡°Is that a yes?¡±


    ¡°Of fucking course, it¡¯s a yes,¡± he said, offended. He was still guilty about fleeing all those years ago after the rockworm had separated us underground. ¡°I need to call Cames, though. She¡¯ll have a fit if I don¡¯t let her know.¡±


    ¡°That works. I need to call Taemi and make sure she¡¯s alert,¡± I said, even as I began dialing my home phone¡¯s number.


    I swore if that girl didn¡¯t pick up the phone¡­


    Fortunately, she picked up on the first ring.


    ¡°Hello?¡± she asked. ¡°Tande Residence, this is Taemi!¡±


    ¡°Is that Mom!? Mooom, Taemi took my hairbrush, and she won¡¯t give it back!¡± came a voice from the background. Trina. My racing heart calmed just tad.


    Well. That answered one question. If she was answering like that, she certainly wasn¡¯t under attack by goblins.


    ¡°Taemi. Get the gun and barricade yourself and Trina in the safe room, okay?¡± I snapped.


    ¡°Oh! Hi Dad!¡± Trina exclaimed, hearing my voice but not my words.


    ¡°Aww, again!? It¡¯s so boring in there! Trina hates it! You aren¡¯t going to make us wait for hours like last time, are you?¡±


    ¡°Safe room? Aww no¡­¡± I heard Trina whine. ¡°We were gonna get on the trampoline.¡±


    I cursed. More than once, I¡¯d considered putting some sort of entertainment in the safe room just to make it more palatable for Trina, Haru, and now Taemi, when one of us called, worried the world was going to end, but that would defeat the point. If she was in the safe room, she needed to be alert. With a gun aimed at the door.


    We paid the girl extravagantly to put up with our over-the-top paranoia after all, just like we¡¯d done for her older sister before she¡¯d gone off to college.


    ¡°Taemi, you weren¡¯t in there for more than fifteen minutes last time, and you won¡¯t be this time either. I will be there in no more than ten minutes, and you can go home early, okay?¡±


    I sighed, knowing how much Trina hated the damned safe room.


    ¡°Okiedokie! Y¡¯know, other parents are afraid of kids like me messing with guns.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m aware, little smartass,¡± I said with a chuckle. This arrangement would probably get child services called on us if they ever found out about it, but the Min¡¯s were as on board as I was. When you lived right next to a known breach, you had to take precautions. Taemi was a little marksman and a better shot than me.


    Besides, it wasn¡¯t that odd. I had cousins whose parents took them hunting when they were two years younger than Taemi was now. They were usually just¡­ there to supervise.


    ¡°Be careful¡­¡± I said fearfully.


    ¡°I will. See you soon, Uncle Theo!¡± she said.


    I wasn¡¯t her uncle at all, but we¡¯d made fast friends with the Min¡¯s ever since that awful day. We¡¯d have lunches at each other''s houses, discuss security measures, and talk about Trina. They¡¯d been a godsend for helping us with her. Haru and Taemi were possibly even more of a help, as Trina got old enough to be babysat.


    Taemi was a good kid. A bit more wild and rambunctious than her sister, and oddly familiar with us. Genji liked her more than even Rio.


    ¡°See you soon,¡± I breathed before hanging up.


    Turning, I saw Dane was already waiting.


    I nodded and my body lifted off the ground right in front of my truck as I began to pour mana into the location in my mind. Dane joined me in the air a moment later. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    I hovered there as lights began cascading around me. Teleporting to one of the waypoints took about thirty seconds, and the process took more mana the further away I was. From town, it wouldn¡¯t be too bad. I¡¯d probably have a solid eighty percent of my mana left.


    I used the hovering time to text Taemi¡¯s parents that demons had been spotted and I was rushing straight home. Code Black. Those two words almost ensured that they¡¯d be over to our house before I was unless they were in town somewhere.


    I always kept at least three totems active beneath our home and powered them regularly. Even if there were demons, Trina and Taemi should be safe, at least long enough for me to get there from the waypoint at the dungeon¡¯s entrance.


    I wasn¡¯t too worried. I still had both of my claimed waypoints, after all. If the demons had returned and were swarming the house or something, they would first try to reclaim those points. Then again, they were pretty stupid. It was better to be careful.


    I¡¯d planned for this. I didn¡¯t have my weapons or gear, but I did have my own handgun at the ready. Irritatingly, my only light sources were my keychain flashlight and my cellphone. I could find my way to the dungeon¡¯s exit with my eyes closed, but that wouldn¡¯t help me much if enemies were there waiting to attack me in the dark.


    Activating Cyclone Armor as the countdown ended, I vanished in a swirl of red lights, only to reappear in a dank cave.


    ¡°Burrr¡­ Akkk ten-to gaaahh!¡± came a sudden snarl. It was only the glint of my flashlight on metal that alerted me to the immediate danger.


    I failed to dodge. Part of me didn¡¯t believe, even with the dreaded words, that there would be demons here. We¡¯d had false alarms before. The girls were just fine! Even the waypoints hadn¡¯t been touched so why¡­?


    The answer came to me in seconds. It was an ambush. They were expecting classers to teleport in. Fortunately, my Cyclone Armor flung away the incoming weapon before it could hurt me, but I felt the ability crack as even more of the creatures began to attack.


    I dodged the second strike and the third, my mind finally catching up with my body. This was real. They were back, and I was proving that I still wasn¡¯t ready even after six years of preparation.


    Fuck that.


    I raised my gun and let loose a barrage of bullets, each one smashing into a demon and sending it flailing back. The entire hallway was packed with the creatures, but the bullets were strong enough to punch through their weak bodies, and they were massed so closely that it was difficult to miss.


    I carried around a much larger gun than I once had.


    On the surface, they were almost exactly like I remembered. Ugly wrinkled skin, grotesque beady eyes, and crooked noses. Rows of incisors made for tearing flesh that leaked drool from their open mouths. Two devil horns on their bald heads. There was one big difference, though. They were nearly as tall as me.


    The moment I ran out of bullets, I shoved the gun back into its holster on my belt, even as I saw red flashes of light signaling Dane¡¯s arrival.


    I moved quickly to cover him so he wouldn¡¯t take a stray attack while he was vulnerable. Even with more guns, I wasn¡¯t going to be able to fight so many enemies in such a cramped space. Not as I was now.


    I immediately dumped half my mana into Bear Form and began to transform just in time to block a heavy sword that might¡¯ve cut Dane¡¯s head off with a claw.


    ¡°Oh shit! What the fuck!?¡± he screamed, backing up against the wall while I finished transforming.


    I roared and it seemed to invigorate him as he took aim. It was dark, and by turning into a bear I¡¯d had to drop my flashlight to make sure we¡¯d have any light at all, but it left most the hallway blurry and indistinct.


    A flash of lighting made all of the goblins scream as one of the died in electric agony. Not letting go of the momentum, I charged into the dank mass of demon flesh and began to tear.


    Dane seemed to take an eternity to reach down and pick up the flashlight, but soon, the hallway was again filled with the sound of gunfire.


    I was certain I¡¯d missed more than once while emptying my magazine, but Dane was able to take his time. Each shot signaled a dead imp, while their weak attacks were focused on cutting pounds of flesh out of my hide.


    They might be bigger, but it was immediately obvious that they were little more effective than their waist-high brethren had been at hurting me. When I was a bear, my hide might as well have been steel, and my fur, chainmail.


    Their weapons skidded off my body like papercuts while they died to claw and bullets.


    Soon, all the enemies were either dead or screeching in pain on the floor. I saw plenty of them flee further into the dungeon, but a fair few of them had run towards the exit.


    My eyes narrowed, and I began to run.


    Running as a bear came as naturally as breathing. My hind legs propelled me through the cave like I¡¯d been born here, and I trampled the fleeing imps like they were ants.


    ¡°Wait up!¡± I heard Dane scream, but he should be fine. There weren¡¯t any enemies anymore, but who knew how many might have already escaped into the surrounding woods?


    My daughter was in danger, and as I was now, a hurricane couldn¡¯t stop me.


    The exit wasn¡¯t very far from the waypoint and I made it in record time. My huge form was almost too big to get through the entrance, but I managed to scrabble through into the open sunlight.


    The valley was empty of any trace of demons. I could smell that immediately. As I¡¯d found out online and through personal experience, my sense of smell was damn near a power all its own in bear form, and to my great relief, I couldn¡¯t smell any trace of demons here. They had not left the dungeon.


    Why?


    That was a question for later.


    This place had been crawling with government agents, scientists, and others for a long time, just after the breeches. Over the months, then years with no new significant demonic activity, they eventually decided that there wasn¡¯t much point in staying. They had eventually set up cameras to monitor the entrance, but those were only useful if the demons actually came out. Instead, all they¡¯d see was a gigantic bear crawling out of the cave.


    I¡¯d probably get a strongly worded email about frivolous teleportation, but¡­ They were back. This was the exact situation they should be on alert for.


    I reached the top of the mountain, approaching our house from the back. I was galloping at a full sprint when a sudden bang tore through my ears. I skidded to a halt, primal terror running through me as I ineffectually took cover behind the nearest tree. A gunshot.


    I pulled my muzzle out of the rocks and dirt I¡¯d crashed into and craned my neck up, finding that action difficult as a bear. Looking down from the top of our deck stood Narae Min, Taemi¡¯s mother, holding a beast of a rifle. Thankfully, it wasn¡¯t pointed at me.


    I held up my one working paw, even as I began to shift back to my human form.


    Jeez, that was a big gun.


    <hr>

 Chapter Four – Bunker Down

    <h2 style="text-align: center">Chapter Four


    Bunker Down</h2>


    <hr>


    Theo


    ¡°Trina, Taemi!¡± I called. ¡°You alright in there? It¡¯s me! You can come on out!¡±


    ¡°Daddy!¡± came a joyous cry that sounded as relieved as I felt.


    ¡°W-we heard a roar,¡± Taemi called. She sounded scared. ¡°And a gunshot! Was that you?¡±


    She¡¯d heard me from down in the valley? I knew I could get loud in bear form, but it had been years since I¡¯d had much cause to spend any time shapeshifted. I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d ever been so terrified as I had upon realizing the demons had returned with Trina only a quarter mile up the mountain. I had probably scared the whole mountainside.


    Fortunately, that was for the best. There had been a lot of the little fuckers down there, though something about the whole thing felt strange to me.


    ¡°It was him,¡± Narae called. ¡°Come on out. It¡¯s safe for now.¡±


    Narae was a short woman in her mid-forties with her jet-black hair tied back in a ponytail. Her and her Husband¡¯s first language was Korean, but I¡¯d known them long enough that I barely even registered their accent anymore.


    ¡°Mom!¡± Taemi shouted, and the door opened instantly.


    Taemi rushed out and grappled her mother, who hugged her back no less fiercely. Just behind her, little Trina came dashing out, and I hesitated, backing away.


    Trina was momentarily confused, but then she noticed how I looked and cringed, holding her nose.


    ¡°Ewww! Take a bath, Daddy!¡± the little girl screeched.


    I sighed as I knelt at her eye level. ¡°I plan to little one. Are you okay?¡±


    ¡°There was a big roar and a bang like a firework! It was even loud in there!¡± she exclaimed, pointing towards the safe room.


    I chuckled. Trina was five years old, and she was an angel. She had all of her mother''s best characteristics and even a few of mine. I didn¡¯t know if I could say that with any certainty when she was only five years old, but she did seem to be easier to handle than all of our family said a baby would be.


    She¡¯d mostly slept through the nights without waking us, she¡¯d mostly not been a brat during the so-called terrible twos, and we hadn¡¯t gotten any calls about problems in school since she¡¯d started attending last year.


    That was good because after the dungeon, we¡¯d both been wrecks.


    It was only after we¡¯d found out Rio was pregnant that we realized neither of us were the same people we¡¯d been a month before the breaches. Hell, Rio had returned to the dungeon out of an awful sense of survivor¡¯s guilt, and if not for her, I probably wouldn¡¯t have gone back at all.


    I¡¯d seen people die down there. Yeah, it had been in the heat of a fight, but all the crazy shit that happened¡­ It was a wonder we¡¯d managed to raise a kid at all, let alone that she¡¯d turn out to be a good one.


    We¡¯d seen therapists. Gruesome horrors had happened right in front of us. I¡¯d seen my wife thrown across a room. I¡¯d been sliced open with a sword. I¡¯d been stabbed with multiple daggers, and I¡¯d just¡­ rolled with it. I¡¯d gotten used to it. The blood, the deaths¡­ the instant healing with no repercussions that made it all seem safe, somehow.


    We did our best to let none of that fall on Trina, but sometimes, I thought she knew neither of us was quite¡­ normal anymore. How, I had no idea. Maybe unexpected maturity was the power she got from being born by two classers.


    So¡­ Trina was an angel. Even if she had been an absolute brat she still would be to me.


    Her dirty blonde hair was surprising, considering Rio¡¯s dark hair, but her striking grey eyes were almost a mirror of her mother¡¯s. She was the picture of a perfectly normal little girl, even though her parents were both basket cases of issues and repressed trauma.


    ¡°We¡¯ll keep watch, Theodore. Go wash that gunk off,¡± Narae said.


    Now that the crisis had passed, I felt a little guilty. I¡¯d showed up in front of my daughter while covered with matted blood. It was only luck that she didn¡¯t quite understand just what that smell was.


    ¡°Narae!¡± came a sudden bark from outside. The glass door muffled it, but I recognized Seok¡¯s sharp tone easily.


    Instantly on alert, both of us rose. I made eye contact with the woman, who nodded toward me and picked up Trina while guiding Taemi to the living room. I returned to the deck outside.


    The deck overlooked a cleared yard that sloped downward. That turned into a cliff somewhere beyond the treeline. It was steep enough to be unclimbable in some areas, though the various trees provided enough handholds to make it possible.


    Near the edge of the treeline I saw a man holding his hands straight up. There was a whispy blue haze around him that looked like frost. I immediately recognized Dane, and cursed that I hadn¡¯t warned Seok and Narae about him following.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Seok. That¡¯s just Dane. He came with me but couldn¡¯t quite keep my pace up the mountain,¡± I said.


    I sighed in relief as Seok slowly turned the end of his rifle away from my best friend.


    Dane didn¡¯t seem to have any more trouble getting out of the cave than I had, and he hadn¡¯t run into any more demons. He was, however, significantly less enhanced than I was.


    I didn¡¯t¡­ look like I used to. I was shocked at the difference when I looked at old photos of myself. The boosts to strength had an impact the moment I¡¯d placed points into the attribute, but what that meant didn¡¯t become apparent the system was given time to work on my body. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    I¡¯d always been big, but that lingering body fat had been changed to reflect the increased stats. Where before I had the look of a burgeoning walrus, I now had nothing to be ashamed of. Body fat had sloughed off me, skin tightened, and muscle replaced.


    Dane, however, had only gotten one level up from the breach six years ago. As a wizard, he¡¯d placed his points into intelligence and gotten an electricity spell. Unsurprisingly, he¡¯d had much more trouble with the climb than I had. Even with his hands held up, he was still panting. I sympathized with him, remembering how difficult that climb had been before my levels had changed me into a mobile tank.


    Physical attributes rocked.


    ¡°Sorry, Dane!¡± I called.


    ¡°Theo! Everything okay!?¡± he called through heavy breaths, letting his arms sag in relief.


    ¡°We¡¯re fine. Get up here. It doesn¡¯t look like they left the cave,¡± I called. ¡°The girls are safe.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a relief!¡± He exclaimed before stretching out and cracking his back. ¡°Faaaackk, I haven¡¯t run like that in years! But guess what, man!? I got a fucking level!¡±


    ¡°Good. Hope we don¡¯t need it, but get something to shield yourself. Mana Shield or maybe that ice armor skill. Teleport could be good, too,¡± I said.


    ¡°We¡¯ve talked this to death, man. I already got Ice Veil. Teleport next, though, so I can keep up with your fatass!¡± he shouted.


    I barked a laugh. I wouldn¡¯t have found that amusing years ago. I was a wall of muscle now, only edged out in size by weightlifters and the few classers who¡¯d chosen Barbarian. Almost any hint of roundness in my middle had been converted to taut muscle.


    He slowly entered the yard and up the steps to the deck.


    ¡°Mr. Min,¡± He acknowledged, and Seok nodded to him before turning his attention back toward the woods. They¡¯d met occasionally but weren¡¯t very close.


    ¡°Sorry about aiming at you. I didn¡¯t recognize you for a moment,¡± Seok said.  He wasn¡¯t looking at the Hispanic man, and his cheeks were slightly flushed with embarrassment. ¡°I should have.¡±


    Dane shrugged. ¡°No worries. I¡¯m sure you¡¯re both on edge right now. There were a lot of demons down there, man. You sure everything¡¯s alright up here?¡±


    I nodded at the question. ¡°As best I can tell. I couldn¡¯t smell demons anywhere up here, even in bearform, and you know how good my nose is when I¡¯m shifted.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ shit. So what were they doing down there?¡± he asked.


    I shrugged. ¡°Beats me. Best idea I can come up with is that they were setting up ambushes for anyone dumb enough to teleport into the dungeon. If that was their plan, though, where were the Booyaghs?¡±


    ¡°I hate when you use that word. Can¡¯t you just call them shamans like everyone else?¡±


    ¡°Fine, the shamans then. Where were they?¡± I asked.


    ¡°No idea,¡± he said before setting something metal on the patio table.


    I glanced at it, quirking an eyebrow.


    Leather Battlegloves


    Common


    Medium


    Armor: 2


    A strength of at least 9 is recommended to equip this weapon.


    Not metal, after all. Just some gloves that had metal spikes on the knuckles. A monk weapon, but not a very special one.


    ¡°I grabbed up the loot you left behind. Only found two items, and this doesn¡¯t seem all that great. I did manage to pick up this little beauty, though,¡± he said as he lifted his hand.


    On his first finger, I saw a shining golden ring. It looked a little tacky, but I¡¯d never seen a ring drop before, and I¡¯d also never seen a rare item. It glowed a pleasant yellow.


    Ring


    Rare


    Enchantments Unknown


    An intelligence of at least 13 is recommended to wear this jewelry.


    A wisdom of at least 9 is recommended to wear this jewelry.


    ¡°Heh. No identifiers?¡±


    ¡°Not that I saw,¡± he grumbled.


    That made five different types of items I¡¯d seen so far. Common, Magic, Rare, Unique, and Set. Every item type except common gave off a glow of some sort, though unique ones seemed to shine like the sun.


    After I washed off all of this gunk, I was going to need to pull out my gear. I¡¯d used bear form down in the tunnels, but if I¡¯d been wearing my Nature¡¯s Brow circlet, I¡¯d have been able to use Living Woods instead. That might¡¯ve been even better in the confined tunnel.


    It wasn¡¯t like I could wear a wooden circlet in day to day life, though. Also, Trina had a habit of stealing the thing. Rio too, now that I thought about it.


    I sighed. ¡°Well, I guess we¡¯ll find one sooner or later. You¡¯ve still got that orb somewhere, right? Might be good for you to have that.¡±


    He nodded. ¡°Sitting at work on my desk. The thing is stupid cool. It just hovers in midair!¡±


    I¡¯d found an orb that seemed tailored to Wizards. They could hold it in one hand and channel spells through it. I could do that too, but a bit more intelligence wasn¡¯t nearly as useful to me as my mace or better yet, a gun.


    The mace did have the added benefit of glowing, which would light up the dank tunnels of the dungeon, but I¡¯d still rather be as far away from my enemies as I could be. So, a mace in my right hand and a gun in my left¡­ if only I were ambidextrous.


    ¡°I¡¯m torn between identifying this and that staff you found. It was a Set item. I¡¯d rather have that than this gaudy thing,¡± he said.


    ¡°If the demons are back, there should be loads of identifiers,¡± I shrugged before examining the gloves. ¡°As for these¡­ I guess they just go in the junk stack. I keep feeling like there will be a use for all these trash items someday, but I haven¡¯t found one yet. I guess we could sell them at a pawn shop?¡±


    Dane shrugged.


    I sighed and turned back toward the house. ¡°Mind watching things with Seok while I go get cleaned up? I¡¯m sure the cops or feds or someone will be here soon, and we can relax when they do. That¡¯s Rio¡¯s job. Till then, we¡¯ve gotta get ready.¡±


    He nodded, and I was about to turn back toward the house when Seok held out his hand.


    ¡°Please, allow me? I have rarely had the chance to use this skill,¡± he said.


    I nodded. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯m injured enough for it to have much effect. Thanks, though.¡±


    He held out his hand, and a glowing white light enveloped me. It invigorated me, but I didn¡¯t notice any significant wounds healing. No¡­ wait. A paper cut I¡¯d gotten before all of this had started between my knuckles was gone.


    And¡­ most of the blood that I¡¯d been covered in had evaporated as a side effect. I still needed to shower, but I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d have to worry about clogging the drain now.


    ¡°I might¡¯ve underestimated that skill,¡± I said.


    Seok grinned. ¡°It can be used to clean as well as heal. I hold up my hand, and boom! Clean toilet. Clean table. Clean dishes. Marvelous.¡±


    My eyes widened. Every time I was sure I¡¯d picked the right class, I found out about something like this. That seemed so incredibly convenient. Then again¡­


    ¡°Yeah, well, I haven¡¯t been bitten by a mosquito or tick in years,¡± I said.


    ¡°No need to be petty,¡± he chuckled.


    I waved. ¡°I¡¯ll be back out in just a few.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll be here,¡± Dane replied. ¡°Crap¡­ we¡¯re going to have to do shifts or something, aren¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°Are you kidding?¡± I chuckled. ¡°We¡¯ve got kids here, man. We¡¯re not staying within a hundred miles of this place. The second we can get on the road, we¡¯re heading back into town.¡±


    He blinked.


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