"There is no other choice. Unless you wish to die, of course."
The azure fires, colored like the oceans awakened, burn. Raze. Devour my surroundings. Entrapping me, as a dangerously voluptuous figure stalks toward me, her sky blue eyes alight with mania.
Her long strands of obsidian black hair catches in the swirling drafts of sweltering heat; flowing white gown that's far too tight for her in certain places flutters gracefully behind her gait. Her sharpened canines glint amongst her widening grin that stretches her pale skin as her slit pupils constrict.
She towers over me, overpowers me; her fingers, as smooth as silk and ending in sharpened nails, clasp onto my trembling hands, forcing my arms above my head.
"Now, submit to me."
Her flawless face draws within inches of mine; her long silver earrings ending in fiery sapphires draping over my own ears. The choker about her neck meets me at eye level; the matching blue gem resting in its center glows vibrantly in the surrounding darkness.
"Cleave unto me."
My back to the flames. My real body impaled by ice and seconds away from death somewhere far away. My wide eyes take in the sight of Apollyon, the fallen Queen of the Dragons, as she presses her body to mine, staring down into me like I was nothing more than a tool for her to use. A way out. A means to an end. Her fiery blue eyes are all I see, before my sense of reality splits.
"Become one with me."
Our forms mix together, and everything goes black.
. . .
3 months ago. Earth…
"Have a good day honey!"
I step out of my family's van, into the howling winter winds, glancing back at the aged woman behind the wheel. She looks great despite her years, and her warm smile would be enough to melt a glacier. My mother was always like that. So positive and vigorous.
She waves. I turn and walk away, never returning it.
I fall into my usual gait along the smoothened concrete of the sidewalk, slinging my backpack over one shoulder. The conflicting scents of oil and ice melt sting my nose; the sun hides behind the greyed December clouds, never once bothering to show its shining face.
I lower my head, staring at my own black tennis shoes alternatively swinging out in front of me. I don't dare stare at the other faces. Other pairs of shoes, attached to long legs covered in different hues of pants, join mine, accompanied by voices and presences pressing in around me. Yet, there is a definite bubble about me, as if I repelled the presences around me simply by existing.
My simple existence draws to the voices as well, as hushed voices make my ears perk up. "Driven to school? At his age?" One voice utters, crossing her arms and snickering at my slumped form. A figure next to her holds a longer gait; the bright red lanyard attached to his car keys catches in the cold breeze from his pocket. "So lame."
I avert my gaze, hissing to myself when I unconsciously retreat from them. Their words don't hurt me. They don't. Other presences make way for me, but not because they want to. Their clicking tongues and hushed curses bore into me. Why do I even bother going to school?
I enter in through the front doors amongst a constant crowd, finding my way to my first class by myself. More snide comments nip at my heels; I feel eyes on me in the hallways filled with lockers and alternating doors. "…the principal's son..." "…Tyrant's son…" "…should just get lost…"
"Hey!"
I find my eyes lifting off the ground; something in my soured chest begins to warm up. I turn my head back down the hallway, at the two figures approaching me. One because she wants to. The other because he thinks he doesn't have a choice. A boy and girl; anyone that sees them for the first time could tell right away they're siblings.
The girl trots right up to me; her smile reminds me of mom. She favors tank tops, and is wearing one of her usual pairs of torn jeans. Her chestnut brown hair is tied up in a ponytail, and her emerald green eyes practically shine in the overhead lights.
"Good morning." She says cheerily, stopping right next to me; I'd be slightly taller than her if I didn't slouch all the time. "Mind if I walk with you to class?" Despite myself, I find a smile pursing my chapped lips. "Morning, Jen." Jen cocks her head slightly, matching my pace as I take off at a slowed pace. "How are you?" I ask.
The boy, who's nearly a head taller than me, stops in his tracks behind us, crossing his arms. He's sturdily built, with broad shoulders and toned muscles. His face reminds me of those stereo-typical generals in actions movies, if they were younger. His name is Gregor, and if there was a popularity contest in class, he'd win without a doubt.
"Jennifer."
He says flatly, catching our attention. He meets Jen's eyes only, and shakes his head. I bite the inside of my cheek, staring holes into Gregor, who pretends not to notice. Jen, on the other hand, pulls down on one of her bottom eyelids with her finger and sticks her tongue out, earning a scowl from her fraternal twin brother. Without missing a beat, she coaxes me along, almost skipping along to match my pace. "How am I doing? Oh, you'll never believe it. Last night, my dad…"
I guess there are some reasons to come to school.
. . .
Jen and I continue to chat about meaningless things as everyone sits down in a rather cramped room, waiting for our first class, Earth Science, to start. This particular classroom is situated in the farthest corner of the school building, right beside the football field, that one could see outside the row of windows on the western side, if the curtians weren't currently down to conceal it. It's an old room that's never been renovated before, telling its storied history through the many samples of different stones and jars of preserved animals that populate the shleves, sharing room with lab equipment and other amenities.
Other students give Jen and I glances, before tossing questioning looks toward Gregor, whose situated himself on the other side of Jen on the classroom tables. He merely shakes his head, audibly sighing. I don't even know the names of the other students in this first class; I never bothered to learn. I just know they don't like me, so I don't like them.
The last student, who I recongize as the one that's always late to class, enters thirty seconds before the bell and closes the door behind him. He looks about the room with a cocked eye, unable to find our teacher anywhere. Strange, as Mr. Bradwick has never been late to class before. So this student asks the obvious: "Where's Mr. Bradwick?"
Other students in the class start to say things; mere guesses or rumors and the like. I'm not even paying attention to them; Jen's words seem to be the only thing my mind registers.
Time passes, and the class waits impatiently. Other conversations break out in the classroom. Jen procures her phone, and flips it over, showing me the new sticker she got for it. A simple design of a flower, probably a daisy, based off its thin white petals. If I ever worse such a thing anywhere on my person, I'd be scorned because it for sure. But it's so like Jen.
I smile and nod along, eventually giving the clock on the wall a nervous glance. 10 Minutes after class was supposed to start. No teacher. No ill-mannered principal with a substitute teacher replacement. My father, whose simple presence would make everyone in the room's moods immediately sour, never passes through that front door, grumbling and scowling like he usually would.
Some students exist in awkward silence, before that student that came in last finally arises from his seat, walking over and peering through the small bulletproof window in the door at the hallway.
Jen's stories and complaints have dried up at this point; she joins the rest of the class as we watch this student stare blankly at what he sees, before he leaps backwards, nearly stumbling on his chair he pulled out at his table. "Woah! What the hell?!"
Gregor and I are the first to stand up. Gregor glares almost accusingly at me; I don't know why I rose so quickly. He and I essentially race to the front of the classroom with Jen in tow, wrestling to be the first to see out the window in the front door. Gregor easily shoulder checks me aside, and peers out. His otherwise unmoving expression morphs into blatant shock.
"What?" He utters.
Jen and I sneak a peak over his thick shoulder, as the rest of the class slowly begins to stand up with confused and nervous expressions.
"What?"
"What is it?"
"A school shooter?"
"Are the police here?"
Everyone crowds around the front door, shoving me out of the way but allowing Jen to stay. I would snarl, maybe even swallow my embarrassment and force my way back in. But what I saw takes hold of my mind, as I puzzle over what I witnessed.
What I saw was a massive room out there, where a hallway of lockers once was. Tall pillars of chiseled stone with ornamental reliefs lined the edges, and a blood-red carpet panned across the expansive floor. The opposite wall had a beautiful stained glass window, letting colored beams of a morning sun through. Torches and chandeliers gave the place light, and there were figures out there.
People, though they were dressed in a very strange way. Was there a school play happening today?
Backed by the rest of the class, Gregor opened the door, and stepped down onto the red carpet. He was the first to step foot into the new world.
An older voice, one I've never heard before, filters over the amassed heads, catching on and burrowing deep into my ears. "Welcome, heroes!" The voice proclaims. "We're so happy that you are here. Please, for the good of our world, save us from Calamity!"
My eyes widened then, as I was last to step out of the concrete box that used to be our classroom, into the internals of a massive palace that loomed over and around us. As soon as I walked out that doorway, I felt a strange pop. Like I was passing through an invisible membrane, or a portal. With it, my vision changed.
Everything took on a brighter, more saturated hue. In the top-left corner of what I can see, three bars and small buttons fizzle into reality, along with numbers dancing up from zero at a quickened pace.
Health. A long green bar.
Mana. A shorter blue bar.
Lv. 1: Exp. An even shorter bar beneath health and mana, empty. Time: 8:16. Hanging on the end of the exp bar.
Inventory. Skill Tree.
Two buttons beneath the exp bar, floating in free space and affixed, even when I swing my head about.
I'm getting a growing sense of excitement amongst the unease; this circumstance is looking more and more familiar to me. People dressed like they were at a medieval fair surround our measly class of 30 junior highschoolers, and give us a conjoined bow. Their voices sing our praises, speaking together, showing such reverence and joy.
"Welcome heroes!"
My fellow classmates look about, shifting uncomfortably and whispering between one other. But I smile, and meet eyes with Jen, who turns to face me amongst the crowd. She looks scared, but my beaming grin must put her at ease. For just a moment, everything else blurs out, and Jen shares my smile. She certianly doesn't know what's happening, and for the record, I don't know either. But I have an idea.
I'm in a different world, set up like a video game, like the ones I always play, and the girl who's always been kind to me is here with me too. A new life. A new purpose. My father's horrid influence can't follow me here.
I was so looking forward to it.
Jen reaches out to me, as if to take my hand. My own hand raises in my vision, reaching to grasp her's. Her bright green eyes; her warm smile. Our fingers graze against one another's…
. . .
1 month later…
My hand is torn back.
No, it's not just my hand.
My whole body is shoved, falling to the ground with a jarring thud. Jen's hand outstretched, smile sad, her eyes filled with tears.
She's accepted her fate.
Her mouth moves, omitting a single word.
"Goodbye."
Her background is eerily lit, and a large shadow looms over her.
Field Boss: Reaper. Lv. 99.
That dark purple text hovers over the shadow, as its attack connects, and a massive scythe swings across my vision with a lethal speed.
Jen's head detaches from her shoulders.
Blood sprays, her body slumps over and falls.
Her dagger clatters to the stone floor, deflecting off my boot.
The reaper looms over us, its empty sockets and eternal scowl stare holes into my. I can't stop my hyperventilated breaths, can't slow my rampaging heart. My widened eyes stare at Jen's lifeless corpse; my hand is still outstretched.
I scream.
And I run.
I drop my sword, and I run. Run and run and run, like a coward. A spineless whelp. A hopeless fool with courage lost. I don't avenge my only friend, I don't stand my ground and follow her into the afterlife. I run.
When I return to the palace, under the cover of night, I'm out of breath; fresh tears staining my anguished face. I stumble over the front steps, quite nearly falling. But a stern hand grabs my shoulder, arresting me in place. I look up, and see the last person I wanted to.
Gregor's stoic face, beset with dark green eyes that stare hard into mine. He waited, by the palace's front entrance, for his sister and her helpless friend to return. Perhaps he had a stern reprimand in mind for when we came slinking back from the darkness. Perhaps he wanted to be sure we were safe before he retired for the night.
We snuck out to train in the kingdom's garden, much to Gregor's dismay. We didn't plan to be gone for long; Jen didn't want to worry her brother too much. But we found a secret set of stairs, and I was the one to convince Jen to go down them. We found a catacomb, a single lone room, and death itself waiting for us.
"Where is she?"
Gregor's grip tightens on my shoulder, as he puts his head on a swivel, panic slowly beginning to rise in his eyes. The blood splattered on my beginner armor, the terrified mania in my eyes. Gregor shakes me. "Where is my sister?!"
In choked words, I tell him. She sacrificed herself to save me. She shoved me out of the way, and lost her life. I told him it all.
...
What was I expecting? That he'd share in my pain? Join me in mourning? Gregor's fingers dig into my shoulder, and his balled fist strikes me in the jaw, making my vision double. My health bar takes a chip, becoming a greenish yellow. His next strike sends it into the yellow, and I black out.
There, Gregor beats me senseless, on the steps to the palace, roaring in agony. And the rest is history.
. . .
Two months later, present day…
I'm dragged into the palace in chains, barely able to walk straight. My face covered in scuff marks and bruises from beatings; my tattered rags for clothes cling helplessly to my ravaged skin. Black residue, leftovers from when the mobs tarred and feathered me days back, stains me; my hair has only recently begun to grow back.
I look like a mess, and I feel like death. Anyone who saw me would take pity on me, but nobody in this room has such sentiment.
My classmates, the heroes of this world, are here, watching me with disgust and deeply rooted hatred in their eyes. Bishops and nobles and the very king himself stare at my approaching form with contempt. The crowds split in two to give way; my guard yanks me along when I begin to falter, grabbing me by the throat and shoving me to my knees before the throne. He leaves me with a kiss on the back of my head with his fist, making my vision blur.
My lips are bloodied, my eyes ringed with dark circles. The king growls, taking in a deep breath. His next words will decide my fate, whether I want them too or not. I'm here for my trial, after two months of torture and maltreatment.
To smell anything other than that damp cell they had me locked up in is a blessing. Feeling my knees pressed against smooth carpet instead of abrasive stone is a wonderful change. But I know it won't last. I'm not a child. I know this trial will be anything but just.
I gaze about, at my fellow classmates, dressed in their armor and stashed weapons, meeting my eyes with snarls and rude gestures. Gregor got to them first, not that any of them would ever listen to me. They hated me before we ever even came to this world. My father, the principal, was a very unjust man. He made highschool a living hell for everyone, and when they and their parents' complaints fell on the superintendent's deaf ears, that anger was directed my way.
The principal's son. The lone child of a tyrant.
To my classmates, hearing that I used the beloved Gregor's only sister as a meat shield to save my own skin; it seemed like fate. If you try and become friends with me, I'll use you. Sacrifice you, then discard you. I gave them what they wanted: a real reason to despise me.
And amongst their glares, I find Gregor watching me. Furious with me. But also, sickeningly, he feels pity for me. I can see it in his eyes. I've hung on the edge of death for two long months, unable to even grieve for my dead friend, and he feels pity for me…
"Fallen hero." The king begins, taking my attention away as he practically spits the word, finding the need to call me anything other than a selfish bastard, detestable. He doesn't even bother to call me by my name. "You have robbed us of a tender soul, one that we have long felt the sting of her absence. Your selfish actions led to the death of a hero, who you used as a shield to save your own skin."
I want to scream that it isn't true. I want to plead my case. But they cut my tongue out weeks ago, and I was given no healing spells. My infected stump of a tongue in my mouth writhes as I take in the king's next insults to my already tarnished name.
As this farce of a "trial" continues, I'm berated further and further. My stench of unwashed filth makes nobles pinch their noses, some of my fellow classmates yell at me, demanding that I say something. They take my silence as an insult, my unresponsive form as something akin to a criminal's. They think of me as heartless, stubborn; they accuse that I never cared about Jen in the first place. Their words hurt, more than the guard's fists or mob's rusted blades ever did.
I feel so small, kneeling before the throne, spat upon and hated by every being in the world. The entire kingdom has heard of it, not one corner of world has picked up tales of the news. "The 'fallen hero' stabbed the back of the valiant hero's dear sister, killing his fellow hero to save himself." There's nowhere else left for me…
…
…
…
I want to go home.
"Thus, I, through my powers as king, declare you Nameless." The king waves his hand, and it is so. "You will be stripped of your name, and you are hereby sentenced to death at once, by banishment to the Space Cap Mountains. May your end find you slowly."
The king sits back into his cushy throne, and four mages step up, surrounding me, with staves held aloft. They being their conjoined chant, and glowing lines of an activating spell surround me in interlocking rings.
A hum of accumulating mana buzzes in my ears; I only turn and stare. Glare. Watch Gregor with dormant malice burning to life in my sunken eyes. That bastard. That selfish coward. Jen's sacrifice has been sullied. Her selflessness has become twisted. Her legacy kicked around and spat upon.
By you… My mind sings.
The spell activates, and I'm transported far away, to a mountain range that extends so far into the heavens, their peaks rival Mount Everest in height. But as the magic corroded away my vision, and my kneeling body glows and sinks into the ground, Gregor's face ceased up.
Panic flashed across his eyes, his mouth opening. He took a step forward, reaching for me. My murderous eyes are all that answered him. It's too late for him to be second-guessing himself, two months of living hell too late. It finally dawns on him, as I teleport away, of what he's done. Perhaps he didn't realize his words held such weight, perhaps he didn't want things to go this way.
He wanted justice, but he thought like a child. He wanted me to hurt, but he didn't want these consequences to end in my end. Make me regret it, but that's it. Be certian I paid, but paid with my blood.
...
It's funny, really. It is.
He's murdered me, and now he finally gains a conscience?
...
I'll kill you. I clench my teeth. I'll eviscerate you, tear each of you limb from limb!I'LL DESTROY YOU ALL!
A spell removes my name from everyone's memory, including mine. A spell transports me to my frigid death, so instantaneously it feels like I simply blinked. One moment, I'm surrounded by glares and gnashing teeth. The next…
. . .
I trudge through knee-deep snow, amongst the chilling throes of a raging blizzard. My steps are staggered, feet struggling and constantly failing to find purchase. I almost immediately lost the feeling in my bare toes; my frail arms cling to me, trying in vain to conserve what little heat I have left against the biting wind.
It's hard to breathe, it's hard to see. My health bar, which has stayed in the yellow no matter how much I regened the past two moths, steadily declines into the orange, passing the measly Lv. 7 that rests a bar beneath it. Amongst those other artifacts in my vision, A blaring red notification hovers near the top of the center of my vision, accompanied by a skull surrounded by snowflakes.
You have entered an extreme climate. The notification reads. Your health is slowly freezing away.
Despite myself, I grit my teeth, clawing helplessly at the notification. I open my mouth and shout inhuman noises as my stump for a tongue flails in my mouth. "Ah auugh?!" You think I don't know that?! I cough feverishly; flecks of my own blood sprinkles the snow beneath me. You think I have a choice?
I lose my balance, and I fall to my knees, slowly losing feeling in my reddened fingers. I shiver uncontrollably, unable to even still my hands for a moment. Frost clings to my skin. Snowflakes sting my frosting-over eyes, wind tears at my rags for clothes. I'm slowly dying, and I don't need my decreasing health bar to tell me that.
I'll be dead in mere minutes, if the lack of oxygen doesn't make me black out first.
There's no sign of shelter or civilization in sight on this steep mountain slope, not even a shred of life. It's hopeless. This is my end.
…
…
…
I growl.
"Rrrrgh!" Why… Why?! What have I done to deserve this!?
I want to convulse, to lash out and scream.
Why does things, just never go my way!? Why!
I curl inwards, my loose hands fallling limply atop the deep snowpack
Jen… Why did you leave me? Why…
My health crawls into a reddish-orange. I'll be dead in four minutes.
...
My shivering hands clench into fists.
I'll kill you… Gregor's face, self-righteous and complacent, when he visited me in my cell three weeks ago. When he asked me if I "regret it"; when he wished to get a plea out of me. I could see it then, just as I saw it mere moments ago. He is the one that regrets it all; he never wanted things to go this way.
He must've wanted me to break down and cry, then and there. Maybe, he thought, that if I shed enough tears at his feet, that he could convince the king to release me. He extended me an "olive branch", standing atop his golden pedestal, never botherting to stoop to my level.
We could've grieved over Jen together; in some other timeline, maybe he and I could've bonded over such a trying time. We could've become best friends, and done all we can to live up to Jen's wishes. She wanted me to be accepted, and she wanted Gregor to accept me. We could've done it, and could've saved this world from "Calamity" along the way. Part of Gregor must've wanted that. But his false accusations, his lies, which our classmates ate up without even second guessing it. They were like chains to his ego.
He made me out to be a monster, and now he believes that it's too late to take his words back. His friends might leave him if they heard the truth. So, somewhere within the depths of his twisted sense of justice, he sought to become friends with me first. He gave me a way out, from atop his golden pedestal, with a long branch, unwilling to ever get dirty...
I echo the same words I said that day in my head, before Gregor stormed out, and they cut my tongue out and made me eat it.
I'll strangle you.
I grit my teeth.
I'll carve deep into you.
My rage swells.
I'll make you regret everything you've ever done to me!
The revolting taste it left in my mouth. The injustice of it all!
And then I'll snap your neck! I'll tear you in two!
I rear my head and let it out, roaring in agony on this snowy mountain slope, my distorted voice echoing off unseen peaks and crevasses.
"RAAAAAAAAAAUUUUH!!!"
I'LL ERASE YOU COMPLETELY FROM THIS GOD-DAMMED WORLD!!!
ROOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAR.
A sound from above, like booming thunder, drowns out everything. A massive body of white scales and glittering teeth impacts into the ground in front of me, sending cracks through the ground beneath my feet.
The ground shifts awkwardly; the ground rumbles. An arm as thick as a telephone pole reaches out of the colossal white cloud of kicked-up snow, gripping into the rime with navy blue talons as long as spears.
My lost voice gets caught up in my own throat.
The wind blows away the cloud, revealing a monster within. As tall as a ten-story building, fanning out its alabaster bat-like wings, each nearly as long as a basketball court. Scales like polished silver, spines that look like large icicles line its back. A serpentine tail lashes about, and a reptilian -turned mythical- head cranes down to look at me.
A dragon.
An ice dragon rises out of the crater it made in the snow, body easily as big as the largest civilian airliners. Its pale white eyes with slit irises gaze down upon me, and a deep rumbling growl builds up from its elongated throat.
It's massive. It's imposing.
Text flashes to life above its head; I feel something warm run down my leg reading it.
Boss: Frostbite. Lv. 2048.
"Ahh… Ahnn… Agahh…" I can only mumble.
No…
I turn and run, run as I always do. I scramble down the snowy mountain slope, pumping my legs as my own voice screams in my head. No! No no no no no no! Please! No!
Frostbite roars behind me, and I hear something chasing me. I can feel it. Catching up to me. Bearing down on me. Roaring happily like I was his favorite prey.
2,048… The scribes said monsters could only ever reach Lv. 1,000 at the most! 2,000?! Over level 2,000?! How is that possible! I'm going to die. I'm about to die!
Behind me, Frostbite snaps open his maw, and a deathly frigid breath unleashes from amongst his fang-like teeth; icicles as big as arrows tear through the air all around me. Like a hail of bullets, like a chain gun vomiting lead.
Icicles stick into the ground, miss my head by an inch; one hits me. It doesn't impale me, cut me; it doesn't even touch me. It zips right by my left leg, cutting seamlessly through my pants. It comes within a hair of the skin of my leg, in fact, it only hits a hair. A small hair on my leg, a thin hair. It simply splits that hair in two…
The skin about the cut hair blackens in a flash. The darkening flesh spreads in the blink of an eye, completely covering my left leg and locking it up. My remaining health drops like a rock, and I fall.
My face buries into the snow; a new red notification pops up in my vision.
Frostbitten. Defense and health regen severely reduced. Mobility severely reduced.
I can't feel my left leg; it's as stiff as a statue. Too much pain to comprehend overlaoded my nerves, leaivn gme with nothing but a buzzing feeling and a taste of iron in my mouth.
Frostbite lands over me, letting out a triumphant roar. His two arms slam into the snow to my left and right, partially shattering a thin layer unseen. The ground beneath us cracks further, as distant crunching noises far beneath sound.
I can't move, I can't speak. My health is but a small chunk of red left; everything looks blurry. I've become numbed, yet tears begin to well in the corners of my eyes, freezing before they ever leave my cheeks.
Why… Why did it have to end this way? Why couldn't I just be happy? Is that too much to ask?
I can do nothing but whimper.
Mom, please. Help me... Save me... Please!
Frostbite lowers his head, opening his maw wide, ready to snap me in two.
I don't want to die… I don't want to die…
The ground beneath my hands begins to give way; those fangs close in around me.
I don't want to die!
CRACK.
The ground gives, and I fall. Frostbite lets out a snarl of surprise, scrambling his claws to dig into the walls of a rapidly widening hole. His wings flare out, tail lashing furiously. The floor I once laid on, or rather, the ceiling to a large network of caves; it caves in.
My limp body slips through the widening cracks, and I fall. Frostbite straddles the yawning opening, barely stopping himself from following suit.
Wind howls in my ears, a sense of vertigo makes my stomach feel like it's floating. I deflect off an icy outcropping with a crunch; my right arm has a new joint halfway between the shoulder and the elbow. It sends me spinning away, smacking me against the adjacent wall with a splat. My own blood paints that wall, as I slide down it, smacking my head violently off a frozen-over boulder, before tumbling lifelessly across a sloped icy floor, sliding out of sight of the chasm and Frostbite high above. Other pieces of ice and snow slide along with me, coming crashing down and shattering like panes of glass.
The ice dragon roars angrily; icicles from frost breath rain down upon the ground where I once was, shattering and stabbing into the smooth floor like the quills of a porcupine.
But I'm not near them.
I've slid to a halt, bumping against one of the ice cave's walls as the edges of my vision corrode to black. Every hit I took as I fell chipped away at my health, until I have nothing but a sliver left.
A fourth of a percent.
Someone could drop a small stone onto my head, and I'd die.
Too many notifications to count blink in my swimming vision as I fall into unconsciousness.
You are concussed. Perception and movement speed reduced.You have a broken limb. Health regen reduced. Accessories not available.
You have entered the Ice Dragon Frostbite's lair.
You have broken blood vessels. Health regen and defense reduced.You are heavily injured. Health regen reduced, movement speed and perception significantly reduced.You are losing consciousness. You will be unable to defend yourself.
The heroes of the world think I'm dead, the citizens of the kingdom sing praises of my execution. Mothers tell stories of the Nameless to their children at night, warning to never give in to selfish and evil thoughts. Humanity continues on, preparing for Calamity, ready for their heroes to save everyone. Their lead hero, Gregor, stares out on his balcony into the night, biting the inside of his cheek. He shudders, and takes a deep breath, putting this all behind him, happy the truth never got out.
He decides to go take a nice and long hot bath, to put his nerves at ease.
I bathe in a pool of my own blood, at the bottom of an ice dragon's lair. My head lolls to one side, and my eyes paritally roll into the back of their sockets, tears freezing halfway down my face.
J-Jen...
The darkness takes me, and I black out.