Name: John

Title: Summoned Hero*

Class: None

General Skills:

Language of men - Lvl 10 - Passive

Identify Lvl 5 - Active

Special Skills:

Hide Presence Lvl 2 - Active

Void Walker Lvl 1 - Passive

Blessing of Forgotten Gods Lvl 5 - Passive

Status:

Vitality: 18

Endurance: 25

Strength: 22

Dexterity: 21

Intelligence: 45

Wisdom: 52

Health: 10/50

Stamina: 6/20

Mana: 98/100

My mana dropped. I wasn't sure if had ever done that before. Thinking back, that number appeared to have been one of the few constants in life here. But it had decreased. Of course, everything else did too. There was no doubt about it: The Keepers were marching me to my death. Health, Stamina... scraping the bottom of the barrel for both of those was an understatement. And now, mana too, was decreasing. Was that the reason for the change? This was a case of my body failing on all fronts, cannibalizing any resource it could to keep moving, just a little farther down the line? Reaching out for whatever it could, like someone drowning? Maybe. That didn't seem a terrible theory, but as we marched on, my thoughts fell back to the fire. Tiny sparks rising up, into the night sky. Painful, burning, embers... Mana: 96/100 Maybe not. My chest felt warmer. As if something other than blood, was suddenly flowing through my veins. Through my head, even, as colors heightened. I felt as if I were stepping back from my own thoughts, and looking down a tunnel: a place where all the pain and discomfort, seemed far away. Foot in front of foot. Left, right, left again... Drifting in and out of lucidity, throat painfully dry, focus swirling, I'm not sure how long I stared straight ahead, watching my Mana tick down. Repeating that memory of sparks, until it turned into a feeling, turned into a pattern, turned into a process. I was spending mana. Somehow. I didn't understand what I was doing, exactly. I wasn't even sure I would be able to hold onto the sensation. I felt as I I were just one distraction might shake me free of it, and I might never again find my way back. But, I repeated it. Mana: 94/100 Like someone might reinforce a knowledge, to memorize a word, or a fact: I was doing the same. Over and over, almost subconsciously, I could watch the process, as it took form. I could recognize this odd pattern of thoughts, dipping into something... else. I also recognized that I wasn't entirely sure what it meant. How would someone come across this, naturally? I wondered. It seemed impossible. Maybe it had always been there, but I'd never been in the right state of mind to see it? Never been pushed hard enough, long enough, to realize my body even could? Living half in a dream, half in a daze... maybe that was just what it took to get here. To be starving, to be dying of thirst, and reaching for anything else my body could possibly use. Perhaps, this is what it took to make my body desperate enough to try and sink itself into this new resource. To shift, as it struggled to survive. To fall back, not on the mind, but on the foundation of the human body, itself. Had Earth ever had mana? There was a question... Was this something that had once given my ancestors strength, ten thousand years ago? Was my interaction now, a remnant of their legacy? One tiny piece, leftover from a forgotten age? At that point, I didn't even care. I was devouring it. Drinking in the mana as the odd mental cycle continued. Choking it down, though it did nothing for my hunger or my thirst. Perhaps, this was the first step towards throwing spells. Or, maybe this was a completely pointless exercise. Just some odd quirk of the human condition. But I was just happy to repeat it, for as long as it took me away from the road. As long as my mind was somewhere else.

Health: 9/50

Stamina: 5/20

Low... I wondered what would happen if they bottomed out. If I finally hit zero for health, would I die? Would I simply collapse? The Status, the Menu, the gift of [Sight] as the King had called it, seemed to be a universally accepted concept in this world. People who lived here didn't seem to question these things, they just used them to their advantage. But, it was still strange to me. How could you truly quantify human health with a number? On Earth, I knew that people had been declared clinically dead and come back. Without a pulse, cooled dramatically, some have been resuscitated, as long as hours later. There have also been cases, where someone was completely healthy, and then suddenly dropped dead from a freak coincidence. Struck by a heart attack or some similar medical condition. How would that translate? I had been sticking with my original theory, that the numbers acted as a buffer. An additional layer, for what was naturally already present, underneath. If Health and stamina were stripped away, and I was left with nothing, I suspected that I would still have my life. In a coma, perhaps, dormant in an exhausted body, but, perhaps not quite dead: just very close. Opposite of that, being at full health would let a person shrug off the little things. To withstand a more powerful impact, or sickness. It made sense, based on my experiences, but I knew it was partly based in wishful-thinking.

Health: 8/50

Stamina: 4/20

After all I'd survived, dying on the side of the road hardly seemed fitting. One more step... one more step. That was all it took. As long as I could keep doing this, I could survive. So, I did my best. .... Midday, we arrived at our destination. Truthfully, I didn't notice at first. The gates, the voices and shouts, the jeers and taunts: none of them registered until long after they'd passed. With my eyes on the road before me, I only realized that the dirt road had given way to organized stone after several minutes, and even then, I was so out of touch, I barely recognized I had been dragged inside until I was thrown on the floor. As I forced myself onto my knees, though, I found a similar scene. "You have been given an Audience with Baron Foldest, honored ruler of the Free Lands! Protector of the Eastern Cliffs!" The shout rang out with a hollow echo, that only came from a large, open room. Someone lifted me to my feet, only to have my legs give out, causing me to fall back to the stone floor. With an angry sigh, they left me there. Here I was again, it seemed. Much worse for wear, but in an awkward kneel, I looked up to find a man upon a throne. Déjà vu, if there ever was such a thing. Two eyes bored into me. With a stare of cold steel, I felt the sweeping pressure of a ruler's focus, as it descended. Seeking answers, for the presence placed before them. "Explain." From that throne, a voice demanded. "Baron." Beside me, Bruiser stepped forward to answer. "This Hero was discovered within our northern-most borders. We believe him to be a survivor of an Imperial shipwreck, possibly within the Leviathan's territory." "I have heard of no such wreck." "By reports from the nearby town, and his own admission, it appears that he was rescued by a [Sailor] who held the name of Gregory Thornworst, son of Ander Thornworst." "Hmm... I believe I recognize the name." The Baron answered, calmly. "Tell me: Does the [Sailor] still live?" "No, Baron." "Do we speak of murder?" "The events are uncertain, but according to the townsfolk, a Fernwolf was involved. The beast was found, slain, outside of the town." "I see." The Baron nodded. "Has the Guild been issued a Contract to confirm there are no others?" "Not yet-" "Issue one, before I lose my patience. Those beasts almost always hunt in pairs." "At once, Baron!" Bruiser bowed, before stepped away, apparently dismissed. "You." The gaze shifted back. "Continue." "Sir." To my left side, my remaining escort stiffened, drawing my dagger forth from her belt. "If the title were not proof enough: we have determined this man to be a Soldier of the Empire." "And what of his Class?" "As it is not visible, we believe him to be an [Assassin]-" She answered. "No." The Baron cut her off. "Sir, from the recovered gear, to this weapon-" "Enough." Raising a hand, the Baron silenced any further discussion. "If this were an [Assassin], you would be dead." "Sir." "You're dismissed." "Understood." Jaw clenched, teeth almost audibly grating, she stepped away as well. Leaving me alone, in the room's center. Silence loomed, as I tried my best not to waver. One knee to the floor, I could feel the pressure radiating from the man seated atop the steps before me. Nowhere near the power I remembered from the Empire's King, but still nothing to be trifled with. It seemed that the strength of any ruler in this world, was a terrible thing. As the Baron rose from his throne, to descend the steps, I found this impression was only magnified. He was a large man. Not of the stately sort, or that of a wealthy noble, who knew nothing but parties and a life of excess. With a thick fur about his shoulders and plate of armor across his chest, he gave the appearance of someone who was far more warrior, than a noble. Scars riddled his skin, one even cutting clean across his face: beginning at his right eye, and stopping just short of his chin, barely covered by a thick beard. "I see you were treated with kindness." He stated. "Speak your name, Hero of the Empire." I tried, but my voice was nothing more than a raspy wheeze. "Again." He commanded. "John." I managed to croak. "Tell me, then: what brings you to my domain, John?" The Baron's eyes were stern, as he glared down at me. "Speak." I was as good as dead, I decided. There was something in the way he looked at me, but I knew the formality taking place was for his own curiosity, and nothing more. "Fish." I choked out the answer, throat dry. He stopped. "Fish." The Baron repeated the word, stern expression running blank. Was it panic, that brought such a stupid answer? Maybe, it was. Maybe, having spent so much mana, my mind was running on a high- like a drug. Or, maybe, I was just that tired. Too tired, to play out any elaborate plan. "I thought I might learn to fish." I finished. "And the Empire wasn't offering many opportunities." He stared at me. Slowly, his head turned, perhaps to confirm with someone else in the room that he'd not misheard my answer. Then, he looked back to me, expression strange. A massive hand raised to his chin, running through a coarse beard. His lip twitched. Slowly, building, he let out a long huff. Then, another- then, throwing his head back, he began to laugh. "Learn to fish, he says!" He looked about the room, in his amusement. "Gods take me, he came here to fish!" His shoulders shook, like a mountain might shake, during an earthquake. Turning back to me, his laughter stopped, abruptly, as he crouched down to stare at me, face to face. "I honestly can't decide if I want to kill you or not." I blinked at the surprisingly straight-forward nature of that statement. How do you even follow a line like that? I wondered, as the Baron, apparently, mulled over what to do with me. For a long moment, it felt like being face to face with the Fernwolf all over again. Only, I had a strong gut-feeling that he was much, much, more dangerous. "Fine then: talk to me, Hero." He spoke, at last. "Tell me why you're really here. And know, if you say anything else about fish, I won't hesitate to crush your skull like an egg." Ah. Slowly, I nodded.

That's what it was, then: one more chance.

Face to face, I knew there was no lying to this man. Already, I'd seen enough to label the Baron as dangerous. Unpredictable and maybe even a little unhinged- the Baron might well have been those, too, but he was also being honest with me. So, depending on my answer, I'd live, or I'd die.

The question now, really, was what he wanted to hear.

"There was no shipwreck." I started with that, judging for a reaction.

Beyond a slight nod for me to continue, his face revealed nothing.

"But, there was an accident that allowed me a chance to escape." I chose my words carefully. "And I have no plans to return."

His eyes narrowed.

I hadn't lied. No... I had simply omitted.

Hopefully, that distinction was enough.

"Desertion, is it? You... you are an interesting one." The Baron stated, as he rose back to full height. "The Empire isn't known for letting their prized possessions off the leash so easily."

"You're right." I answered. "It wasn't easy."

There wasn't much else I could say to that. The true story behind my arrival wasn't going to do me much in the way of favors.

A botched teleport scroll, landing in the Forest of Madness... Even for a world like this, I doubted anyone was going to believe what had happened to me without proof. Muddying the waters with that story, was probably not in my best interest.

"It has been many years, but when I was a [Soldier] for the Kingdom, a Hero gave me this in battle." The Baron ran a finger along his scar. "I was lucky to have come away with my life, that first time."

He let the silence in our conversation lapse.

"And the second?" I asked, daring to speak, only after a moment had passed. "What happened then?"

"Then, I lost nearly every [Soldier] under my command." The Baron answered. "And, it was celebrated as a victory. The Kingdom has no love for the Empire, Hero. Neither do we, here in the Free Lands."

I swallowed, throat as dry as sand, as the silence stretched, again.

There was no safe ground, in this conversation. Metaphorically speaking, there were landmines and pitfalls at every corner, and I knew that if I said the wrong thing, it was over.

Should I try to leverage my value as a Hero? The thought seemed to be my best option, but I wasn't certain I wanted to take it. Would doing so backfire? Would it give the Baron as a true reason to see me as a threat?

I felt my thoughts drifting back to the sparks of flame, as I tried to find an answer: anything, that might help.

Before I could find one, though, the Baron spoke again.

"That is how it has to be, I suppose. How they mold you. Indoctinate you." The Baron mused. "Heroes, always serving the Empire. Willing to do anything, for the Empire."

He gestured to someone, beckoning their approach.

It was a Guard, large- if not larger than Bruiser, who seemed to be visibly shaking with effort. Their arms were straining, muscles bulging, as they handed the Baron a massive piece of steel.

"The chosen warriors, who have crushed cities, who have burned entire nations." He lifted it from their grip with ease: war hammer glinting in the stone lights above. "Always, in the name of the Empire." He finished.

I felt hope deflate.

It hadn't been much, just a fleeting, desperate thing: but for a second, I'd thought I might have a chance. One last shot at survival.

But, this was the end.

"Tell me, do you have any final words, John the [Hero]?"

The hammer rose to its apex, and I could see the strength imbued in that weapon. There, above my head, rested pure power. Swirling through the air, until the metal glowed with violence.

Watching it, I couldn't help but think of those sparks, those fires, one last time.

I felt robbed, in some sense. Not just of my life, but that there was something, just barely at the edge of my reach. A secret, I would never get a chance to grasp. Power I'd never get to hold.

But, at least I'd seen it.

Raining down from the sky. That ferocity and destruction, built on hating something so much, that you burned it away until there was nothing left.

Even if I wouldn't ever get to learn to hold that power: I felt could understand the sentiment behind it, completely.

"Fuck the Empire." I said, as the hammer came down. "And fuck you."