Hugh vanished in a cloud of sparkles and appeared in a small amphitheater maybe a hundred feet in diameter. A dozen doors lined the walls, each inscribed with spidery runes. The seats were filled with a scores of spectators who ceased their chattering and fixed him with their attention. The little gods, he supposed.

He sighed deeply. Arcanist was the absolute worst frigging class. Yeah, it had incredible benefits, but it cost more experience to gain levels. He could run a stock wizard up to level 20 before an Arcanist made it to level 10. Wait… Does experience even count here? If he didn’t need to worry about the experience, Arcanist was overpowered. Maybe he was worrying over nothing. He pondered his options a bit before his thoughts turned to Migal the Magnificent, an Arcanist who made it to level 20 in Eternal Fantasy VII. That guy was seriously OP, but it took him nearly 5 real-years to get there. Hugh had maxed out 5 characters and sold them in auction in the time Miguel had taken to max out. Of course, when Miguel was sold it was for seven figures, not the high-fives that his characters fetched.

Hugh recalled his knowledge of the Arcanist class. Extra spells and mana based on Intelligence bonus, unlimited cantrip use and creation, access to all schools except divine or demonic via the Akashic records instead of a spell book or scrolls, Mana regeneration based on Wisdom, able to use light armour and simple melee weapons, the list of benefits was long. And so was road travelled to get all the experience necessary to level up. An Arcanist was like a spell-sword, but limited to light armour and tended to use cantrips because they were unlimited.

He frowned while adding up the time required to max out his class. If Celeste expected him to save her world any time soon, she was in for a huge disappointment.

Hugh looked around the amphitheatre at the assorted deities gathered. This was similar to accessing the Akashic Records in the game. The arena was familiar enough, presenting choices or challenges to those who advanced using the Akashic ways, but the spectators were definitely not part of the game. Dozens of different faces looked at him expectantly. The Little Gods. Orphans, looking for new believers to give them power.

“I’m a new Arcanist,” Hugh shouted, addressing the throng of spectators. “Which way to the cantrips?”

A figure in dirty grey robes pointed to a sturdy wooden door covered in bronze filigree.

“What is your name?” Hugh said.

“Markaus.”

“I’ll offer prayers at your alter.”

Markaus nodded, as if it was expected.

He made his way across the arena, boots slipping in the loose sands as a hundred eyes weighed him down, judging him silently. Huh. It seemed that he had a physical body once more. “It’s just a game.” Hugh thought, trying to ignore the stares. “It’s just like Eternal Fantasy, so if… maybe…” doubt filled his mind. “Celeste said this was real life. No status screens. That means I can’t depend on anything to be the same.”

The weight of the stares fell on him, making every slippery step in the soft sand seem to take a minor eternity. Clenching his fists, he put on his Game Face. Every one of these divine spectators was a potential viewer, every little god was source of potential income for him.

He stopped and turned around slowly, addressing the amphitheatre filled with orphaned gods. “My name is Hugh Isaac Johnson. I was brought here by Celeste to…fix some problems. If you’re looking for some entertainment, something to keep you amused, then keep your eye on me! Action! Adventure! Comedy and Tragedy! I’ll experience it all while I complete this quest Celeste has given me. If you have any blessings, I will offer prayers at your alters!”

A murmuring filled the air.

Pray to us. Offer your prayers. Give us your prayers. Prayers for blessings. Pray to us.

“I need blessings and you need followers!” Hugh shouted to the crowd, spreading his arms wide. “Right now Markaus is at the top of the leaderboard for helping me out. You want me to spread your name on Eternasy? Throw me some of that divine favour and I’ll make sure to tell everyone I meet about your generosity!” He pointed at Markaus and grinned. “You’re number one, buddy! I’ll get you some new followers and a new robe.”

Murmurs filled the arena, laughter, and even a couple of boos. Hugh turned towards the door Markaus pointed out and marched across the sand, raising his arms in a victory pose, pretending he was back in the game and his viewers were pinging him with upvotes.

Standing before the door he stared at the runes he didn’t quite recognise and tried to puzzle them out. Maybe … magic? Seeking? As an Arcanist he should have access to Arcane Literacy, allowing him to read the language of magic. If this reality was similar to the game that is. Eternal Fantasy had a deep lore system, filled with thousands of virtual years of conflict, gods and demons in eternal struggle, kingdoms rising and falling, constructed languages and an evolving magic system. He didn’t pay attention to much of it, but the game system rewarded those who did pay attention. And with his latest character being a Lich, that meant he spent a lot of time in front of the linguistic system of Ancient Eldross to advance his levels quickly.

The runes on the door were definitely Ancient Arachne, so he spent a moment teasing them out. Those magic who seek deeper look within. Those who seek deeper magic, search inside. He rearranged the literal translation in his mind and everything snapped into place: Those who seek the deeper magics, search within. This was the door for the Akashic Records of Magic. Grinning at the minor victory, he pulled it open and stepped inside.

The door closed behind him as his eyes adjusted to the dim ambient light. The hallway stretched into infinity with doors set in the walls at random, each marked with different runes. He walked along, reading each one carefully.

Form air into a blade to cut thine enemies

Hugh recognised the runes from Eternal Fantasy VI. A cantrip for Air Slash, a 1d10 attack. He stepped inside to discover a vast plain of wind swept rock, and knowledge filled his mind. He saw himself casting the cantrip, the magic roiling inside him, untapped until he grabbed the web of Arachne and wove the strands into his desire. Blades of air condensed along his fingertips and sped towards his enemies, cutting them down.

He was back in the hallway standing before the door which was filled with glowing runes. Knowledge of [Air Slash] took up a portion of his mind.

Time passed in a blur, hours or minutes as he paused before each door and puzzled out the runes. Flare, Daze, Magic aura. Some were closed to him altogether. Those of Divine or Demonic sources, he assumed. He finished up the hallway with six cantrips, spells that required very little mana and could be cast quickly: Air Slash, Arcane Bolt, Clean, Clot, Mage hand, Summon Personal Item, Trip.

A new hallway presented itself and he turned down it, puzzling out the runes on the doors. They were more intricate than the cantrips, but understandable with a little effort. Days, or perhaps seconds passed as he picked his first level spells: Arc Bolt, Arcane Shroud, Arcane Smite, Ice Spike.

When he finished with the last one, he stepped back through the door and into the amphitheatre. The Little Gods talked amongst themselves, ignoring him. Occasionally one would get up and leave, or a few would enter from hidden stairs to join the crowd. Hugh put them out of his mind and practised his new spells just like he would back in the game.

Calling [Arcane Shroud] a first level spell to memory, the weave of Arachne filled his vision. He grabbed at the web of arcane energies, pulling each strand in a strange dance with both hands, hooking fingers to hold them in place until he built an obscene cats-cradle of magic, then he pushed his intent into the web. A gossamer field flowed over him like armour as a third of his mana pool was used to hold the spell together.

He paused, mentally probing at the new sensation. Something had drained from him, leaving him feeling hungry or perhaps thirsty. Hollow. He felt hollow, like something essential had been siphoned away.

Quickly calling [Arc Bolt] to mind, Hugh swung his arms and grabbed at the weave, hooking strands together and pushing mana into the spell. His mana pool dropped and a crackling bolt of blue lightning flew from his fingertips to detonate against the far wall. If an opponent had been there, it would have been covered in lightning that would have detonated and chained to another enemy. A sudden intuition filled his mind - he could summon known enemies and test his skills against them. The only thing available right now was a [Grey Wolf], and he had no desire to summon it.

Pausing to let his mana pool refill in this mana dense ethereal space, he worked through his other spells until he was confident in casting them. The cantrips were easy enough, just some finger wriggling to get them to work. The higher spells required more work, actually grabbing the dense strands of magic visible when he tapped his mana pool and wrangled them into place.

Just like the game.

Hugh let loose a small chuckle at these minor victories. There’s a reason why magic users were so rare, and that was because of all the crap they went through to cast spells. It was so much easier to swing a sword and get results. He wondered if magic users in the ‘real world’ of Eternasy would be just as rare as in the game.

Satisfied with his progress, he walked around the circumference of the arena until he found another door he was looking for: Martial Arts.

Much like the door for magic, this one revealed a long hallway filled with many doors. As an Arcanist, he knew he was limited in what he could wear or wield, so it wasn’t surprising to see most of the doors barred to him. Hours later, or perhaps only minutes, he emerged filled with basic knowledge of Grappling, Club, Staff, and Light Armour.

Continuing along the edge of the arena, he examined the other doors and walked through the Halls of Language, emerging after a timeless eternity with Southern Dothiki, along with High Sylvan, Old Dalin, and Upper Luric. With those choices for Human, Elvish, Dwarvish, and Halfling, he’d be able to communicate with no troubles and still get some sweet bonuses when interacting with merchants. He added Celestial and Demonic before the lighting dimmed and he found himself standing back in the arena. Just because he was prevented from using the Akashic records to learn knowledge in those areas didn’t mean that he couldn’t study on his own. Celestial and Demonic arcana were absolutely OP and nothing in the game prevented you from using them if you could understand them. Besides, it might be fun to summon Celeste one day…

He waved to the spectators as he stepped back into the arena and a few waved back. Smiling at his new fans he turned and entered the unadorned door behind him, the exit from this world between worlds. The hallway grew dim as he walked, eventually leaving nothing more than a tiny dot of brilliance to guide him along the roughly hewn floor. The dot grew to fill his vision and without warning, he was standing in the middle of a golden meadow of waist high grass.

A low snarl caught his attention and he swung around to face a very familiar wolf, its muzzle covered in blood. His blood, judging by the corpse on the ground. Hugh stared at the grim reminder of his own mortality for a moment, then his fingers grabbed at the weave of Arachne and formed the cantrip [Air Slash]. Sharp wind condensed at his fingertips and sped towards his killer, cutting deep into the wolf’s hide causing it to yelp and stagger to the side. It circled around warily, blood dripping from the deep gash in its shoulder. Rushing at him, the wolf opened it jaws wide. Hugh dodged to the side and swung his arms, grasping Arachne’s web then twisting his fingers again, forming [Arcane Bolt]. A brilliant beam of blue light flashed from his two outstretched fingers, slamming into the wolf’s head, stunning it. Weaving [Air Slash] once again, Hugh aimed the spell at the exposed neck of the beast.

Red motes leaked from the corpse of the wolf as its blood soaked into the ground.

“It’s been a hell of a day,” Hugh said, looking around for more predators. After a minute, he dropped to the ground on his knees. Before him were two impossibilities: One, a wolf he had killed with magic. Two, his corpse. HIS corpse. A body with which he was intimately familiar. His mind detached from the scene before him. He knew he should be grossed out, but he just couldn’t comprehend the weirdness that had happened in the last… hour? Three days? Time was strange, especially when using Arcane Divination.

Fat blue flies were buzzing around his corpse, drawn by the enticing scent of exposed guts. Hugh retched, vomiting onto the ground. Wiping his mouth on the coarse woven peasant shirt, he rose to his feet and approached the wolf. Placing a hand over it, he spoke a single power word [Harvest All]. If this world worked anything like Eternal Fantasy, that should reduce the monster corpse to nothing but experience and a core.

The wolf vanished as red motes swirled and collected around his hand, then burrowed under his skin adding to his experience.

25XP. Not that he had a status screen to know for sure. But if the game lore held true he needed another 2975 XP for level two. Just another hundred or so wolves and he would level up. Frigging Arcanist class.

After the red motes vanished, a small red marble was left behind, the only evidence that the wolf had ever existed. A monster core that could be used in enchanting, crafting, or absorbed for mana.

Standing, he examined the new body he was resurrected in. It seemed to be the same, but this time he had on a decent pair of boots of the left and right variety, an actual leather belt complete with brass buckle, and an honest to goodness Explorer’s Pack - a leather backpack with a bedroll, mess kit, tinderbox, torches, rations, waterskin, and 50’ of hemp rope.

Fighting against the conflict inside him, he offered up a quick prayer, “Thank you Celeste for the generous bounty you have provided.”

Another strange sensation swept over him, as if something intangible had been pulled away - like someone had peeled away the flaking skin from a sunburn. Satisfying in some weird way.

He stooped and picked up the red core, rolling it between his fingers before depositing it in the pouch at his side.

A quick glance at the contents of the small pouch revealed 10 silver and 50 copper. And a red core worth 1 gold if the exchange was the same. Hugh took a mouthful of water from his waterskin and spit to clear his mouth of the taste of his vomit, then headed into the tall grass. He was pretty certain this was Golden Meadows, an exposed dungeon on the outskirts of New Arcadia, a starter town for levels 1-3. Only a total newb would hunt here alone, and he would be wise to head to town and form a party.

Another wolf came bounding out of the grass before he made it a hundred yards. Two [Air Slashes] taught it respect and now they faced one another, waiting for an opening. Hugh could feel that he was down a third of his mana. It was a strange feeling, like hunger or thirst, but subtly different. Definitely hollow, he decided. Using mana left him feeling hollow. The wolf vanished back into the grass and Hugh watched from his higher vantage point as it circled around. He kept an eye on it as he backed towards the town in the distance. ‘There should be a road near here,” he thought, watching the grasses bend as the wolf moved to his left. “I just gotta make it to the road.”

The snarling animal came rushing from the grass, invisible until the last moment. Hugh held an [Air Slash] ready in his fingers, releasing it as the beast pounced. The sharp blade of air cut deeply into the hide of the wolf as it leapt at him, causing it to flop and howl until he silenced it with another. [Harvest All] pulled experience from the corpse, leaving behind another red core.

Two more wolves appeared a fifteen minutes later, just as Hugh came in sight of the dungeon’s edge. He watched the grass swish around their hidden forms as they stalked him and he prepared for the coming attack. Casting [Arcane Shroud], his mana pool dropped precipitously, leaving him with certain knowledge that he would need real armour and a weapon if he was going to survive in this world. Gossamer threads wrapped around his body, surrounding him in a soft blue light.

The beasts circled around him while he spun in place, trying to keep an eye on them both. [Arcane Shroud] settled comfortably around his shoulders, so he pressed the attack and moved towards the nearest one with an [Air Slash] held in his hand. The animal took notice of his movement and burst from the grass, catching the sharp blade of air across its chest, causing it to stumble.

Whirling around to meet the one approaching from the rear, Hugh swung his arms and grabbed at the weave of Arachne, twisting the strands into [Arc Bolt]. The wolf clamped down on his arm before he could complete the spell and his mana fizzled into the aether, lost. Teeth the size of his fingers pressed against the Arcane Shroud, creating uncomfortable pressure as it tried to bear him to the ground. Dancing backwards in the high grass, Hugh wrenched his fingers into [Arcane Bolt] and popped the wolf in the side of the head. It released his arm with a snarl, giving him enough room to crab an [Air Slash] with his fingers and send it into the legs of the beast. It fell heavily to the ground and another [Air Slash] left it bleeding out.

The other wolf came in low from behind, knocking him to the dirt. Hugh twisted around, grappling with the animal until he had it in a headlock. He squeezed as it clawed at him, snarling and slathering as it sought to break free. Adrenaline rushed through his body, giving him the strength necessary to hold on while they rolled across the ground. Scrambling madly, he managed to get his legs around the creature and clamped tight. He knew that if he let go now it was a one way trip to Moarti. The wolf kicked and clawed desperately, growing weaker, until it finally shuddered and went limp.

Hugh held on until the red motes started rising from the corpse. [Harvest All] collected the experience and left him with two more red cores, making four total. Dusting himself off, he examined the deep gouges left on his thigh by the wolf. Casting [Clot] he stopped the bleeding and promised himself that he would get [Mend] when he levelled up. Hugh pushed through the dense grass until it suddenly vanished, a clear demarcation of the edge of the dungeon, and then stumbled to the nearby road.

Twenty minutes later he was within sight of the city walls and cast a quick [Clean] on himself, leaving him spotless with minty fresh breath, but dangerously low on mana. Maybe enough for another two cantrips at most. He felt hollow inside.

Three wagons were ahead of him, travellers eager to rest behind the secure walls of New Arcadia before the sun sank below the horizon.

A bored guard eyed the tears in his clothing when he made it to the gate. “Where are you coming from?” The guard asked.

Hugh thought for a moment, wrangling his Eternal Fantasy geography into focus. “Morgan Town,” he replied.

“You travelled alone?” Said the guard, incredulous.

“Yeah,” Hugh answered, barking out a rough laugh. “And I really don’t recommend it.”

The guard nodded in sympathy. “What’s your business in New Arcadia?”

“Food, Shelter, Work,” Hugh replied, scratching the back of his head. “Is the Silver Bell still in open?

“That it is,” The guards posture shifted, hearing him speak of a familiar place. “You’ve been to New Arcadia before?”

“A lifetime time ago,” Hugh exaggerated. “And it’s been a really long day.”

“Five copper,” the guard said, holding out his hand. “You know the law?”

“No killing, no stealing, obey the curfew, yada, yada,” Hugh said, fishing the coins from his pouch and exchanging them for a oversized bronze coin with a large I stamped on one side and a goat on the other.

“Mind the yada yada, it’ll get you in trouble. The token is good until the first.”

“No worries on that, Hugh replied. “I want nothing more than a hard drink and a soft bed tonight. What’s the date anyway? I’ve lost track.”

“It’s the twenty-first. Token’s good for the next week.”

“Thanks man,” Hugh said, pocketing the bronze token and moving through the gates.

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