Chapter 1 – Hello, World!

  In the small village of Ebon, it is said that every person who is born receives three Life Quests from the Creators. If a person can complete all three of these quests in their lifetime, they will receive a unique ability.

  -rumors from the village of Ebon

  Zed awakened sometime later, bleary-eyed and fuzzy-brained. He turned on his back and raised an arm to rub away the lingering sleep from his eyes. Crusty. How long had he been out? He allowed his arm to fall back and squinted his eyes slowly open, preparing for the jarring onslaught of light from the TV display.

  Instead of the flickering screen, dark, dusky blues warmed to creamy yellow, with spikes of orange-red on the horizon. There was a gentle breeze blowing his hair back from his brow, and it was blessedly quiet. He drew one of his legs up toward his body, feeling the dewy blades of grass slide under his foot. So, this was peace.

  Hold up.

  Zed started and sat bolt upright. Sunlight? Wind? Grass?! Mind racing, he retraced his steps from the night before. His brow furrowed in confusion. He definitely remembered walking home, locking himself in his windowless basement bedroom, and playing video games until he, presumably, passed out. His stomach growled.

  Okay, so he definitely didn't leave his room to raid the pantry or walk down the street to the gas station for some beef jerky. That much was certain. And he didn't know himself to sleepwalk. He brought his hand back to his stomach to wipe away the dampness from the earth. Before he could he felt the shock of cold water droplets hitting his bare thigh. Gooseflesh rose on his skin, and he shivered.

  Bare... thigh?

  Zed blanched and slowly, jerkily, looked downward. He gulped. Yep, he was stark naked. Outdoors. And... the giant bruise on his hip—where was it? His skin was entirely unblemished. And his hand? He raised his right forearm in front of his face. Twisted it around. Inspected his palm. No pain, no blood. Smooth, unscarred flesh.

  Healed?

  Zed looked past his arm to the unnaturally dark woods situated before him. He dropped his hand to his lap in a futile act of self-censorship. At least he felt a little less exposed, for now. His confusion, however, mounted.

  And this is why I don't drink. I'm outside, naked, in an unfamiliar location. My body has been miraculously healed overnight. This isn't real.

  Zed noticed a small indicator blinking in the upper right corner of his vision, much like a screen in a video game. He glanced upward and concentrated on the indicator. It expanded into a small translucent message box.

  No, this definitely is not real. He mentally expanded the message box. This is a dream.

  The third notification caused a fancy translucent message box to pop up in the center of his vision. The box was framed in gold filigree and glowed at the edges. This would surely indicate an important message or decision to make. He studied the message box carefully.

  Holy shit, he marveled. I need to get out more. My dream literally dropped me into a fantasy video game world.

  It fulfilled the basic "melee, ranged caster, and ranged" class acquisition trope perfectly, but these classes seemed anything but basic. In fact, he had never heard of these classes existing in any game he'd ever played. Sure, it gave you a rough idea of the playstyle, but that was it.

  Can you tell me more, he wondered, concentrating on the Crystal Blade text.

  Perfect. Just enough for a taste. He concentrated on Soul Marionette next.

  Finally, turning his head to the right, Arcane Quiver.

  In Zed's mind, there was no contest. Given his predilection towards minion-centric magic casters, he looked again to the Soul Marionette. What potential might the class have for build diversity? What skills would he possess? Could he build toward a Necromancer class upgrade? Did such an upgrade even exist?

  Only one way to find out, Zed decided. Might as well enjoy it while I can.

  "Soul Marionette!" he declared to the clearing, locking his eyes on the text blurb and nodding decisively.

  The text blurb illuminated, flashed twice, then disappeared.

  This triggered a sort of push notification, overriding the final notification from the list.

  Zed felt a sudden warmth in his chest, expanding down to his fingertips which sparked with dark energy. Every fiber of his being felt as if on fire with power, and he had to bite his tongue to repress a shout of exhilaration. Incredible! Zed would have to investigate these skills in depth a little later. After all, there was one final notification waiting. Blessing, title, and a starting class which felt custom-tailored to his preferred playstyle? Wicked! He concentrated on opening the final notification so hard that it nearly popped like a helium balloon right before his eyes.

  Zed blinked.

  Of course, he thought. Only in my wildest dreams would I still end up getting boned. Somehow.

  He dismissed the final notification with a snort of derision. Immediately, there was another blinking notification at the edge of his vision. Now what? Zed focused again and opened the notification box.

  Hell yeah, Zed thought. A quest system! As long as there’s no escort quests... fuck escort quests.

  The first quest, Hello World! was already marked as complete. Eagerly, he expanded the quest box to find out more.

  What's this? A starter magic weapon? Zed confirmed the quest completion, and a small, shiny multifaceted black gem attached to a fine black leather cord materialized in his palm. It could be mistaken for an ordinary neck piece, if not for the surprising heaviness and warmth emanating from the gem. He turned it over in his hand a few times and held it up to the early dawn light in admiration.

  “What do you do?” Zed wondered aloud.

  A small descriptive text box appeared.

  Excellent! Smiling, Zed hung the focus around his neck. And immediately screamed. The gem ignited with cold flame, searing into his skin. Unbidden, it began to bury itself in the hollow space below his clavicle. He clawed at the cord only for it to turn to ash in his hands. His fingers dug at his flesh in desperation but to no avail; the wound had cauterized as quickly as it was inflicted. The pain was gone. Shaking, Zed ran his palm over his chest. The gem was fused to him, becoming part of him.

  “Well, that fucking hurt,” he panted. “But I’m better now. I’m fine. This is fine. Everything is fucking fine. But hey, skills, right?”

  Evidently skills were a thing in this world, a fact that pleased him tremendously. He made a mental note to check into that system later, when he was less, erm, exposed. What now? Surely the remaining quests would give him some indication of what he should do next. He examined the next quest, First Blood.

  A Black Weald Goblin, eh? Zed supposed he might find such a creature in the unnaturally dark forest on the other side of the field he was sitting in. He stood and turned a slow circle. Aside from the forest, there was only the field as far as the eye could see.

  Ah... map? He inquired of his surroundings. Nothing happened.

  Figures. Can't be handed everything on a silver platter, anyway. The forest seemed to be the best viable option. So... goblins.

  In other games Zed had played in the past, goblins tended to be a low-ranking hostile mob. They were weak creatures, usually green- or grey-skinned with elongated ears and short stature. Sometimes they were cute, other times they were monsters. They had a low health pool and dealt a small amount of damage. A single goblin was generally harmless, but a group of them could pose a serious danger to a lone adventurer. They also had lots of small, pointy teeth.

  I’m guessing that if I’m supposed to kill a goblin, then they’re not going to be cute, he thought. Seems reasonable enough. A basic combat quest so I can get a feel for my new abilities. Cool.

  Finally, Zed focused on the remaining quest, Have Faith.

  Now, this was really something. Immediately, the quest title implied that organized religion existed here. While religion wasn't something he particularly considered in his personal life, he did find that a sort of faith system in video games tended to enrich the whole gaming experience. Lore was everything to him. As an added perk, if he was able to find this priestess he would gain a follower. That could prove invaluable, having someone native to the region available to him at all times. But where was the High Ebonblade Priestess? He probed the quest itself for more information. Nothing.

  If only, he thought to himself, I had a frigging MINIMAP!

  Fuming, Zed liberated several handfuls of grass from the earth by force and chucked them in a temper. This, of course, solved nothing.

  “Well, damn.”

  Finally, something that might be useful. He threw his hands into the air, shouting.

  “Map! Minimap! Get coordinates! Reveal location!”

  Except for the small, slightly paranoid feeling that some unseen force was watching and probably laughing hysterically, nothing. Fine, then. Zed brushed some imaginary dirt from his thighs and strode brazenly toward the forest.

  Inhaling deeply, he pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes in a grimace, refusing to acknowledge the pure ridiculousness of this new ‘skill'. Now god was laughing at him.

  “Fan-fucking-tastic,” he grumbled. He could seek out answers later.

  The ancient-looking forest before him felt strangely warm and inviting, despite its innate darkness. Unfortunately, Zed couldn't for the life of him figure out how to conjure up some clothing for himself, but at least for now, he seemed to be very much alone.

  Zed crossed the field and stood at the edge of the forest. Strange... the trees were even darker in appearance the closer he got to them. As he approached a smaller sapling, he noticed that the bark of these trees was, in fact, jet black.

  Are they... charred? Zed wondered. Lightning, maybe? Or a fire?

  He brushed his fingertips against the tree's trunk. There were no signs of charring, and no ash or other pigment present to discolor his knuckles. Stepping back, Zed realized that the tree was in full leaf. It was very much alive. He noticed that some of the bark on the side of the tree was loose. He wedged his fingertips underneath the bark, pulled, and came away with a 4-inch strip of pure black bark.

  "Neat," Zed remarked. "Even the core is black. Huh."

  Zed had never seen such a tree. Was it rare or valuable? He tried out his new Appraisal skill on the tree.

  He groaned. Well, what can you expect from a level one skill, he thought.

  He dropped the chunk of bark. Personal inventory, at least for now, appeared to be a hard nope. This reminded him that, except for his new magical focus, he was still very much defenseless. Perhaps it was time to check out that Skills Menu before deciding to delve further into the unknown, alien forest. Which, he reminded himself, may very well be chock full of goblins.

  He opened the Skills Menu intuitively, only needing to will it into existence. A short list appeared.

  With these starter skills, it was easy for Zed to envision himself as a dark puppet master of sorts, animating the shadows of his enemies to do his bidding and manipulating near-invisible bladed threads with his fingertips to set elaborate and deadly traps. There seemed to be a stat system in place; he just needed to investigate. He imagined that he would probably invest a lot of time and attention into his Charisma stat and model himself as a clever, cunning, and dastardly force to be reckoned with. Suffice it to say that Zed would not abide by playing the helpless victim this time.

  The system thus far seemed mostly intuitive, so Zed decided to try to go with the flow when testing out his newfound skills. He wasn't sure if it was possible to trigger the passive String of Fate skill himself, and Garrote Thread sounded like the most interesting skill to try first, so he got right to it. Trying not to think too much about it, he reflexively curled his fingertips into his palms and back several times to get the blood flowing. He paused, hands balled into loose fists, then sharply snapped his fingers outward in a grand gesture to either side of his body.

  Threads sprang outward as if from the tips of his fingers, so thin as to almost be a figment of his imagination. These threads appeared to connect in a wide arc to the corresponding digits on the opposite hand like five ethereal sets of garrote wire. With a thought, they could be willed to loosen, tighten, and almost dance in the air, bladed edges gleaming in the early morning sun. Vicious.

  Certainly, Garrote Thread would take a great deal of effort to practice and perfect, but it would surely be immediately useful should his life be threatened. This was good. With a concentrated, exaggerated blink, Zed banished the threads from existence.

  To manifest the Shadow Puppet skill, well, he hadn't yet discovered any other life forms in this world, so he opted to experiment with himself as the test subject. But how might one go about mentally splitting a shadow? Surprisingly, he only needed to focus on his target and think Shadow Puppet. His shadow morphed from a flat two-dimensional echo of his actions to a fully formed clone of himself. He marveled at the sight of, well, himself.

  The clone was solid, with no discolorations or visual glitches. Nice! He gave his clone a celebratory fist bump, feeling only a little silly. He briefly considered maintaining his clone as a sort of party member but ultimately decided that only one nude Zed Thorn was more than enough for the time being, and extremely awkward. Plus, it would be to his advantage to understand the cooldown of Shadow Puppet before he encountered any actual danger.

  Dismiss, he mentally ordered the clone.

  The clone melted into a liquid shadow and flowed back into its original position. He reopened the Skills menu and noted that the skill was already coming off cooldown. It seemed a little odd for a seemingly powerful skill to have a near-instant cooldown reset. Perhaps the cooldown was also relative to the length of time the clone was summoned. His clone had only been active for a minute or two before the uncanny factor got to him and he decided to dismiss it. That would make even more sense.

  God, he thought desperately to himself. I don't have an awful body but... really... like, really really... do I have to...?

  He let that thought trail off as he imagined himself being caught unaware by a goblin, with his tender bits exposed in combat or, God forbid, any other higher life form such as a certain High Ebonblade Priestess. Weren't priestesses supposed to be chaste anyway? How mortifying. Somehow, he was certain that said priestess would be so offended by his immodest form that she would run from him in disgust and refuse to become his first follower. Instant quest failure. Dead end. He cringed.

  No way.

  “I am not,” Zed declared, “entering this forest without some kind of clothing. So, what are my options?”

  He paused thoughtfully, leaning up against the tree. Anything would do. A leather loincloth, a chainmail tunic, even a frilly pink dress. Literally anything.

  Crafting? he thought hopefully. Please?

  Nothing. Of course. He imagined that a crafting system must exist in the world, but he was probably too low-level to access it. Or he would have to learn from trainers he hadn't yet met in a city he hadn't yet happened across. Not to mention he'd surely need crafting materials, which was another issue entirely. Fuming, Zed turned and punched the nearest tree, receiving nothing but a bruised knuckle for his trouble.

  His HP popped briefly into view, displaying 52/53 HP.

  Fucking shit, he thought. Wait a minute, that might actually be useful. What level am I? Check status.

  The status box also included the title he had acquired, as well as a short list of his current skills. Pretty basic stuff. He wondered why his mana pool was listed as ?/?, when he was advised his class started with a large base mana pool. Unable to be calculated at this time, he guessed.

  He dismissed the information box and ran his fingers across the leaves of the tree. No other major foliage around. He couldn't even find a leaf big enough to cover his shame. For now, it seemed that he was reduced to whatever he was able to scavenge.

  Man...

  He surveyed the area a little more, keeping to the edge of the forest for a couple hundred yards. The forest cleared out a little here and Zed spied something tall and black. He picked up the pace to investigate a little closer. Tall, black, angular, and narrow, with...

  Wait, Zed thought. I've seen one of these before!

  He approached the structure with more confidence than he was feeling. This was a torii, a traditional Japanese gate found at the entrance of a shrine. Or, rather, it looked like one. He didn't think Japan had naturally black trees. He had seen these structures before in some of the anime shows he watched in his room. At the base of one of the pillars of the gate was a small, covered box, probably meant for offerings or donations.

  Well, it couldn't hurt to try...

  He bent down to open the lid of the box and, to his utter lack of surprise, found the box to be completely empty. No coin, clothing, not even a scrap of blanket.

  Fucking figures… nothing is ever that easy. Wait a minute…

  Zed straightened. The box was empty, but the diversion may not have been a total loss. He spotted a large boxy silhouette a short way past the gate, one wheel sticking up in the air not unlike a beached whale. An overturned cart of some kind? He set off at a slow jog, moving further into the trees.

  The wrecked cart was even larger up close, big enough to be drawn by a pack animal. It had been abandoned, but not due to something so simple as a broken axle; it had been attacked. Battered wooden crates were strewn about the clearing—all empty, save for two. Zed sifted through their contents, finding only sacks of what appeared to be ordinary sand. A quick Appraisal confirmed his suspicions.

  Zed wasn’t sure what to make of that. Unfortunately, the sacks were useless even as makeshift clothing; every single one of them was unsalvageable.

  He approached the far side of the cart, stepping carefully over a splintered crate, and felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. There was a body here. There was no question as to the man’s cause of death—one side of the skull was caved in, the mud-colored hair matted with blood. Blunt force trauma.

  “Poor bastard,” Zed muttered under his breath. He approached the corpse cautiously, skirting around the halo of blood on the forest floor. “Hope it was quick.”

  The man hadn’t been dead long. At least, Zed didn’t think so. No stench except for the spilled blood. The joints were stiff but not yet bloated. No maggots. He froze in place: his teeth clenched, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. Were the attackers still in the area? He surveyed the scene somewhat frantically before relaxing after a few moments. No, he was alone. The attack was fast, frenzied even. The killer—or killers—were long gone.

  What do I do? What now? Zed wondered to himself. The answer came right on the heels of the question: Nothing. There’s nothing I can do. Just… move on.

  He turned away from the from the broken cart, from the empty crates, from the corpse. Walked a few dozen paces. Stopped. Grimaced. Turned back.

  The corpse had one thing he didn’t: pants.

  Steeling himself against the rising bile in his throat, Zed got to work.