But, I don't WANT to be a hero!

Just a fragment of a story I'd written when I was considering litRPG. Prologue and a piece of the first chapter.

Prologue

My life before things went all crazy

(You know, that bit everybody skips…)

“Ichigo vs Sasuke.” John asked, smirking.

“Ichigo would wipe his arse with Sasuke. He'd just be all like BANKAI! And then Sasuke'd be all, 'Oh s**t why am I such an EMOOONOOOO!!” I answered, wavingmy hands around dramatically as if about to be slashed by Ichigo's Getsugatensho.

“Alright then, then how about Tetsuo from Akira vs Naruto.” He asked me further, supping his can of fizzy.

“Original or Shippuden?” I asked.

“Shippuden obviously.” He scoffed. Yeah, stupid question.

“Tatsuo for certain, he'd just blob out like at the end. Failing that a nuclear 'splosion of aura like Akira did to Tokyo.” I said, waving my hand dismissively.

“Yeah, but Naruto would unleash his nine-tails and just flash away before he could get hit.” John countered.

“And Tatsuo would just suck him back in like the giant amoeba thing he is. He made the metal arm out of stuff didn't he? Surely he can just lift Naruto from the ground and crush him.” I returned.

“Nah, he can't do that to people. Just inanimate objects, otherwise he'd have just swatted Kaneda before he could shoot him with that Lazer rifle.” John decided.

“Wrong. He wanted to get Kaneda back for bullying him, and killing him right away would have been too quick. Wake up, everyone's made of the same s**t. Like, matter and stuff.” I told him with a knowing nod.

“Damn you and you're evil logic.” He hissed, squinting at me.

“Cower before logic, it's a cold hard b***h. Like your sister.” I said, smirking.

“Careful, don't speak her name more than twice, she'll appear from a portal.” He said, frowning at me, but more at his own memories.

“Ah, relax man. She's probably busy stealing souls. We're not important enough to bother.” I reassured him, glancing around just in case she was nearby. With John's sister, you could neverbe too careful.

“She's moving to Canada soon, probably looking for virgin men to sacrifice.” He muttered.

“You're still a virgin, she could just sacrifice you.” I joked.

“F**k off, I did it with two girls at once!” He told me, his face going red with emabrassment.

“Yeah, but they don't count because they had to take their false-teeth out before hand.” I chuckled.

“F**k off mate, they were fit as f**k!”

“For OAP's, sure.” I shot back.

“They were 24, both!” He countered.

“Their carers were.” I said with a flat face.

“I have the Photo's to prove it.” He told me.

“Right, because I want to see your shlong dangling around OAPs.” I said, frowning at him.

“F**k you, I'll show it to you.” He sid, pulling his phone from his pocket.

“Ah, trying to show me naked pictures of yourself, knew you were gay. And that's allright man, it's about time you came out of the cloest. No judgements here!” I said, smiling kindly.

John rolled his eyes, knowing me for the smart-arsed alec I was and flicking through his phone to ge the pictures. Then he turned it to me triumphantly.

“Check it out!” He said.

“AH, MY EYES! THEY BURN!” I said loudly, shielding my face, before taking the phone and looking.

“Is that soe sort of medical condition?” I asked.

“You what?” He asked.

“You know, the warts. You should get that looked at.” I said, handing back the phone as though it might infect me.

“Those're tits!” He told me, pointing at the picture as he took the phone back.

“No, those are udders. Not back for an eighty year old though. Good on ya mate.” I said, smiling.

“like you'd ever get any.” He shot back, putting away his phone.

“Got some last night, by the way could you ask your mum for my wallet back? I'm pretty sure I left it there.” I chuckled.

“Hey, ease off my mum.” He said, looking serious.

I held up my hands in surrender.

“Ok, yeah that was too far. Sorry dude.” I appolgised.

I leaned back in my chair and glanced at my watch, noting it was close to seven and my Step-dad would be about to ring me up and demand I come home.

“You need to go?” John asked, watching me.

“Yeah, David's OCD'll kick in pretty soon.” I said, shrugging as if I didn't care.

David was my mum's latest boyfriend who seemed here to stay. He actually had OCD and I hated his guts for it. Everything had to be in a certain place, pointing a certain direction. We had to lock the door several times whenever we went out and it drove me up the wall. I don't know what my mum saw in him, but it was irritating. He did it so often that I found myself nearly ecstatic when he wasn't around, as if free from the shackles of his mental episodes. It was never important stuff like where his keys were, or making sure the burglur alarm was set at night. No, it was stuff like shoe-laces being patterened correctly or the pots and pans being perpendicular to each other. Stuff that made no f*****g difference. But to David? Oh it was matter of life and death. So, me being me and wanting the guy out of my house, I made his life a living hell. He wasn't my dad, no matter how much pretended to be.

I finished the last of my drink and stood up, waving to John as I left.

“Later mate, and let me know how it goes.” I said.

“What?” He asked.

“Coming out to your parents!” I shot at him, grinning. He told me to f**k off, but I was out of the cafe before he could throw something.

I was glancing across the street at a pair of blonde girls that were clearly out of school and wishing I had the kind of bravery to chat them up out of the blue when my phone decided to metal itself out. Dragonforce pelted it's way into the air as I took it out. It was David of course. To the second. I pressed cancel just to f**k with him, knowing he'd have to wait exactly one minute before he rung up again.

The girls glanced my way as I watched them and I shot my eyes away immediately, not wanting them to notice. When I snuck a look back, they were pointing and laughign to each other with whispers that I couldn't hear. I felt my cheeks heat and suppressed the shameful regret at not being the kind of man who could smile back, or shrug if off.

I looked down at myself, wondering which particular part of me they found wanting. Was it my Black jeans? Was it my spiky hair? Maybe the t-shirt with Metallica on it? Could be the chain dangling from my pocket in a hoop that came back.

I was a metal head and there was no denying it. That meant most women either saw me as a child, or as a wanna-be something or other. Not a person worth their time. I fumed silently and looked back at them. One of the girls was looking at me, her smile feral as she jabbed her friend and pointed, whispering again. The one she jabbed turned back and then looked at me. After that they started whistling my way, obviously not because I was so attractive, clearly because I was a spectacle to them and their perfection. I just grit my teeth and walked on, hearing them laughing away into the distance.

On some level I understood that they were vapid and unable to have any sort of meaningful relationship. I knew that, but it still burned like a hot poker right on my chest. Surely, I was worth something? It didn't feel like it. Then David called again, exactly one minute later.

I tapped the phone and answered.

“Yeah David?” I asked. I refused to call him dad.

“Alex, it's 7:02.” He said, sounding tense. He always sounded tense when I hung up on him.

“Is it?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

“7:02 and 23 seconds. As of...now. Time for you to come home.” He said, as if it were a fact.

“I'll be there in a bit.” I said back vaguely.

“How long will you be? I need to make sure the door is unlocked.” He told me. I sighed.

“So leave it unlocked.” I told him.

“Alex, you know I have to lock it and open it 13 times from the moment I see you.” He told me. I knew allright, I just wished I didn't have to.

“Right.” I said, wishing I could just hang up. The problem was he would ring up again until he'd gotten all his concerns out in the open and had explained exactly what was going to happen. It was another of his OCD quirks.

“So when will you be home?” He persisted.

“About 7:20.” I responded, having to work it out. I had to check the place I was, know how long it would take to get home and account for any delays. Basically, I had to plan out my walk home for his mental state. It was automatic these days as he'd been with my mum for nearly a year.

“Thank you Alex. And...could you call me dad?” He asked.

“See you later David.” I answered, hanging up and burning with rage. He wasn't my dad and he had no right to ask that. He wouldn't ring back after getting a time from me and I could already imagine him sitting before the clock, setting the alarm so he wouldn't have to keep checking it ever second or two to be right on time. I wanted to feel sorry for him and had at first, but by now it was just a background hum of irritation.

When I reached my house, I saw him looking out of the window and walked ato the door, hearing it click and shuffle as he unlocked it, opened it and closed it again. Then locked it so he could do that dance 12 more times. I stood with my arms folded right in front of the door to my mum's house, watching the man focus intently on locking the door and unlocking it until he was finished.

He opened the door and smiled at me, the relief of having finished his task evident on his face. He was ilke two people in one body sometimes. When he was focused on his OCD it was like he was difussing a bomb, and the relief afterwards was comperable to having saved a life. I hated his smile, it crawled on my skin like ants.

“Hey Alex, How're you doing son?” He asked, clearly hoping for a 'dad' from me. He can keep hoping.

“David.” I grunted, coming inside and wanting to lock him back where I'd been standing.

I walked inside, seeing my mum cooking dinner, the smell of bacon wafting about and making my stomach grumble.

“Hey son.”She greeted, half-turning from the frying pan.

“Hey mum.” I let out softly, turning to walk to my room. I noticed David looking a little sad at my response, clearly knowing something was wrong.

“Alex, is everything all right?” He asked.

“What's for dinner?” I asked mum, ignoring his quesiton. She flicked a glance between myself and David, the impending conversation glance. Oh god, not this again.

“Did something happen?” She asked, taking the pan off the hob and turning to me fully.

“No. I'm going to my room.” I responded gruffly, mostly in David's direction.

“Alex, you know you can talk to me.” David said, my mum looking at him with sympathy.

“Yeah.” I responded. There was something about his caring way that just pissed me off more. I wanted him to shout at me, slap me about if he could. At least then my mum would want him gone as much as I did. But he was a kind caring sun of a b***h and that endeared my mum to him all the more. He was considerate, concientious and alltogether a nice guy. I hated that about him, it mixed me up like a blender. He was in my mum's house, talking to me like he was my dad. But he wasn't my dad, my dad was in a grave and it was an insult for him to be here trying to take his place. He ate at our table, went out of his way to help me and it made me feel guilty for hating him. But His OCD, it just fuzzed over everything like an uncomfortable blanket. He could pick me up with his car, but he'd have to take right turns all the way home, never once going left. I wanted to like him and some part of me did, but he kept trying to be my dad and wouldn't settle for just being David. I wanted my dad back, and seeing him in our house was like a wound that wouldn't heal.

I closed the door to my room and sat on my bed, picking up my remote and switched the T.V. on.

I barely listened to the nonsense being spouted about politics as my mind went over my father's death. The memories flitted over my mind like a tornado and everything around me blurred in the place of memory.

We'd been out in town, me looking up at his tall and powerful frame with my hand held tight. The colours were odd, like a poleroid. Smells were strange, never figured out why. Never thought to ask. Sunflowers and dough. Typical smells but whenever I thought about it logically, I don't remember there being a baker's nearby, or even a flower shop. Not in the middle of town.

We stopped as my dad looked on, concern on his face. He was so strong back then, the image of his face in determination as he stepped in front of me. A strange something ahead spoke with him, he shielded me protectively. A mugger had come up, demanded something he wouldn't give. At least that's what I thought had happened. I had a hole in my memory after that.

The next thing I remember was being carried by Dad, pain in my hands. I looked at them, but couldn't remember what I saw. My father then put me down in a shop and told me to stay quiet. I'll always remember his words.

“Stay here and keep quiet, son. Wish hard to stay hidden. Wish it, for me. Wish it.” He said as he passed me something and clasped my fingers around it. He'd spoken with such earnest worry in his eyes that I couldn't do anything else. So I did.

The shop-keeper must have been busy and My dad was gone by the time he turned around. I hid there for the whole day and he never came back. I sat still, wishing to stay invisible, wishing to stay hidden like my dad had told me to. People never saw me, didn't even notice me until it started to get dark and I began to wish for my dad. That was when the shop-keeper found me, yelped with shock at the sight of me. She called the police and asked me some questions, but she was a stranger and I couldn't answer her. I was 9 years old.

The police came, my mum came, and I was taken to hospital. Don't know why, there was nothing wrong with me. Turned out I had blood on my shirt and it wasn't mine. It was Dad's. That's why the shop-keeper had looked at me funny.

They'd found him in an alley, knifed to death. His wallet was missing so they assumed a mugging. I wasn't allowed to see the body.

There were a lot of questions about that day, but no-one could answer them, least of all me. They said I blocked the worst parts out. None of it made much sense to me, shouldn't he have called for help? Shouldn't he have just kept running? They didn't know why, but suspected he was involved with gangsters. I didn't believe it. Not my dad.

I switched the T.V. off and lay back, wishing he was here to talk to. Rain pattered against the window as I glanced up, noting clouds. Typical.

I reached to the bedside table and pulled out my dad's old necklace. A strange little thing he never took off. I remember mum joking about it and how he would even take showers with it on.

It was a stone with a runic symbol on it, all darkened with age and time. Some small stains from where his blood had met it on that final day. A rope to keep it on your neck, frayed but still hardy. I thumbed it and eyed the thing. That was the thing he'd handed me, made me clasp tight.

He'd never talk about it, other than to say it was a secret. Mum just shrugged it off.

I placed it around my neck and fell back onto the bed. I lay there for a while, hoping the world would just go away and leave me alone. Bring back my dad. Kick David out. Give me fantastic looks. Make me popular. Solve everything. But most of all, I found myself wishing I could go back to that day and find out what had happened. To know for certain what my dad had been thinking dropping me off in a shop and going to his death. If only I could know the secrets. If only dad was here to explain everything. If only I had the power to know. If only I knew why he was dead. If only...if only.

If only I'd just left the thing in the bedside-table.

Chapter 1 -

Elves and Orcs and Dragons, oh my!

(My first arrow to the knee)

I smelled sunflowers and dough. It was pungent and heady as I sighed to myself and opened my eyes to look up at the ceiling. But there was no ceiling. There was a cloudless sky. A blue cloudless sky.

I frowned and sat up, feeling grass on my palms as they touched the earth. I snapped my eyes around in panic and found myself in a field of green. I looked around me, half convinced I was dreaming. You're supposed to pinch yourself right? I did that.

I didn't wake up.

Off in the distance was a fringe of trees, leading into a forest that hid itself under the darkness of a canopy. I sat there for a long moment, my mind blank. I didn't even have enough cogniscance to think 'what the f**k'. I just stared around me, roving my head with a strange calm washing over me. Disbelief, I decided as I rose from the grass and stood.

I blinked and looked down at the grass. How did I get here? Did I suffer a black out?

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone, or tried to. It was there. That was when I panicked.

I could handle being in the middle of no-where just so long as I had my phoe to call for help. Without that lifeline to other people, I felt suddenly very naked. I padded my pockets and found them all empty. My chain was still there, dangling limply, my hair was still spiky and my clothes hadn't been taken from me. Maybe I'd been kidnapped? But then, where were the kidnappers? I darted my eyes around and found nothing. Just the world itself. I took a few calming breaths and tried to sort through my memory.

I was sitting in my bed, wasn't I? My eyes had been closed. I didn't feel tired, so I hadn't slept. I should be grogging if I'd been drugged right? Wouldn't know, never took drugs. I felt somehow regretful for that, the information from such an experience would help.

I stood there for a long time, feeling the wind rush over me. I felt a small tug on my neck and realised I was still wearing my father's amulet. Well, that's something. I thumbed it a little as I looked around, wishing I had some way to know what the hell was going on. Wishing I had a damned phone, maybe even an old map. Was I even in my own country? I wanted to know where the hell I was, and that was the thing I wished for most.

My amulet felt warm and I looked down at it. It was glowing. Wait, glowing!? Yes, it's actually glowing! That was when the 'what the f**k' line of thoughts occurred to me.

I was about to take it off, not sure if it would suddenly ignite or something, stupid as that seemed. Well, I was in the middle of no-where, with a glowing amulet on my chest and no idea how I got here, so f**k you for judging me! But as I reached to take it off, I heard a rattle in the distance.

I looked up, freezing in fear as the tree-line let loose two figures. They dashed outwards as if running from something. The something they were running from was…

I hyperventilated, I panicked. I stood there with my eyes wide and brain deciding to take a holiday. What I saw...was two Elves running from ten Orcs.

Ok, here's how it goes: I play a lot of games, so I know an elf when I see one. Pointy ears, leather armour. Bows and utterly staggering beauty. You know the cliches. Orcs too. Green hulking b******s with jutting jaws,cCrude clubs and loin clothes for censorship modesty. Well, normally. These loin-clothes weren't quite big enough to cover their unmentionables. Never liked cencorship until that moment.

Costumes, had to be it. Or I'd gone insane. Definately one of those because there are no elves or orcs. I bet I fell off my bed and my head hit the ground. Right now I'm in a hospital, my head being monitored and my mum standing over me with worry. Yeah, that's it. There isn't another explanation.

I felt somehow so certain of this that my panic subsided and I decided to watch the scene play out. My mind was very active, so this made sense. And also, I liked orcs and elves. Should be interesting.

The orcs were headed by a larger orc, big f**k-off club in his hand as he raised it and the others roared in aggreement. The two elves, both women judging from their body-shape, turned and snapped off several arrows with startling precision. Four of the orcs fell to the ground mid-run, rumbling into heaps as the others rushed past them. The elves then ran again, faster than the Orcs and apparently uncnocerned by their pradicament. The big Orc started loping with his massive arms like a gorilla, gaining more speed than the rest and catching up to the Elves. They split sideways as he raised his tree-club and slammed into into the ground loudly. I felt the earth shudder even from here as he did and the elves turned on him, loosed some arrows into his sides and then ran onwards again, dancing away from the Orcs like a ballet.

Speckles of earth-dirt rained down as the arrow studded f**k-off orc turned and charged at the nearest elf. She rolled aside and slashed at his ankle with a hidden dagger. Her friend was busy dispatching the other orcs with such grace I was half-convinced this was some elaborate dance, rather than a fight.

She slid under legs, spun sideways and buried her dagger into a kidney, each Orc dropping like a boulder after she left them. They were two feet higher than the elves each but that seemed to work to their disadvantage. I was actually nodding with my mouth like a trout, acknowledging the skill involved. Then again, elves are supposed to be like, immortal or something right? Or age really long? Hell, it was my coma, let's make them immortal. And loose. Loose enough for a teenager's imagination to give the thumb-up seal of approval.

By the time the big b*****d was on the ground with one of the elves hacking at his neck like a savage, the other elf had taken down all the other orcs, their leather armour splattered with green blood like paint. After that they walked over to each other, shared a high five and checked over their gear.

“Yeah, I'm in a coma.” I let out, shaking my head at myself for imagining two beatiful elves hacking orcs to pieces. Wonder what that says about me that I think of this kind of stuff when my head gets hit.

I piched myself again, but it did nothing. Yeah, a deep coma. No other explanation. Like that T.V. series, Life on Mars. Will I have to go through some escapades and learn some moral lessons? Depends on my subconscious I supposed.

When I looved up I saw the elves standing there, staring at me.

I stared back, not sure what to make of…anything. They started dashing towards me, drawing their bows. Oh right, they hate humans don't they? Well, it depends on which fantasy you're talking about. Some games make elves dangerous, others make them pacifists. Didn't look like pacifists to me and I can't deny I preferred the dangerous ones. Unless they're heading in my direction.

I felt the urge to run but refused to give in to my own mind trying to scare me and just waited. I doubted my own conclusions, sure, but COME ONE! Elves? And Orcs? No way this was reality. Definately a Coma, it's decided. They ran right up to me, barely twenty feet ahead and seemed to slow and get a confused look about them. Frowning at me as I just stood there, kind of bored and unconcerned.

I needed to wake up, not that I wanted to see David again. Mum definitely though. Plus, this had all reminded me of that new game I've been looking forewards to. Supposed to come out on my birthday.

The elves cocked their heads at me as I watched them, wondering if I needed to eat since I was in a coma. Would I get hungry? Surely they were pumping me a nice steady liquid diet by this point.

One of the elves had platinum hair, silvery and long enough to hit her waist if it hadn't been tied into a strange braid that went over her shoulder. It was matted with combat leaves though, not that it seemed out of place. Elves and leaves just went together. Like Anime and fat virgins. Good on you imagination! I like what you're selling! They had just run through a forest and scuffled in the dirt, so I gave myself kudos for consistency. They didn't smell like you'd want though. They smelled like what they were covered in. Orc guts. Really bad, like rotten eggs that had already been eaten. I coughed a little, trying to ignore it as they made cuatious steps closer. Wasnt' sure what their problem was, other than being essentially racist because, you know, elves. They always seemed to be somehow, don't they? But they were looking at me the same way I looked at an old person trying to walk up a down escalator. The kind of 'what's wrong with you?' look. I chalked it up to the fact I wasn't cowering for my life, like they seemed to expect. Yeah, well, my coma. Cowering isn't on the docket for this week. I've never been afraid of my own imagination. Well, except for that one time I considered licking a car battery because the smaller ones didn't give much of a buzz. I didn't, you'll be happy to know, but the fact I considered it made me a little concerned. But yeah, apart from that one time, not bothered.

“Yeah?” I asked, mildly annoyed I was having to deal with this situation. I've lived in my own imagination most of my life to date, but never to this extent. I couldn't stay here, I had s**t to do! Like…go to school and stuff. Ok, that's a bad example. Still, I wanted to go back to reality, despite how appealing the leathers made them. Though, getting it on with a figment of my own imagination smacked of mental masturbation. And the Orc guts was a real downer on the mood. Nothing quite like a s**t-stink to limpen your noodle.

The one without platinum hair, instead black as a funeral, raised her eyebrows at me. They glanced at each other, looked me up and down. And not in the, 'oo, he looks sexy' kind of way, in the 'I need a stick to wipe that off my shoe' sort of up and down look.

“We're going to kill you.” Dark hair elf told me, her tone decisive and challanging. She even bore her teeth at me a little.

“Makes sense.” I answered, nodding to myself. They were beautiful ladies who skinny me wouldn't have a shot with, even in my own imagination. They were probably some kind of symbolic representation of how I expect beautiful women to act around me. Disgusted and vengeful. Do I think women want to kill me?

“He doesn't look very scared.” Platinum remarked, frowning.

“I'm not.” I agreed, shrugging.

“Why not?” Jet-black asked. She drew her bow and aimed for my face.

Should I explain the situation to them? Probably not, seemed like it might cause some mental breakdown if I did. Like filming a t.v. screen that showed what you were filming that moment. A feed-back loop I think it's called. Since my brain was proabably already damaged in some way, I doubted it would help fix it.

“You have a piece of Orc in your hair.” I said, pointing to it.

“Oh god, really?” Jet asked, pulling her hair before her eyes after slacking her bow to accomplish it. She couldn't find it.

“Made you look!” I chuckled.

Platinum stifled a laugh as her partner bore her teeth. They were very nice teeth.

“Dirt-damned mortal! You'll die for that!” She declared, aiming and loosing an arrow my way.

As the arrow sailed through the air, it seemed to slow down, as if hitting invisible jelly before finally pausing. I realised the wind had ceased and the elves were as frozen as the arrow. I blinked, flicked my eyes around and asked “Um, hello?”

Nobody answered and I wiggeld from side-to-side, helf expecting some kind of loading bar to appear. In my experience, when things slow down like this in a game, it's because it's loading. And this was definitely a game of some description. A mental game. A mind game. Games are my life, I'm in a coma. The maths were so simple even I could work it out.

I took a step to my left, noting the world around me remained motionless. I considered touching the arrow but wasn't sure if I'd cause some kind of glitch or something. Can you glitch your own imagination?

“This is just fucked up.” I muttered, looking upwards.

“Ah, sorry I'm late!” A new voice said from behind me. I turned to find a toga wearing guy rushing up as if he'd just gotten out of the toilet and was late. He came up to me, coughed and dropped the heavy baggage of toga.

“Uh, don't worry about it?” I half-asked. The guy looked remarkably similar to someone I knew in the real world. A soliciter who told mum and me about dad's posessions. Read his will. I didn't really like the guy, but I didn't exactly hate him. He was just a nameless guy I never really knew, but remembered his face somehow.

“Oh dear, started without me have you?” Asked the man, eyeing the elves behind me.

“I guess.” I shrugged. “So can I wake up now?” I asked him.

“Wake up? Your'e already awake.” The man told me.

“Oh, so you're part of all of this are you?” I asked, sighing a little. Clearly he wasn't going to help me out of this situation. He was just another figment. I was getting kind of sick of those by now.

“So you know?” The man asked, looking rather surprised.

“Figured it out already. So if you'll just let me get back to my life that'd be nice. Maybe give me an exit button or something. I'd like it in red if that's not too much trouble. It's a psychologically satisfying colour.” I mused, hoping it would be so easy.

“Oh I'm afraid I can't do that. YOU have lots of work to do! You must go a-questing! Gather strength and face the tests! Then you have to-”

“-That's nice and all but I really would just like to skip this bit.” I interrupted, realising who this guy was in my mind game. The tutorial guide. He was going to give me my backstory, tell me my powers and send me on a quest. I always skipped these bits, I prefered to learn by doing, not by being handled.

“We haven't even oriented your powers yet.” The man frowned.

I sighed.

“Clearly it's going to be a classical RPG EXP system. I never liked those new progress bar formats. To much safety from your own choices. In fact, if I were in control, which I apparently am since it's my world and everything, I'd be really brutal with the stat system too.” I mused, putting a hand to my chin as I considered it aloud. This guy wasn't helping me, I didn't seem cabale of just getting myself out of this with a wish and the nature of my coma was obvious. I had to go on one of those 'personal growth' quests filled with confrontations of my inner demons before I could choose tto go home. It was exactly the kind of thing my imagination would come up with. Jump through hoops to get home.

“Stats?” The man asked.

“Yeah exaclty. I mean you want flexibility combined with a ruthless lack of haldholding. Like, you can do away with the whole class system, just simplify it to unlock skills based upon your stat investment. Why shouldn't an extremely intelligent warrior be able to descern the ways of magic? It's terribly on-rails to think someone shouldn't be able to do that. And another thing, why do development systems always have luck in them without it actually paying the dividends on investment? If you're luck is 100, you should be able to depend on it like any other skill. It always ends up augmenting crit chances and loot. But investing in that attribute to such an extent is pointless because you won't be able to hit a high-level enemy with such weak dexterity or intelligence anyway, so high crit chances mean nothing and you'll never get any loot to begin with.” I went on, pacing a little as I felt myself slip into rant mode. Stat system always did that to me.

The legal-advisor in a toga had pulled out some kind of orb thing and was looking between myself and it as I went on.

“Nah, if it were up to me, I'd start with intelligence for spell strength, not success chance. If you know a damned spell, you shouldn't fail at it for any reason. You've taken the time to memorise it already so that makes no sense. You can do away with that one.” I waved, then went on. “Strength indicates damage dealt which should be less to do with the weapon itself. Just because my sword is rusty, shouldn't mean it does no damage if I'm swining it like a club. And the level system's EXP requirements shouldn't scale, it should stay fixed to a specific number. The amount of EXP gained should alo be tailored to how tought the fight way. In practise, I'd gain more experience from a prolonged fight, or a clever tactic, rather than the fact the guy was bigger than me, or stronger. If I use an ice spell against a fire elemental and beat it handily, I should gain XP based on the fact I was smart enough to do that.” I announced, barely glancing at the guy as he worked his hands feverishly on the orb.

“Intelligence effects spell strength…” I thought I heard him mutter before interjecting on my rant. “So you would quantify your attibutes in some fashion?”

“Of course, I like that method. EXP gained, level cap reached, stat points to spend. Usual thing is great. Non of this, 'gain experience by using the skill' rubbish. Everyone knows if you want to become an acrobat, you just keep jumping on the spot and that's a total cheat. I'd have none of that.” I told the man, frowning as I remembered the 'new' games for people who didn't think ahead and just fumlbed through. “Armour rating is really important. Keep that as a figure based on the type of armour. And none of this 'not the right class to wield this weapon' gunk! It it has a handle and I have hands, I can figure it out without needing to invest points in it.” I vented.

“Ok...ok...hmm, that'll be difficult but I think I can work around it.” The man said, frowning then nodding to himself before looking up at me. “So you would have a number system assigned to each aspect of yourself? Strength, intelligence and such?” The man asked, looking eagre and curious.

“Yeah, classic system. Intellegence for spell strength, Wisedom for mana regen rate and total mana cap. Stength for physical damage output. Endurance for innate defence value which should augment any armour value, obviously. Dexterity for hand-eye cooridnation and crit chances, that's fine. But damage dealt shouldn't scale on that aspect, only strength. No arrow will hit harder because I'm more accurate, but it should do more damage based on the vulnerable area I'm able to hit. You know what I'm on about don't you?” I asked, pausing to glance at the guy.

“I think I understand, go on.” The man nodded, tapping his orb before looking back up at me. I took a breath and did just that. It was nice to get this off my chest and have someone not look at me like a loon. Of course, I was talking to myself, so I suppose he should have been. Was that ironic?

“Right, so what have we got so far?” I asked myself before ticking it off “Strength, Intelligence, Wisedom, Endurance. I want Luck, but as I said, I'd have that affect reality in my favour the more points invested in it. Lucky finds, tripping to avoid enemy arrows, that sort of thing. What else? Don't bother with speed, that can roll into Dexterity, and you can do away with perception. It should be influnced by dexterity and Intelligence both. Meaning, a smart and dextrous person will naturally be more perceptive anyway, so no need to have a serpetate stat for that one.” I mused, nodding to myself before going on. “That's the basic stats. No need for faith, that's for idiots. Elemental resistence percentages are fine, no need to chance that type of stat. As for the magic, you can go with scrolls to learn from, dropped by enemies. A grimoir to put them in for reference. A diary for automatic quest updates. I want a map too, but it should only update based on information I learn. Like if I don't know where I am, I can't have the map tell me. That's just cheating. I need to see a sign-post, or be told. Also-” I said, spearing a finger towards the guy “-I want alternate endings for quests! I HATE having to take the obvious route! I want the ability to play my own way. No must be good or must be bad. I want to play neutral! Why doesn't anyone allow for neutrality?!” I asked the sky before throwing up my hands in frustration. “Morality is not so simple as good/bad! Why does nobody understand this? I'm not the only one thinking this am I?” I asked, turning back to the man again for an answer.

“Neutrality is perfectly acceptable. It's up to you. Perhaps I should assign Naul as your patron god?” The man asked.

“Oh the gods, good point! Yes I want a god of neutrality, definitely. But I don't want to be beholden or anything.” I warned.

“That's difficult.” The man frowned, looking at his orb before smirking a little and nodding to me. “I think I can swing a lay-priest status so you aren't beholden, but you will gain some passive boons for worship when you wish. Won't be as rewarding as subserviance, but...” The man shrugged.

“Fine. We'll go with that. I'll take the neutral god and get to be my own man at the same time. Plus, I want achievements. If I do something amazing, I want recognition, but no silly 'jumped one hundred times' achivements. That's not an achivement.” I told him, narrowing my eyes.

“I see.” The man said, looking slightly confused. “Well, your patron god will decide if your deeds are considered achivements.” He explained.

“Yeah that makes sense.” I nodded. “And I want a bag of holding with it's own inventory system that stacks.” I told him.

“Bag of holding?” He asked, frowning at his orb, then raised his eyebrows at it. “Oh, that's rather clever.” He muttered. Then the man smiled at me, prodded at his orb a few more times, then sighed before putting it away.

“I think we're done. Rather more specific than I'm used to, but I believe we are finished. Thank you and good luck!” The man said, then turned and a glowing doorway appeared before him.

“Wait, hang on!” I shouted after him. But he was gone and I was left staring at the slip of glowing light vanishing into nothing.

“What about getting out of here?” I asked the silence.

THWIP!

I turned to watch an arrow fly past my vision and noted the elves had started moving again.

Platinum and Jet jerked their heads in surprise to see me.

“How did you do that?” Jet asked, cocking another arrow.

“Oh for god's sake.” I muttered.

DING!

I blinked, flicked my eyes about for a second, wondering where that strange sound came from, but the elf with a bow aimed my way was more important so I dismissed it for the moment. I was having a strange day, so the odd strange sound wasn't out of place.

“Just put it away, I'm busy.” I frowned, then shook my head.

The two elves looked at each other and, out of confusion more than anything else, Jet lowered her bow.

“I think he's cracked in the head.” Platinum whispered to her sister.

“I heard that.” I told her.

THUMP!

I jumped back as a heavy sack appeared near my feet. It was a burlap brown thing with a draw-string tie. Beside it was a deep black book with a strange arcane symbol on it, a rolled up piece of parchment and a diary with the word 'quests' written on it.

“What the...” I grunted, frowning down at the stuff. And then the world boomed with a voice capable of causing an avalanche.

“Attention all gods! The Earth piece is on the board and now the game can begin again! Betting pools are now closed! May the greatest god win. So says the Game-Master!”

This was followed by, I kid you not, trumpets and drums echoing through the air. It was a little hard to decide if I liked the music since I had to cover my ears to avoid being deaf. I slowly pulled my hands away, noting in passing as I did that the elven sisters(I assume) had done the same.

“No need to shout!” I shouted at the sky.

No reply came back and I scolwed before looking back at the sack at my feet. I nudged it experimentally. Seemed heavy, like about the weight of a potato sack.

Oh, I knew what it was. The same way I knew what the book was. And the map.

A starter kit. For me.

“Ok, this is stupid.” I said petulantly, folding my arms and looking at the elves as though they were responsible. I suppose they were, a bit. They were part of this mental episode and that was enough for blame.

The pair of them were somewhat bewildered, but they seemed rather more concerned with the loud voice than I was.

“It can't happen now!” Platinum said to Jet.

“It's not supposed to happen for years yet!” Jet agreed, the pair of them looking like mirror reflections. Except the hair of course. Maybe one was the 'evil' twin?

“You heard it thought.” Platinum rebutted.

“But we haven't even-” Jet was saying as I ignored their dialogue in favour of the sack at my feet. I was busy rifling through it to figure out what crappy crud the bag would give me for starters.

I upturned the bag and watched the items all spill onto the ground in a clinking-clanking heap.

“Let's see what we have here. Noob weapon? Check.” I mused, running my thumb over the long piece of rust pretending to be a sword. It had a handle at least.

“Red potion that can't save you from a paper-cut? Check.” I grunted, eyeing the inch-sized vial of red liquid. It wouldn't fill a thimble even if you added water.

“Boots of minor fashion sense? Check.” I grimaced, holding up the sandles by a finger. A cursury sniff revealed they were probably second hand. Lovely. I flung them to the side. My shoes were better and protected my toes.

“Torch, to get the cave bear's attention? Check.” I said flatly, eyeing the stick of wood with greasy cloth wrapped around one end. It was sturyd though, I'll admit. The rest was a compass for the map, an ink-pot and quill for writing presumably. But one thing nabbed my attention. A note.

I frowned, unfurling the miniscroll and peering a the italic letters.

Dear mortal,

Welcome to the game of champions! Since you decided on me as your patron diety, I'm giving you this starter kit to help you out. It's nothing special, but should help a little. I'd have given you a full suit of armour and a grimoire of more dangerous spells, but you didn't give me your full devotion, so I can't. Probably should have thought more carefully about that, eh? After reading a little of your history, I've realised that you probably think this is some elaborate fantasy in your head, or alternate dimention. You're partly correct in that, you are not in your home universe anymore. However, it's all very real and you will not get to 'respawn'. If you die, then you die. End of.

The game of champions is something of a deathmatch we gods like to play every few thousand years. You've been selected to represent your universe and have a single goal: survive the other champions. Being the god of neutrality, I'm open to helping you, but you have to offer me something In exchange. May you bring me glory.

-Naul, god of neutrality.

Author's Note

I know there are plenty of spelling mistakes. Please feel free to ignore the fact. This was just done for fun.