Mortality: Chapter 0

A man blinks and finds himself having bled into the unreal.

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0.0 Optimised

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It starts with a stumble. A man tripping into being in a place he does not recognize, wobbling as if he had just moved 40 miles mid-blink. He takes a breath and slowly reaches up for his face, first checking his hand and then bringing it in to brush his bangs and run it down his hair's length, halfway down his chest. "People usually jolt out of dreams, not into them. When did I fall asleep?" His mind was a blank beyond this exact moment but it was enough to admire this dreamscape he somehow wandered into. It was a site like an outdoor shrine with a circular stone platform, 10 stone columns lining the furthest half of its perimeter. In front of each column was a three foot pedestal, and on each pedestal a glowing orb. There seemed to be something uncanny in this dream-a lucidity to its unreality. He was sure he was breathing but he was unsure he could actually feel air. The stonework under his feet seemed to have a nebulous shifting texture as if it was some concrete poured out of clouds. In the horizons around he could catch the outlines of mountains where they blacked out a night sky so densely packed with stars their twinkling seemed to be the only light source in this dim place, as there was no moon and he could yet see.

But such things tended to not chalk up right in dreams anyway. As he looked up at the stars a grand shadow seemed to cast over them such as the mountains did, a wave of their flickering lights blotted out by some impossibly large silhouette as indistinct as it was swift.

"Welcome, oh hapless soul, to the threshold of your new wretched existence," a voice booms and whispers at once, its tone dripping with sardonic delight. The man looked around trying to focus on where the voice might be echoing off of, but came up as inconclusive as if the entire atmosphere had simply vibrated to create the effect. "Before you lies the path to Misterra, a land that will test your mettle and sanity. You are offered a singular boon-a divine gift-to ease your landing. Choose wisely or suffer amusingly; for the spectrum of your torment may be vast and varied. "

The man thrusts his arm into the air with a thumbs-down gesture at the sky and blows an obnoxious raspberry. "Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional. Save the wretched existence spiel for the wretches." As he lifted his arm he realizes it is not as he feels like it's supposed to be and he finally takes a good look at himself. His muscles were thick and honed, his sedentary gut receded. He drops into a squat and quickly thrusts himself back up before moving into some dynamic stretches to test his range of motion. He could feel the pulling in his tendons. A concern starts to grow in him and for the final test he looks at his arm where he is tattooed. In past dreams he was never able to read or focus on particular details to the point the whole dream would unravel if he so much as tried to read a text message. His stomach dropped to realise his tattoos here were perfectly legible. He checked one after the other, lifting an unfamiliar shirt he was sure was not his own to check the rest as well as his fitness. "Fuck. I'm really here, aren't I? Where is here and how do I look like this?" His hair was as long and thick as it had been when he was in his teens and his body was jacked in a way that he had not been for over 10 years.

A chuckle from the universe again. "You are in a realm beyond time. A place beyond matter, a place beyond dreams." The confused man was trying to figure out if the voice was more masculine or feminine and besides being omnipresent it also didn't seem to be either of those. "As for your appearance I suppose I should correct myself about having only one boon. In further fairness and sportsmanship you have been restored to your established top form...Your disabilities fixed, your youth renewed, but your experience kept."

Although he was 35 years old he definitely seemed to be in the body of his 25 year old self...No, make that 23? His tattoos were up to date however and his hair had been short at this time in his life. Checking the loose fit of the plain brown clothes he was in he tries a few kicks, punches and elbows. His muscle memory seemed to be working according to his elder self as well. "It's like pieces of me from different points of time were all stitched together to create a new self. Like I've been...Optimised." The man muttered. This defied possibility as he knew it but his senses all vouched for the scenario. "So that's me sorted I guess. Who are you supposed to be? God?"

"I am the Watcher. I am the Frame. I am the System." the voice echoed with an ominous but authoritative tone and the man started to think he could feel the wry smile behind their speech and their invisible eyes on him as one does when being stalked. "Your observer, your guide, your narrator."

The man starts to stroll along from pedestal to pedestal as the disembodied words keep up their unusual triplicates. He leans in close to a seemingly glass orb, glowing a pale jade green where under his reflection a blur of animalistic features tracked inside. He thought he could hear their cries, roars and trumpets. "Lastly: Why me? Besides being fabulous and desirable and obviously needed."

The System's voice grows playful as you question its motives. "Ah, your self adoration is both endearing and a tad overblown, but I digress. You are here, in the Realm Beyond Time, to be granted the gift of power and sent forth into Misterra. As for the reason behind your existence in this world, well, that's a tale woven by the fates themselves. You are a figure to shake the very foundations of the world. Your story, like all great ones, is waiting to be written...If you survive." The System's tone turns grandiose, inviting you to embrace your newfound destiny but there was definitely a hint of sneer on the point of survival. "Why you specifically? Only the gods know. Now it is time for you to choose your power. The orb before you currently is Shapeshifting."

The man did enjoy the prospect of physical mutability but he makes his way to the next pedestal. One to the next the System announces the available choices: Shapeshifting, Time manipulation, Item creation, Healing factor, Monster taming, Elemental mastery, True Necromancy, Invulnerability, Super strength, and Teleportation. Stopping at Invulnerability the man takes on a suspicious expression and tone. "What kind of drawbacks do these powers have? There's no way you're just offering total invulnerability when Healing is one of the other options."

When System speaks, the sense gleamed from their voice seems they are pleased by the potential of one who asks such questions. "Indeed, even the most potent power in Misterra is not without its flaws. With Invulnerability, you'll gain an incredible resistance to all forms of harm, rendering you nearly immune to physical and magical attacks. However, this invincibility comes with a heavy price. Your connection to the mortal realm will weaken as your body struggles to contain such a powerful force. This can lead to severe side effects, such as disorientation, weakness, and even hallucinations, making it difficult for you to maintain your senses and make sound decisions in times of need. You will always be one step apart from the physical world that would harm you, and over time your mind will reflect this."

The man whistles. He hadn't been planning on taking that orb anyway; his choice was made as soon as he'd laid eyes on one of the others before the System could even announce its power. He backtracks to a coppery sphere which rang faintly with the sound of a hammer on metal, the smell of fresh cut lumber and burning coals surrounding it. "The power is called invulnerability but you said almost invulnerable. Anything else I should know?"

The sensation of a cosmic, sagely nod. "All of these powers will scale on a level system of 1 to 10 as you grow, their full potential is not unlocked except through rigorous use. With Invulnerability the user would not become truly untouchable until they had been subjected to enough to develop the power. In the case of Item Creation, the complexity and mass you can create will be throttled by your own stamina and experience. More difficult constructs will not be immediately possible until you make contact with certain elements and the amount you create will directly drain your energy. As you level this power your energy reserves for creation will deepen and the drawbacks less dire." System had forgone any hint of teasing in their voice for this explanation and it seemed they had accidentally allowed themselves to enjoy giving the academic lecture. They did say they would be narrator and guide, I guess they have some capacity to take that seriously.

He rolls his shoulders and takes a deep breath holding up both hands ready to grasp the orb of power.
"You're sure this is where you leave your fate?" System reverts back to their taunts, asking in such a way as an adult would ask a child to make them second guess.

The man is not swayed and hovering his hands over its surface realizes there is a forge-like heat coming off it. He doesn't remember how he got here, or if this is temporary or real or what it all means. The fact remains that this is where he is and what he is experiencing and whatever the outcome there was no point wasting time on overthinking. "Haven't you heard, peanut gallery? There's no fate but what we make for ourselves!" If he was slated for an adventure he'd just have to hope work could wait, and despite the apparent risk of burning his hands he commits to grabbing the orb.


On contact his vision seems to break down and sift away, like a tide of coloured and glittering sand as the disorientation he'd felt minutes ago waking up took over him once more. When his eyesight reconstitutes he blinks furiously, a modest morning sun blindingly bright compared to the twilight realm he'd just emerged from. His eyes are locked on to a rustic village like something out of a medieval fantasy, wood and plaster buildings with thatch or clay tile roofing, a dirt road with dust kicked up by the passage of travelers on foot, horse and cart. All around him was a thrum of sounds in an exotic language and he remained still and staring ahead while his body and mind struggled to process what happened. The wave of voices around him slowly seemed to focus into something legible as though his body was acclimating to this new universe.


"Der neiar cu thog..."                               "...Mister..."
                   "Faen lysh regat?" "Grant bhet harvest..."
                                                                     "I heard a sholl thraem kat...""...hey mister?"
         "Failte kren...this year."
                                                 "Are you alright Mister?"


With the foreign language tuning itself into something comprehensible-Or was he the one being tuned?-He snaps to suddenly as if one of the voices was suddenly right in his ear and he realizes it was a couple who had been talking to him, faces plastered with concern. He was standing to the side of an in-road to the ungated village in the same barebones outfit he had been garbed in when he woke up between worlds. The middle aged man and woman who regarded him were wearing rugged clothes and the husband had some cargo roped to his back. "You look like you've had a poor journey, and for a moment there it seemed you were quite lost in yourself." The man who had been pushed through the System tried to smile reassuringly. "Oh, yes I suppose you could say I am lost, but I'll make due. Thanks for your concern." The woman regards his lack of shoes and featureless garb. He had long black hair, dark brown eyes and pale skin except for the coloured tattoos on his arm and a black script band around his neck. Well built and with a strong upright posture once he remembered himself and uprighted to acknowledge them. "You're not from anywhere around here, huh? What's your name?" The question is accompanied by a curious cock of the chin and the man from beyond time, beyond matter, beyond dreams inclines his head to the sky and thinks for a moment. "Call me Kire."