Tutorial: Day 0
My eyes shot open lurching up from under my bed covers, ripped violently from a vivid dream, or 'nightmare' if we're being semantic. My sore bones and muscles screamed in aching unison from yesterday's spar. At the time, it felt like going all in for 2 hours was a good idea. Now, I had two reasons for my tardy rise at around 11 am.
Normally I'd be peeling myself out of bed a tad earlier in the morning, but apart from being decently banged up, I absolutely loath the cold air that plagues my room throughout the early hours. Every winter in Arizona was just chilly enough to trigger what feels like some stray cold-blooded ancestry that's floating through my family's dormant genealogy.
Of course, yours truly is apparently the unfortunate soul the gene's activated in. It didn't help I'd actually grown to enjoy my violent, feverish dreams nowadays, even if I often awoke covered in sweat over their contents. The nightmares used to really do a number on me during my adolescence, the sounds and sensations often times haunting me even into the mornings. Never had I shied away from sleep though, for a certain number of reasons. One key factor there being that I'm human with a very natural necessity for rest. Still, for over 24 years I hated the experience, and for more reasons than I really care to explain so damn early.
Arising from my congregation of thick, currently sweat-soaked blankets and pillows, I began my normal routine. It was a simple morning ritual, getting in some balance training, a few sets of crunches, and some lengthy stretching to loosen up the lactic acid built up from the day prior.
I can't say I put myself in harms way more often than not, however it's definitely above the average person's daily dose of controlled violence. At this point, training had replaced a laundry list of trials far more complicated and…well…miserable. Make no mistake, pain is painful, and I don't like hurting. What I do enjoy however is the results of a little discipline. The consistency had a way of keeping me 'centered', if you will, something essential for a man cursed with my father's temper. A truly nasty one if left unchecked, and one I've spent a lot of time meditating on to better get a grasp over.
Part of the reason my night terrors gradually turned into joyous fantasies and anger turned a means for management had been due to my rigorous training, which now a year has passed since I had begun. And no, it wasn't some dramatic, training day and night thing. Well okay, at least not in just one particular skill. Though I'll admit between the daily exchange of twisting fists and snapping kicks, there's been moments where it certainly felt that way.
The first 25 years of life had flown by as fleeting as silence in a crowded room in my eyes. Yet after the last 12 months, I actually started to feel old. Like time had just slowed all the way to a screeching halt. I kind of feared it at first, and began wondering if life would become an inescapable vacuum that dragged for what felt like a millennia before my inevitable dirt nap. Of course, I was only a few weeks short of accruing an entirely new list of priorities that taught me to yearn for more hours in the day.
Frankly, between the gym, sparring, shadow sparring alone, conditioning, honing my stock portfolio, working a regular ass job, and trying to be a good son/nephew/cousin/friend, shit was becoming increasingly difficult to balance. I try to dismiss that final bit as a byproduct of the holidays invoking some nostalgic memories in others of times where I was more relevant in their lives. That tends to fail in pacifying nothing more than my urge to say something about it.
No one told me part of getting your shit together was the demystification of most social excuses to forcefully 'bond'. Not that I particularly minded, I truly enjoyed my time with most of them. Yet I still couldn't help but wonder at what the opportunity cost was running me.
Greed, Tom, you're letting the greed talk.
My closest-thing-to-lifelong friend and current trainer, Korbin, had been a key, if not the biggest factor in my currently expeditious rate of progress. At least that which I was most proud of, and an unfortunate side effect of his assistance was his annoying fucking voice ringing through my head intermittently. What's worse, it was usually right, but I might've gotten there on my own sometimes, you know? I should also mention mental illness ran in my family, but I'm approximately 87.945% certain some of the obsessive parts skipped me.
Joking, but no, I did dodge that very familial bullet.
After my morning routine, I headed to the living room to get a little snack in before the gym. Korbin was already energetically entertaining his lady, Kaitlyn, and their newborn daughter, Anna. It was kind of crazy, seeing this couple I'd met respectively at 12 years old in middle school, one the human incarnation of ADHD when we were growing up. The other among the smartest people I've ever met, and the most charitable in a pinch.
Now…they'd become some of the better parents I've seen in my marginally short life. At least the best adjusted thus far, but that shouldn't have come to a surprise. Korbin especially, after you watch a guy leap off enough perfectly good bridges, cliffs, and planes for the hell of it, things they do stop surprising you.
"Look Anna! A wild House-Cat has appeared!" Korbin exclaimed excitedly, causing little Anna to immediately flip her head around and stare intently. It was odd, babies in general have always seemed to just vibe with me. Yet for some reason Anna was just flat enamored, like I was some entity completely outside of her reality slipping through time in her kitchen. It definitely wasn't favoritism either, more like pure curiosity and bewilderment had encompassed her mind the way she stared on as I did my thing. She'd even watch me and Korbin spar, and often wave her tiny arms and legs about trying to replicate our movements.
Did I mention she's 7 months old? Kid's crazy strong, and had already been moving around on her feet for a while now, though I'm too shit at keeping track of that stuff to say since when. Anyways, I did what I always did when addressed by Anna and frantically waved at her wearing a goofy smile, letting out the typical long drawn, high pitched, "Hi little one" I always gave. It never failed to get a giggle out of her, which is about where my uncle/House-Cat duties start and end until she's old enough to have opinions and whatnot. Honestly I hope she'd never actually need mine, but I'd hate to be blatantly despondent to my buddy's kin, regardless of my comforts about it. It's not how I'd want him to treat mine if the roles were flipped, if I ever have one for that matter.
I was fresh off a 4 year relationship nearing marriage like a cargo plane loaded with an unstable nuclear reactor barreling into a fucking hospital, but luckily that ended before things got too permanent. Needless to say, having children wasn't on the top of my to-do list anytime soon. All the same, I learned to plan ahead over the past year.
"Say 'no, no it's cool, do your thing House-Ca…'HYAH!" My thoughtful analysis on mutual mentorship responsibilities between friends were abruptly interrupted by the sensation of a tiny baby foot bouncing from my chest. It was like someone brushed by holding out an empty paper towel roll so, naturally, I crumbled to the floor writhing in pain. Feigned, of course, but how could I discourage a well placed body kick from the little one like that? We encourage good habits around here.
After Anna got her fill of laughter from basking in her triumphant victory in the battle for supremacy with the House-Cat, she got bored and started doing the "drinking from a bottle" face, indicating she's over it. Content with my performance, I got up and resumed making my snack. Little Peanut Butter and Honey sandwich had me like Winnie the fucking Pooh hovering over that plate once a day for the last 10 months straight. Plus it was actually really good for you, a trait most all of my diet had shared but, could never compare in sheer elation upon biting into.
Man, I really miss those sandwiches.
"You work today?" Korbin casually asked. I knew what the next question was gonna be if I said no, "Wanna spar?" Of course I did, so I skipped the formalities.
"I'm down to spar today, let me get chest and triceps in at the gym first. Last session before I get my rest days." I replied, in a matter of fact tone while rubbing my hands together.
"Coward, okay sounds good." Korbin fired back, only to decrescendo in both tone and seriousness. It's just how we communicated, you skip the pleasantries after 14 years of knowing each other, and spending most of your recent time trying to kill each other for practice.
Twisting my head toward the invaluable sandwich in my clutches, a smile crested across my lips preparing that first bite into my daily treat. A long breath allowed exactly how happy I had become over the span of such a short time wash over my chest like a heated blanket on a winters night. How I had well and truly put my broken-ass living situation growing up, my shit-show relationships, my shameful lack of discipline, direction, focus, all those years running around trying to ignore my own pursuit of happiness out of some misguided sense of martyrdom for…whom honestly to this day I couldn't tell you, all of it behind me.
A single chuckle bobbed my head truly appreciating the taste of freedom that I'd been fighting to earns since what felt like adolescence staring back at me over a paper napkin. Even if I'm just renting a room right now, I had more than tripled my total income in 6 months, and saved more than I ever had in my entire life. One more savory glimpse into my desired path manifesting before me in real-time, one decadent morsel of my pursuit of happiness drawing closer than ever to its destination.
And then, the world went white.
Tutorial: introduction
What the fuck. What the fuck. Did I just fucking die? No goddamn wa-I mean, not goddamn or, f-fuck. What is this?
Truly spiraling in every sense, I felt myself spinning on my feet, but on what surface I couldn't tell you only being able to see myself. Everything else around me was just…nothing. An all encompassing, blinding whiteness. It was like I was in the backdrop for a certain morally questionable R&B singers music video or something, only they used stadium lights. It was to the point I began to question if I were in heaven, and if so, fucking how?! I transitioned to Taoism essentially right before…dying?
I...I don't feel dead.
I turned around once more feeling something shift , only to jolt back into my fighter stance upon finding a…figure. It definitely looked like it was human, at least human shaped. There weren't much of any other distinguishing features though, outside of that snazzy suit and tie. It stood with perfect posture in front of a slightly grey platform in the shape of an office building, along with a black table and two black chairs before them. They apparently just appeared there, it was so damn bright yet, they suddenly occupied that space here. Wherever here is, I thought.
"Hello, Tom. Welcome to your introduction to the multiverse. I will be your guide in selecting your class, and will strive be provide answers to any questions and concerns you may have during our time together. I'm sure you're quite confused as to why you're here, and I'm incredibly pleased to inform you that your world has just been approved for multiversal integration, as deemed by the system, and is currently being terraformed to better accommodate a relatively safe and sufficient integration into the multiverse."
Fucking, what? What the hell is this guy yapping about? I didn't realize when you died you went to some comic universe but, I guess that's what we're doing.
My scrunched scowl relaxed as my brain concocted a suitable response to such a wildly far-fetched idea.
"How did I go?" I asked, with a raised brow.
"Error, please rephrase your question."
"How did I die?" I impatiently clarified. The thing didn't have a face, yet the head tilt said all it had too as it smugly retorted, "You are not dead, human. If anything, this is your world's opportunity to live to a degree you may have never deemed possible given your species current natural lifespan and capabilities."
That one kind of stunned me. I don't know why, but death had felt okay with me. Not that I wanted to have dropped dead over a delicious sandwich, but one had to accept death to enjoy their life, for to dread the end of the destination is to meander the journey, but this was different.
"So, s-so you're telling me, you brought me here? And your intent is to terraform my planet, and then what?" I could feel a hint of rage building. I didn't like the intrusion quite frankly, we were doing just fine.
"You will pick your starting class, weapon of choice, 1 free point to give to your stats, and 1 class skill unlock of your choosing. Then, you shall be placed within your respective tutorial, where you will acclimate to how the multiverse really works, at least to your best abilities, until your world is fully prepared for integration."
Starting class. Points, skills, this is starting to sound familiar.
"What exactly is my 'class'"?
"A class is what type of fighter you will become. Power is essential in the universe for ensuring your survival as much as knowledge. You will get 5 choices, each with subclass options to better suit your preferences. The 5 main classes are as follows; Warrior, Rogue, Ranger, Mage, and Healer. To better decide your class, the system has integrated your original physical, mental, and spiritual attributes, and translated them to your starting level all newly integrated humans begin at; H ranked level 1 Human, and level 1 in your class. You may review your stats now."
Just as they stopped info dumping on me, a big display appeared, showing…my stats?
Name: Tom Murphy
Race: [Human(H) - level 1]
Class: None
Profession: None
Strength: 12
Agility: 16
Endurance: 13
Perception: 10
Vitality: 8
Toughness: 12
Intelligence: 8
Wisdom: 14
Willpower: 8
Skills: None
Titles: None
...No fucking way. I'm in a video game?
Now I felt certain I died, and God is so, so good. My fantasies of being a decorated loot goblin in first person manifested to the utmost degree. However, they seemed adamant that I wasn't dead, which didn't seem very Godly, at least not the kind I figured, and a hint of concern creeped in.
"What exactly do these stats dictate?"
"Well strength determi-"
"I get the first 3, it's after where the lines get blurred per game, and it seems to me you people live by similar logic as some crap gamers used to blow hours on honing 'hand-eye coordination'."
Damn, that might've been a bit too confrontational. Not sure if I wanna piss this thing off yet.
It went on to explain in far too much detail than I'd like, so I simplified mentally. Perception is tricky, as it not only dictates how well you see (obviously) or how far, but how quickly, and it apparently translates into almost every skill during the learning section. It emphasized "almost" very diligently, as some later stats really don't interpolate, but...can? Fucking cryptic, even with all those fluffy words.
Vitality was kind of a given, being the stat responsible for one's total health points, but I needed confirmation because what the actual fuck?!Eight whole points? I know I'm technically underweight, 6'2 and 153 lbs soaking wet and all, but it's a cut ass 153 damn it. I suppose I couldn't be too upset, as according to them 8 was the average stat per human integrated from our planet, which it refused to call Earth.
"Planet #147 of the 29th Universe."
This somehow felt more pompous, and I didn't even bother to question how many planets there are, considering #147 didn't sound right.
Anyways, toughness was obviously your ability to take damage and negate its effects, and my daily bone conditioning probably contributed to the above average level its started at. Not the 'run 8 miles a day' type of conditioning, more the 'kicking shit with your shins and punching gravel' sort. A rather masochistic evolutionary trait for our bones to grow back stronger and larger only after giving them micro fractures if you asked me. Still, score one for scheduled pain, and 11 more for my trouble I suppose.
The state of intelligence bummed me out pretty quickly. According to no-face, it reflected your ability with magic in purity, meaning damage outputs or what kind of spells you can cast. My dreams of throwing lightning from my fingers and hurling space stations had never been closer than this moment though, so I knew I had some hard training ahead of me, whatever that might entail.
Wisdom was surprisingly interesting to hear out, as it was like Perception, in that it can sprinkle into one's entire path and growth. It was experience meets intuition to put it simply, but for anything. This was also a category perception both did and didn't overlap, depending who you ask according to this wiry thing. Either way, I was glad my recent infatuation for bettering my 3 pillars of health (mind, body, and spirit) had seemed to pay off when I didn't know it mattered, if it did. It was an odd journey at the beginning filled with scary silence and a lot of discussions with myself, but I suppose so will this one be. Hopefully, I get to meditate just as much.
Willpower was another curious stat, one that doesn't really function how I'd assumed it would. I figured it would be some sort of secondary stat to boost for a class, like maybe a pure combative class used willpower to up its potency without being a strength build. Like 'cunning', or something.
Turns out it's a bit more esoteric, as those who can dominate in the Willpower department tended to achieve Godhood at a far higher success rate, but was also rarely one's strongest stat. Needless to say, finding out you can become a fucking God was enough to send my head swimming, so most of my questions ended there. I figured I'd find out well enough a thing or two about Willpower soon.
My balance stumbled with a jerk, finding myself seated in the chair, sitting neatly at the table. I didn't perform the act of sitting, nor did I scoot in, yet lo and behold. As I leaned my elbows onto the tables surface, I noticed a strange rushing sensation. I couldn't explain it, it was as if something was…alive in the table. I placed my hand to the chair and noticed the same energy, it was as if millions and millions of tubes were moving, something, throughout this detail-less furniture.
It felt good.
"Are you alright, Tom?" The figure asked, in an endearing manner while touching my hand to get my attention. I pulled back and was about to snap at the creature, but it had done me no wrong, even if it had kidnapped me essentially. I refrained, relaxed, and lied.
"Yeah, yeah I'm alright, just trying to digest all of this."
With a tinge of curiosity, I thought to bring back my stat sheet after closing it to talk to the thing. I don't know why, it's not like we can make eye contact. As I wished to see it, it appeared. I noticed at the bottom a section labeled 'Titles' and knew any stone left unturned right now might not be in my best interest.
"What exactly are Titles? Is the multiverse some sort of nobility based society? I mean, is there a King of Earth now or..?" I asked, though I wasn't really kidding. This fucker just gave my body real stats, and I could feel the difference swirling through the very white void we casually chatted in. Nothing's off the table right now, and I refuse to die to some ugly, half-baked humanoids lack of voluntary knowledge pertinent to my continued survival.
He already ruined my snack.
"It depends, truly it's outside your purview for the foreseeable future, but yes, to a degree. At least there will be. All factions have some formal form of hierarchy, but they're mostly composed of the strongest to weakest, depending on what they deemed as 'strength'." It replied with an answer that simply couldn't piss me off more. He essentially said, 'yes, kind of, except not at all sometimes, but there's order .'
No shit, I could've surmised that.
Although the idea of factions running the multiverse did have its fair share of implications, they were some that once again this shithead refrained from emphasizing. Real rat-like, and I'm not a fan.
I sighed in defeat. Sensing this anger would do me no good here, I knew I needed to just get over myself for a second. Just for one.
"Alright, so then what should I be worried about right now uh, mister..?"
I hadn't a clue what to call this fucking thing.
"Your guide. I'm your guide, Tom." It responded, smiling but, in an eerily firm tone.
"Ok, My 'guy-de', what's next?" I shot back with a sarcastic grin. The faceless guide didn't miss a beat, as if the pain of my terrible pun just twisted around its head.
"Now that you've seen your stats and understand how they work, it's time to select your class."