It's a nice day
A middle-aged man said to himself while sitting in his car parked on the side of the road. He then pulled a cigarette from his pocket and placed it in his mouth.
But I'm tired of this shit,
he muttered as he prepared to light the cigarette. With a match he had recently lit, he took a slight draw of smoke, the calmness of the moment shrouded by an undercurrent of tension.
Those guys should be out right about now,
he remarked, casting a calm look at the bank visible through the window.
Suddenly, a scream tore through the mellow atmosphere.
AHHHHH!
BANG BANG!
STAMP! SLAM!
The doors of the bank burst open as two masked men shot out, their faces obscured by black fabric. A shotgun strapped across their chests and large duffle bags slung over their shoulders.
Fucking hell,
one of the men yelled, sprinting towards the car.
The man in the car flicked his cigarette away and said,
Here we go.
With a gravelly voice, worn from years of smoking, he turned the key in the ignition and revved the engine, bracing himself for the chaos that was to ensue.
The two masked men slid into the backseat.
Hurry up, let's go! one of them bellowed urgently.
Pick up the pace before the bluebirds start to sing!
Fiddling with his fingers on the steering wheel, the driver said, Yeah, yeah, I heard you. He pulled the car into gear, swung the wheel, and floored it, swerving through traffic as if parting water, the men in the back being flung around as if they were leaves caught in a gust.
In no time, they found a moment of calm as they coiled underneath an old bridge.
Okay, end of the line. You know the deal. I help you get clear, and 20% is mine. Leave it in the back and get out, the driver asserted, his tone stern and detached.
The masked man directly behind him sighed. Yeah, you're right; here you go.
Then, with a sudden BANG!, a hole was blown through the back of the driver's head. Drops of blood cascaded down the windshield, the metallic scent filling the cramped space.
Cheeky bastard, said Jay, clicking his tongue.
I know we were gonna kill the guy anyway, but did you have to shoot him like that? Guynell said as he pulled off his mask. I kinda liked him; he had that cool old-timer vibe.
Welp, let's go. We got places to be, Jay mischievously laughed.
Yeah, we'd better get moving, Guynell agreed.
Outside the vehicle, somewhere in the chaotic aftermath, Guynell called out to Jay.
Jay lifted his head, a scowl across his face as he peered at Guynell. In the next moment, he felt the unforgiving cold metal of Guynell's gun at his chest.
BANG!
PLOP!
Jay's lifeless body crumpled to the ground, a puddle of blood surging around him.
Creepy motherfucker, Guynell muttered in disgust, staring at his old partner's corpse.
Repulsed, he leaned over to collect the bags Jay had been carrying.
SWISH, STAB.
With one last flicker of life, Jay swung his favorite knife, driving it clean through Guynell's neck.
I'm not dead yet, you dumb bitch! I was planning to kill you anyway. Makes life simple for me, and die, ya bastard!
The asshole is still alive; I really fucked up, Guynell thought as he drew his gun as fast as he could.
SHIT!
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Gunfire ripped through the air. Guynell emptied the magazine into Jay, ensuring he was dead for real this time.
JAAAAAAYYYY! Guynell screamed in frustration.
Caught in a struggle, he dropped the bag he was holding, clutching at his neck to halt the flow of blood. "D-diDie, gu- u- u-asshole," he choked out.
He poked Jay's corpse with the barrel of his gun, just to be sure the prick was still dead. Noticing the knife still clenched in Jay's hand, he flipped the gun onto his pinky finger and picked up Jay's blade—a karambit, beautifully crafted from damascus meteoric steel, its handle fashioned from the teeth of a megalodon shark, a jade serpent swirling around the letter "J."
Ha! Something to remember you by, Guynell taunted, spitting on Jay's corpse.
But his grip on the gun loosened as his life force began to ebb away.
THUMP!
He collapsed to his knees, one hand clutching at his neck, the other trembling on the ground for support.
Why is life so unfair? he pondered in despair.
People live, people die.
That's just how it is.
Then reality engulfed him, and he fell face-first to the ground, dead.
A robotic voice broke the stillness.
CATALYST LIFE FORCE IS 0%.
SYSTEM CRITERIA HAS BEEN MET.
SEARCHING FOR PARADIGM.
TAKING CATALYST'S LAST THOUGHT INTO CONSIDERATION.
SYSTEM NOTICE: HELL.
RESULTS: 3,984,609 ACTIVE PARADIGMS.
OPTIMAL PARADIGM FOR HOST SELECTED.
SKILL GENERATOR ACTIVE.
The skills deemed paramount for the Catalyst's survival were chosen.
A ringing filled the silence.
Ring, ring, ring…
What is this?
Ring. Where am I?
Wait, I feel like I'm sinking… What's happening?
RING!
The sound crescendoed into a blaring alarm, and then a blinding red light enveloped him.
Then, all at once, the world calmed, and the sensation of sinking morphed to warmth. He felt the sun on his skin and sand beneath him.
Am I lying in the sand? Wait, what?!
GASP! The small figure shot up, panic and clarity colliding. "I'm alive!"
His head jerked around, scanning his surroundings, hands running over his body to confirm it wasn't a dream.
Great, I'm fine, but where am I? Shouldn't I be under a bridge still bleeding out?
He touched his head and muttered, "Why do I have horns?"
As reality dawned, he noticed his new appearance. Shit, I'm blue—what the hell? I look like one of those guys from that movie… Avatar?
Cool!
But those horns and the tail… Okay, focus.
Taking a moment to breathe, he thought about his status.
Just then, a dark gray digital screen materialized before him, shimmering with crimson borders and golden text.
PING!
What the hell?! he exclaimed, leaping back and falling to the ground.
*Holy shit, * he said, scrambling to his feet and dusting off his pants.
What is this screen? It looks like a game character profile… But for it to appear like this? Impossible!
STATUS
NAME: Guynell
MONIKER:
AGE: 0 YEARS
RACE: SHADOW IMP
RANK: FAUSTER CLASS: PLACED
TRAIT: ???
SKILLS: FORGED REALITY
AUTHORITY: DARKNESS
STATS:
HP 100
MP >#(INT * CAP)
STR 10 CAP: 99
DEX 15
INT 5
AGI 20 EX VALUE: 999
PING! Another message flashed into view.
NOTICE!!! TUTORIAL WILL START IN 10 SECONDS.
What do you mean by tutorial?
Suddenly, another voice surged through his thoughts, robotic and sterile.
SYSTEM PROMPT!
YOU ARE ABOUT TO ENTER THE TRIAL OF THE ASCENSION.
NOTICE!
NO STATUS POINTS HAVE BEEN PLACED!
NOTICE! LOCATION HAS BEEN DESIGNATED. EQUIPMENT HAS NOT BEEN EQUIPPED.
CALCULATING CATALYST CHANCE OF SURVIVAL…
CATALYST HAS A HUNDRED PERCENT CHANCE OF FATALITY IF THE TUTORIAL EXCESS VALUE IS RUN.
PROMPT: BE SAFE AND TAKE COUNTERMEASURES!
As the final words echoed, a blue fluorescent barrier enveloped Guynell.
When it vanished, an influx of messages surged around him.
NOTICE! HOSTILE ENTITY HAS NOTICED YOU!
NOTICE! HOSTILE ENTITY HAS NOTICED YOU!
HIGHER LIFE FORMS HAVE NOTICED YOU!
SUPREME EXISTENCE HAS NOTICED YOU!
FLAME LORD HAS NOTICED YOU!
Panic ensued, his heart racing.
WSHUDUP? WHAT'S GOING ON?!
I'm being hunted?! Frantically glancing around, he felt an impending dread wash over him.
In the midst of his fear, a dark shadow crept into view, sending chills through him. He could almost taste the bloodlust.
what pressed upon him was the overwhelming dread felt when he was trapped underwater long ago.
What is this?
His instincts kicked in, and as he turned, his eyes widened at the sight before him—a monstrous wolf, towering five meters high, with obsidian scales and a fiery mane. It bore jaws slick with hot saliva, drenching the burnt earth beneath it.
In awe, he barely registered the system message that rang out.
FLAME LORD HAS FOUND YOU!
The beast unleashed a terrifying roar, striking fear into Guynell's very core.
Before he knew it, his world collapsed into darkness as the wolf clamped down on him, the upper half of his body torn away.