Save the Girl (and Get the World)

[TimBaril]

"I hate Truck-kun, and I hate the four wheels he rode on!"

The blazing sun overhead seemed to take up half the otherwise empty, pale blue sky, while golden orange sand dunes stretched to the horizon in all directions. I stood there, trembling with grief and shock in the hot, dry desert air, unable to believe this was happening to me. I had been murdered by an actual truck, just like in some cheap light novel, reincarnated into another world, and I didn't even get a t-shirt. Seriously. No underwear either. Unceremoniously dumped into a new world, in the middle of a vast desert of sand, and I was completely naked. I think it was pretty reasonable that I was also really upset. Dying sucked.

It was a day that had gone from bad to worse. I'd been born and raised in Vancouver, on Canada's wet west coast, a city on the shores of the mighty Fraser River and on the foothills of coastal, snow-capped mountains. It's a beautiful city with terrible traffic and wealth disparity spiralling out of control. I was of a generation that was never, ever going to own their own home because houses were only for the rich these days. I was not rich, and likely never would be. I worked as a line cook in one of the many bland chain restaurants that had driven out independent places many years ago. On the upside, it was a career that wasn't going to be replaced by artificial intelligence in the near future. On the downside, I barely got paid enough to survive and pay eye-gouging rent.

Earlier that day, I'd been called in by the head chef for a talking to. It was right at the end of shift. She pulled me aside, out of the kitchen, and into the office. Nancy was a nice woman, strict but fair. She was about five years younger than me. It had been a real wake-up moment the day I'd realized that my boss was someone younger and better than me. I was only in my thirties, and I'd had to face the truth that I'd somehow begun working in the kitchen as a job, a theoretically temporary position until I worked on finding a "proper" career.

But at some point, I'd never gone after anything "better", just let the years pass, drift by, and disappear faster than anyone could imagine when they're young. I'd never gone to university, never applied myself to going to culinary school, so that I could be a head chef. Waking up one day to find yourself answering to someone way younger had made me feel old and question what the hell I'd been doing with my life. Kinda sad, when you think about it, because there shouldn't be anything wrong with being a line cook or a server or dishwasher or anything else; they were jobs that needed doing. But they were jobs that paid little, and less every year, so a house was something I was only ever going to walk by and long for, never enjoy for myself.

Chef Nancy had been awkward when she'd first begun working at the restaurant. Telling the younger staff what to do had come naturally enough, but it had taken her months to gain enough confidence to command people older than her without looking sheepish about it or blushing. So as she had me in the office, easily a head shorter and half my weight as well as being years younger, there was a brief flash of uncertainty in her features, but she quickly tightened that up.

She spoke kindly but firmly while looking me in the eyes, "James, this isn't easy to say, but I need to give you a second warning."

I wilted and felt resigned. This wasn't a surprise. I even nodded at her.

She opened her mouth to speak, closed it, then seemed to say something else, "You know it's my job to make sure the kitchen is as efficient and productive as possible. If we have people making mistakes or taking too much time, it throws the whole rhythm of the kitchen off. Others can't do their jobs properly, and customers get their food late."

"I know. I'm making your job harder. I'm sorry."

"And if the kitchen has problems, if the customers aren't happy, then the restaurant makes less. This is a cutthroat business. We have to be doing our best all the time."

I nodded. I'd become the one feeling sheepish.

She licked her lips, glanced away, but took a breath and firmed up again. "I can't imagine what it's like to lose someone the way you have. Or how long it takes to get over it. I think I speak for all of us when I say, we're sympathetic. It's why we've all tried to be as understanding as we can be. Patient."

They had been. More than they should have needed to be. I mentally kicked myself for letting them down for so long.

"It's just…this can't go on forever. I'm sorry. I know you're still hurting, but we just can't keep covering for you anymore. I have a boss to answer to as well. I'm afraid that, if you can't pick things up right quick, we're going to have to let you go. I don't want to, and I'm sympathetic, I really am, but that's the position we're in."

"It's ok. I understand. I'm sorry."

She looked embarrassed again, perhaps because I wasn't putting up any fight. "You don't have to be sorry. Just…try to, you know, be your best. More like you were…before. I need you back, James. To the guy you used to be."

Be myself again after losing the love of my life? As if that were possible. But I nodded in acknowledgement and backed out of her office, both of us likely thankful the awkward moment was over. I shuffled to the locker room to change, embarrassed and guilty. A lot of the people working there were decent. I felt ashamed to be letting them down.

Someone slid into the locker room right behind me: Raj. He nudged my arm, then threw his own around my shoulders. "Hey, man."

"Hey, man." My spirits picked up a bit. Raj was a great guy and my closest work friend. We'd both been line cooks together for a long time. He was the only one in the restaurant who'd known Cerise and been friends with her too.

"I heard what Nancy said."

"Great."

"Come on, don't be like that. Nothing to be shy about. We all go through rough patches. But Nancy is right: it's time to pull yourself out of your funk, James."

"I…don't know how."

"You've been grieving for a long time. You spend most of your time alone. You and I have hardly hung these last two years."

"Sorry. I—"

He cut me off. "No, no. It's not me accusing you of anything bad, and you have nothing to be sorry for. I'm just saying, I miss my friend. You needed time to go through things after Cerise passed. Totally understandable. But you can't stay miserable forever. It's time to get out there and doing things again. Spend more time with mates, maybe start dating. You have to move on."

A bit of resentment got hold of me, despite his kindness. "I don't want to move on. I still love her."

"That's not what I mean. I don't mean move on and forget her. I mean, move on and keep living. Would she want to see you throw the rest of your life away by being sad all the time?"

"No." I sighed. "That wasn't her at all. She'd never want someone to suffer for her sake."

"You can't move on until you start moving on. I'm not saying you've done anything wrong. But sometimes you just have to take the next step, move forward, heal. Even if it means you carry some scars and memories, things that will stay with you and shape you forever, at least allow the open wound to close. You're a great guy, James. I know you're hurt, but you've still got love in you to give. And there are others out there who might want to love you too. Like Monique."

Monique was a very beautiful server in the restaurant. Fairly new. We'd talked a couple of times, and she'd seemed nice. But dating? "I…don't know if I'm ready." Honestly, I hadn't even thought of that kind of thing at all.

"You'll never know if you're ready for anything until you actually give it a chance."

I sighed again, slipped out of his arm and leaned my back against the lockers. "Merde. I'm sorry I've been such a bad friend the past couple of years. I've been letting you down too."

"No. It's what friends are for. But there was a time to just stand by your side and let you process, and now there's a time to give you the kick in the backside you need. Yeah? Tough love." He smiled to take the sting out of the words.

I chuckled. "Yeah, you're right. I'll think about it. For real. I promise." I knew he was right, intellectually, even if I wasn't sure I really had the will to actually move forward. What was the point if Cerise wasn't there to move forward with?

Raj clapped me on the shoulder. "Good. Monique is beautiful, fun, and a breath of fresh air. If you don't get on that, you're gonna lose out on someone else who's special. And they don't come along every day." He mockingly acted disgusted. "I don't know why so many amazing women are into you."

I waved the idea away. "You don't know she's into me."

"I do. She hinted it to Sandy, and Sandy told me. Sandy tells me everything." He waggled his brows.

I snorted with amusement.

"You might win the lottery twice if you can bring yourself to go buy that ticket. You're a good person. You deserve to have someone love you again. And someone else would be lucky to have you love them back. Doesn't mean you love Cerise any less. Just means there's more love to go around, and it's time you started living your best life again."

I turned to open my locker and began to change. "Thanks. I'll, yeah, I'll give it some thought. Tonight. Promise."

I left the restaurant just after 2 AM, walking the eight blocks home, still embarrassed and guilty, but thanks to Raj, not as down as I might have been. It's crazy how important friends are. Him and a couple of other friends, the patience of coworkers, and the support of my parents, they were a big part of how I'd even survived the past two years without Cerise. But that's all I'd been doing: surviving. Barely. I'd never had the will to do more.

But Raj was right: Cerise wouldn't want me moping over her forever. I knew I'd never stop loving her or missing her. But I owed it to the others in my life to pick myself up again. They'd been supportive when I needed it the most. It was time to try harder. Not just for my sake, but for theirs too.

It was as dark as night ever gets in the city with all those streetlights and building lights on. Even at 2 AM, there were people on the roads. Which is why I didn't really pay attention to the lights coming at me as I strode across the crosswalk during a red light. I assumed they'd stop.

But the lights kept coming, growing larger. An engine gunned.

I finally broke out of my thoughts and looked over to my right. A silver and red box truck was roaring down the street, coming right at me, headlights blinding me, the driver not slowing in the slightest despite the red light and the fact that I was in the middle of the crosswalk. In fact, from the sound of the engine gunning in that last moment, the truck had sped up!

There'd been a moment of terrible pain, gut-wrenching regret, and panic at what I'd be leaving behind.

The next minute, I was in an endless desert, with sand dunes, clear blue skies, and a sun that wanted to murder me all over again. The only saving grace was that I was at a round oasis about the size of an Olympic swimming pool, with a small ring of dark greenery around it: grass, palms, some bushes. Paradise right? No. There was nothing to eat and nobody around.

I…did not handle the transition well. Dying was very difficult to process.

I spent the first two days in shock, loss, and anger, impatiently waiting for help to arrive. Since I was awake and aware, and there were no angels or demons, this didn't seem like some heaven or hell type place; I didn't think this was some afterlife. I assumed that it was some kind of isekai thing happening, but if it was, it sucked. No sexy goddess descending from the heavens with an apology and gifts to compensate for screwing up. No OP skills. No stats page. I'd just been abandoned, naked, at an oasis in a vast, empty desert with nothing but sun, sand, and tiny insects biting my most delicate bits whenever I sat down. Because I was naked.

I threw a tantrum, kicking a lump of garbage someone had left there, kicking golden sand, and stomping on clumps of emerald-green grass. Assuming some kind of omnipotent god was responsible, I shouted up at the clear, light-blue sky, "If I ever find out who's done this to me, I am gonna kick the deity right out of them!"

I quickly sunburned. Boiled lobsters looked less red than I did, everywhere. It was all I could do to try to find a shred of shade under the thin palms and follow it all day as the sun moved through the sky. But palm trees don't cast a lot of shade. I was starving, too. But that didn't matter because I was pretty sure the thirst was gonna kill me first. Going days without liquids, in that heat, on top of my trauma at being sent there, was causing me to spiral into despondency.

The only water was in the oasis. It was super clear, but everyone knows you don't drink unfiltered, wild water because you can get really sick. Animals and insects use it, leaving behind all kinds of bacteria and viruses. So I avoided it, hoping I might figure something else out.

So I sat in partial shade, burning to a crisp while I stared at a pool full of water I couldn't drink, muttering, "Thanks, system or god or aliens who did this to me. Really helpful. Go fuck yourselves."

That night, my body screaming out for food and water, tired and miserably burned, my mood sank lower and lower. I didn't how I'd gotten there or why, but as I sat and shivered in the cool night air, it was very tempting to just say screw it and give up. It had been all I could do just to wake up every day and go through the motions back home. But to now face this?

Why try?

When the next day dawned, I woke with the sun, because it was instantly bright and hot everywhere. I hadn't figured out what to do about the water situation. No help had come along, no travellers had arrived. I looked in all directions, but it was nothing but sand dunes as far as I could see. I had two choices: drink the oasis water to survive, or walk out into the sand and sun and say goodbye to it all.

Whether it was because of Raj's earlier pep talk or just fear of death, something in me wasn't ready to give up yet. So, I did it. I knelt at the edge of the oasis pool with my knees in the warm water. I stared at the liquid with longing and dread. "It's been four days, Waterholics Anonymous, since my last drink, and if I don't drink something, anything, I'm a dead man." I plunged in and drank the water. I couldn't help it. I was too thirsty.

I guzzled about three litres before I noticed the corpse rotting under the water.

Staring right up at me.

"Gah!" I leapt backwards and fell on my ass.

It scared the stuffing out of me. You never, ever want to look down into a pool of water and see anyone or anything staring back at you. It's just wrong. Terrifying.

I later spent two hours reaping the consequences of drinking bad water. It was polluted. "Because F my life, right? I deserve this." It started with cramps. Nothing too serious. Then it worked its way through me with dramatic speed. I barely got a hole dug in the sand outside the oasis in time.

By day five, I was running on fumes. I was starving so badly that I became lightheaded. I remained dehydrated. The dry air of the desert just yanked water from my body without asking because it did not care at all about consent. I knew I shouldn't drink more of the water because some dead thing was lying at the bottom of the pool. But I needed to hydrate, so I drank it again, even knowing what would happen.

I spent the afternoon ensconced over a fresh hole in the sand, not feeling well at all.

In fact, I spent so much time out in the open desert, away from the shade, burning while squatting over my little latrine holes, that I dragged a few ratty old palm fronds out there to make an umbrella-type enclosure as shelter from the sun. I stood in the super-hot sand, looking down at it, oddly proud. "I have been sent to a new world, and the first thing I did was build a toilet. Behold, my grand empire. Gaze upon my works, ye mighty, and despair." I sighed and returned to the oasis, where it wouldn't feel like I was walking on a stove top. I needed to make sandals.

I wished I could boil the water to kill the bacteria in it, but there were only a couple of dozen palm trees and some bushes around for fuel. Without the shade, I'd fry to death in the blazing sun since there wasn't a cloud in the sky, ever. Not that I had any idea of how to make fire without matches or a lighter. No one born after 1990 had any sort of bush or camping skills that worked in real life.

An idea hit me. I figured I'd try to filter the water. There was all that sand, right? I made a cylinder out of rocks and dead palm trunks, about a meter tall. I filled it with sand and poured the water through, catching it with a fallen palm frond at the bottom. Of course, the water was brown and muddy, but…it seemed to work. A little. The gritty sand didn't taste so bad. I went to the sand toilet somewhat less.

I spotted some kind of coconut or breadfruit thing hanging from some of the palms, each about the size of a 10-pin bowling ball. They were purple and hairy, like diseased rambutan. A few rotted ones were on the ground. They made durian smell like the world's best perfume. It was a bit like the worst smelly feet with an undertone of holy hell, this is stupidly disgusting!

But one fell out of a tree on day six. I had been desperate for food for a long time. I spent probably an hour trying to crack the stupid thing open on a rock. Finally did it. Inside was really gorgeous, pink and blue flesh with little black seeds like in a dragonfruit. I ate some.

Flaming diarrhea. It burned coming out.

I sighed in my new deluxe sand toilet, then moaned, "Fuck my life."

The next day, I learned that there were scorpions in the desert. They were the size of chihuahuas. Their crab claws were as big as a child's hands. Whenever they closed, it sounded like a pair of scissors snipping shut. That made my skin crawl.

Soon enough, I could tell that this really was some crazy fantasy or sci-fi world for sure. The lapdog-sized scorpions fired little lightning bolts out of their stingers with a crackling zap. And they really stung!

I did three laps around the oasis before the first one gave up chasing me. I was still naked, so I was flapping in the wind the whole time. Ever try sprinting in sand with a sunburned penis? Awesome good time. I prayed that whatever god had brought me there would get to experience the same.

Eventually, I escaped the scorpion. It wouldn't come into the water to get me, thank cheeses sliced. So there I was, starved, thirsty, and treading water. I looked down.

I could see the corpse under me. It was still staring with sightless eyes.

Good times.

The next day, I laboriously hauled the decomposing body out of my only water source. Probably should have done that earlier. I barely had the strength to do it. It took ages to dive down and pull it out. To my surprise, but not really, the dead person wasn't human. That made sense since I wasn't on Earth anymore, or so I definitely reasoned. It was a lizard person dressed in loose, dirty white robes like one of those desert people back home, bedwetters or bedwins or something, I couldn't recall their name. The robes made the dead guy heavy as heck with all that wet cloth, so I had to strip the corpse under water before I could even drag it up the bank.

He had no pockets and nothing on him except a ring. It was a fairly simple, silvery band with squiggly Arabic and Sanskrit-style symbols. When I went to pull it off his finger, it came off with a wet squelch and lots of gooey, decomposed flesh. The guy was mush, so he must have been down there a while. I washed the gunk off. Holding the ring up in the sunlight, I studied it.

I'd had enough experience with fantasy books and games to know you never, ever put on random jewelry you find somewhere because it could be cursed. On the other hand…it was unlikely the ring had led to the guy's death. I hadn't seen blood on the clothes, so I didn't know how he'd died. But he'd been wearing the ring, so maybe it was safe. Perhaps I was feeling a little reckless. I agonized for a whole minute or two before finally slipping the ring onto the middle finger of my right hand. I still had my wedding ring on my left.

As the metal slipped into place, much too large for me, my nerves were on edge. I released the ring, tense and waiting for something bad to happen. A second passed. Another. I let out a breath, relaxing. Too bad the ring was too large. I liked the writing style; it was neat. I reached to pull it off, thinking maybe I could hang it around me neck or something.

The ring trembled.

I froze.

The ring trembled more. Then it shrank fast around my finger with a pinch.

"Ow!" Panicking that the thing really was cursed after all, I tugged on it hard, trying to get it off. But it wouldn't budge, wouldn't move in the slightest. A sick feeling of dread took hold of me too. I stopped tugging and looked at the ring.

The symbols or writing glowed with an eerie red light.

"Aw crap. It's so cursed." I tried again to yank it off and failed, feeling extra stupid.

One symbol glowed white, and for a second, I thought, Oh, cool. Nice colour combination. Then white light shot out of the ring, and I may have screamed like a little girl in fright.

Luckily, nothing harmed me. A translucent white square appeared in the air over the ring like a hologram. A drawing of a fancy hourglass appeared with sand running through it. It didn't last long before the sand ran out and the hourglass faded. A single word appeared in white:

WELCOME

It faded, replaced with a word written in dark blood red:

FIGHT!

Then the words and holo screen faded back into the ring like nothing super weird and curse-like had happened at all. I felt sick to my stomach because I'd done something foolish. I tried even harder to pull the damn thing off my finger and get increasingly worried when it wouldn't come off. I resolved to never, ever put on unidentified magical items ever again.

What was this thing? The screen and words seemed like advanced tech, but could have just as easily been magic. It had told me to fight.

My head snapped up and I looked in all directions, worried that something was coming at me, that a fight was about to start. But there was nothing but the oasis and the desert. All was quiet. Frowning at the ring, I wondered if it had been some kind of general instruction or just cheering me on, like keep fighting the good fight. From the form and the words, the ring might be some kind of computer device or data terminal. Could be a communications device. I had no idea. I tried touching all the symbols, but nothing activated.

I tried speaking, "Hello, computer. Wake up. Screen on. On screen. Beam me up, Scotty." Nothing had any effect. I stared at the ring. "Great. Well, that's mysterious. I'm sure nothing bad will come of this at all." With nothing seeming to be done about the situation, I resolved to move on.

I was still standing over the dead lizard guy, and he was starting to melt in the heat. Extremely hungry still, I gave some serious thought to eating the guy. But the body was pretty rotten. So I decided to bury him out in the sand beyond the trees, away from my latrines. That took another age. It didn't help that one of those annoying little electric scorpions popped out of the sand to chase me. If only I'd had the strength to throw the corpse at it.

Good news, though. I now had clothes. They were the clothes of a dead lizard person who'd been rotting under water for who knew how long. And that's exactly what they smelled like.

I managed to make it to another bright dawn in the desert. Somehow, despite how sick they both made me, I was surviving on polluted water and poisonous fruit that smelled worse than I did. Maybe eating only a handful meant it harmed me less. The water filter seemed to be working a bit too. I only spent half the day squirting liquids in agony. But I remained in bad shape, still starving, thirsty, and dizzy at the slightest movement. My whole body was in pain from the nasty sunburn, my skin was tight, and every movement was misery. I would have been constantly crying tears if I'd had any water in my system to spare.

Sand is about as pleasant a replacement for toilet paper as you'd expect. Got a bit raw down there.

But even more good news arrived!

The palm trees were home to killer tarantula-style spiders the size of my hand, NOT including their legs. Because giant scorpions weren't enough of a challenge. Why not include something that suddenly drops out of the palm tree you were sitting under, wraps its hairy legs around your entire head and then proceeds to bite the back of your skull over and over? I managed to rip the infuriating thing off, which wasn't easy because of course its legs have talons, and then I threw it on the ground as hard as I could, which did nothing and tried to stomp the assassin bug to death only for it crawl up under my brand new robes, which did not include underwear, and it took another bite out of some really soft places.

I finally killed the thing, but was bleeding from places I'd really rather not be. Not to mention the wounds all over my head. I washed them in water that a guy had died in and rotted in. Super clean. I couldn't wait to see what kind of horrible infection that led to.

This world sucked.

I didn't have to wait long. By the next day, the wounds were very itchy.

My sunburns hurt like hell on fire. I wondered how the desert creatures survived and realized that they hid under the sand. The scorpion had been hiding that way before I had come along. So I buried myself as well under some wet sand to get away from the sun. It was much cooler, and I felt like an idiot for not doing it days earlier. Feeling stupid was becoming a dangerous habit.

There were no spiders that day. But I still considered burning down all the trees just in case there were more, even if it meant losing all my shade and food sources. Because screw spiders with a leg span like an umbrella.

That evening, I saw a scorpion watching me from across the oasis. Just eyeballing the hell out of me with its dozen eyes glinting in the setting sun with promises of murder. Because that's not creepy as can be, right?

I barely got any sleep that night because of that electric demon. Scorpions are nocturnal. I kept waking up, afraid it was stalking me. I huddled in my hole in the ground, hoping to avoid it. And any friends. The exhaustion and pain seemed never-ending. I was so tired of this trial.

Day eleven turned out to be a day of glory and death! Not my death, though.

I shouted up at the sky in triumph, "Muahahaha! Suck it, isekai world!"

I'd wondered if the dead guy had had anything else on him, so I'd taken a dive in the oasis. Rooting around in the mud at the bottom, I'd come up with a spear. A freakin' spear, baby! It was nothing special, just a plain wooden shaft and triangular bronze head about the length of my forearm, probably cheap army issue or something.

Guess who took that spear and showed that lightning-throwing scorpion from hell who's the boss? Hint: it wasn't Tony Danza. Guess who danced all around the oasis like a lunatic, making all kinds of noise, taunting it until it came up out of the sand in an explosion of rage and lightning, expecting to kill my sorry ass only to get a face full of sharp bronze? Guess who stabbed it in the face until it had no face?

I screamed at it, which was probably reasonable given my unhealthy emotional state at the time, "Stupid, faceless, lightning bitch who kept shooting lighting bolts in my ass. Yeah, that's who's dead. BECAUSE FUCK YOU!!!" Catharsis takes many forms. Not all are pretty.

But wait. It got better.

We've all seen pics of people eating weird stuff. We've all laughed at the idea of eating a scorpion. Well, I finally did it.

There was a big, flat black rock on the edge of the oasis that sat in the sun all day long. It got super hot. If you splashed some water on it, it hissed and popped like a frying pan.

I cut the stinger off the scorpion. I didn't think it was poisonous because the stinger wasn't actually a barb, just a tiny quartz-like crystal, but why chance it? I tried to clean it; took some guts out. I had no idea what was edible. But I was so hungry, I'd eat just about anything. I fried the scorpion on the black rock for a good long while until that thing turned black too. I'd rather eat charcoal than get yet another bacterial infection. Not like I'd had enough of those, right?

I sat and bit into the crunchy specimen. It tasted like half-burnt seafood chicken. Yep, really disgusting.

I sighed. "I miss my wife's cooking."

I woke up with severe cramps in the middle of the night. Explosive conclusion to the scorpion saga.

The next day, a growing stench drifted on the wind. The patch of desert I'd been fertilizing was really starting to smell. "I hope that isn't going to attract any nasty monsters or something. Doom flag. Because I hate myself." I decided to start digging latrines a little deeper from then on.

Then, the impossible happened.

The scorpions couldn't bury themselves in the oasis because there was too much grass, palm tree roots, and such. They hid in the loose sand of the desert beyond. Mostly. Some seemed to come in and try to find shady places under the bushes. Wanting to keep the nasty things out of my home, I patrolled the oasis and killed a scorpion I found trying to hide in the shade of a large clump of tall grass that was providing a pool of shade. My trusty new spear made quick work of the thing.

Then the cursed ring on my finger flashed a few times, then glowed red.

I looked down at it in worry.

The white holo screen appeared above the ring. A single number was written:

1

It was written in blood red. That boded well. The number slid up, and stats appeared:

• Strength 12
• Speed 14
• Health 15
• Mana 8
• Endurance 5

Levelling. I couldn't believe it. The world actually had a video game system. Or the ring did. I'd levelled up. My first thought was — awesome! That excitement rapidly faded to worry.

This surely raised a whole slew of problems. Like disparity from unfair levels, abilities, and powers. As if capitalism hadn't been bad enough back on Earth, now imagine evil dictators also had super high power levels, and selfish billionaires possessed OP skills.

Tyrants probably ran wild in this world. Murder-hobos everywhere. You couldn't tell me that if you gave people super strength and speed and crazy magic skills, a bunch of them wouldn't abuse the hell out of it all the time for personal gain. It was probably pure chaos out there. Assuming there were other people out there. It was entirely possible that I had been sent to a barren planet with nothing but electric scorpions and assassin spiders.

Then, I recalled the lizard guy. I guessed there were people. Couldn't wait to get my ass handed to me by some pissant narcissist with a temper and higher levels. Yay.

I also got a skill: [Lesser Resistance: Disease].

That…was pretty cool, actually.

The next day, my wounds hurt. A bunch began leaking dark yellow pus from my head, face, neck, and yeah, more tender places. All were definitely infected. If the skill I'd gained was doing anything, I couldn't tell. I had a runny nose and aching muscles, so I probably had a fever. It was fine, though. I'd just pop over to the hospital and then the pharmacy, all handily provided by a wonderful universal health care system. Some antibiotics would clear things right up.

Oh, wait. I couldn't.

Because I'd been bloody isekaied, if that was even a word.

I was so sick of the situation. It wasn't fair. Why was life so often so unfair? I'd just gotten to the point of thinking about trying to heal and move forward after losing the love of my life, and then this happened. Taken away from everything and everyone else. The friends and family who'd supported me, the life I'd had. Gone. All of it. Just so I could be tortured in some desert until I starved to death.

The fever got worse. The next day, I could barely do anything all day. I just hid in the damp sand hole, in the shade of the palm fronds, willing myself to get better while my mind wandered.

Thanks to the fever, I began hallucinating or remembering:

Cerise and I argued today. I don't even know why. Stupid stuff. And…hell, I know it's my fault. I just couldn't stop myself. She's so beautiful and wonderful, the light of my world, and I hate looking bad in her eyes. So I tried to defend myself, argue out of it, even blamed her at one point for something not even true.

I'm so ashamed of myself. I love her so much. Why can't I just be honest with myself? With her? Admit when I screw up? I'm so scared to apologize, even though I know I should, that it's the right thing to do.

I don't deserve her love. Never have. But seeing the look on her face and the pain I've caused, I've never felt so worthless. I need to be better. For her. Or my love is a lie.

That night, another scorpion found me. It crawled by, seemingly unaware of me entirely until I saw it, flinched from within the hideout, and the palm fronds over my head rustled. I barely had the strength to kill it. Got a fresh electric burn on top of the sunburns. Awesome.

I stared at the dead bug long after it had died. Eventually, I just shook my head and flicked the dead thing away with my spear in disgust. Then I decided I was just gonna stay in that damp hole I'd dug, buried in sand, palm fronds over my head, until I felt better. I was too weak from the fever to eat or drink anything.

I was definitely dying. I wasn't sure I cared anymore.

A thought slipped into my syrupy brain at some point, and I darkly chuckled to myself. "Heh. I'm already buried. If I die, I'll have dug my own grave. Literally."

The fever grew worse. I started talking to the air:

"There were potatoes on the barbecue. I asked because Sasquatch said so."

"Do you feel like Marly isn't always bright red?"

"I hate Mondays. No, seriously, potatoes."

"I'm falling! I'm done now. Holy crap, that was scary."

"We need to seriously consider better security, or all the Batmans are gonna steal the potatoes. All the Batmans."

At one point, it seemed like a really smart idea to lick the pus.

I licked the pus.

The pus was gross.

Something foul began stinking up the hidey hole. I pinched my nose, grossed out. "Did someone mess themselves?"

I looked down. "Oh, that would be me. Heeheeheehee."

Lost, my mind scattered all over the place, I drifted back in time. In a way, I was lucky because I recalled one of the best moments of my life in shocking detail:

Cerise, I love you so much. I'm sorry I'm not good with words. I wish I was, like, a poet or something. I wish I could share just…how big this feeling is. It's like my chest is going to explode and swallow me whole. Ok, that's stupid, but I made you laugh, so that's a win, right?

You're the most beautiful woman in the world. You're fun and kind. So patient. Wise. I've never respected anyone so much.

I never knew happiness, real happiness, until I met you. Every day feels more fun now. Even when you're not by my side, I'm thinking about you. All the time. The world literally feels more colourful. You make me more positive. More hopeful about the future. Thank you for that. You'll never know how grateful I am.

I don't know why you're marrying a lump like me, but I swear, I will always love you and honour you, and do everything I can to make your dreams come true.

My wedding vows. We'd kissed after, and I'd cried. I remembered that, and for once, I hadn't cared if anyone had seen me because she'd been grinning and crying too, and I'd been so stupidly happy. The honeymoon sex had been like starlight cocaine on steroids.

I woke up in the cooling desert evening, sweating like a pig and stewing in filth. It was hard to think straight. Everything hurt. My stomach felt like it was gnawing away at me from the inside. I was thirsty, dizzy, and light-headed. I was pretty sure I'd been out of it for a while because of the fever, but I didn't know for how long. Had it been hours or days?

I weakly crawled out of the hole and drank from the edge of the pool. I just lay on my stomach, face in the water, making a bit of effort not to drown but also not entirely caring if I did. I knew I had to drink slowly or I'd probably vomit it back up. Not that it would matter because I'd just be on the sand toilet again later. Yay.

What was I even fighting for?

My whole body was in pain. I was exhausted. On an intellectual level, I knew this is when we're at our worst and we think our darkest thoughts. But at that moment, I thought about just letting myself fall into the pool. Killing myself. Maybe that's what had happened to lizard dude. Emotionally, the lure was strong.

But then I thought about what Cerise would think of that if she were looking down on me. Of me giving up like that. She'd be so disappointed in me. What kind of way is that to repay her love and faith in me? I hated myself for even thinking of suicide. I hated being weak.

I dug a fresh hole on the edge of the water. It took forever because I was so feeble from the fever. I crawled inside with my spear and pulled the palm frond over my head again. At least if the infection and fever killed me, it wouldn't be my fault. I drifted off again, into dreams or sleep, I wasn't sure.

Another scorpion woke me in the middle of the night. It heard me or saw me move. Scorpions seemed really alert to movement or vibrations. Lightning bolt to my face. I stabbed once, missed. Lightning bolt to the shoulder. Could barely see anything, even with the blanket of stars overhead. No moon that night. Just kept stabbing with the spear, feeling weak. Eventually, I got it.

I must have collapsed and gone back to sleep for a while. Woke up with the sun up. The dead scorpion was looking iffy, but I took it over to the cooking rock and baked it or fried it or whatever. Ate it. My head was so foggy that I couldn't really think straight. I cooked some of the stinky fruit too. Pretty sure it had gone bad, but I was beyond caring. I think cooking it or maybe letting it rot weakened the poison because it hurt less going through me later.

Food gave me enough energy to filter some water. I did that a couple of times before I was just too tired to move anymore. I crawled back into the dirty hole I'd been in, still sick as could be. This world sucked.

At some point, I started singing,

Jingle Bells,

Batman smells,

Robin laid a potato.

Catwoman hissed

Ivy and Harley kissed

And Joker needs more ammo

Potato!

I woke up late one morning. I felt absolutely spent, and my limbs were like jelly. I was like a half-dead kitten that had been stepped on. But the ache in my muscles was gone. My head felt clearer. The fever had passed.

[Lesser Resistance: Disease] had probably saved my life. Maybe having system skills wasn't so bad.

 

[TimBaril]

When I crawled out of my hole, the ring lit up, and the holo-screen appeared. I was level 2. My health stat had gone up. I felt better. Relatively.

My full-body sunburn was peeling, and the electric burns stung. The sores were still leaking pus and stank, so I forced myself to open them up and clean them out with sand and water. I cooked wet sand on the hot rock to hopefully disinfect it first. I thought that passing out from pain only happened in the movies. Turned out, it was a real thing. Hooray for new experiences.

I glanced up at the sky. "Wow, whoever put me in this position, if you're listening, I'm so grateful. You should come on down so I can thank you. Permanently. With my spear up your ass."

Hungry, I went hunting. I managed to bag another scorpion and cooked it before the sun went down. The next day, I would try to get another stinky fruit down from a palm. Without getting a face full of assassin tarantula. Or more flaming diarrhea. Hopefully. But too tired to do more for now, I went to bed again.

Alone in the desert with nothing but the stars, it was very peaceful. This was more nature than I'd had in a long time. I'd been there a while, and I was still alive. I hadn't given up. No matter how much it hurt, I hadn't given up. I would be someone Cerise would have been proud of. It had been a while since I'd been someone to be proud of, but I was finally doing it.

The next day, I felt more hopeful. Now that the fever was behind me, and with Cerise on my mind, I took stock of the oasis, trying to be more proactive about surviving instead of just wallowing and reacting to things in a bad way like a child. It was time to take charge of my life and move forward.

Since the water in the oasis never went down despite evaporation, I guessed it was a spring, the water constantly coming up from underground. So I had unlimited water. Even if it gave me the shits. I had a very limited supply of partially poisonous fruit which gave me the flaming shits. And scorpions which gave me explosive shits.

It was a really shitty oasis.

The limited food wouldn't last forever. Assuming the dysentery, the heat, the deadly monsters, or depression didn't kill me, I was going to have to find a more permanent food source. I hadn't looked beyond the immediate surroundings, hadn't gone more than ten paces past the trees and greenery of the oasis. It looked like the endless Sahara out there, just golden sand as far as I could see. But I needed to explore. Maybe there was a road nearby. Maybe the desert wasn't as empty as it looked. Maybe, just over the horizon, was a fabulous city of gold filled with generous genies with huge boobs and Vegas-style buffets.

No. Turned out, I was the buffet.

I went exploring in the dunes. Those scorpions were everywhere. They must have been active during the night because during the day, they were lying in wait under the sand, tail poised to strike, lashing out with lightning at any tremor. Then they would burst out from under the sand, claws snipping and snapping, trying to cut your toes off.

After that happened three times, I started sweeping the ground around me with the spear whenever I moved. I covered about a quarter of a circle going around the oasis, staying fairly close. By the end of the day, I'd killed seven of the critters. Made me wonder.

If there were that many chihuahua-sized scorpions around, what were they all eating?

I knew what I was eating.

Fried scorpion. And lots of it.

That night, I stayed up late. The stars were gorgeous. There wasn't even the faintest hint of artificial light in any direction, which made me think there were no urban centers anywhere close. Which meant I was probably in the middle of nowhere, which tracked for my situation so far. If I'd had a Luck stat, it would be -5.

I tried to take a few hours, just staring up at the sparkles in the sky, trying to appreciate it and let go of some of the anger that seemed to be my primary emotion since I'd arrived. I didn't like being angry, didn't want to be. I wanted to be happy.

I used to be happy all the time. When I'd been married to Cerise. Before she'd died.

It was easy to look up at that endless expanse and feel tiny or even insignificant. The galaxy was a sight that had been so normal for millions of years on Earth, but had become so rare. Maybe this world hadn't suffered capitalist-industrial selfishness to the same degree. Yet, anyway.

Being up late let me see how the desert came alive after dark. Like a…metaphor of some kind.

All kinds of insects appeared. Where they had been hiding during the day, I had no idea. I saw rodents skittering and jumping. Huge gray moths fluttering by. The meter-wide tarantulas descended from the trees to hunt. Looked like they hid under palm fronds during the day and murdered things at night. They seem to be arch enemies of the scorpions. The two appeared to engage in some never-ending blood feud once the sun went down, eating each other. And their own kind. Out on the sands, it was an all-out war.

I hunkered down in the oasis pool, water up to my shoulders, a good three paces away from the shore, avoiding the fuck out of that horrifying nonsense.

The next morning, I was dining on blackened scorpion when movement in the sky caught my attention. I looked up and saw a very large vulture circling right above me. A vulture. Scavenger. They eat the dying and dead.

I tried not to take it personally.

But it probably knew better than I did, and I was probably doomed.

Eventually, the vulture must have had enough of circling overhead. It decided to land on the other side of the oasis. It just sat there on a dusty beige boulder, staring at me the same way that evil scorpion had earlier. I'd have gone over and shown it who's boss, but the bird was about as tall as I was. Its claws left scratches on the stone. That great, hooked beak could probably tear my throat out.

So, the vulture, that's who was boss.

Got me lickin' my lips and thinking of fried chicken though.

I tried to kick that idea out of my head. I was way too weak to fight a bird as big as I was. It was a little wary but obviously not scared of me from the way its eyes just bored into me all day. The second I got injured or sick again, that thing was going to bury its face in my guts and eat them while I was still breathing. Probably peck my eyes out like picking cherries off a cake.

I tried to ignore it and spent the day circling the oasis again, palm fronds for a parasol, breadfruit husks for shoes because the sand was so hot, and my spear leading the way. The scorpions I uncovered slowed things down, but they were also going to be a steady food supply. And I didn't hate the idea of there being fewer deadly creatures around. I'd been lucky as luck could be that nothing had killed me while I'd slept. So far.

Out in the desert, I came across a rocky outcropping poking out of the sand, just out of sight of the oasis. It wasn't large, maybe the size of a fridge. The yellowish rock looked crumbly and fragile. I approached, slowly feeling my way with the spear. Scorpions jumped out of the sand in numbers the closer I got to the outcrop. Weirdly, as my spear poked through the desert sand, it also kept turning over detached claws, scorpion legs, and other body parts. I felt like I was traipsing through some kind of insect graveyard.

I kept going, curious about the outcropping. I figured it was probably nothing, but it was the only feature I'd come across so far, so I wanted to see it up close.

With the angle of the sun that morning, the craggy rock jutting out of the sand cast a shadow in my direction. I looked forward to some respite from the blazing sun. It was brutal. It would have been nice to do the exploring in the dark of night, but after seeing how the desert came alive under the stars, the sun might have been the lesser evil. At least I had clothes now. They were nasty against my sunburned skin, but would prevent further burns. And cancer. Just my luck, I'd get super skin cancer out here.

Would [Lesser Resistance: Disease] help with that? Dude, I sure hoped so.

Feet sliding through the superhot sand, clumsily protected by the breadfruit husks, I probed the edge of the shadows.

Sand exploded in all directions, not once, but twice, as the first buried scorpion triggered another right next to it.

I dropped the palm-frond parasol so I could get both hands on the spear. Sunlight flashed off the bronze spearhead as I stabbed at both creatures. Luckily, they were as distracted by each other as they were by me. No loyalty for their own species, they snapped one claw at their brethren while they skittered forward to attack me at the same time. I hastily backstepped as I fought them off. I should have looked where I was going.

A burst of sand sprayed me from behind. Another scorpion appeared at my heels while I backpeddled, so close that I stumbled overtop of it before I could stop myself.

A little lightning bolt hit me in the balls.

Screaming in pain, I rage-stomped the scorpion several times, cutting my feet, then jabbed the spear into the nearest attacking scorpion, nailing it right through the back.

The third critter curled its tail. Light flashed.

It hit me right between the eyes. Hate filled my soul.

Screaming, I clutched my face with one hand, blinded and stumbling about. With my free arm, I slashed in all directions, feeling the spear tip hit the scorpion and knock it about, but knowing I probably hadn't hurt it much.

Without realizing it, I wandered closer and closer to the rocks. I stepped into the shadow. Something below crunched like breaking celery.

My foot sank calf-deep into the sand, causing me to lurch. I felt the sand rapidly slipping away, slipping down into the ground, draining. Had I stepped in quicksand or something? Furiously blinking my teary eyes, I tried to see what was going on while also pulling myself out of there.

But it was no use. There was more crunching. The ground was sinking faster than I could escape.

Then a hole opened up underneath me. I sank into a pit deeper than I was tall. It was completely in shadow, some kind of hollow space under the sand, like there had been a bubble there, and I'd popped it from above.

Panting, I stood there as the sand around me slowed to a trickle. I stood in a pile of sand, shards of what looked like dirty, broken glass, and a dozen half-buried lightning scorpions that had been buried under the surface of the sand in the shadow of the rock until I'd disturbed them all. My stomach turned ice-cold. I swallowed and tightened my grip on the spear.

Then I blinked and wiped away a few more muddy tears from my burning eyes.

There was a cave before me in the newly exposed rock that had been hidden until now. The outcrop above had been nothing but the tip of the stone iceberg.

From inside the dark cave, a metric ton of shiny little eyes stared back at me.

My hand tightened around the spear until my knuckles were white. "So, I guess this is where all you little bastards are coming from, huh?"

The scorpions in the sand and cave came at me en masse.

Adrenaline hit me. Lots of panic, too. I wildly slashed and jabbed every which way. Scorpions big and small, from the size of mice to the size of cats, scampered over the sand, claws snapping and tearing chunks out of my legs. They climbed up my white robe and tried to swarm me. Lightning hit me from all angles, so much that it didn't just sting something fierce, it left me paralyzed for seconds at a time, flopping around like a dying fish.

It would have been over in a minute or two, but the sudden swarm turned on itself as well as me, becoming a frenzy of all-out destruction. Because scorpions are highly individual predators, always ready to destroy their own. Like corporate executives.

I screamed until I no longer had breath to do so, all my energy devoted to killing the little monsters while trying to back away. One died. Then another. Scorpion guts began flying, almost as much as I was shedding blood. I speared two more, my lungs rasping from the effort. With so little water and food over the past weeks, and the way it had been coming right back out of me, I was frail. I wouldn't last long.

Then I levelled up. Level 3.

A burst of energy flowed through me. My ring flashed, but the screen didn't come up. Perhaps it recognized that it wasn't the right time to do so. I felt myself healing, and some of my energy was instantly restored. The many cuts on my arms and legs partially closed up. I wasn't restored to full health, but it was still a boon. I also felt more strength in my arms. My strength and speed stats must have both gone up.

Trapped in a pit with dozens of scorpions and on the verge of death, I suddenly didn't care about anything but this crazy feeling of rejuvenation and greater power. I cackled with glee. "Haha! Die die die!" I wailed all around me with the spear, smashing and cutting, insect parts flying, leaving dead things in my wake. I stomped and punched, heedless of the damage I was doing to myself just to stay alive, crushing anything in reach. I descended into a madness of pain and fear and desperation under a thin veneer of murderous abandon.

Soon after, I levelled up again to 4.

A minute later, a fresh burst of energy infused me. Apparently, a new skill had kicked in automatically. Must have been a passive skill.

More scorpions died.

Eventually, my body reached its limits, skills or not, and I slowed. But the number of scorpions dwindled as well. At some point, I speared the last of them and then fell back against the side of the sand pit, covered in gore, blood, and sweat. Tears, too, but let's not mention that part. At least I hadn't wet myself.

I couldn't think. Couldn't move except to heave in great lungfuls of air. Muscles trembled on their own from lack of oxygen. I had sand in my eyes, my mouth, and in every bloody wound. I might have given up and stayed there for a good long while, but that ominous black opening, that dark portal to hell where those scorpions had all been hiding, it scared the daylights out of me.

Achingly, I rolled over, belly against the side of the pit. Using the spear like a dagger, I dragged myself up the side, half-swimming through the sand until I was back on the surface. I saw the oasis trees and crawled forward. I left a trail of blood and scorpion goo in my wake.

I was sure that wouldn't come back to bite me in the ass.

It took all day to recover the necessary strength, but after I returned to the oasis and rested for a while, I dug a bath next to the pool and scooped water into it. The water slowly drained away, but it was enough to wash the filth away and clean my many new wounds. I scrubbed them with hot sand and water from the stove. I'd probably experience a bunch of new infections, but what the hell. Washing might help.

I checked my ring by just concentrating on it. The screen came forth and showed:

3

Then stats appeared:

• Strength 13
• Speed 15
• Health 19
• Mana 8
• Endurance 5

Strength, speed, and health had all improved so far. It was oddly motivating to watch simple numbers go up and actually see progress being made. That was likely why bankers were constantly checking their account balances and gym goons were constantly flexing in the mirror.

That night, I didn't have to worry about any spiders or scorpions attacking me in my sleep. I woke up once and heard a trauma-scary war zone going on in the distance, in the same direction as the pit I'd barely crawled out of. All that death must have drawn everything with an appetite in the region, and they were fighting over it.

I figured I was probably safe so far from the action. I went back to sleep, hiding under the sand near the water, palm frond over my head and spear in hand, as always. Careful not to move and draw any attention to myself.

I woke again the next morning, barely able to move. But I sluggishly crawled out of the sand and warily looked around.

The vulture was still there. Sitting on his rock. Looking at me. With those bloodshot eyes.

I glared back. I was really hungry for some grilled chicken. I was wounded from the previous day, but also feeling a little bolder thanks to the levelling up. I began to contemplate taking the vulture down.

Something to the side caught the huge, ugly bird's attention. Its head swivelled in that direction. Eyes widened. It raised its wings in panic and tried to take flight.

A proper lightning bolt hit it square in the chest. Thunder cracked. Black and white feathers flew in all directions. The bird let out a horrid squawk of pain. It tumbled backward off the rock, scrambled up, and tried to fly, but it must have been in too much pain. It hopped away, screeching, trying to put palms and bushes between it and whatever had attacked it.

Breathing fast, I turned to look in the same direction the now dead bird had looked.

From out of the bushes at the edge of the oasis came a true monster: a lightning scorpion the size of a German shepherd. Each claw looked large enough to cut one of my arms clean off. The tail curled up as high as my chest, a glittering, clear crystal where the stinger would be on a typical scorpion.

I despaired. "There's a momma lightning scorpion? You've gotta be kidding me!"

The scorpion turned on all six legs to face me. The tail twitched, and the tip glowed.

Welp, I'd been hit enough times by baby versions of those lightning stingers. No way in hell I was gonna let a big one hit me after seeing that monstrous vulture get nailed. I gave that crystal a beat to charge up, then threw myself sideways into the oasis water with a splash.

Lightning zapped the air I'd just been standing in, and thunder crashed. The smell of burnt ozone dirtied the air.

I slipped around in the wet sand for a second, water up to my knees, and looked up.

The momma scorpion turned to face me, glaring, pincers ready. But it didn't come at me. It didn't need to with its own built-in ranged artillery.

If I stayed where I was, it was probably just gonna wait and pick me off. I could maybe duck under water when it fired. But didn't water conduct electricity? I should have paid more attention in science class.

The scorpion sat there. Waiting. Watching. The crystal wasn't glowing yet, so either it needed time to recharge after two blasts like that and was canny enough to wait, or it was biding its time for a better shot, maybe studying me.

There was nowhere to run and hide in the little oasis. If I wanted to survive, I was gonna have to attack the monster. I muttered, "This sucks." I waded back to shore, gripped the spear in one hand, and watched the scorpion's stinger.

The scorpion's whole body turned on its six legs, following and targeting me.

I took a step forward and stopped.

The scorpion waited.

I took another. Then another.

A white spark of light appeared in the stinger.

I tensed my whole body.

The stinger's glow intensified. One second. Two. Three.

I dodged, diving to the side, this time away from the water.

The lightning bolt zapped by overhead. Thunder rattled my bones.

Weak muscles protesting, sunburned skin aching, I hurriedly pushed myself up from the sandy grass. Legs churning as fast as I could in that state, I did the dumbest thing ever and charged the creature. Probably the slowest charge ever, and the thing was a good thirty or forty paces away. I was about a quarter of the way there when I realized it would probably charge up its next shot before I arrived in point-blank range.

I was halfway there when the stinger lit up again, twenty paces to go.

The stinger glowed.

I spotted some bushes with a small boulder to my right. I feinted left, ran right, and dove behind the boulder.

The edge of the lightning bolt caught me in the foot. Every tendon in my leg seemed to snap, like flicking a tense wire. The shock travelled up my leg and into my body. I flopped around for a few seconds, teeth clenched, helpless. The moment I got my senses back and could move, I shakily grabbed the spear and made ready to defend myself.

But the scorpion wasn't charging me back. Poking my head around the small boulder, I saw it still watching me. I grumbled while painfully getting to my feet, "Well, that's just great. Aren't you patient?" With a deep breath, I ran forward again.

Fifteen paces.

The stinger lit up. I'd lost too much time on the ground after the last one.

Ten paces.

The stinger glowed. I tensed; I wasn't gonna make it.

Eight paces. Six. Time was running out. I desperately threw the spear at its face.

The spear didn't have enough power to penetrate, but it hit the scorpion between the eyes, just above the mouth. The creature flinched backward. The lightning bolt went over my head, making every hair I had stand up as I continued to charge. The pincers opened, and this close, they were even bigger than I'd thought.

I had no weapon as I ran at it. I was screwed. Sure, I had taken martial arts for several years, back when I was younger, but that had been designed for human opponents. None of it had ever trained me to fight something that could snip your arms and legs off. An idea hit, and without thinking, I dropped into a baseball slide. This close to the water, there was grass, but lots of sand too, and I sprayed that sand right in the creature's many eyes.

The scorpion defensively crossed its arms in front of its face, probably thinking I was drop kicking it or something, but the sand didn't seem to affect it at all.

But I was able to get a hand on the spear again. I rose back to my feet, took one step, and leaped into the air like the hero on a movie poster. It would have been nice if I'd looked badass at that moment, like a hero, but I probably looked like a crazy homeless person about to get himself killed. Both hands on the spear, I drove it down into the scorpion's back, while my weight drove the creature to the ground, its legs unable to support my weight.

The scorpion's exoskeleton was like plate armour. The spearhead only penetrated halfway. But it was enough for the scorpion to panic and flail about. Or it tried to. One of the legs cracked from my weight. Even with five, it shook back and forth. But it was the tail that got me. It struck, the crystal slamming into my forehead.

I reeled back, falling off the scorpion and pulling the spear free.

The creature instantly turned on me. It jabbed, almost too fast to follow, sometimes punching, sometimes snipping those pincers.

I scrambled backward, feet slipping in the soft, sandy soil, fending off as many strikes as I could with the spear. Some got through and bruised or cut my chest and legs. The tail lashed out, and I barely dodged it by leaning left and getting the spear up.

The scorpion used that distraction to dart forward, getting inside my defenses. It snipped at my ankle, which I barely lifted out of the way. It snipped with the other pincer and gashed my other shin. The tail came at me again, a big, overhand blow. I just got the spear up with both hands to block, but it was largely a feint. The scorpion stepped closer and delivered a massive uppercut to my balls.

I hated this world. My balls hated it even more.

Thank all that's holy and unholy both that the pincer had been closed or it would have snipped certain precious things clean off, and I wasn't sure I'd have the will to keep fighting or even living at that point.

The hit hurt. My stomach felt like it was trying to climb up my throat. My legs went weak. One hand clutched my man pearls while the other feebly held the spear in front of me.

The tail struck again. It hit me in the chest.

I fell backward and landed with a splash in the shallows of the oasis pool. With what little strength I had at the moment, I whimpered like a baby, tears falling down my cheeks, and lamely kicked myself into deeper water.

The scorpion didn't give chase. They didn't seem keen on getting wet. It also didn't need to. It still had that long-range stinger. So it stood there, favouring the broken leg but still mobile on the other five, staring at me.

I held up two fingers in a V sign. "Peace? I didn't know they were your kids. I only ate them because I had no choice. And, honestly, they tasted horrible. "

The stinger sparkled.

"Aw, come on!"

I was too weak to throw myself at it. So I turned around and clawed my way underwater. The slope of the underwater sand was steep, the middle of the oasis pool about four times my height. Spear still in one hand, I dove under the surface and tried to escape. I almost made it.

It seemed like electricity doesn't penetrate water deeply, mostly shooting through the surface of the water. My head had gotten a couple of meters down, but my feet were still closer to the surface when the lightning bolt landed and decided it wanted to go right through me to the floor of the pool, grounded on some glittering black and gold rocks in the mud and sand.

Every muscle snapped taut. I thought I was going to snap all my own bones and teeth. Then I blacked out, still underwater.

Losing consciousness isn't like in stories. You don't pass out for more than a few seconds before you start to get brain damage. You see someone get punched out in a movie and wake up in a different building, which took an hour to get to? They'd either wake up a vegetable or not at all.

I woke up a few seconds later. You ever see someone dynamite a lake? Fish just float to the surface, stunned. I was doing that! I found myself face down, hanging in the water, arms dangling, spear in the mud below me. My heavy, wet robe probably kept me from rising to the surface. Well, there followed lots of inhaling water, splashing, coughing, flailing around like an idiot, that sort of thing.

I'd barely gotten any air when I saw that stinger light up again like a vengeful spotlight. I dropped and tried to get as low in the water as I could. This time, it worked. I sat on the bottom of the pool, ass in the muck while white lightning played over the surface. I felt about for the spear and noticed the water warming up overhead. I guess if electricity has nowhere to escape from water, it heats it up. That meant I couldn't hide down here forever. Plus, there was the whole breathing thing. It was getting really important at this point.

My fingers touched the shaft of the spear, wrapped around it, and I kicked off the bottom, straight up. My head broke the surface, and I inhaled, only to get into another coughing fit. Fought through it this time, but this time, I bee-lined directly away from the monster.

No, I wasn't fleeing. It was a strategic retreat. There was no escaping the thing. If I tried to leave the oasis, it would just follow me out into the sand of the desert and shoot me in the ass. But I needed a breather.

Got to the far shore, and looked back, expecting the next lightning bolt any second.

The scorpion sat on the other side of the water, staring. The stinger was dull. Maybe after all that shooting, it needed a breather too. I had no idea how the thing worked other than assuming 'magic' was the answer. But maybe even a magic beast couldn't shoot forever. Of course, that had me second-guessing myself. Should I have attacked instead of running away? Or did the momma have another bolt or two in her and was just resting? No way to know.

On the far shore, I kept an eye on her as I slogged out of the water, up the sandy grass, and into the bushes. There wasn't much vegetation to hide in. The bushes were sparse.

A vicious screech came from the side.

I jumped, then belatedly turned toward the sound, both hands on the spear and ready to kill whatever new threat was coming at me.

It was the human-sized vulture. It hadn't been able to fly away. It had been doing its best to hide in the greenery as well. It seemed pretty pissed that I'd arrived, bringing unwanted attention to its hiding spot behind a dense bush and some tall clumps of really dark green grass. Glaring, it was hunched over with a disgusting fleshy blister bubble on its chest where a bunch of feathers had gotten blasted off.

I speared it in the face.

The vulture dudged with that long neck.

I stabbed again and again. "Die, fucker! If I survive, I'm having chicken wings tonight!" I lashed out, pushing the huge bird back until it lost its balance and fell over with a panicked shriek. Not wasting the chance, I pounced, driving the spearhead into its back. I leaned all my weight into it, driving the weapon through the bird, feeling the bronze tip sliding through organs and bouncing off ribs or something. It was pretty gross.

The vulture flopped and kicked and tried to snap at me with its beak, but in a couple of minutes, it slowed and died, falling limp. The eyes stared without seeing, just like that lizard person had.

I stood over the lifeless thing, panting. Even when it's not a human, seeing dead eyes, seeing a corpse, felt wrong. Unnatural. Something inside me was deeply disturbed by the sight. Beneath that feeling, I tried to take comfort in knowing that I wasn't a natural killer. I didn't enjoy this sort of thing, and even doing it out of self-defence and survival, it was unpleasant.

Ain't no vegan chicken wings out here though.

My ring flashed. I'd levelled to 5 from the kill. In the back of my head, I briefly wondered at how fast I was levelling. Was this normal? Was it just like an RPG where the first few levels are stupidly easy to get you hooked?

Remembering the big threat, I looked back over at the scorpion.

There was no scorpion.

That side of the oasis was empty of giant, lightning-throwing creatures from hell.

"Shit!" I yanked the spear from the body of the bird and spun around, ready to defend myself. After a panicked search, I slowed down and took my time to scan the ring of green around the water. Had it decided to come after me? Was it circling the oasis, sneaking up on me? Or was I lucky enough that it had decided to retreat back to the cave, or wherever it had come from?

Me. Lucky. Ha!

With a white-knuckled grip on the spear, I backed away from the water. The scorpion could have gone around either side of the pool; I had no way to tell which. So I had to back away from both. Unfortunately, there was only so far to go. Within a dozen paces, the sand of the open desert was nearly at my back. But there was still no sign of the creature. Damn thing was stealthy. At the edge of the sand, I crouched low, hopefully making myself harder to spot. Trying to quietly control my breathing, I continually scanned the oasis for any sign of movement.

Minutes passed.

In the sun and heat, sweat dripped down my face and arms. I felt my grip slick on the wooden shaft of the spear, and had to wipe my hands off. The minutes dragged out. It was beginning to look like the scorpion had strategically retreated as well.

Something moved to my left, and I glanced over.

A baby scorpion was unearthing itself. It was probably coming out to hunt. It came free of the sand. Then it turned and looked at me.

I tried to stay silent, willing it to go away with all my mental power.

The tiny stinger began to glow.

I whisper-hissed under my breath, "No! Go away. Shoo!" Very quietly, I tried to sidle away.

The little lightning scorpion fired. It hit me right in the hand.

"Ow!"

Three meters to my right, the momma's huge scorpion tail curled up out of nowhere, turned, and pointed directly at me, glowing brighter fast.

I had no time to even cry out as I threw myself backward.

The lightning bolt streaked past my chest, every hair on my body standing out.

The momma scorpion wasn't content to sit back any longer. It was on the hunt. It burst from the grass and bushes, pincers open, horrid mouth gaping wide, and came at me with a fury.

 

[TimBaril]

The momma scorpion rushed me straight on, no more games, causing the bastard of a baby scorpion to flee fast. I pathetically tried to fend the momma off with the spear, but it was having none of it. It just kept attacking, big pincers punching and snipping at me. It drove me back into the soft, hot sand so that I almost tripped and fell backward, feet sinking into the soft granules.

The tail stabbed down, nailing me right in the nose about as hard as a heavyweight champion's knockout punch. I staggered back a few steps, as blind with stars and drunk as a boxer on their last legs. I was dimly aware of blood streaming down my lips and chin. Moments later, the pain began to overwhelm the shock.

Achievement unlocked: broken nose! Yay.

Then, I did fall. Shaky and barely sensible, I went to my knees, blinking tears.

The scorpion must not have understood its clear advantage. It hesitated, then darted closer a couple of steps before stopping and jumping back. It must have thought I was trying to trick it. It did this twice before deciding I wasn't faking, then came in all the way.

I lifted the spear up in front of me, but the scorpion's left pincer locked around the shaft. It punched with its right.

In the martial art I'd studied back home, they'd shown us something neat. Almost all the force of a punch comes straight on. That's why trying to block a punch hurts so much; you're absorbing all that force. But when someone's punching, it takes only a little pressure from the side to push their punching arm out of the way. If you're fast enough to react in time. We practiced this all the time.

I did it on instinct, like I'd trained for. As the bowling-ball size pincer came at my face, the hand I already had up pushed it to the side. Not quite in time, though. I got hit right above one eye. Thankfully, it was a glancing blow. Without thinking, my hand already on the pincer, I slid it down and grabbed the thin arm behind the fat claw.

We wrestled, spear trapped in one pincer, the two of us struggling over the other. It went back and forth, but I could feel myself losing. The thing was stupidly strong, and it still had five good legs, getting way better traction than I was. Its nasty mouth kept chomping at my face. Scorpions are arachnids, and they are every bit as butt ugly up close.

I couldn't let it continue. I dropped low and, with a roar, pushed with everything I had, like some skinny sumo wrestler, screaming and heaving.

The scorpion's front lifted up, up, then it was twisting and falling onto its back, tailed pinned underneath.

I kept going, climbing up onto its belly. It flailed about with its pincers, trying to right itself, but I was too heavy. Its legs became frantic, sharp points coming at me like a half-dozen daggers, poking holes all over my body. But I couldn't let up. Kneeling on the creature's chest, I was terrified of dying, so I got pissed. Because that's how guys react to so many unwanted emotions, especially fear. For some reason, it wouldn't let go of my spear, but when it tried to snip my head off with the other, I wrestled it away with my left hand and wailed on the creature with my right.

Over and over again, I punched that ugly beast in the bottom of its head. Legs kept stabbing me, blood spattering everywhere. One got me in the gut, making me cry out as I felt the thing root around in my guts. I let go of the pincer, put both hands on the offending limb, pulled it out of me, and twisted and ripped until the thing tore off the body below. Then I stabbed the scorpion in the face with its own sharp foot.

I screamed at it, "How do you like that, asshole?" and then got slammed in the side of the head by the pincer I should have been holding onto. The claw snipped, and I nearly lost my ear; it left a long cut in my hair instead. But the vicious creature was weakening. I dropped the torn leg and punched and punched, wailing on its face.

And at some point, it stopped putting up a fight. Probably because its face was mush.

I tumbled off, and knelt in the sand, the golden grains turning rusty from all the blood I was shedding, and it was a lot. My nose was broken. My right hand was broken from punching too much. I had sun burns, electrical burns, and even sand burns. My stomach was a ravenous hole from hunger, and had an actual hole or two in it. I was sweating and thirsty beyond belief. Heart pounding and chest heaving lungfuls of air, it was all I could do to hold onto consciousness.

I'd done it. The momma scorpion was dying. I was, too, but she'd go first.

Honestly, I couldn't believe I'd had it in me. I'd had no idea I was capable of something like that. I was no soldier, not even a cop. I was a nobody. The only fighting I'd ever done was light sparring at the dojo, and that had been pretty recreational, not serious. Who the hell was this kick-ass guy who looked like me, and where the hell had he been all my life?

The husky-sized arachnid twitched a few more times, then went still.

I breathed deeply in relief. I'd won. Too bad I'd be dead soon too.

The ring flashed, and the screen popped up in the air above it. Numbers cycled:

6

7

8

I could only laugh. Three levels. Given the state I was in, I guessed I was really, really lucky to be alive after that. I must have been punching outside of my weight class. The baby scorpions had been my level. I never should have faced this thing, probably never would have encountered it except for accidentally opening that cave. Rookie mistake. Because I'm an idiot who does stuff without thinking.

I felt a pulse of restorative energy surge through me three times.

I looked down at myself. My wounds were barely bleeding now. "Whoa. Three levels, and you couldn't even heal me all the way?" I complained, but I checked one of the holes in my guts and was pleased to find it largely healed. All the healing from three level-ups must have gone toward keeping me from immediately bleeding out.

I checked out my stats. They'd grown.

• Strength 16
• Speed 17
• Health 24
• Mana 8
• Endurance 10

Having vaguely paid attention to the first couple of level-ups, it looked like I was gaining about three stat points per level. Assuming levels got harder as you went, you'd earn fewer new points over time. I wondered how far people levelled up. Was it like DnD, and 20 was your max, or more like WoW, and you capped at 70 or 120 or 50 or whatever it was at now? Considering I'd gone up to Level 8 fairly "easily", I had to think the cap was much higher than 20 or even 50. After all, while that huge scorpion had been a brutal battle for me, people living in this world must be collecting far more experience over time. I'd only been here a month. Some guy killing these things for decades must be at a really high level, right?

I hadn't been given the option to assign points; they'd changed on their own. But it didn't seem random. Mana hadn't changed at all. But Health had shot up, along with gains to Strength, Speed, and Endurance. I'd been very sick a lot and injured a lot. Maybe the system figured I needed more health to stay alive. I'd been fighting a bunch, so the two stats that reflected that had also grown, though not as much. I bet that if I'd been a better fighter and had kicked ass without getting sick and hurt as much, my Strength and Speed stats would have been much higher.

I assumed Mana had something to do with magic, which I didn't have a clue about and wasn't using, so it had stayed the same.

I was starting to see why this kind of thing enticed people so much, why they fantasized about it and wrote books about it.

Two large icons appeared on the holo screen. It took me a bit of effort to focus on them. One icon showed a glowing red heart while the other was a mysterious question mark appearing and disappearing behind some dark clouds. Below each was some helpful text. Pictures and words were smoky, the edges indistinct. It seemed that the system was offering me two options.

HEAL TO FULL HEALTH and GAIN [Lesser Regeneration] or

REVEAL A SECRET

I shook my head at the idiocy and automatically reached out for the first option. I might have partially healed from levelling, but that was no guarantee I wouldn't die from these wounds or infection, even with the resistance skill. Restoring myself to full health was the most practical thing to do. Even better, I'd get a new skill, one that would definitely be vital in helping me survive. If the first few weeks in this world were any indication, I was going to get hurt a lot. Regeneration was a broken skill.

And the second option was a secret? What kind of moron would pick that?

I hesitated. Was I that moron?

Why would it offer a secret? No explanation. Would I learn a secret, or would one of mine be revealed? Did I even have any secrets? I couldn't think of anything. I'd stolen some vintage Playboy mags when I was in high school. Wow. Huge and embarrassing secret. I was surprised to find that I still felt guilty for that, and it had happened many years earlier.

The system wasn't providing any hints about the secret option. It could be meant to completely screw you over. Like maybe you learn that little Johnny wet the bed three towns over and hid it from his mom. Completely meaningless. But was this option a true gamble, or was the system giving me the chance to learn a really good secret, something that might benefit me?

What if the options were equal? What if whatever secret it was, it was as beneficial as restoring my health and gaining a very sweet skill? But the more I thought about it, that didn't seem right. If the options were balanced, hiding one seemed too much of a gamble. Therefore, to make it truly tempting, shouldn't the secret option be potentially more valuable than the shown option?

So it was probably either a total crap secret, or an awesome secret. But I had no way at all to know or even to guess because I wasn't from this world. I didn't know how the system worked. Maybe I had a 50-50 chance, or maybe a 1-99 chance. The way my luck usually went, the odds were probably about the same as in a mobile gacha game.

Don't ever play those. Stupid pay-to-win, manipulative ripoffs, all of them.

Maybe it was because I was so beat up and tired, but the decision just seemed really difficult. Maybe it would have been easier if I were smarter. I didn't know. I looked at the FULL HEALTH option. It seemed the best thing to do. So obvious. And regen? Oh, man, it would have been nice not to be in constant hellish pain.

I sighed. I was weak to mysteries. I had to know what the stupid secret was. I was that moron, after all. I reached out and hit it with my hand like I was in some VR game. Probably didn't need to do that. The whole thing was happening in my head, so I could have just thought the one I wanted. Whatever.

The options vanished. I still hurt everywhere, and that wasn't going to change anytime soon. I looked around, my breathing finally getting back to normal. Nothing seemed different. No new messages popped up. Nothing fell from the sky. No beat-the-boss chest appeared.

That was actually pretty disappointing. The moment I thought it, I was heartbroken it wasn't happening, because as silly as a video-game world was, everyone who's played a fantasy game loves large chests. Treasure too.

But nothing happened. Where was my secret? Apparently, the system really did have an option to screw you over.

I groaned, "This sucks."

But wait, the situation got even better.

I spent the afternoon resting, filtering water and drinking it, and eating fried vulture that tasted like sour turkey, and I didn't care because at that moment, it was the best thing ever and ten times better than fried scorpion. I cleaned out my wounds and washed my face, though I didn't have a clue about what to do with a broken nose except try to straighten it, which hurt like being stabbed in the face. All of this I did with a broken hand. Multiple level-ups, and the system hadn't fixed it. I thought maybe it had put any shattered bones back together so that I just had a bunch of fractures. But I couldn't open or close it, and the slightest touch, like bumping something, hurt so bad it brought tears. I'd never had physical injuries like that before.

I muttered while I cleaned fresh blood out of my reset nose, "Thanks, system god or whoever it was that brought me here. You're just layering on the new experiences. Really appreciate that. Not like I could have gone through life without knowing what broken bones feel like. How about you come down here and give me five minutes alone with you and a hammer?"

After, I sat in the wet sand of the oasis shore with a palm frond umbrella keeping a bit of the sun off. The sun was setting, and, fair enough, the sunsets in the desert were pretty gorgeous, if you like that sort of thing and aren't in so much pain that you barely notice. The sun was glowing pink on the horizon, barely a sliver left, and the sky was dark blue and turning black. It was dark, with shadows everywhere. I was barely functional and had been zoned out from exhaustion for a while.

That's when movement out in the desert caught my eye.

The first stars were coming out opposite the sun. There was just enough light to see the telltale shape of a scorpion out there, coming from the cave's direction. Another one. Because that was my life. One kick in the nuts after another.

It wasn't moving fast. It was inching forward a couple of steps at a time, pausing, turning this way and that, then pausing again. Apparently, scorpions generally see by feel. They chase vibrations. So the dark doesn't bother them. It's why they're nocturnal. The creature was slowly but steadily making its way toward the oasis, where I was sitting. I dimly realized that it was following the trail I'd left.

It took a good minute or two for my sluggish brain to start putting the pieces together. I frowned. Like, that thing was a good way off, but I could see it clearly. That meant it wasn't a baby, which I'd first assumed it was. In fact, the closer it got, the easier it was to compare it to the plantlife, and I realized it wasn't even momma-sized.

I couldn't help but exclaim aloud, "There's a papa scorpion? Are you kidding me?" I sagged back against the sand chair I'd made myself, almost too exhausted to be more than terrified.

Oops. Whether it heard me or felt me move, the scorpion spun in my direction and stopped.

We stared at each other. I started to really realize just how big it is. It was the size of a car.

An American car.

I should have been afraid. I was. But that old, familiar anger I'd been carrying for so long decided it had had enough simmering. The afternoon had been enough respite. My body may have been spent, but my anger still had kick left in it. It flickered back to life with a vengeance, directed at the system, at whatever entity brought me here to abuse me like this, and at the scorpion to end all scorpions because it was the only physical thing I could unleash all that rising anger on.

I slowly reached out to grab the spear that never left my side. Curled my fingers around the wooden shaft, now chipped and scarred from battle. I wiped some sweat off my broken nose with the wrist attached to my broken hand, pain flaring on contact. Darkly laughing at the absurdity of it all, I stared down that crazy big creature and growled, "Fine. So there's a papa scorpion. All right, I'll kill you too. But I swear, if you die and a grandaddy scorpion the size of a bus shows up, I'm gonna burn this whole fuckin' world to the ground. You have my word."

The monster came for me.

 

[TimBaril]

Flashback

Some Years Ago​

Despite the badass name, Dragon Dojo was very much a typical suburban attraction. No cobras, no wax on, wax off. It catered to local kids, families, and the occasional housewife who wanted something different from the many aerobics classes down the street at the community center. The sensei was a great guy, though, so the place was respectable.

I'd been a student there years ago, back in high school. My mom, bless her, had wanted to find something the family could do together. My father thought he was too cool to go, looking down on the teachers for not being macho enough. My sister came twice at Mom's insistence (wow, that sounds wrong when taken out of context), then made excuses, then eventually straight-up said she hated physical exercise and refused. Stacy basically lived on her phone, and the many attempts my parents had made to get her to do anything that used muscles had always failed. The only things she cared about were texting her superficial friends, YouTube, and Instagram. If she could, she'd probably become a digital person and live on the net permanently, far away from her family.

So, for three years, it was just me and Mom. As a dude, especially a dude in high school, maybe some people think I'm supposed to say it was embarrassing and uncool. But, honestly, it turned out to be the kind of quality time parents yearn for with older kids, and I enjoyed it too, especially with us being apart from my overbearing old man so Mom could be herself more. It brought me and Mom closer together after those awkward puberty years when boys are trying to be more manly and independent, when we're jerks to our Moms, which really hurts them even though they pretend its fine. And yes, we should feel guilty for that and find ways to make up for it later on.

I graduated from school, then moved away for a bit. Years later, after moving back to town and a couple of months after Cerise and I had become engaged, Cerise and I cycled past the dojo and ran into my mom coming out. (Not literally.) Mom still sporadically attended to dojo. Even after I'd left home at nineteen and quit the dojo when I'd moved away, she'd continued, training for a year or two, then taking a year off, that kind of thing. She'd recently gone back. Even though I'd moved back to town about a year earlier, she hadn't mentioned it, probably thinking I wouldn't be interested in training again, especially now that she was older and it would be even less 'cool'.

Cerise…was an amazing girlfriend in so many ways. She and Mom had hit it off right away when they'd first met, in large part because Cerise had made a determined effort to be friends and really build a bridge between them. They texted, chatted nonstop in person, and gave gifts on birthdays. I'd realized early on that this was a reallygood sign. Cerise surely wouldn't have made that kind of effort if she hadn't been serious about me or if she were a more selfish person. Seeing her going all in to love my mother and build a future with the one family member I was close to meant the world to me. It was one more reason to love her, and one more reason I was marrying her. One more reason I wasn't good enough for her; I'd never made the same commitment to her family.

Cerise had known about my doing martial arts as a kid, something she'd never tried. So it was kinda surprising but kinda not when, standing outside the dojo with my mom, Cerise turned to me with excitement on her beautiful face and eagerly suggested, "We should join up! Then all three of us could do it together!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mom light up at the idea, but she quickly tried and failed to suppress it. But it was easy to see the hope there as she fidgeted and tried real hard not to say anything. Mom was the type of parent who wanted to spend time with their kids, no matter how old they got, unlike my old man, who would rather be at his job or off doing his own thing. It wasn't like my sister ever spent time with either parent. Once she'd gotten old enough to be on Only Fans, her life had been all cameras and blowjobs and private jets so rich assholes could bang her in the ass on some Caribbean beach. A millionaire by the age of 21. Didn't even bother to text on Christmas or Mother's Day. I didn't give a damn about her sex life or career, enjoy what you want, but my mom didn't deserve that coldness from her daughter. Really ungrateful.

I was a little nervous at the idea of looking dumb in front of my fiancé, but I ran my hand through my hair and reluctantly agreed, knowing it would make Mom happy, "Sure. Why not?"

Cerise bounced up and down with glee, and Mom couldn't help but finally allow her own excitement out. The two hugged and immediately began making plans for buying gi uniforms and deciding what days we could all go together.

My first lesson back after years away was both blessing and curse. On the upside, it was awesome that I remembered a bunch of the moves. I felt so proud of myself, even if I knew I was making some mistakes. On the other hand, I was not in the shape I'd been in. And when I did make mistakes, I got angry at myself, even though, as Mom said, it was perfectly natural after ten years away. She told me not to be so hard on myself, but I couldn't help it.

Cerise was an immediate sensation at the dojo. There had always been people of all ages at the dojo, but very, very few women between the ages of eighteen and thirty-five. Maybe aversion to exercise wasn't limited to my sister, Stacy. So when a young, very beautiful woman showed up, every dude in the place, married or not, was instantly aware of her, and more than happy to talk and give her pointers and try to get her to smile at them.

I admit, I had a bit of an insecurity complex about my fiancé. I didn't know why she was with an average nothing like me, instead of someone good-looking or rich or whatever. Seeing the way guys all reacted to her had always made me feel a little sick. It was tempting to go over and insert myself into every encounter when some asshat flirted with her, then maybe punch him in the face for trying to steal my girl. I rarely did, though. Definitely never punched anyone.

To my surprise, Cerise had once told me that she respected me for that. It had been over breakfast in bed one morning.

I'd blinked at her over a BLT as I sat against my pillow and the headboard. "Huh?"

She'd looked at me over her tea like she shouldn't have to explain it, that it should be obvious. "Because you trust me. And I can see the way you feel, I know you want to be all macho and protect me and keep me as yours, which is hot, but you trust me to stay with you, trust me to make my own decisions, and I respect that. I don't need someone trying to control me. I decide who I want to be with."

"Who?"

"You, you dummy!" She'd laughed and playfully slapped my shoulder.

"Hmm. So, I should not go and tell jerkface in the overpriced suit to piss off when he flashes his money in your face and asks if you want to ride in his Ferrari?"

She'd giggled. "Exactly."

"What if he asks if you want to ride his cock?"

"I'm not a little girl. I can handle it. But I promise, if anyone needs their face punched, I'll call you."

"Good." I'd taken a big bite of the BLT, chewed, swallowed, and then looked over at her. "You wanna ride my cock?"

She'd almost spewed her tea all over the sheet when she laughed. But she'd put the cup on the side table, wiped her mouth, taken away the really good BLT, which had kind of bummed me out because sex while eating a really good sandwich is pretty much my number one fantasy, and then she'd straddled me. Twinkle in her eyes, she'd said, "Always."

The post coital sandwich had still been pretty awesome. Extra bacon and lots of mustard.

By the way, don't eat mustard anything in bed. That stain never comes out.

Anyway, the dojo. Maybe it was the fact that we were engaged, and the wedding was coming up fast. You'd think I'd maybe be more secure because of that. Nope. Worse. So all these fit guys, some younger, most cooler, they were finding reasons to be near her, to introduce themselves, and I wished I had a flamethrower so I could reduce those guys to ash. I didn't. I chose to trust her.

Besides, if she did choose to quit me, it would mean she didn't really love me the way I loved her, so I'd be dodging a bullet, right? Better to get ditched earlier than ten years into a marriage. And I did love her. I wanted her to be happy. So if she'd rather be with someone else, then I guess he'd be a better match for her, so I should, logically, accept that.

Ha. As if. I'd probably spend ten depressed years in my apartment, never coming out, then go postal on the guy who had taken her from me.

…Nah. Not really. Because doing something like that would hurt her. Even if she left me for some rich prick, I knew I'd never be able to hate her, let alone hurt her.

Our first class at the dojo started, and we did drills in front of the giant mirrors that filled one wall. You were supposed to use it to check out your own form. I could see a bunch of the guys checking out Cerise's form instead. I also noticed that my moves were even worse than I'd thought. In retrospect, even if Cerise hadn't been so absorbed trying to do her own thing to bother looking my way, she would have had no idea I was screwing up, but I looked in the mirror and saw my sloppy moves and felt like a failure.

What guy doesn't want to impress the love of his life, right? You wanna be perfect for her.

Sensei didn't seem to think I was all that bad. He walked by a couple of times, reaching out to make tiny adjustments to my form and nodding in approval, telling me I was doing amazing after being gone so long. Maybe he was making a special effort after meeting Cerise and was trying to help me look good. It seemed to work. Cerise noticed the praise and flashed me a thumbs up. Couldn't help myself, my pride swelled, and I grinned like an idiot.

After going through warmups and solo drills, it came time for preset sparring drills. You and a partner face off like you're fighting, but you're going through preset moves like a dance. Maybe that sounds stupid, but it eases you into being in a fight-like situation because you are supposed to make light contact and really push your partner to defend themselves.

We have an army base nearby, and there are always a few soldiers in the dojo. Them and the construction guys are always the biggest, but the army guys have a real special mentality to them, an in-your-face attitude that can seem real friendly. But they're always showing off, flexing, laughing too loud and slapping your back too hard. Like they're trying to be all casually alpha around the civilians. They're rarely outright jerks, often rigid about their code of conduct, but somehow, they exude this attitude that says they're the big dog and you're more than welcome to throw down because they'd cheerfully prove it to you.

Beef was one of the biggest army dudes. Shorter than me, but he'd made up for that shortcoming by going to the gym twice as much as anyone. He was one of those guys whose arms couldn't hang down straight because he had too much muscle. His tits were bigger than Cerise's. He'd been one of those meeting and greeting my fiancé and asking all sorts of flirty questions before class started.

Beef came over me, a sly grin on his face, light gleaming off his bald-like-a-bowling-ball head. He'd been at the dojo a long time, a rookie like me when we'd started, but a black belt now, whereas I was starting at white all over again because I'd been gone. He called out, "Jimmy!"

I hate the nickname Jimmy, btw. My name is James.

"Jimmy! How ya doin'? What happened to yer blue belt?" Blue was two steps up from white, what I'd earned before quitting the dojo.

I forced a laugh at the underhanded dig. "Lost in the laundry, I guess."

"Aw. Shame." He then acted all serious and helpful. "Come on, you remember these sparring drills, right? You and me, let's see what you got." While the sensei who owns the dojo is the head guy, the other black belts often teach classes alone or assist when the sensei is teaching. So even though we'd started about the same time and been about the same level when I'd left, here he was, acting all superior because he now had ten years experience on me.

He was no doubt trying to impress Cerise while taking the opportunity to make me look less than him. He was that kind of guy. I didn't get the chance to refuse because he was a black belt now, and he just started into it, forcing me to go along.

Out of the side of my eye, I saw sensei pairing Cerise and my mom up, and boy, you could see the joy and pride on Mom's face; she was just glowing at the chance to teach Cerise. It was awesome.

Then Beef punched me in the chest, hard. He'd started the drill without me. "Hey now. Where's your focus? Come on." He reset.

The hit had hurt, but I refused to act like it did and give the blockhead the satisfaction. I reset, and we went through the drills a few times. I wasn't going to lose to him.

Honestly, I was out of shape, slow, and had forgotten moves, but I was keeping up better than I'd thought I would, especially with Beef coming hard at me like I was another black belt and not a rookie again. He kept tagging me with his kicks and punches, landing them on my thighs and arms and chest. The guy was so huge, he didn't even seem to be making much of an effort, but each one hurt. The more I tried to keep a stony face and not show pain, the more it egged him on, blows landing harder and harder.

Beef was enjoying it. He knew full well he was torturing me.

I was annoyed, but there was absolutely no way I was going to show fear or pain, not for him, and not with Cerise nearby. I didn't want to look weak. I wanted to prove how tough I could be.

Beef landed a heavy roundhouse on my left thigh. He'd been aiming and hitting the exact same spot over and over. On purpose. This is one of the strongest guys around, a legit monster. I took a lot of punishment. But finally, my bruised leg couldn't take it anymore, and I finally cried out and dropped to one knee.

Beef acted all contrite. "Oh, hey there. Sorry about that. You were doing so well, didn't realize it was too much for you." He offered a hand to help me up.

I looked at it but didn't take it. Everyone in the dojo, of course, was looking my way, including Cerise. Sensei was hustling over in concern, with Mom looking on with worry but not following, probably because she wanted to spare me the embarrassment of mothering me in public. Didn't matter. My face was hot and getting redder by the second; I could feel it. And when guys get embarrassed, anger's swift to follow, right?

I ignored the fake offer of help and forced myself to stand, wincing. I hated him for being a jerk. But I also hated myself for not being tough enough to endure him.

Beef came forward with a wide smile and clapped me on the back. "See, you're all right. Don't know my own strength, but you're tough enough to shake it off. Impressive, Jimmy."

Suddenly, Cerise was at my side. To my great relief, she didn't mother me either; I would have probably snapped hard if she had. I was in a bad place right then. She put a hand on my shoulder, very clearly telling Beef and everyone where her loyalty was. Though she was usually smiling and had been having a great time so far, her face was blank now as she looked at Beef. "I thought martial arts was all about knowing yourself and control."

Beef shrugged. "Yeah."

"So if someone doesn't know their own strength and can't control themselves, then I guess they're not a very good martial artist. In fact, they'd be a failure twice over."

Beef's smug attitude bled away, and when more than a few in the crowd hid laughs or loudly sucked in a big breath at the audacity of the statement, his expression turned to a scowl.

Sensei quickly stepped in and ended things before they could get worse.

As everyone got back to drills, Cerise gave me a concerned look. "You ok?"

I was proud as hell of her, but still feeling utterly humiliated and angry. "I'm fine." I acted like it was nothing, though my face was still hot and my leg hurt so bad I couldn't move it. The muscle had cramped up from the blow. I was useless. I should have said more, thanked her, acted better, but I just couldn't. I was glad when she squeezed my shoulder and then went back over to drill with Mom.

I tried to get through the rest of the class like things were fine, but inside, I was an emotional mess. Just like a guy, right, hiding all their feelings instead of dealing with them? Not healthy. I'd learn that the hard way later. But at that moment, I just hated being so fuckin' weak. I was ashamed of myself for not being strong enough, not being tough enough, not being able to shrug it off and being so emotional instead.

 

[TimBaril]

The Oasis​

I watched that huge-ass papa scorpion coming for me. Maybe it was the way the starlight reflected off the thing's shiny exoskeleton. Maybe it was how it dwarfed me in size and power. But it reminded me of Beef, someone I hadn't thought of in a while.

Seeing it reminded me how much I loathed that guy. How much I'd love to beat the ever-loving crap out of that guy. He wasn't here, so I'd have to redirect all that buried anger at the scorpion instead. That was fine. I'd had enough of these guys, too. And I was tired of getting my ass kicked so much.

After levelling up, my strength and speed were better than ever. I could feel it, and it felt good. Almost smug, I pushed into the sand as I burst into a run — and fell on my face. I spat sand out and felt new scrapes on my knees. Apparently, there was some cog-something difference or whatever the term was between my new abilities and brain. Being able to do more seemed to require practice. That made sense. Getting to my feet again, I looked up.

The monster was skittering closer, pointed feet tearing up the sandy grass. It came to a palm and barely made an effort to go around, backhanding the tree with a gargantuan pincer, and bending the tree right out of the way. It came to another and slowed just enough to snip through the tree with the other pincer.

The tree toppled back onto the scorpion but did no visible damage. It did, however, cause three assassin spiders, each with a legspan as wide as an umbrella, to leap out of the falling tree and land on the dark exoskeleton. The scorpion completely ignored them because it was covered in armour, and they swiftly leaped off and scuttled away.

Whatever bluster I'd had for a moment fled in a similar fashion. Obviously, trying to keep the trees between the beast and me wasn't going to do anything. My mind went blank. I was weak, wounded, and all I had for a weapon as a positively inadequate spear when what I really needed was a damn tank.

The scorpion slowed to a stop.

My hope rose. Was it not going to attack after all?

The crystal stinger lit up, going from a tiny spark to a tiny sun in seconds.

"Shit." I spun and threw myself behind the dead momma scorpion, hands over my head.

Even when the baby monsters had thrown lightning, there'd been a little crackling sound almost the same as the mini lightning bolt. When the momma had fired, it had been more of a sharp, humming crack like real thunder. Big daddy fired a genuine bolt of lightning at my ass and a genuine crash of echoing thunder sounded at the same time. It was enough to hurt the ears, shaking my whole body, and it made me want to curl up in the fetal position with some kind of primal terror.

The lightning zapped into the scorpion corpse and some of the sand around it. Glory be, the dead scorpion's body was resistant to electrical attacks! Thank suckin' spice. They probably fought each other all the time and had evolved it as a defence mechanism. Somehow, it blocked or diffused the energy, and my life was spared. The thunder left me dizzy, though, so I guessed I had inner ear damage. Probably why I fell on my face again, trying to get up on my hands and knees, but it was like the ground wasn't where it was supposed to be, and I kept missing.

The giant scorpion crawled forward.

I probably looked like a drunken idiot, but I got to my feet. Seizing onto an idea, I grabbed the dead momma by the tail and heaved it onto my back, tail slung over my shoulder, held down with my bad arm. Squatting under the weight, I managed to pick the spear up. I tried to scurry away when I made the interesting scientific discovery that lightning turns sand to glass. There were a bunch of root-like glass tubes on and under the surface around where the momma had been lying. I also discovered how fragile and crunchy they were by stepping on one, screaming as it sliced my foot, falling to one knee, and nearly stopping. It occurred to me that bubbles of glass had been propping the sand up in front of the cave, and stepping on them had caused them to break, which is how I'd exposed the cave. Only sheer will got me back up, pushing through yet more pain, and moving again, hobbling because a shard of glass was in the bottom of one foot.

I planned to try to circle the oasis. If I could keep it between me and the beast, maybe the thing would eventually give up and go away. So off I went. But I'd made it maybe fifteen or twenty steps, a trail of blood in my wake, when I noticed a bright reflection growing in the water of the oasis. I glanced over my shoulder in worry and, yep, more artillery fire was incoming. I grunted and dropped to my knees, hunching under the dead thing on my back.

The lightning bolt crashed into us. Every hair on my body stood up, and I was deaf and dizzy again from the thunder, but I was alive. I drunkenly spun and gave the papa scorpion the finger while holding the spear. I could barely make him out in my state. I shouted out while trying to stand straight, "Suck it. That's right, I'm immune to your lightning, jerk face! How do you like that?" My eyes focused again.

The scorpion seemed to glower. Then its pincers opened and closed a few times with a sound like metal garden sheers.

I turned and shuffled away as fast as I could.

Twice more as I rounded the shore of the oasis, the scorpion fired at me from afar with lightning. But twice more, I managed to survive thanks to the dead one on my back. Still, the bolts were leaving electrical burns and little lightning patterns on my shoulders and back that were adding up. We did a full circle around the oasis, and the obstinate creature showed no signs of giving up. Was it super hungry or out for vengeance? The lightning grew less frequent as it probably ran low on energy or magic or whatever, but it was getting closer.

Honestly, if it had just charged full speed at any point, I'd have been screwed. Not entirely sure why it didn't. Maybe it was wary of prey and preferred blasting things to death to prevent any risk to itself. Guess it didn't know I was a smushy human with almost no defences and that the massive, armoured bug was capable of cutting me in half with almost no effort. Then it got a chance to do just that.

I was getting really tired, limping and fighting my way around the shoreline with the heavy corpse on my back, trying to hold on to the thing with a bum hand screaming like it was filled with shards of glass, and my foot actually cut up from shards of glass. I stumbled and fell. The momma rolled off my back and into the edge of the water.

The chasing scorpion halted. It watched me. Then it darted forward on the offensive, both pincers opening.

I didn't have time to pick the corpse up, and it wouldn't have done any good anyway. Papa would probably clip clean through it before getting me the same way. I tried to run, stumbling and tripping, trying to get away, but it was on me in no time.

A huge pincer descended.

I ducked away, but the tip caught my shoulder and spun me like a rag doll, laying open the back of my shoulder like a butcher's cleaver. Which is why the second pincer missed cutting my head off, and the base of it punched me in the head instead.

I flew backward, tripped, and fell. Somehow, I'd gotten turned around and landed ass-first in the oasis shallows with a splash.

The scorpion kept coming, pincers snipping at me.

I kicked my feet and crawled backward as I dodged, going deeper, somehow avoiding dismemberment. The open wound in my shoulder had me openly weeping in seconds. It was the same arm as my ruined hand. I was being taken apart, piece by piece.

The scorpion came to the edge of the water, only its front feet getting wet. The sensation seemed to spook it, because it immediately reversed, stopping a couple of paces up on drier land.

I half-floated, half-stood in chest-deep water, panting like my life depended on it. Looked like the scorpion wasn't a fan of water. Would I be safe there?

That bloody stinger lit up once more, shining on me like a spotlight at an execution.

"Gah!" I turned and dove, dropping the spear in my haste, and swimming hard. I'd learned my lesson. I went deep. Despite the size of the lightning bolt, I only felt a painful sting on my feet, like a thousand needles jammed into them, instead of getting totally fried or knocked out.

I got an idea: I would lure the behemoth into the water and then attack it.

Staying underwater for as long as I could, I turned and tried to aim for the spot on shore where I'd dropped the momma. The darkness of night made that hard, so when it got too shallow to hide underwater anymore, I popped up, took a quick look around to get my bearings, and then slogged as fast as I could through the knee-deep water toward the body.

I saw the papa scorpion turn its entire body my way. It was like it had been entirely blind to me until I'd broken the surface again. But once it had found me again, it charged.

I grabbed the momma by the tail and pulled her deeper into the water, yanking with all my strength.

The scorpion arrived in a flurry of sand and water spraying, all snapping pincers and chomping mouth from hell. Thing wanted me dead, bad. One attack snipped an arm off the momma before I could back out of range. The scorpion came deeper this time, almost half its body in the water before it stopped and backed up.

I smirked despite my fear and the adrenaline making me shake. "That's it. Come on, buddy. Come for a swim. Your dead friend loves it. Look at her dance. La-la-la-la. Totally shallow out here. If she can do it, you can too. Trust me, bro."

The scorpion just stared. Maybe the ruse was too complicated. Maybe it couldn't see well enough. Maybe it decided frying me was easier. Because the stinger lit up.

I cursed and dove hard again, but I wasn't going to make it in time. Behind and above me, the lightning struck the momma. The corpse seemed to absorb the energy because I didn't feel nearly the same needle-like tingling that time. The lightning brightened the bottom of the pool enough for me to spot some scattered dark rocks thanks to some gold flecks in them. I reached out and grabbed a couple, tucking one under my armpit and keeping the other in my fist. I surfaced.

Gasping for air, I weakly swam closer to the scorpion despite my brain howling at me to do the complete opposite. My wet clothing was heavy, the robes making it hard to keep my head above the surface. With my off hand, I chucked the rock at the creature, then screamed, "Come on! That all you got? You're a big, bad boss monster. Come and get me!" The rock landed in the water in front of it, causing it to twitch. I lobbed the second rock. It bounced off the scorpion's head, making it suddenly duck away and turn side to side as if searching for an attacker.

I grinned. "Can't see anything, can you? Bet you're not used to people throwing things either, huh?" Wanting more freedom, I shucked my clothing, getting naked once more. I dove way more easily this time and got a couple more black, gold-flecked rocks by feeling around with my feet on the bottom. I hurled those too. My throws were garbage, but a near miss and another weak hit had the scorpion agitated.

I had to lure it into the water. With those thin legs, it would surely be a lousy swimmer, or so I hoped. It was my only chance. I dove for two more rocks. When I surfaced again, I edged closer and closer to the giant, trying to tempt it. Heart racing, I swallowed and threw again. "Come on! Come and get me, you coward!" I hurled the second rock.

Lucky strike; it hit him in the eye. Squealing and crossing its arms in defence, it skittered backward up the shore.

I took another step closer. "Coward! Who's scared of a little—oh, shit!" The scorpion charged, and I spun with fucking haste. I tried to move as fast as possible while feeling like I was moving in slow motion against the water.

The scorpion had had enough. It launched itself into the water at full speed, pincers up and open, ready to cut me into pieces.

With a deep breath, I dove. I swam hard. I could feel the turbulence in the water as the scorpion got closer. Then it was overhead. Kicking scorpion legs churned the water, barely missing me. The water was pitch black, and I was blind. I had to move by feel and guess. I swam underwater, away from the creature. I needed my spear. I had a notion of where it was, but I'd only be able to find it by touch. Needing air, I gently surfaced.

The scorpion clumsily drifted and kicked. It was pissed and probably hated being out on the water. Which is why it seemed to be trying to turn and head back to shore.

I had to keep it in the water. I quickly searched the oasis bottom with my feet and found a rock. I ducked under the surface, grabbed it, and popped back up. I was a bit far, but I hurled the rock and it dinged off the scorpion's tail.

The monster flinched and started turning to face me, moving ungainly in the water.

Ignoring it as best I could, I pushed ahead, trying to find where I'd come into the pool and where I'd dropped the spear. I dragged my feet through the muck, scraping them on rocks but ignoring the pain and cuts. If I didn't get that spear, I was a dead man.

My foot touched wood.

Instantly, I dropped low. My hand grabbed the shaft. I was armed again! I pushed off the bottom, head breaking the surface, and gasped for air.

The scorpion was churning water like a mad thing, nearly on top of me.

I dove to the side, toward deeper water, and swam sideways with the spear in hand.

The scorpion turned toward shore. Maybe it was going to head for safety instead. I kicked my feet like crazy in the water to cause as much disturbance as I could.

Drawn by the splashing, like it couldn't help itself, the scorpion turned away from shore and toward me instead. It followed me out into the middle of the oasis pool.

In the water, I was a bit faster, able to stay just out of reach of those deadly pincers. More importantly, I could go underwater, where it couldn't.

 

[TimBaril]

I slipped under the surface. It was nearly pitch black with only the faintest light above and a vague sense of gravity that allowed me to keep my bearings. I blindly swam in what I hoped was an arc so I could get around to the scorpion's side. I tried my best to swim calmly with minimal motion because I knew the scorpion was sensitive to vibrations. I could only hope that it found being in the water confusing enough to lose me. Not sensing the creature's legs moving near me, I quietly surfaced.

The papa scorpion was a few meters away, floating, waiting. It was as large as a speedboat. Luckily, it was facing slightly away from me.

I very slowly drifted closer. I had to try to make as little motion as possible, but also not take too long. The scorpion was going to head for shore soon enough if I wasn't around to tempt it.

Even as I thought that, the thing decided it had had enough. It started swimming toward shore, awkward and slow, but getting away.

I kicked into gear, side swimming with the spear in hand. I got crazy close, the scorpion either not noticing me or ignoring me. Coming to a stop, I lifted the spear and stabbed the beast's rear-most leg. I tried to jam the bronze tip into the joint, tried to hurt and cut off the limb.

The scorpion ignored me for a moment, but the pain must have been too much. It tried to turn in place. Giant pincers caused waves as they hit the water.

I tried to swim in step with it so we both circled at the same speed while I continued to stab. But the scorpion was turning faster than I could swim. It was also hard to avoid the legs from gutting me at that range. Desperate, I took a deep breath and dove deep again.

I was in rough shape. Tired, wounded all over, my shoulder still badly bleeding. It was so quiet in the water, so dark, I almost wanted to sleep. I knew that was a bad sign. But still, I waited for the vibrations in the water overhead to slow down.

As they did, the scorpion going into drift mode again, my lungs burning for air, I allowed myself to rise, aiming to the side so I didn't come up under the scorpion's belly. My head broke the surface. I could just make out the tail overhead. Perfect.

I reached up and hooked the spear around the tail, then kicked higher out of the water to get my arm around it too.

The scorpion did not like that. Unfortunately for it, its first reaction was to curl its tail, which pulled me further up out of the water. Pushing through the pain of my broken hand and cut shoulder, I tried to get both arms around the tail, then somehow managed to climb onto the scorpion's back!

I almost laughed in triumph!

The scorpion failed with legs and pincers, spinning in place, furiously trying to get me off.

On my knees, I lifted the spear high. No badass Hollywood line came to me to make me sound cool, so I just plunged the spear down, aiming the bronze tip at the joint between two plates.

It clanged like I'd struck metal.

I blinked in surprise. Unable to believe what had just happened, I tried again, harder. Again and again. Turned out the scorpion was the tank. Its armour was completely impenetrable. I was screwed.

There's a fable about a situation similar to this. A scorpion convinces a frog to give it a ride across a river. The frog is doubtful, but the scorpion promises that it won't sting the frog. The frog agrees to trust the arachnid, and the scorpion climbs on the frog's back. Halfway across the river, the scorpion stings the frog, poisoning it, and the pair begin to drown. The frog asks why the scorpion did it; they were both going to die. The scorpion replied that it just couldn't help it. That was its nature.

This time, it was a human riding on a scorpion's back. The scorpion did what scorpions do.

As I knelt in astonishment at my failure, staring at the utter lack of damage my spear had done, the scorpion stung me. The tail uncurled, then curled back faster than I could see. The crystal stinger nailed me right in the back of the head. I swear I felt my own skull crack like a ripe melon.

A bright white light filled my vision. My whole body went limp. I slumped to the scorpion's back, then slipped off and into the water.

Paralyzed, it was like an out-of-body experience. I vaguely watched myself sinking into the water with the stars above, and then the stars were gone, and I was enveloped in warm liquid, slowly drifting downward.

I was so tired. My eyes drifted closed. Distantly, I realized that this was it, the end. I knew it because I'd been through this same thing before. It wasn't the first time I'd died. This would be the second. That was fine. I didn't even care if I was sent to yet another world. Actually, I didn't want that. I didn't want anything anymore. I was so sick of living.

I was sick of the way my father had always made me feel like a failure. I was sick of my sister treating me like I was scum. Sick of trying to make my way in the world, only to have my dream's crapped all over while others who were good looking or smarter or who came from a rich family got ahead so easily. I was sick of the fact that, no matter how hard I worked in life, I was never getting ahead. Meanwhile, billionaires got richer every day, even during the pandemic when half the world shut down, making more money they didn't even need while I had always barely stayed afloat.

Cerise was the best thing that had ever happened to me. It had been like winning the lottery. For some reason, this beautiful, kind, generous woman had seen something in me. She'd agreed to give me a chance, and somehow, I hadn't blown it. We'd gone for coffee the first time, which had gone so well that we'd gone for a stroll in the park after. Against all odds, despite my sweating up a storm in nervousness, we'd ended up going so far as to hold hands. Because I'd managed to find the courage to reach out and take hers, which at the time had felt like the bravest thing I'd ever done.

Hand in hand, we'd strolled through the rose garden, which had just been coming into bloom. Minutes had passed, yet she hadn't let me go, hadn't tried to put distance between us. She'd kept smiling at me as if she'd been having fun, like she'd been enjoying my company, which had seemed so odd. After, I'd barely remembered the roses or what I'd said because I'd been so caught up in the fact that we'd been holding hands and she was just the best woman I'd ever come across.

Maybe folks would laugh if they heard that, mock the love at first sight thing, but something between us just naturally clicked. It was like two puzzle pieces finding their match and fitting together with no effort at all.

I'd cried like a baby when she'd later gotten sick. Not because I was scared of losing her, but because I was scared for her losing out on the life she should have had ahead of her. She was Cerise, the strong one, so she tried to tough it out. Fought back. She made me promise that we'd never give up on each other or ourselves, no matter how hard things got. Maybe that's why she ultimately beat it.

It had been a hard journey, but she'd survived. I'd promised again, just like I had on our wedding day, that I'd dedicate my life to her. To make the most of the time we had. Things had been fine after that. We'd moved on. Been happy. Life had been perfect and only getting better.

A few years later, some evil piece of shit had invaded our house and murdered Cerise.

That had broken me. I'd never been able to heal from it. I'd loved her too much.

That moment in the desert earlier hadn't been the first time I'd contemplated suicide. Far from it. For a long time, every single day had required a concentrated effort to keep going, a conscious choice where I'd said every single morning after waking up, "I'm going to live today. One more day." Most days, that had been a hard promise to make.

Only three things had kept me from entirely giving up. One was Mom. I couldn't hurt her by killing myself. I couldn't let her live her last years with the loss of a child. I loved her too much to do that to her. The second was Cerise. She'd loved me, agreed to spend her entire life with me. How could I possibly throw that life away, even if she wasn't there to share it with me? It was a life she'd valued enough to dedicate herself to. So as much as it hurt, my life was precious, or had been. Throwing it away would be betraying her. I refused to do that. I loved her too much.

But some days, it was damn hard to choose to live. Like the days when you're really tired or depressed. Or when you've spent the last month being tortured by a hostile world you never asked to come to, beaten up in just about every way imaginable. The head wound had to be fatal. I was still seeing a weird white light in my vision even though my eyes were still closed. The many wounds all over my body were beginning to hurt again. My chest ached from a lack of oxygen. I knew I needed to surface and breathe. But moving at all seemed to require too much effort. My body was telling me that this was it, it was time to give up. Not like I was going to survive a cracked skull anyway. Why fight it for a few more seconds?

Cerise had never given up when she'd gotten sick. She'd fought it the entire time, tooth and nail, no matter how bad it had gotten.

I'd promised to be someone she could be proud of. That meant fighting too. With that understanding, I opened my eyes. And I saw the sign.

In my blurry vision, white light swimming in front of me, I saw Cerise looking back at me. She held out her little pinky, just like she had that day at the hospital before surgery. I saw her mouth the words, We'll never give up. No matter how hard it gets. Promise.

I'd promised.

I reached out now in the water with my hand, pinkie out.

The vision of Cerise smiled. It was so beautiful. It broke my heart all over again for how much I loved and missed her. And then she faded away.

I was alone again. I let out a single laugh, a precious bubble of air escaping. Even when she wasn't there, Cerise could still drag me up and out of my worst moments. But more was needed. I had to get myself out of this mess. Dammit, life could be demanding. With that understanding, I smiled.

I could feel the muck of the oasis bottom under my toes as I hung in the water. That damn, white blotch of light in my vision was still there, along with a splitting headache. Weirdly, though, I could kind of see the white outlining the bronze spearhead. It was resting on the bottom next to me. Smiling wider at my luck, I reached down and grabbed it.

I planted my feet on the bottom of the pool, gripped the spear in both hands, one bruised and one broken. Then I pushed off as hard as I could. I shot straight up, legs kicking fast, arms tensed. I let out a scream of defiance, and bubbles of air streamed away. The white light in my vision seemed to grow more and more intense, probably as I was giving myself brain damage from all the effort. And then I felt the churning of the scorpion's legs in the water over my head. I lifted the spear with everything I had — and drove it right into the belly of the beast. It sank in deep.

The scorpion kicked about in agony. Long, sharp legs sliced through the water and then through me, tearing me to ribbons.

But I didn't care. Didn't stop. I withdrew the spear and stabbed upward over and over, driving that bronze spearhead into the thing's guts and hopefully its heart. I stabbed and stabbed until my arms were so weak from lack of oxygen that they dropped to my side. The spear slipped from my grasp and sank to the bottom of the oasis. For some reason, the light seemed to go with it, and my vision became normal.

Feebly, I kicked away from the scorpion. It vaguely seemed to be fighting less. I didn't care. I was done with it. I needed air. I got my head above water and inhaled. It took all my last reserves to just float on my back and breathe.

The scorpion's motions grew weaker. Desperately, it tried to swim to shore.

I let it go. I didn't care if it lived or died. If it fled, I hoped it would crawl back into that cave and stay there. Didn't matter. All I could do was float and stare up at the stars. I was bleeding to death.

Some time later, I started making small motions with my arms, gently drifting back to the shore. It took a while, but I did it. I felt the sand rising under me and allowed myself to rest on the bottom with my head above the water. I stayed that way for some time. I could feel my body growing cold from blood loss. Finally, I grunted and turned over onto all fours so I could make the effort to get out of the water.

The scorpion had made it shore too. Mostly. One pincer touched dry land while the rest of the body was in the water. Even as I watched, the big guy shivered once, twitched, then all its legs curled up the same way a dead spider's does. It tipped onto its side and died. In the water. My only water source.

I stared at the massive corpse that I couldn't possibly move alone, now polluting the oasis.

I punched the wet sand and swore, "Fuck!" A second later, I remembered that I was about to bleed to death, so it didn't matter. I crawled about a meter up onto dry land and collapsed, flopping onto my back.

Then the system kicked in.

The level-ups rained down like precious jewels.

 

[TimBaril]

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

Could you believe it? I couldn't. That many levels at once? A lucky seven? It was cracked. Broken. Overpowered.

Although, to be fair, Scorpio McSpiderface, the boss character, had been way out of my league. It had to have been something you fought as a party or ten levels higher than I'd been. With magical weapons. I never should have survived that ordeal. One clean hit would have killed me. A glancing blow had almost done it. One lightning bolt dead on would have fried me.

I couldn't see it, but there had to be a hidden luck stat somewhere that was off the charts, or I'd rolled a nat D20 or something for that fight. I couldn't think of any other way to explain why I wasn't currently being digested in a giant scorpion's bowels.

Rapid-fire pulses of restorative energy flashed through me, leaving me dazzled. But the holes in my body and arms filled back in, and my broken hand cracked and felt like it was being twisted in a vise, but when the pain lessened, I could achingly use it again.

My stats rose by 21 points, a natural blackjack, which was fitting because I felt like a winner:

• Strength 17+3=20
• Speed 17+2=19
• Health 28+9=37
• Mana 8
• Endurance 10+6=16

That super low mana score was starting to worry me. What if it wasn't only for spells? What if all my skills used mana? What if that determined their power or the cool down or how often I could use them?

With the levels came skills. Unfortunately, it wasn't one of those systems that came with descriptions, helpful hints, or paragraphs of flavour language that allowed you to spend ages going over the details of each and imagining all the different scenarios they could be useful. Nor did it have a snarky AI with a personality that thought itself funny or wanted to step on you. There were just skill names. Some came with choices, but others were just forced on me.

The first was a choice between [Resistance: Disease] and [Resistance: Lightning]. I already had [Lesser Resistance: Disease], so this would be an upgrade. Or I could add a whole new resistance. Getting hit with diseases was likely going to happen more often than getting hit with lightning. Although, for all I knew, this entire desert could be filled with creatures with lightning attacks. Maybe it was a regional theme. And what counted as lightning? Just what came out of the sky? What those scorpions had been throwing at me? Or would it also apply to other energy attacks, like lasers or plasma or something? Did I want to have more resistance in one field or diversify to cover more bases?

I couldn't move on to the next skill until I'd chosen. So I agonized over it, knowing that, if this new life was anything like the stories, these choices could heavily impact my future.

As tempting as it was to diversify, it was difficult to accept that lightning would be that much more common than disease. I was still suffering from gut problems and infected wounds. I had to think I was still in danger and that this kind of thing was going to be common. So I upgraded to [Resistance: Disease].

The next skill was just awarded: [Unbreakable Spear]. I assumed this one came because I'd used my spear earlier. Nicked it a few times in the fighting. I didn't know if weapons breaking was something that happened a lot. Maybe this world had secret durability stats for things. Or maybe wood just gets worn out. This skill might be a little useful, but only as long as I used a spear. Sure, the spear was a great weapon, probably better than a sword in most cases, but I'd have to be careful not to get locked into using one just because of this skill.

The next choices came up: [Fists of Fury], [Minor Breathe Underwater], [Staunch Light Wound].

Being able to breathe underwater for a short time could be very handy, even life-saving. It would have been super awesome to have it about ten minutes prior to getting the skill. Kinda late to the party, System. I wondered how useful this was going to be in the desert, though. Not that I necessarily had to stay in the desert. Unless the entire world was a desert. But maybe there was an ocean over the horizon.

Being able to stop a light wound from bleeding would be convenient. But a light wound likely wasn't life-threatening, unless it worsened. Did it have a cool down? If so, how long? If I had a bunch of wounds, would I be able to spam it and prevent things from getting worse?

What the heck was [Fists of Fury]? This one seemed like a wildcard. As a martial arts fan, I'd watched some of the classics, like the Bruce Lee movie with a similar name. Was this an offensive skill where I punched really fast? Or did my anger fuel really powerful punches?

I had more general questions as well. If I picked a skill, would it level up and become better or more useful over time? If I passed on a choice, would it ever come up again? Ignorance of how the system worked made every decision potentially damning.

I stared at all three options in my digital system vision thing. Indecision filled me with angst. I worried I'd make the wrong choice. I'd read a couple of litrpgs before. They had been good fun. But I had entirely skipped over the lengthy and inane sections talking about skills. Just bored me to freakin' tears. I couldn't have cared less about some fictional system's details. Too bad, because maybe if I had read those sections, I'd be better prepared for how to evaluate choices like this.

Let that be a lesson: don't skip the skill sections in case you, too, ever end up in a game world.

Breathing underwater and staunching wounds could be great at higher levels, especially the latter.

But an offensive skill might be really cool. Who doesn't want to be more like Bruce Lee? Well, other than him being dead and all. I didn't want to emulate that part. I was pretty relieved the system had decided to heal me and keep me alive.

Why was I even thinking about it? I'd just had my body chewed up multiple times by monsters. I needed that healing-type ability badly. With the punishment I'd been taking, it would level up in no time. The sensible choice was [Staunch Light Wound].

So I chose [Fists of Fury]. Because it seemed cooler.

Literally, the instant the choices disappeared, I had buyer's remorse. I was such an idiot. Either of the others would have been a smarter option.

The next skill was another forced one: [Chef's Kiss: Fried Arachnid]. I stared at it for a good three minutes. Then I looked up into the night sky and addressed the System, "Just no. Is this you trying to be funny? Does someone up there think they have a sense of humour? Do you want me to come up there and kick the stones out of you? Force-feed you some spiders? Yeah?"

The skill faded away. Which was good. Because I did not want to make spiders and scorpions a regular part of my diet. The moment I left this oasis behind, I'd never touch one of those things again, ever.

My vision darkened. The world around me faded into the background. For a second, I thought I was dying. Then the sound of drums reverberated through the air, through my whole body. Three large, colourful icons appeared in a horizontal row, once again, their edges kind of smoky, with wisps of colour bleeding off into the night. Above was a title, and a deep, evil voice read the words, followed by the options:

CHOOSE YOUR DESTINY

Path of the Scorpion

Path of Blood

Path of Air

The drums and scary voice filled me with tension. This felt like a really defining moment. Was this like choosing a class? There was no explanation, no description for each. But the pressure of choosing right was a hundred times worse than it had been before picking [Fists of Fury].

I muttered, "This is going to define me, isn't it?"

Despite the pounding drums and my anxiety, I tried to force myself to slow down and think about the options. I could only guess at each.

Path of the Scorpion had probably come up because I'd just fought a bunch of the bastards. Maybe it led to desert survival skills. Maybe I would grow a tail and shoot lighting out of my ass. Maybe my hands would turn into pincers, making life way harder outside of combat. Whatever it did, scorpions weren't exactly symbols of nice things, so I worried that option would take me down a dark path.

Path of Blood, however, sounded even more evil. Blood magic? Would I have to kill and bleed people to perform spells? Could I pull blood out of people and make items with it? Or was it a vampiric skill? Maybe the system saw me being injured and sick so much, and this was a lifesteal path. Potentially very useful, but again, it sounded like something very dark. Unless it was a path related to curing diseases or genetic manipulation or something. The path might be something medical and scientific. Which was a thought that might have been more believable had the evil voice had not returned and read the options over again.

Path of Air. My first thought was all those idiotic anime where some guy gets an air power and starts throwing around 'blades' of air that can cut through rock or steel. As if that would work. I hated that sort of thing. Then again, what if it meant flight? What if it led to air superiority skills and I could hover over enemies and rain down death from relative safety? What if it was air manipulation in a more realistic manner, like I could create a bubble of air around someone's head and suffocate them. That would be an OP way to defeat a dragon without having to fight it. Or infuse an explosion with a sudden rush of oxygen, making the boom bigger? Or maybe I could blow wind, power a hundred windmills at the same time, and make a fortune grinding wheat into flour.

There are two sides to making decisions like this. One is about how useful and practical something is, its extrinsic value. The other is intrinsic: how does something match up with our identity?

It was hard to debate the practicality of any of the choices because I was purely guessing at all of them. Even if I'd known more, each option tugged at my sense of self, and probably would have tempted me into a more emotional decision regardless. So it came down to the intrinsic.

Did I see myself as a scorpion? As a vampire? As a moronic airbender?

Well, just thinking that question caused my anxiety to double. Contemplating our identity is such a massive thing, right?

Good ol' System came to the rescue.

The drum beats sped up. The evil voice shouted, "CHOOSE YOUR DESTINY". The icons began to slowly blink. Because apparently life-altering decisions should be on a FUCKING TIMER!

Rushing myself, I mentally tossed the option of Air. Screw it. I'd slap myself silly if I ever found out I'd thrown away the ability to fly, but I just couldn't get dumbass air attacks out of my head and my prejudice won out. So no Air.

The drum beats sped up. The evil voice shouted, "CHOOSE YOUR DESTINY" even louder. The icons began to blink faster. Time was running out, fast. My eyes bounced back and forth between the black scorpion icon and the red blood icon. Which to choose? Or should I choose neither? Would more classes come up later? Or would not choosing leave me without a class at all?

"This sucks! Why isn't there a tutorial mode first?"

I was a fan of vampires, the cool ones, not the sparkly ones. Dracula could walk around in the sun just fine. But plenty of other stories had vamps turning to ash when hit by UV rays. I was in the middle of an all-sun-all-day desert. Then again, lots of women loved vampires. Maybe it was the power or maybe it was the penetration, but either way, chicks dug the immortal bad boys of the night. That wouldn't be so bad. Or the option could have nothing at all to do with vampires, and I'd wind up in a lab analyzing blood samples like a computer, far away from anyone sexy.

Maybe it was being faced with so much unknown, but I felt myself drawing inward, felt more conservative. The Scorpion path seemed connected to what I'd just been through. I might have been totally wrong about that, but that was the feeling my primitive brain latched onto. I had an idea of what the scorpions were like, what they were capable of. So, with a hearty amount of dread, I picked Path of the Scorpion because it was the most familiar.

The evil voice returned as the other two options faded away,

"Excellent."

 

[TimBaril]

I'd like to say that as soon as I got my new levels, skills, and class, I immediately began to use them and started experimenting. No. I fell into a much-needed sleep. The new levels had kept me from dying, but I was beyond my normal limits. I hadn't even noticed [Passive: Second Wind] kick in, but it must have, or I'd be dead already.

I woke up with the merciless morning sun frying my body on the oasis shore. I was still naked and covered in wounds. My clothes were in the water somewhere, but that would take effort to get. I pushed both hands into the drier sand, paused to take a breath, then pulled, digging a small depression. I paused again, needing time to recover from even that bit of effort. Then I reached up and dug another scoop with my hands. Then another. I became stronger as my body warmed up from the work, but it was still agony and required lots of breaks. I needed water, probably food too, but one look at the scorpion lying nearby in the pool and some of the gross stuff floating in the water nearby, probably from all the body fluids we'd both lost, and I decided I'd wait until I could filter it.

Digging down into damp sand that felt cool to the touch, I managed to make a hole big enough to crawl in. Thinking of my new class or path or whatever, I chuckled to myself. "Just like a scorpion, escaping the heat by burying itself in the sand." I was able to get to my feet long enough to grab a wide palm frond before returning to my spot. Easing myself into the hole, the bottom two-thirds damp and cool, I buried myself. Frond a parasol overhead, I slipped back into sleep almost instantly.

The next time I woke, I saw the last sliver of the sun just over the horizon, the whole world painted in darkening gold. Pushing the palm frond off my head, I looked the other way and saw the darkness rising on the other horizon.

Was this a sign? The light sinking, the darkness rising, me with a new class provided by an evil voice and system I didn't know, with a scorpion motif, which is usually a symbol of evil.

…nah. I'd be fine. I wasn't becoming evil.

Probably.

Grumbling and aching, wincing from half-dried wounds reopening, I crawled out of the sand hole. And then made for another, outside the oasis. There wasn't much to void, telling me I needed to look after the basics soon: food and water.

My water filter tower had somehow been victim to the battles going on the day before. It was difficult to see in the dark, but I patched it back together as best I could. Scooping water into half an old fruit husk like a bowl, I filtered the water three times before drinking it. Then went back to the pool for more water and repeated the process until I couldn't drink anymore.

It was about that time that my stomach became next in line for attention. With a pang of regret, I realized I couldn't cook anything with the sun down. The hot stone would be only warm and cooling fast. However, searching around, I managed to find some of the fried vulture I'd made before the papa scorpion had tried to kill me. The uncooked vulture corpse was rotting fast and needed to be disposed of. The cooked meat was a little gritty from the sand on it, and maybe it tasted even more sour after a day in the sun instead of a fridge, and…maybe you shouldn't eat meat left in the sun all day after it's been sitting in the sand where all kinds of bugs and bacteria were crawling all over it. But whatever. I needed food.

An hour later, I was back over those latrines. Wasn't hungry anymore, though. After things had settled in my bowels as best they would, I decided the night was getting cool, and it was time to get dressed. Night swim!

Refreshing, but wasteful. I couldn't see anything in the dark. The clothing and my spear would remain hidden until the next day. So I gave up and floated on my back, staring up at the stars. The longer I was here, the more I enjoyed them. I smiled, something I hadn't done often in this world. "Between burying myself in the sand and being nocturnal, maybe I'm becoming a scorpion too." That reminded me of the things I'd been putting off, like how the system had invaded my body and changed me.

I was part-excited but also part-afraid. I'm sure that lots of people would just roll with the whole game system thing. It would be a dream come true for a lot of folks. Wake up one day, and suddenly your growth appears in numerical form? Easy to see progress and constant dopamine hits each time numbers go up. Bestowed with all kinds of skills and special powers you have never really earned.

Not being weak anymore.

On an intellectual level, I could imagine the downsides. Surely, a system like this produced some really spoiled people. It would also really amplify personalities, especially bad ones. Those super ambitious, selfish types who clawed and backstabbed their way up the corporate ladder or positions of wealth and power in any organization. The people ok with violence, who happily dealt drugs and formed gangs, who murdered and stole and raped. Imagine they could all get levels and skills that allowed them to do that on an inhuman level. Decent folk would constantly be the victims of the worst and most aggressive people.

Level disparity wouldn't be the only issue. Class or skill type would matter a lot. If you didn't push yourself to develop the same superpowers, you'd never be able to defend yourself. Imagine a levelled-up gangster versus a high-level baker. It probably wouldn't matter that the baker was level 60 and the gangster level 20 because the gangster had a crossbow that shot infinite bolts and the baker had no defensive skills.

And none of this would be your choice. Someone else had imposed this system on you, and there probably wasn't a thing you could do to fight back or change it. I highly doubted there was anything democratic going on. Some super alien or god had likely created a system that changed what, and maybe who, you were, and you were helpless to do anything but play their game. To some degree, it would make people puppets and playthings.

Yeah. But I can punch through solid rock, so ha-ha, I'm awesome. Right?

One of my favourite online serial stories back on Earth featured a game world. One of the main characters had arrived from Earth, taken one look at the system, and then noped out of it. She hadn't wanted any part of it. Hadn't wanted to be manipulated or have things handed to her without earning them. She'd valued her free will and freedom more.

I thought about doing the same. I didn't know if it was even an option at this point, but what if I tried to wish the skills and levels away? Could I get rid of them all? Should I? I mulled the idea over, but ultimately, I chickened out. I was too much of a coward to try going it alone. If the system was going to give me help, I would take it. I just hoped the eventual costs wouldn't be too painful.

I leisurely swam to shore, ripples reflecting the stars and moon above. It was about time I tested this path of the scorpion. On dry land again, my naked body air-drying in the night, I thought about my skills, and a list appeared in my vision. I saw the one at the bottom related to my path. I focused on it. Nothing happened. I read the words in my mind. Nothing happened.

"Oh, come on! I have to say it out loud like some kid's anime? Really?" I was the only one around, but I was still embarrassed. "Fine." I took a deep breath and tried to mentally prepare myself. Then I said, "[Vengeance shall be mine! Lightning Scorpion!]"

A deep, burning illness oozed out from my belly and spread throughout my body. Nauseous, I fell to my hands and knees, wondering if I was going to vomit. I spent a minute or so just breathing and trying to center myself again. Eventually, I looked down at my hands…which seemed really clear in my vision all of a sudden.

The knuckles and backs of my hands were covered in iron gray plates. My eyes shifted. My forearms, too, were wrapped in dark gray armor of some kind. I eased myself to standing again and looked over myself. My body was largely covered in what looked like scorpion shell. I could move, and it did, too, the shell made of plating that didn't seem to hinder me in the least. My fingers and palms, as well as my toes and the bottoms of my feet, were still skin. I reached up and touched my head. The gray shell came up my neck and over my head like a skin-tight helmet. My face was covered in some sort of mask.

Looking around, I could see perfectly well, like it was a really cloudy day and not nighttime. Had I gained more sensitive scorpion vision? Turning and walking over to the water, I looked down and saw my reflection. My face mask looked eerie. I had Spiderman-like eyes and a ninja-style mask over my lower face. Everything was covered. In fact, I kind of looked like an evil ninja Spiderman. Well, evil ninja Scorpionman, I guess.

To my pleasant relief, I did NOT have a tail. Or six more arms.

I did have a crystal embedded into my forehead, which was freakin' weird. I touched it, feeling a multi-faceted, partially rough and uncut crystal. Would I be able to fire lightning bolts from it? That would be, despite my earlier worries about skills and stuff, pretty badass. Because I was as hyprocritcal as everyone else. This cosplay body armour thing was pretty neat.

I figured trying to fire lightning would use mana. I also guess that my earlier sickness had been due to mana burnout from the change. So my low mana stat probably meant I had an equally small mana pool. It had been all I could manage just to change form. Trying to shoot lightning might kill me.

I tried [Fists of Fury] instead. Thankfully, I only had to think it, not say it out loud. A wave of even worse nausea hit, and then my vision faded.

I woke sometime later, still in the night. The moon had moved, so it had been a while. My head was pounding, and my stomach felt like a cross between heartburn and having had too much alcohol. I groaned from where I'd fallen on my back in the sand. "Right. Skills use mana too. Idiot."

Sitting up, I could see that my scorpion form had vanished. I wondered if it had a time limit, or if it burned mana while I wore it, or if it had just ended because I'd overused my mana, and that had crashed my entire system. I'd have to test that. Without killing myself, hopefully. But that could wait. Without mana, it would be impossible to try any of my skills. I was sick, and still exhausted. So I dug out the hole I'd slept in earlier, then buried myself once more. Experimenting could wait until morning.

The next day, I recovered my clothing and spear from the oasis, then went hunting. My new strength and speed were evident and made things much easier. I was easily able to hunt down two scorpions and cooked them for breakfast along with a fresh fruit that had been much easier to get down and crack open.

As I ate, I had a thought. The stat bumps were nice. But were they absolute values or multipliers? I had no way to know. However, I did know that I'd always avoided going to the gym back on Earth. Outside of going to the dojo, I hadn't done much for sports or hiking or anything. I had a pretty average body. I'd always felt less of myself for that, knowing it was my own fault and a product of laziness, but I hadn't worked up the courage to get buff let alone fit. Besides, there had always seemed to be better things to do with my time, like hanging with friends or Cerise or gaming or reading or watching movies. Who had time to go to the gym every day? At least, that's what I'd tried to argue to himself.

Cerise had never made a fuss over my body. She'd seemed fine with the lack of muscle tone and abs. I could remember wishing I'd had a hot body to make her happier, but I hadn't gotten around to getting one. Maybe it was time he changed that. Even if she weren't here anymore, it was still worth it to make myself more capable and healthier. If the stats multiplied my natural body's potential, then all the better. I had nothing to lose and everything to gain from self-improvement.

I'd spent too many years giving up on myself. Too many being lazy. It was time I put in more effort to better myself.

So I did some pushups. Not many. Like ten. Maybe nine and a half. But it was a start. I did some squats. These were a lot easier, probably because I'd spent so much time squatting over latrines recently. Did some leg lifts too. After about fifteen minutes of gruelling agony in the hot sun and dry air, panting like an old man and sweating up a storm, I collapsed.

I groaned up at the pale blue sky, "This is why everyone gives up so fast. It hurts to exercise. Well, I guess that's where the no pain, no gain thing comes from." I drank more water and rested.

After that, I tested my skills. [Fists of Fury] allowed me to make three rapid-fire punches. I could use it three times before my mana ran low enough to make me sick. I had about zero interest in passing out from mana burn again, so I didn't push it any more than that. For a couple of hours.

Then I wondered if my mana was recharging fast enough to use it again. [Fists of Fury].

Did two weak punches. Fell to my hands and knees. Spent five minutes dry heaving. Didn't pass out though. Win!

The more I pushed myself to the limits, the better. I didn't know if that was the best thing to do to level up or whatever, but it felt like it should be the cornerstone of my new life philosophy. If I was going to become a better person, it would come from surpassing my old limits. To become stronger, I needed to challenge myself. And when I failed, I needed to try again. All the tired old adages we've all heard a thousand times and usually ignored.

I guess it took losing the love of my life and being stranded in another world to light a fire under my ass. But we either choose to be weak or we choose to be strong. I'd been weak long enough. I wanted to feel what it was like to be stronger. I would treat the system skills and stats as assistance while working on myself, putting the work in, and not taking anything for granted.

For two days, I recovered from the fights, healed, worked out, and pushed my mana to the limit, using scorpion form one day and my punching skill the next. The third day, I woke up and thought about the cave. It was time to explore.

Spear in hand, palm frond parasol overhead, and fruit-husk shoes on my feet, I shuffled across the hot sand to the depression I'd opened, with the cave at the bottom. I cautiously slid down the side of the pit. I could see the remains of scorpions, spiders, rodents, snakes, and plenty of other things I couldn't identify, beyond the mess I remembered leaving. It was like a war zone.

The darkness of the cave stared back at me, shadows impenetrable. I just knew that more danger lay in wait.

I tightened my grip on the spear and stepped into the darkness.