I stumble backward from the burning bush, the staff still clutched in my white-knuckled grip, when a blinding blue flash explodes across my vision. Pain lances through my skull like someone's driven an ice pick between my eyes. I drop to one knee, free hand clutching my head as the world spins.
"Fuck!" I gasp, squeezing my eyes shut against the agony.
Through the haze of pain, glowing white text over a blue screen appears behind my eyelids.
[SYSTEM INITIALIZING...]
[WELCOME, TRAVELER]
[CALIBRATING USER INTERFACE...]
The pain recedes slightly, enough for me to crack open my eyes. The text hovers in front of me like some kind of augmented reality display, but there's no headset, no technology I can see causing it.
[SCANNING USER...]
"What the hell is happening?" I mutter, pushing myself back to my feet. The staff in my hand pulses warmly, almost like it's responding to my distress.
The blue text shifts, reconfiguring into what looks suspiciously like a video game status screen:
[NAME: Sam Fairburn]
[LEVEL: 1]
[CLASS: ?????]
[NEXT LEVEL: 10 XP]
[ATTRIBUTES]
[Strength (STR): 1]
[Dexterity (DEX): 1]
[Constitution (CON): 1]
[Wisdom (WIS): 1]
[Luck (LUK): 1]
[RESOURCES]
[Health: 100/100]
[Stamina: 50/50]
[Mana: 40/50]
[TRAITS]
[Claimed]
[Curse of Velthara]
I stare at the floating text, my mouth hanging open. This can't be real. I must be hallucinating, or maybe this is some bizarre afterlife, a cosmic joke where death drops you into an RPG.
"Hello?" I call out again, louder this time. "Is anyone there? Can someone explain what's going on?"
The blue screen begins to fade, but not before my eyes lock onto those final words at the bottom of the display.
"Curse of Velthara? What the fuck does that mean?" I mutter, squinting as the text dissolves into nothingness.
Before I can process what just happened, a series of grunts and high-pitched chitters erupts from behind me. I whirl around, nearly tripping over my own feet, and find myself face-to-face with three of the most repulsive creatures I've ever seen.
They're short, maybe reaching my chest at most, with green-gray skin that glistens with some kind of oily secretion. Their noses are bulbous and warty, eyes yellow with vertical slits, and mouths filled with jagged teeth that jut out at all angles. Despite their grotesque appearance, they're unmistakably female, with crude leather armor barely containing their... assets.
Goblin women. Actual fucking goblin women.
"Well, well," the tallest one cackles, her voice like gravel in a blender. "Look what we found, sisters! A man, all alone!"
The other two circle around me, cutting off any escape route. One of them sniffs the air and makes a sound that might be appreciation.
"Why is a male all alone? This doesn't make any…" the shortest goblin starts, but she's cut off mid-sentence.
"Shut it!" the leader snarls, then turns her yellow eyes back to me.
Before I can react, she lunges forward with surprising speed, clawed hands reaching for my throat. Pure instinct takes over, I flinch backward, throwing my hands up in defense. The staff in my grip grows hot, almost burning my palm.
A whooshing sound fills the air as flames erupt from the tip, engulfing the goblin leader in a sheet of orange fire. Her momentum carries her forward another step before she realizes what's happening.
Then the screaming starts.
The goblin's shrieks pierce the air as fire consumes her, dancing across her oily skin like it's found the perfect fuel. Her body becomes a living torch. She flails wildly, trying to bat out flames that only grow more intense with each movement.
Her companions back away, yellow eyes wide with terror, their earlier confidence evaporating like morning dew.
"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean…" The words tumble out automatically, but I catch myself mid-apology.
Wait a second. This creature was about to attack me, possibly kill me. What am I apologizing for?
I straighten my spine, gripping the staff with newfound purpose. The burning goblin collapses to her knees, her screams weakening as the fire consumes her. It's horrific, but I can't afford sympathy right now.
I point the staff toward the remaining two, who now cower together. "Do you two want the smoke?"
They exchange panicked glances, backing away slowly. The shorter one hisses something in a language I don't understand, but the message is clear enough.
"That's right," I say, trying to sound confident despite the churning in my stomach. "Back off."
A notification flashes in my peripheral vision:
[+5 XP]
The two surviving goblins turn tail and flee, disappearing into the underbrush with surprising speed. I'm left alone with the smoldering remains of their leader and the sickening smell of burnt flesh.
I lower the staff, my hands trembling. "Holy shit," I whisper to myself. "I just killed someone."
My knees give out, and I sit heavily on the ground, staring at the blackened corpse. The reality of my situation crashes down on me like a physical weight. This isn't a dream or a hallucination. This is real.
I force myself to my feet on shaky legs. Bile rises in my throat as I approach the charred goblin corpse, the stench hitting me like a physical blow, burnt hair mixed with something foul and rotten.
"God, that's putrid," I mutter, covering my nose with the crook of my elbow.
My stomach lurches violently, and I have to swallow hard to keep from vomiting. The goblin's remains are barely recognizable as a living creature now, just blackened, twisted flesh fused with melted leather. I need to make sure it's actually dead, though. Using the blunt end of my staff, I give the corpse a tentative prod.
Nothing. Not even a twitch.
I release a long, shaky breath. "Well, that's something at least."
My eyes linger on the corpse, and a disturbing thought crosses my mind. "I don't... I don't have to eat this, do I?" I ask the empty air. "No, that's ridiculous. Even if I'm stuck in some messed-up RPG world, I'm not desperate enough to resort to... that." I shake my head. "Not yet, anyway."
A realization strikes me as I stare at the smoking remains. If this really is like those anime Kayla and I used to watch together, then maybe...
"This is so stupid," I mutter, then clear my throat. "Status."
The familiar blue screen materializes before my eyes, and I can't help but grimace at how absurdly cringey this all is. But my embarrassment fades as I notice the changes:
[LEVEL: 1]
[CLASS: ?????]
[NEXT LEVEL: 5 XP]
[Health: 100/100]
[Stamina: 50/50]
[Mana: 30/50]
"Wait a second," I say, squinting at the display. "I earned five XP from killing that goblin?" The thought makes my stomach turn again, but I push through it. "And my mana's down to thirty now. Wonderful."
As the status screen fades away, my ears perk up at a new sound cutting through the stillness of this bizarre world, the unmistakable thunder of hoofbeats. A lot of them.
"What now?" I groan, turning toward the source of the commotion.
Across the rolling plains, a group of riders approach almost a dozen of them, kicking up dust as they charge in my direction. My heart leaps with unexpected hope. Actual people! Civilization! Maybe someone who can explain what the hell is going on.
I start to raise my arm to wave them down, but freeze mid-motion as I catch sight of myself. The thin hospital gown barely covers my essentials, flapping pathetically in the breeze. Not exactly the dignified first impression I was hoping to make.
"Perfect," I mutter, glancing around desperately for anything I could use to make myself more presentable. Finding nothing, I sigh and straighten my shoulders. "Well, beggars can't be choosers."