3 Extra Life

I know what you're thinking. "This is another one of those 'second chance at life' stories, isn't it," and that wouldn't be a wrong assumption. Although it wouldn't technically be accurate either.

Yes, this latest demise wasn't my first. It certainly wouldn't be the last. As for that first death, it would take a whole prequel book to explain through. All I can provide now are the cliff notes.

When I was eleven, an evil cult from another realm invaded Earth to sacrifice me and a bunch of unfortunate people to one of the many death gods populating the realmsverse, so they could, as their fair-haired, knife-eared leader claimed, "Receive the gift of true immortality… Bwahahaha!"

Yeah, I might have added in that villainous laugh just to emphasize how evil these cultists were. By the way, I was the last of a hundred people they murdered on their sacrificial altar, so, yes, they were bad to the bone.

Darkness took me, and I strayed out of thought and time. No afterlife, just that inky void where the stars wheeled overhead and every day felt like reliving my entire childhood back on Earth. But it wasn't my true ending, and soon enough I felt life in me again.

See, the cultists succeeded in earning a variant of eternal life for their efforts, but they'd also messed it up. Somehow, that gift of 'true immortality' they so desperately desired had been passed to me—and every day since has been one crazy rollercoaster ride after another. As for why this switcheroo occurred, my master believed the Norns—these immortal witches who governed and watched over destiny—intervened on my behalf. For what reason? Well, her best-educated guess was that I might be one of those 'chosen ones' you read about in novels.

"You've got a destiny, kiddo!" she'd often say, to which I would often reply, "No thanks. I'd rather be free to do what I want than be tied down to fate."

Destiny can shove it, in my honest opinion. Because now I relieve the day of every death at exactly the moment I wake up on that same day with most of my memories and experiences intact. Even the pain earned from every gruesome ending.

So, yeah, if you assume the power of 'Extra Life' is simply plot armor then you'd never had a serrated hobgoblin dagger shoved into your eye, kill you, and then find yourself resurrected while still remembering how it felt to die in such a brutal fashion. It's not a fun way to wake up. But I bear with every remembered ache and pain and temporary fit of insanity because the alternative—true death without experiencing growing up and stuff—would be unbearable.

Now, with my abbreviated backstory finished, allow me to return to the story at the point after Doomsday had already brought me into the proving ground and asked me to pick my weapon of choice for our third round of the Crucible.

By the way, not every rewind was the same. There were always these little changes to the timeline that wasn't there on my previous go-through which often kept me on my toes for the unexpected. An example of such a glaring alteration would be the three objects floating between me and Doomsday.

Where once there had been a crooked wooden staff floating on the left, there was now a one-handed ax, the kind Vikings liked to use. The longsword that had been floating in the middle had also been replaced by a pair of curved daggers. Over on the right, the bow was gone, replaced by a ten-inch wooden wand that bore a remarkable resemblance to a prop from a popular movie franchise about underage wizards.

I waited for Doomsday to finish his speech on the founders' preferences before I plucked the wand from the air and then raised it high for the benefit of the crowd.

This time, a loud cheer erupted from the people sitting underneath the blue banners that belonged to the Tower of Mages. As the smallest of the three groups, their cheers were naturally drowned out by the booing of the other two schools.

Hold on, didn't I choose the warrior's path in my last life? Yes, I did. But, like I told Doomsday right before he killed me for a second time, I never claimed I was a warrior. I preferred not to be pigeonholed into such a singular role, thanks.

During my first go-through of the Crucible, I'd picked the path of skullduggery, which is when I learned how amazing a fighter Doomsday was and that no amount of tricks would be enough to stop him at my level. I had to take the warrior's route next just so I could get used to his fighting skills, his half-giant reflexes, and his battle sense. All to find the clues that would lead to my eventual victory.

'Know thy enemy, know thyself. A thousand battles, a thousand victories, I chanted in my head.'

"The mage's path then," the half-giant said.

I could hear the slight tone of disappointment in Doomsday's voice which was a stark contrast to the approval he'd shown me in the previous rewind. Honestly, I was disappointed too. After all, who brings a wand to what was clearly a staff fight, right?

Doomsday waved away the weapons I rejected and then began his speech about how I wouldn't be getting an examiner that was a match for my skill level just because I was Divah's apprentice.

"It is assumed that you are already among the fit—"

"So you'll be my opponent, I guess," I cut him off.

After hearing his lines twice before, I just wanted to rush things along. It was just a bonus that my interruption annoyed him too.

"You are correct..." He drew the broadsword from the scabbard strapped to his back. "I shall be your Crucible."

Even now, the sight of the curved black blade in his right hand sent a moment's doubt spiraling into my mind. This was accompanied by a stabbing ache in my chest. Phantom pains were annoying like that. "This is a duel to the death, yeah?"

"For you, very much so. But, as our strengths are hardly equal"—Doomsday emphasized that last word—"you need only draw my blood to pass the Crucible."

"For me..." I couldn't help grinning at the thought of finally defying his expectations. "I don't plan on dying today."

"Your confidence is reassuring, Will Wisdom... Perhaps I will enjoy this battle more than I first imagined…" He flexed his muscles at me. "...At least before I sever your head from its shoulders with my Executioner's Blade."

Now that was an even better threat than the last one, and if I was any other teenager I probably wouldn't have been able to repress the shiver that scaled up my spine then and there.

"Divah threatens me the same way before every one of our sparring sessions," I chuckled. "Like master like student, I guess."

"Indeed." Doomsday bared his fangs. "Have at you."

We exchanged the last bit of pleasantries—him brandishing his sword at me as part of his introduction, and me waving my wand in a flourish and bowing to both him and the audience, earning myself another round of applause—before hostilities began.

In our previous two bouts, Doomsday kicked things off with a sideward swing meant to decapitate me. Knowing this made it easy to slide under his opening salvo so that I could get up close and pull off the first of my three-step strategy to dominate this Crucible.

I know, I know. Going in danger-close against a half-giant channeling 'Geralt of Rivia' might seem suicidal, but this was a necessary risk to ensure the success of my spell.

Of the many schools of the arcane arts, one of the most potent of all was rune magic. If they were done right that is. Sadly, I had zero time to prep. No rune on a smooth stone surface written in my blood and empowered by my sacrifice. So, I had to make do with a word of power instead.

I tiptoed up to get as close to his ear as I could manage before I drew upon the magic inside me and spoke in a voice clear enough to carry over the roar of the crowd, "Īsaz!"

I'd barely tapped into the rune's true power, and yet the surrounding air grew instantly cold; the kind of biting cold that reminded one of winter's first breaths as it cascaded down from snow-capped peaks. Then, beginning from Doomsday's left ear, a coating of frost spread across the surface of his face and traveled down the length of his massive body, immobilizing him for the mere five seconds I needed to create some distance between us.

The audience gasped in a "We can't believe he fell for that" kind of way. It was hilarious to hear, and I chuckled inside while knowing full well that the show had just begun.

I was pretty sure my spell would work too for I learned in our previous battle that Doomsday was susceptible to magic. Or at least he hadn't bothered to protect himself against it for this Crucible. Still, the half-giant was already shaking off the effects of my 'Ice Rune' by the time I'd made it ten feet away.

"Impressive..." Doomsday shrugged off the final pieces of frost clinging to his skin. "Such powerful magic summoned with but a single word and using only yourself as a conduit... You are a gifted one."

"You haven't seen anything yet, Master Doomsday," I replied as I brushed my left thumb against my teeth.

If the first stage of my plan required his immobilization—earning me the precious seconds I needed to create the distance between us, a distance even his quick reflexes couldn't bridge fast enough—the next stage called for a distraction. This is why I raised my arm forward and aimed at him with my borrowed wand.

"Krak-ka-boom," I chanted.

The crowd had gone quiet for those brief seconds before they realized nothing had happened. Even Doomsday looked confused for a second there. Then came the jeering at what many perceived as a failure on my part to properly cast magic.

'Sheesh, everyone's a critic…'

I didn't actually cast a spell. It was simply misdirection. A flourishing of a wand and the babble of inane words were perfect in forcing everyone's attention away from my other hand which was dripping blood onto the sandy floor. Blood that came from the tiny wound I'd so casually bitten into my thumb earlier.

Then, to everyone's surprise, I jumped away. Everyone but Doomsday, that is. The half-giant reacted as if on auto-pilot. With his great black blade hefted over his shoulder, he charged toward me with inhuman speed. He would have caught me too if my trap hadn't already been set.

Remember what I said about blood and runes? Well, one didn't need a stone surface to write on to strengthen a rune's power. A sacrifice of blood was enough for that extra oomph I required.

Once Doomsday stepped over the spot where my blood lay in wait, I aimed my wand at the sandy floor and yelled, "Kenaz!"

I felt the wood in my fingers hum with power just before fire sparked to life beneath Doomsday's feet. It spread outward, blossoming like an orange flower that caused the very earth around him to explode upward, wrapping him in a cloud of dust and smoke. This wasn't nearly enough to stop the half-giant, but it helped to shave off his natural resistance to magic while also distracting him long enough for me to finish my final preparations.

Funnily enough, in my attempt to clear the blast zone, I stumbled backward and nearly fell onto my butt before I managed to steady myself.

"Ugh..." My head swam. My breathing turned ragged. "I'm nearly out of magic..."

No, I would not surrender. Not now when things were getting interesting and the final stage of my plan was all that remained before victory was finally mine.

Despite this feeling of wooziness, I dropped to one knee and then raised my wand arm forward.

"Cutting it a little close…"

The dust cloud I'd created with the 'Torch Rune' had yet to settle, but through its curtain of sand, I could see the outline of the half-giant. I watched him pull his black blade back in baseball bat fashion.

"I call on thee, oh mighty spirits of fire..." I moved my other hand over to the tip of the wand as if I were holding onto a hunting rifle. Then I summoned the magic inside me, what little of it was left, to race up to the tips of my fingers to coax the fire spirits into the wand. "Come forth and breathe life to my desire..."

Rune magic was pretty dope, but if I wanted to wound such a powerful adversary, a spell from the magical school of invocation was absolutely necessary.

While I continued with my spell-casting, Doomsday swung his greatsword forward. The savage force of the blade's passage caused the wind to blow outward, instantly dissipating the cloud of dust that had been impeding his vision.

Sweat dripped down my brow as I continued my chant. "Burn into a single, sharp blade..."

Doomsday rushed forward with his sword raised high, and the sight of his charge nearly caused me to lose my focus because who wouldn't feel anxious when the promise of murder was imminent?

"...and carve away all defenses"—I felt the wand between my fingers hum with power as the scent of burning wood reached my nose—"in your brilliant blaze..."

Flames sparked to life at the tip of my wand just as Doomsday came within range of me.

"...Firebolt!" I screamed.

At that moment between life and death where our fates seemed undecided, a telltale smile grew on my face. 'Checkmate.'

There was a sound akin to the crackling of wood as the wand broke against heat and flame, and then a brilliant orange light shot out of my wand like a laser blast. It flew up toward Doomsday's face just as he sent his curved black blade crashing down on my head. When the dust settled a moment later, I looked up and found his blade's edge mere inches from my face. He'd stopped it mid-swing like I knew he could, but I was still relieved that I judged him right after all. He was a half-giant of honor and not a sore loser as most people could be in these circumstances.

"Impressive," Doomsday mused.

Something sticky and red fell onto the tip of my nose. It was a single drop of blood born from the scratch on Doomsday's cheek that was all the injury my magic could manage against him. Still, that little scratch was more than enough.

A grin, wide and welcoming appeared on Doomsday's face. "You are worthy, Will Wisdom."

Despite the fatigue threatening to overwhelm me, my smile at that moment was the widest it had ever been today. "I know."