A Tragic Prologue

Snow gently fell from the ash gray sky as the ominous clouds devoured the last of the fiery sunset. The pure white flakes intertwined with black smoke, dancing with each other as dots of white mingled with dark gray wisps. Against a tree was a fire that slowly crawled up from the base, crackling in delight. The base of the fire was a crumpled up pile of metal, with the only identifying feature are two mangled wheels at the back.

Within the car wreck, a bloody hand started to move. Its connected head flinched, and the one undamaged eye finally opened. Blinking, trying to see through the smoke, the eye turned to the front, or at least what was left of it. The boy stared and squinted, unfamiliar with the rolled metal that greeted him. He scanned looking for something familiar, until he spotted clumps of ash and burned flesh woven together in the shape of disassembled limbs.

His eye shot open at this sight and tried to reach out, but was greeted with pain that seemed fake before. He looked around the remains of the car, with his eyes falling on a little girl. Unlike the corpses at the front, she was mostly intact. In a blood stained hoodie and with blond hair, the only thing injury that could easily be seen were the dents in her head and an oozing gash on her forehead. What the boy's eyes were drawn to was not the blood in her hair or even the wounds on her head, but the lifeless green eyes. The boy seemed to shake at this nine-year-old girl as he tried to grasp her.

Pain crashed through like a semi-truck, bringing him to tears, but he still grabbed her body and hugged her with his only functioning arm. He tried to move, tried to escape this hellish metal trap with the girl. His efforts only earned him his final breath, and final tear.

All the while the crumbled car against the tree was consumed by flames. A symphony crackling and flaming roars was the only sound that mourned the tragedy. The flaming tree was like a candle against the depressed sky, offering smoke like prayers to the sky for the departed and the dead.

…

When one thinks of death, what comes to mind. Many often talk about a dark tunnel and a light. Or flashing memories from their lives, filled with happiness or regret. Before he could even notice what had happened or where this was, an embrace was felt, like that of a warm blanket. Slowly the spirit fell asleep as his senses, especially touch, seemed to melt away and disappear. It seemed like the life known was nothing but a farce and a dream, and that this comfortable embrace was all there was from the beginning. Time no longer mattered, the times spent in this space could have been several hours to several years.

Eventually, something began to change. Almost as if being waked up, the spirit was slowly pulled from this place, which was beyond light and dark. Though he tried to resist, it was futile.

The journey through death continued, with the memories of this wonderful, warm place almost being forgotten.

…

Everything was numb. That was the first postmortem thought. A boy with slightly dirty blond hair was sleeping in a bed with a red t-shirt and dark blue jeans. After tossing and turning for a bit, the text was revealed on the shirt to say "Don't Talk to Me." The boy began to open his eyes, which seemed to be glossy. After looking at the unfamiliar ceiling, his eyes blasted open. He tripped out of bed and ended up hitting his chin on the nightstand next to his bed.

"Ouch!"

Much like a wimp, he held his chin for a few seconds like it was about to break.

"Huhh?" Contrary to what was expected, it did not hurt, neither was it wounded. The boy looked around the room this time, his eyes seemed to explode. The room was not his bedroom and was build in the style of a room in a palace. There was no inlaid gold or grandiose decorations, the room at first glance was plain. Yet, the pillars of dark wood in the fairy white walls had a royal feel, like the room itself was holding itself high.

"Would Alvar Lawrence Tailor please leave his room and follow the red carpet to the right." A voice came from a speaker in the top corner of the room closest to the door. It was small, but a black dot the size was a quarter was pin-pointed as the speaker.

"Who the hell are you?" The protagonist replied with a kitten-like growl, but was ignored by the voice.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!"

"..."

The boy went out his room eventually after trying to insult or coax the voice into replying, but with no effect. Outside of his room was a hall that confirmed this was a mansion or European renaissance-style castle. Along the opposing wall were paintings that lined the wall with tables underneath. On the floor was a somewhat dull but well kept and loved red carpet that went down the hall. Like the previous room, decorations were sparse; the tables were nearly empty with only a candle or small vase to occupy it. The paintings weren't that interesting either. Dignity and pride still radiated from this place despite this.

With no other choice, the boy turned right and went down the hall. He followed it for what seemed for an eternity, yet he was not tired and lacked a good excuse to complain to the mysterious voice.

The end of the carpet led to a double door with sophisticated carvings on it. He pushed it open to find a study. There was a fireplace to the right of the room with calm glowing embers. Along most of the walls where bookshelves that cold barely hold in the amount of books they held. Books where in piles in the corners. What drew the most attention was a desk in the middle back of the room, with a woman behind it. She was a brunette with crystal blue eyes wearing formal attire. She looked like an aristocrat.

"Took you long enough, I will introduce my self. My name is Rosa. I already know about you, so don't mind. Right, Alvar..."

"Call me Alvin."

"I don't care about nicknames," replied Rosa, who hadn't looked at Alvar since he came into the room and seemed preoccupied with some paper in a folder.

Alvar was about to say something vulgar, but Rosa said, "Say something disrespectful and I will make you suffer." The temperature seemed to drop and Alvar gulped with the tiger-like aura she had.

Alvar said, more meekly this time, "Why am I here?"

"You don't remember?"

"How could I remember being dragged to this mansion? Is this some sort of cult hideout that does experiments on kidnapped kids? Or am I in some sort of deathmatch hunger games. Or maybe..." Alvar's imagination would have continued to run wild until Rosa started to laugh hysterically. For the first time since they met, she glanced at him, if only mockingly, before returning to her files.

"You are an absolute idiot. Let me put you out of you misery. First, I guess I should tell you that you are dead and this is the afterlife. Next-"

"Wait, WHAT?! How can I be dead?! I am talking to you and walking around, I can talk to you. How can I be dead you stupi-" Before Alvar could finish, Rosa chucked a book at him. It was too sudden for him to block. As the book hit him, it started to go into him. The book passed through him and crashed into a pile of books by the door.

After a few moments of silence, Alvar whispered, "Did that book just pass through me?" His voice quivered.

"Yes. You are dead after all, and lack a body. Why else would you chin not hurt when you face-planted the nightstand or you inability to get tired even a little? You died in an accident and are in the afterlife."

The topic of the accident brought back the memories of the smoldering car. He mumbled "So that wasn't a nightmare...Wait, where is Mom and Dad, what about Emily?" Panic seemed to overtake him and he prayed desperately for a miracle.

"They are all dead." Those words crushed him. His family, the people he cared most about, were all dead. He grasped the desk to steady himself. Covering his face with a hand, he began to breathe loudly.

"Are they alright. Are they doing fine, especially Emily?"

"*sigh* They are alright and are currently being shipped of to heaven."

"Okay. *exhale* Wait, why am I not with them?"

"That was what I wanted to talk about." Rosa put down her files and papers and stared at Alvar in the eyes. "You see... First, tell me what you remember about the accident?"

Alvar started to fell tense at the avoidance of an explanation. "I don't remember much before the crash..."

"*sigh* I see. Well, here's the thing, you were the one that caused the accident."

Silence chocked the room. The bluntness of the statement already took him off-guard, but the statement shattered him.

"What-t what do you mean! I would never do something like tha-" A memory surfaced. One that was suppressed, and yet forced out into the open. A memory Alvar hoped he would forget.

…

A family was driving down the road. The sun was close to setting as fall leaves danced in the wake of the vehicle. The car wasn't expensive, but was close to the heart for its years of dedicated service.

Within the car were a total of four people. The driver was the father. I calm man with glasses and was starting to bald. He wore a tacky sweater like an old professor at a university. He was blonde with blue eyes and a unbreakable sense of humor. It was rare to see him without a smile and his signature contagious optimism.

The one in shotgun was the mother. She had more of a dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes. Unlike her husband, she rarely smiled. Instead, she carried an air of elegance and sophistication. She was not beautiful, but was rather charming. People couldn't help but trust her.

In the back on the left was a nine-year-old blonde girl, Emily. She was optimistic like her father and had a smile that could make stone melt. Unlike her parents, she was often sarcastic, yet still kind.

Finally, to her left was a fourteen-year-old boy. His name was Alvar, he was slightly dirty blonde. His eyes were blue like his fathers. His temperament was abysmal unlike his family. Perhaps it was do to an inferiority complex he had. After, his family was rather gifted. His father was smart enough to pass the medical tests to become a doctor first try and was able to beat any game of jeopardy. His mother was musically inclined and could sing so beautifully that one time the nightly barking competition between dogs in the neighborhood stopped when she sung. Emily was gifted in drawing; she created her own successful comic.

At the end was Alvar. He to was once gifted, specifically in sports and athletics. He was often the fastest and strongest on the team, which unbeatable coordination. An accident ended up ripping several muscles and tendons in his legs that never fully healed. He was able to walk once again after therapy, but never run, and absolutely no sports.

Back to the car, an argument started and escalated quickly. It ended with Alvar becoming violent and punching anything within reach. He hit his sister and his mother multiple times. His father tried to stop, but fate pulled a cruel joke. Alvar went to punch his father at the same time that a pothole made the car uncontrollable. The punch connected with his face causing the care to speed off the road and crash into a tree. Setting it on fire and crushing the father and the mother.

In a fit of irony, Alvar wasn't wearing a seatbelt at the time yet was the one that lived the longest out of his family. He was forced by fate to see what he had done.

These memories came flooding into Alvar, somewhat blurry, what still painful. His stomach felt like it would implode into nothing. He could no longer breathe.

…

Back in the mansion, Alvar's knees buckled and he fell on the floor. Loud gasps for air vibrated off the walls. Through all of this, though, Rosa only stared at him disinterested.

"Is this some sort of cruel joke?" Desperation could be heard in his voice. His heavy breathe seemed to have intensified. "I would never try to harm my family."

"This is not you first violent outburst, there have been several times in the past where you have left them bruised. If you weren't a minor, you could have been sent to prison for physical abuse."

"Yeah, but I never tried to kill them. It was an accident. Please believe me, I wouldn't do that..." The sentence couldn't be finished through the crying and tears.

"Do you think that matters? Whether it was your intention to do it? If it was truly an accident, like you were playing with a toy and accidentally threw it, causing the crash, that would be different. You were malicious, however, in violent outbursts. Even if you weren't the cause of the accident, your abuse on your family is not tolerable."

"Please-"

"Shut up. You caused that accident and killed your family. Your past sins have also contributed to your punishment."

Rosa sighed before continuing, "Normally, we would just ship you off to Purgatory, where you would receive you punishment and trials. Afterwards you would join your family in heaven. But things are a bit different now. While you did kill your family and abused them for the past year, you are not classified as evil and feel regret over your actions, which is why I won't throw you down to Hell. However, your punishment has been changed due to our own circumstances. *cough* Earth as you call it is simply one out of tens to hundreds of thousands of worlds. Most of these worlds vary the spectrum, from stable to on the verge of destruction, from evil to full of peace and righteousness. Earth would be in the middle leaning more towards evil, but is quite stable of worlds."

"How is Earth stable, the countries could nuke each other any second!" Alvar replied in spite.

"I meant that the reality itself was stable. However, there are many worlds that tear themselves apart. Sometimes we let nature take its course, other times we intervene. That is what you are going to be used for. In a couple of days, you will receive a document explaining everything. Dismissed."

Alvar was forced out of the study by Rosa and left in the halls. Grief and guilt ate away at him, and he curled up into a ball and cried. Nobody came to help or comfort him. Maybe that was his own punishment.

Alvar stood up when his tears had run dry, and walked down the hall back to his own room. There he stood, hunched up, until he was called back again.

…

"You will be reincarnated in another world."

"...What?" Alvar confusion was evident on his face.

Rosa quickly replied, "Just read the paper."

The rough summary was that the world, which is commonly called Erenal by the most dominate culture near my site of occupation, was a fantasy world of swords and magic. Normally, the prospect of going to a world with magic was a reward. However, the occupation changed that.

"Why am I going to be a Dungeon Master?"

"Well, you see, people are incredibly stupid. This world was among the first magic dominant worlds that Heaven made, so there were a couple of 'bugs' for a lack of a better term. When humans found this, they tried to exploit it at the determent of their fabric of reality. This caused their universe to nearly break apart. The only reason we didn't let it die was because it was simple to fix. Have you ever heard of grafting a tree?"

"No."

"When trees get sick or are diseased in some way, people attach branches of a heathy tree to a sick one. This can negate the problem sometimes, or at least make things better. Dungeons are artificial spaces and realities. As the dungeon grows, it will graft itself to that reality, stabilizing it. The reason why we need you is because, since the dungeons are foreign to Erenal, they need a foreign soul to guide it."

Rosa continued, "Let's go back to the beginning. A Dungeon Master is the master of the dungeon. Dungeons cannot instantly attach themselves to the reality as that would only break it further. It takes time to slowly sow itself into the world. While it does that, though, it is vulnerable. Dungeons hold resources that the inhabitants desperately want, and the heart of the dungeon, the Dungeon Core, is among the most valuable. This is somewhat by design, as stronger people and magic can strengthen the world. If your dungeon core is taken though, the dungeon will disappear and you will die."

Alvar was silent. He then spoke: "Do I really have to do this? Can't I just go with my family? Why am I not given a second chance while they don't?"

"It is easy to die as a Dungeon Master. Adventures will try to rob your dungeon and kill you. Other Dungeon Masters will do the same. This is would be described as hell. We are not cruel. We don't want to send those types of people through this. Also, this second chance is something that needs to be earned. You have to earn every second of this new life by surviving. There are no handouts, no crazy special superpowers that you will be given. Honestly, you probably won't survive for more than a few years."

"Oh, also, one more thing. Since you will not be in contact with your family for a while, my boss as gotten their final words for you." Rosa grabbed a couple of envelopes and gave them to Alvar. She then grabbed two massive books and gave them to him for 'studying' so he could survive just a little bit longer.

"Finally, here is a watch. It will help you keep track of time till your departure." A pocket watch that looked like it came from Wonderland was given to him.

"All I have left to tell you is good luck."

…

Two Days Left Till Departure:

The volumes on the dungeons were in dust along with the letters. Movement was seen in the room. A pair of blue eyes looked at the letters for the thousandth time. Impatience fought with fear and won. The boy went to the letters and opened them like he was holding a viper. He read the first letter, then a small note, followed by the last letter from the envelope.

Tears rolled down from his dry eyes. He grasped the letters and hugged them. Finally, he went to the volumes and read them in a frenzy.

Departure:

"So, this is when we part." Alvar was not sure how to talk to Rosa, who only gave a nod. He was outside of the mansion now, in front of a glowing pool.

"Well, so long." Alvar jumped into the pool, and was devoured by the darkness.